by Mark Romang
“Another consecutive life sentence at your sentencing hearing, that’s what it is,” Annie said. “You’ll die in prison.”
“I don’t like any of this, Arcadias. This started out as just an innocent treasure hunt. But now it’s all gone south. Your obsession with Laffite’s treasure is going to ruin our lives, if it hasn’t already,” Iris said.
Arcadias turned to his girlfriend. “I told you there would be risks, Iris. Don’t play dumb now. You knew what you were getting yourself into.”
“This is all about a treasure hunt?” Keith Jepson asked.
Damien entered the parlor with a dining chair. He set it down and motioned Jepson to sit in it.
“I’m afraid so, Keith,” Rafter said. “What brought you out here anyway?”
The attorney sat down in the chair. He looked at Rafter. “I discovered I have one more document for you and Annie to sign before the adoption can go through. I happened to be in town at the debate and thought I could do some business while I was here. I guess I should’ve just stayed at the debate, huh?”
Annie held out her hand to the attorney. Besides Jepson who just arrived, she was the only captive without plastic cuffs on. “Give me the document, Keith. I want to sign it.”
Jepson started to unlatch his briefcase. Arcadias intervened. “Hold up, you three can complete the signing at a more appropriate time, like when this is all over,” he said grumpily.
“Oh, let her sign the paper. What will it hurt, Arcadias? Have you no compassion at all? She just wants to be a mother,” Iris said.
Arcadias glared at Iris for a brief moment, and then turned his attention to Jepson. “Okay fine, but don’t try anything stupid and pull out something other than a document from your briefcase.”
Jepson nodded and opened his briefcase with shaky hands. He pulled out a document from on top and handed it to Annie along with a pen to sign it. “Sign it and initial it at the bottom next to the X,” he said.
Annie quickly signed and initialed the document. She looked at Arcadias. “Jon needs to sign the paper as well.”
Arcadias shook his head vigorously. “You must think I’m a fool. Your husband is keeping the plastic cuffs on. He’ll have to sign it when we’re gone...long gone.”
Annie handed the document to Jepson. The attorney placed the document back into his briefcase.
Arcadias addressed his brother. “Do you have some more plastic cuff ties?”
Damien nodded.
“Good, secure Mr. Jepson’s hands.” He then turned to Annie. “Read aloud the next entry in the Journal.”
“Read it yourself,” Annie said tartly.
Arcadias looked at Rafter. “I was once married to a feisty woman like Annie. I don’t envy you, Jon. It must be difficult for you.”
Rafter looked at his wife. Despite the fact that her clothes were torn and dirt smudged her face, she never looked so beautiful to him. And it was at that moment he realized just how much he loved her. Annie was everything to him. And if ever there were a man who’d married over his head, it was him.
He didn’t deserve Annie, but somehow he’d ended up with her. “Her wild spirit cannot be tamed, and that’s what I love most about her.” Rafter saw Annie’s eyes fill up at his admission. I should’ve said that a long time ago, he thought.
“Spunky women are the best kind if you ask me,” Ned piped up. “I’ve been married to a spunky woman for sixty-five years. I have no regrets.”
Arcadias closed his ash-colored eyes for a brief moment. When he opened his eyes they landed on Annie once more. “The only reason your hands are not tied up like the others is because you have a lovely reading voice. Now will you read, or do you wish to be tied up?”
“I’ll read,” Annie said, and opened the journal to the next entry.
Chapter 29
White Castle Cemetery—1962
Rose sat between Ned and his parents on the front row. Although the sun shone brilliantly onto the cemetery, her world seemed as black and depressing as her funeral dress.
Rose blinked her eyes, wet from having just listened to the playing of Taps. She could barely see anything. The six honor guards making up the casket team were nothing but a colorful blur as they folded the flag with solemn precision.
Bobby’s coffin rested just a few feet from where she sat. The three honor guards nearest her stood inches away. Rose bowed her head. She couldn’t watch anymore. The volleys from the firing party still reverberated in her heart like screams echoing in a lonely canyon.
Why Bobby, why did you have to try to escape the prison camp march? You probably would’ve survived had you stayed put.
She wasn’t mad at Bobby. On the contrary, her heart nearly burst with pride over his service to America. And yet she felt cheated. Her dreams of raising a family with Bobby were stolen away, never to be returned. War killed their dreams as surely as it killed Bobby and countless other young men.
They had such great plans. They were going to fill the plantation house with children. Laughter would fill every room. But now the big house was as silent as the nearby tomb where Bobby’s remains would be interred in.
Rose swallowed hard. She tried to reign in her emotions, but sobs deep within shook her body violently. For almost twenty years she’d imprisoned her grief, holding out hope that Bobby was still alive. And now she couldn’t restrain her grief any longer. Her sorrow poured out.
Rose sensed movement in front of her. She realized what would happen next and did her best to compose herself. The Hoxleys had elected her to receive the flag.
The flag presenter knelt before her. Rose wiped at her eyes with a soaked handkerchief. She wanted to see this moment.
Whoever the flag presenter was, he held a high rank. Row upon row of colorful ribbons and medals adorned his chest. And then the words came out his mouth, the words she dreaded hearing. She could no longer deny that Bobby was gone from earth.
“On behalf of the President of the United States and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s honorable and faithful service.”
Rose took the flag from the officer’s white-gloved hands. She tried to say “Thank you” but the words came out silent. She looked down at Old Glory resting on her lap. The stars pointed upward to the heavens—all part of the military funeral protocol.
Seconds ticked by, and then minutes. People started to leave. A few patted her shoulders as they headed for their cars. Finally, after several minutes, it was just her and the Hoxleys, the funeral director and his staff.
Rose touched Ned’s knee. “I need to ask you for a favor, Ned.”
Ned looked at her, his eyes red and puffy. “Sure thing, Rose, whatever you need.”
“My mother has taken a turn for the worse. Doctors aren’t giving her much hope. She’ll be leaving this world soon. When she does, I need to take a break from Louisiana, go somewhere different and clear my head, do some thinking. I’ll be gone for a few weeks.”
“That’s understandable, Rose. You should do that. Go have some fun. Take all the time you need.”
Rose nodded. “I need someone to look after the house and feed the dog, get my mail while I’m gone.”
“I’ll be glad to do that, Rose.”
“I’ll hire someone to mow the grass. You won’t have to do that.”
“Don’t worry about a thing, Rose. I’ll take care of it all. Your house will be in good hands.”
“Thank-you, Ned. I appreciate it.”
She started to get up, but Ned stopped her.
“Rose, there’s something I need you to understand.”
“What’s that?”
He leaned over until his face was close to hers. “There are people in town who are talking. I don’t want you to believe anything they’re saying. It’s all a bunch of nonsense.”
“What are they saying?”
Ned shook his head bitterly. “Some are saying Bobby was a deserter and that he denounced his American ci
tizenship and lived as a German all those years he was missing in action. They’re saying he wasn’t a hero at all, that he was a Nazi sympathizer. But that simply isn’t true, Rose. Bobby is a hero.”
“I know it, Ned. I don’t pay any mind to people who gossip or say hurtful things. Over the years people have said a lot of unkind words about me. But I’ve grown a thick skin and it doesn’t bother me now.”
Ned smiled weakly. “Okay, good. Keep us informed how your mother is doing. And let me know when you’re leaving on your trip.”
“I will, Ned. I promise,” Rose said. She took one more look at the casket, and clutching the flag close to her chest, headed for her car.
Chapter 30
After closing the journal, Annie dabbed at her eyes. Rafter could tell his wife had been deeply touched by the entry. But she wasn’t the only one in the room with watery eyes. Tears rolled down Ned Hoxley’s face as well. “I’m sorry, Ned. Hearing Annie read that must have been tough for you,” Rafter said.
Ned nodded his head almost imperceptibly. “I won’t lie, Jon; it was hard to hear those words. But not for the reason you probably think.”
“Whatever the reason is, it’s understandable,” Rafter replied.
Ned continued to shake his head. “I’ve been carrying around a secret for fifty-two years. It’s time I come clean. Rose did go off on an extended trip when her mother died. And I did more than just feed her dog and water her plants. I searched for the treasure, turned this house upside down looking for it. I never did find the treasure, but I did find guilt, lots of it. And the guilt has been eating me alive ever since.”
Arcadias stopped his pacing and looked at Ned intently. “Where all did you look?”
“I looked everywhere. It’s simply not here. But finding it is not what you want to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“I believe there is a curse on the treasure. You’re better off not finding it.”
Arcadias laughed. “A curse you say? I’m an ex-history professor, Mr. Hoxley. I taught Louisiana history at McNeese State. I’ve studied Jean Lafitte extensively. I’ve never come across any mention of a curse.”
Ned shrugged weakly. “The curse may not be documented, but it’s there. You are proof of the curse, Arcadias. It has grabbed hold of you and is eating up your mind. Anyone in this room can see your sickness.”
Arcadias pursed his lips. “And what is the final outcome of this curse?”
Ned snorted. “You are one clueless fool, aren’t you? Can’t you see you’re headed for prison, or worse, the grave? The Lafitte treasure is cursed because it’s blood money. Lafitte amassed his wealth by stealing the cargo from Spanish galleons. Granted, the Spaniards were no angels, but there was bloodshed from time to time. They didn’t always willingly give up their cargo to Lafitte. He took it outright because he was a pirate.”
Arcadias interrupted Ned. “I prefer to call Lafitte a privateer, and you couldn’t be more wrong about him. Back in his day Jean Lafitte was well thought of around here. He floated the cargo from the galleons up through the bayous and sold it to the people at bargain prices. He provided a needed service. Most importantly, Lafitte and his men also fought for America in the War of 1812 and helped defend this region during the Battle of New Orleans in 1814.”
“You make Lafitte sound like Sam Walton. And he was not a patriot by any means. He fought in exchange for a pardon. Jean Lafitte was nothing but a thief and a thug,” Ned countered.
Arcadias smiled knowingly. “Lafitte and his men used letters of marque issued by Cartagena—a Spanish republic at war with Spain—to legally plunder the Spanish galleons. Letters of marque authorized a privateer to attack and capture enemy vessels, and were considered legal during the 18th and early 19th centuries.”
Arcadias waved his gun hand around the room. “Look around you, Ned. Look what this so called curse gave the Whitcombs. Does this magnificent house look like a curse? It sure doesn’t to me.”
“The curse didn’t affect the Whitcombs because they used the treasure for good. They were generous with their money. They helped this entire community make it through The Great Depression and World War II.”
Ned launched into a coughing fit for several seconds before continuing his lecture. “When you give away money to those in need you acquire treasure in heaven. Heavenly treasure is the only kind of treasure that will last. I would say the Whitcombs are fabulously wealthy up in heaven right now.”
Rafter smiled inwardly at hearing Ned put Arcadias in his place. Sometimes the elderly could get away with things others couldn’t. But there was a limit to how much abuse Ned could heap on Arcadias. Rafter feared that Ned might stir up Arcadias’ ire a little too much. The ex-history professor might erupt into violence if pushed too far.
For the past half hour Rafter had subtly observed Arcadias, looking for mannerisms and tendencies he could somehow use to his advantage. Although Arcadias’s brain currently operated in a dark and sinister place, Rafter wanted to go there to better understand the man. Rafter’s past training as a NYPD hostage negotiator impressed upon him to find common ground with Arcadias, the sooner the better. More importantly, he needed to change Arcadias’s opinion about him.
Right now Arcadias considered him the enemy. Rafter knew he could blame only himself for that. He’d threatened the man not long ago, a mistake he couldn’t repeat if he hoped to gain Arcadias’s trust.
It had been a decade since Rafter had last negotiated a hostage scene. If he hoped to talk down Arcadias he would have to knock off rust quickly. But being both the hostage and the negotiator at the same time posed an enormous challenge, a challenge he didn’t relish. Lord, if you could soften Arcadias’ heart I would really appreciate it. Otherwise, he will not comply and I will fail.
For the third time in the past hour the doorbell rang, interrupting Rafter’s thoughts. He watched Arcadias walk slowly to the door.
“I’ll get it this time. I certainly can’t do any worse than you two,” Arcadias said to Damien and Iris. Arcadias reached the door and looked through the peephole.
Damien called out, “Who is it, brother?”
Arcadias retreated halfway into the parlor. “The police,” he said softly.
Ned smiled. “Now you’re going to get your comeuppance, Arcadias.”
“How many are there?”
Arcadias looked at Damien. “There’s only one policeman, and I’m going outside to talk to him. It will be okay, you’ll see.”
Chapter 31
Arcadias stepped out onto the gallery, shutting the door behind him. He looked over the stocky policeman for a brief moment before his gaze shifted to the squad car parked out front. The cruiser’s lights didn’t flash. He counted it as a good sign.
“Is everything okay, Officer?”
“I’m looking for an old man. His name is Ned Hoxley. Have you seen him?” Josiah Barrett asked.
Arcadias nodded. “He’s inside.”
“Is he okay? His wife is worried about him?”
“Oh, he’s fine. Ned is a real chatterbox, and very opinionated.”
“Well, tell him to hurry home so his wife can rest easy.”
Arcadias shook his head. “I wish I could, but I can’t. Ned knows everything.”
Josiah Barrett’s mouth dropped. “He knows everything? How did that happen?”
Arcadias was struck by surrealism. He had a houseful of hostages tied up inside, and outside a crooked policeman talked to him in a conversational tone, oblivious to a giant moth flying kamikaze missions near his head. The moth was attracted to an overhead security light. It flew drunkenly, crashing into the bulb and ceiling. This night is too bizarre even for a Twilight Zone episode, Arcadias thought.
“I’m waiting for a reply, Arcadias.”
“The doorbell rang and Iris answered the door. When she did the old man barged his way in. And then later the doorbell rang again and Damien answered it. He and the lawyer talked, and in the course of talking the lawyer s
aw Damien’s gun. Damien thought it wise to not let him go.”
“There is a lawyer here too?”
Arcadias nodded. “The Rafters are adopting a child. The lawyer brought a document over for them to sign. It’s a fluke thing he came here tonight, same way with the old man.”
Barrett placed his hands on his hips. “You said this would be easy. The treasure was simply waiting for you to recover it. And now you have hostages.”
“Look, Josiah, I feel your disappointment. This expedition has become an ordeal, an exasperating trial. But I will find the treasure. We’ve unearthed evidence that proves the treasure is here. I just need more time. And that’s where you come in. Report back in and say the old man is safe and sound and headed back to his house. No one knows what is going on inside this house but you. Everything can still work out. You’ll get your share.”
Barrett’s face grew red. “All you initially asked me to do was to take any calls this side of town and run interference. But now you’re asking much more, Arcadias. You’re asking me to look the other way, to ignore the fact you’re holding several hostages. The stakes are so much higher now. I don’t think I want any part of this.”
“I need you, Josiah. Without you we’ll never pull this off.”
“You’re asking too much. The situation has gotten out of hand. Even I have scruples.”
Arcadias cocked his head. “Since when did you acquire principles?” He’d known Josiah Barrett for a long time. They graduated high school together, and had kept in touch off and on through the years. If Arcadias knew one thing about Barrett, it was that there wasn’t an honest cell in his plump body.
“Look, I’ve been a bad cop throughout my career. I’ve taken numerous bribes over the years to look the other way. But this crime you’re committing is so much more serious. I’m walking away and washing my hands. You are on your own, Arcadias. Good luck on finding the treasure. If you do find it you can keep my share,” Barrett said. He turned and headed for the steps.
