Family Issue

by Nat Burns

  We spied a handful of workers who were standing by a truck sharing water from a large round orange cooler set on its tailgate. Bone parked the car, and we went over to talk with them. Several of them remembered me from when I had lived in the area and we exchanged small catch-up talk for a few minutes.

  “So, we’re looking into some of the troubling events that have happened on the farm here. Do any of you remember seeing any strange vehicles or people lurking about?” Bone asked when a lull fell in the pleasantries.

  They eyed her fearfully, shaking their heads in negation, so I interceded on her behalf. “Come on, guys. You can tell us. I promise, no one will get in trouble in any way. Have any of you seen anything? Anything at all?”

  One of them, a scrawny young man, stepped forward. He swept his ball cap from his head and shuffled his feet. “I seen a truck, miss. The day the little angel was hurt. I was walking from Northheights south and I seen a pickup that I didn’t know. It was blue. A funny blue, like light. It was dented up too. Looked old.”

  “What’s your name?” I asked gently, moving closer to him.

  “I’m Luis, miss. Luis Estevan.” He grinned at me.

  I stepped back in shock. I knew this kid. “You’re not little Luis who used to follow me all around the farm when I’d come visit?”

  “Yes, miss. And you gave me cookies from the kitchen.”

  I studied him. “Look at you, all grown up. Now I really feel old.”

  He laughed.

  “So this truck, Luis. Could you see the driver?” Bone asked.

  “Yes, miss. He had the pale hair and was thin, like very hungry.”

  I looked at Bone and she looked at me. We didn’t know anyone who fit that description.

  “Could you see anything else? Like the license plate?” I asked.

  “No, miss.” He frowned and shook his head. “He went by very fast and kicked up much dust. I could not see.”

  “Well, Luis, thank you,” Bone said with a heavy sigh.

  Luis tucked his head, gave me one more brilliant smile, then rejoined the men as they went back to work repairing one of the big harvesting rigs.

  “Well, at least we got something,” I said as we circled around and headed back toward the house.

  “Yeah, something. So…” she glanced at me curiously as she navigated the dirt road. “He used to follow you around?”

  I laughed. “Yeah, he was just a little guy but had a big crush on me.”

  Bone sighed fretfully. “See? You affect everyone that way. Even me. I’m beginning to think that I’m just like that little boy.”

  I reached over and took her hand. “Well, yeah. But the difference is, you have a chance.”

  * * *

  “What did you mean earlier at the Thibideauxs’ when you said you think there’s a lot more going on here than we think?” I asked Bone later that afternoon. We were on the west veranda again, enjoying some of Ammie’s mint juleps. A lot of juleps contain way too much sugar syrup. Not Ammie’s, though. She knew just how much to add so that the mint was still the dominant flavor. They were delicious and refreshing in the muggy afternoon heat.

  Bone leaned her head back and sighed. “I don’t even know,” she said quietly. “Why would he say that, though? It has to be someone here on Fortune Farm. But then that leads to why in the hell someone would want to bite off their nose to spite their face.”

  I nodded. “Which leads us back to it being caused by spite or revenge. I had been going away from that some, but this is our first real lead, what Jimmy said, so now I don’t know what to think.”

  “I think I need to go home,” Bone said, laughing. “Lay by a pool somewhere and get sunburned.”

  I was horrified. “No,” I gasped without thinking. I quickly covered my emotional outburst. “There’s no way I’m gonna figure this out alone and we only have a few days left.”

  She slanted her eyes at me, not changing her position, and smiled cheekily. “I think I might just have a hard time leaving you anyway, Denni Hope. You’ve kinda gotten under my skin.”

  I studied her, my mind whirring. “That’s in a good way, right?” I asked as she rose from her chair. “Right? Where are you going?”

  Bone giggled and trailed an index finger along my jaw. “Just to get my computer, silly. I’ll be right back.”

  My phone vibrated in my pocket as she left the porch. I pulled it out so I could peer at the screen. Solange was calling.

  “Solange, I told you not to call me when I’m with a gorgeous woman,” I said into the phone, laughing.

  “Ahh, and who is she, cherie? Is she as fine as I am?” Her voice was low and sultry.

  “No one is as fine as you are, Solange. You know that. Now, why are you calling me at two o’clock in the afternoon? Shouldn’t you be over at Ainchez’s or playing with your boy toy?”

  “Well,” she began, “I am getting ready to leave for Ainchez’s in just a few minutes, but I had to call you and ask you who John Clyde’s little sweetmeat is. I swear she looks familiar but I just can’t remember people the way I used to. Especially the younger ones in the families, the kids of ones I went to school with. Today’s kids don’t look nothing like they did when I was young anyway so it makes them even harder to place…”

  “Solange,” I interrupted, “Solange! What in blazes are you talking about? What did John Clyde do?” I waited impatiently, my brow creasing in confusion.

  “Why, Denni, I’m talking about his girlfriend. Who is she? I would so love to see a wedding in the Price family and I just feel so bad that Megs couldn’t…”

  “What girlfriend? What do you know that I don’t?”

  I looked up as Bone entered, carrying her laptop under her arm. She eyed me quizzically but regained her seat and opened the computer.

  “I saw them with my own two eyes. At Bay Sally’s. I went to the little girls’ room in back and spied them kissing in the storeroom. They didn’t see me though. Do you think it’s serious?” Her tone was eager and filled with curiosity.

  I sighed. Curiouser and curiouser. “I have no clue, Solange. I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone and Patty never said anything about it. I’ll have to ask her…”

  “Don’t you think it would be a beautiful thing to have a Price wedding? I could help with the flowers…you know I have a talent that way…”

  I laughed. “Before you marry him off, Solange, let me find out how serious this all is. What did she look like?”

  Solange sighed into the phone. “Well, blond, with big hair, several years out of style. She was kind of small and had on a uniform, so no clues there…attractive enough, I suppose. Are you sure you don’t know anything about her?”

  “No, but I bet I will.”

  “Okay, I’m off now, but call me and tell me as soon as you find out something. Ta ta, Denni dear.”

  I pressed the end call button, my eyes on the sprawling vista outside the veranda.

  “What was that all about,” Bone asked.

  I sat back in my chair. “It seems as though John Clyde has a girlfriend.”

  Bone watched me, her brow furrowed. “So? Is there something wrong with that?”

  “Well, no…I’m just surprised that no one is talking about it. News travels fast in these small southern towns. We knew about John Clyde and his old flame, Sissie Mawyers, after just one date.”

  “Ahh,” Bone said with a sigh.

  “What are you looking up?” I asked, peering across her to the computer screen.

  “Land stuff. Public records. I want to see how free and clear the land is here. Do you know if there’s a mortgage on the property?”

  “I don’t think so, unless they’ve taken out a second one. This land was handed down from Dodson’s father, Guillaime, and I think he got it from his father as a land grant.”

  She nodded as she pressed keys. “Sounds logical. If we find out there’s a lien on the property, then it will be a clue that something financial is going on.”

&nbs
p; “Good thinking. I bet you’re a good cop.” I studied her profile, wanting very badly to kiss her cheek, maybe even her lips. My attraction to Bone was mystifying. I was not some ingénue and knew the whys and wherefores of romance. This was so unexpected, though, like we were being mystically drawn together. I realized with uncanny clarity that I had no intention of resisting. Universe, bring it on, I thought.

  “Hmm? What did you say?” Bone asked.

  “You really are adorable,” I blurted out.

  She raised calm blue eyes. “Thank you, hon. You’re pretty adorable yourself.”

  I blushed and quickly changed the subject. “Are you finding anything?”

  She was still watching me, her gaze thoughtful and somehow caressing. I felt warmth suffuse me…and arousal. I looked away.

  “It looks as though there’s no money tied up in the land.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. There was a long pause. “Hey, do you smell smoke?”

  I raised my head, surprised at the turn in conversation. “What?”

  She stood, setting her computer to one side. “I smell wood smoke,” she said. “Is there a controlled burn set for today?”

  The sound of blaring car horns and men shouting an alarm carried to us on the still summer air.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Bone and I raced out the screen door and spied a thick plume of black smoke billowing from a large weathered shed about one hundred fifty yards from the house. Several trucks were pulling in around it as farmhands arrived on the scene.

  “I don’t think this is a scheduled burn,” I said as I walked across the drive and entered the expansive field separating the house from the shed. “Tell Ammie to call nine-one-one,” I shouted back to her, watching as she disappeared inside.

  This was all Patty needed, I thought as I ran toward the fire. Surely this was the straw that would break the camel’s back. I honestly did not know how much more she and John Clyde could endure.

  “I wonder what they keep in there,” Bone called out, her voice jostling as she ran across the rough ground next to me. Somehow she had caught up with me.

  “Fertilizer,” I muttered, sudden fear constricting my chest. I slowed my pace, grabbing Bone’s hand and pulling her back as well. “Fertilizer,” I repeated.

  As if reiterating my statement, the sound of a muffled explosion reached us and the top of the shed bulged out, then tore free, boards raining down the outside of the building as the rest of the roof collapsed inward. Side panels ripped free and fell with a slow, pained groan.

  “Oh, no,” Bone said, gasping in horror.

  The shed had become an inferno. We were about one hundred yards away but could still feel heat radiating out toward us. Farmhands, standing back from the fire, shielded their face with their forearms. A large water tanker, used for watering the cane, lumbered toward the shed as other, smaller trucks backed away from the heat and flame.

  “Oh, God, what a disaster,” I whispered. I knew, just knew, that this fire had been set deliberately.

  Bone was watching, the fingertips of one hand pressed to her lips. She must have read my mind. “Denni, why would someone want to do this?”

  I had no real answers. Yet. “Bone, we just gotta find out what the motives are? Revenge…greed? What?”

  She just shook her head. “Some cop I am.”

  We began moving forward again, loping through the field until we reached the shed’s access road.

  “I feel the same way,” I said, panting. “I keep…I keep thinking there is something I’m missing. Just one thing that will make all the other clues fall into place.”

  As we got closer, I could see John Clyde and Patty working to pull flaming boards apart from the rest of the building so that they could be doused with water from the farm’s tanker. The two were covered in soot. Blackened farmhands were swarming the structure now, using buckets of water to contain the fire. A sharp, acrid smell inundated us, and I pulled the neck of my T-shirt over my mouth to avoid inhaling the fumes. Bone did likewise, and I saw that several of the workers had tied bandanas around their lower faces as well.

  Bone and I jumped in, filling buckets from side spouts on the tanker and carrying them to the edges of the conflagration. Once I got too close and the back of my shirt caught fire. I cried out as my flesh seared. Bone ran over and quickly doused me with a bucket of water.

  Moments later, I heard sirens and breathed a sigh of relief. I knew this was more than something a dozen or so civilians could handle. There was also the ever-present threat of another explosion, and we had no protective gear whatsoever.

  “Back, get back,” I called out to the workers as two long, bright yellow fire trucks rolled to a stop. The firemen swarmed like bees as they uncoiled a heavy hose and fetched tools from the back storage compartments. Patty moved over to stand next to me and Bone as the farm laborers formed a large group behind us. John Clyde stayed over by the fire captain, obviously explaining what he knew about the blaze.

  Patty looked gaunt, her eyes filled with grief and rimmed in darkness. I laid one hand on her shoulder. “Oh, Patty,” I sighed.

  Bone grabbed Patty from behind and held her close, her cheek pressed to Patty’s hair and her eyes closed. Tears coursed through the soot on Patty’s face, and she took a deep sobbing breath.

  “Where’s Kissy?” I asked. “And Landa? Are they safe?”

  Patty took a stabilizing breath as Bone released her. “She’s with Ammie. Landa’s sleeping ’cause she has the late shift.”

  We watched the firemen work for what seemed like an eternity. Dusk was teasing from the west when the crew finally declared the fire under control. One of the firemen, who lived nearby, told John Clyde that he would stay to make sure the flame didn’t rise again.

  The morose, exhausted group moved as one to their trucks and started heading across the fields. John Clyde lifted himself onto a pile of smoldering, sodden lumber and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Bay Sally’s!” He called out, moving in a circle. “Bay Sally’s! Dinner’s on us.”

  Patty looked up at her brother, and I saw the first stirring of a smile. Her eyes adored him in that moment, and my understanding of their closeness was renewed. I turned to Bone and took her hand. I squeezed it, letting her know everything would be all right. John Clyde and Patty would be okay and, with our help, they’d come out of all this stronger than before.

  Back at the house, I pulled Bone toward her rental car.

  “Shouldn’t we clean up?” she asked, looking down at her blackened clothing and then toward the house.

  “For Bay Sally’s? You gotta be kidding me. Do you have your keys?”

  She dug in the pocket of her jeans and pulled out the tagged key ring.

  “Besides,” I added, nodding toward the access road near the still-smoking shed. “We won’t get a table if we don’t hurry up.” Bone’s gaze followed mine, and we saw the line of trucks waiting to pull into the traffic on Pepperwood Trail.

  My eyes lifted to the husk of the metal and wood building that had stood on Fortune Farm for almost one hundred years. It had stood strong against hurricane after hurricane from Mother Nature, but one man’s evil had destroyed it in an afternoon.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Bay Sally’s bar was an expansive but rundown, wooden-structured shack with a large surrounding deck that had been partially built out over the dusky blue water of Sabine Lake. It was a Brethren icon, mostly because the business seemed indestructible.

  Originally built by Charles L’Enfant in 1954 to appeal to those involved in the increasing cargo traffic of that time, the Lakehouse Restaurant, featuring traditional and filling Cajun food, had been a booming success. Then, after a few years of waitressing, Charles’s wife, Cardamom L’Enfant, fell in mad love with one of the burly dockhands and ran off with him. Horrified that his wife had chosen an impoverished stevedore over him and turned her back on all the success that he had worked for, Charles became just a little bit crazy. He eventually hung h
imself in the back of the kitchen during a busy lunch run.

  Deep Southern superstition closed the restaurant for a while until the early seventies when Monty Kennedy, a wealthy playboy from Chicago, bought the business from the relieved L’Enfant children and reopened it as a bar and restaurant called Bay Sally’s, supposedly named after a favorite song. Kennedy was a shrewd owner, surprising just about everyone. He immediately hired a young Cajun manager, a woman named Odalia Foret, who, through a wide network of friends and paid advertisements, soon had Bay Sally’s as a regular hangout. The days brought the tourists mostly and the nights, featuring a full bar, brought out the locals. Odalia was still the manager and most often could be found in a dark back corner, nursing a beer as she watched the employees and patrons with eagle eyes.

  “I really wish you had changed out of that wet stuff and let me bandage your back,” Bone said as we stepped inside the smoke- and beer-imbued atmosphere.

  “I’m all right, really,” I assured her.

  I noted that the tables hadn’t yet filled as the bar crowd was just trickling in. We walked over to Patty and John Clyde, who were sitting morosely behind matching cut-glass tumblers of whiskey. I gripped Patty’s shoulder and studied John Clyde. “Are you guys okay?”

  John Clyde looked at me, his eyes cold and filled with despair and doubt. “What the fuck is taking you so long, Denni? Why haven’t you figured out who’s doing this to us?”

  Bone spoke up in my defense. “There’s precious few clues, John Clyde. We don’t have a lot to go on here.”

  John Clyde eyed her dismissively. He grunted and took a deep swallow of his drink.

  “Let’s go,” I said, nodding to Bone.

  I waved to Odalia and led Bone to a table near the glass wall overlooking the water. “It’s quieter over here,” I told her as we sat down. The majority of the farm laborers were on the far side. Not that they were a noisy lot this night. I think most of them realized what a financial blow this was going to be for Fortune Farm and their downcast faces and low murmuring conversations reinforced that. They were a messy lot, however, with sooty faces and wet, wrinkled clothing. I realized that Bone and I looked no better.