Sissy

by Madelyn Bennett Edwards

  "Are you representing Tucker Thevenot?" I didn't look at him, just kept studying the landscape.

  "No. One of my partners is." He took a sip of his beer.

  "Isn't that the same thing?"

  "No. Not really." He put his beer down and started to roll up his shirtsleeves.

  "Did you set up the defense fund at the Confederate Bank?"

  "Look, Sissy. I told you none of this is your business."

  "Why is it yours?" I stood up and stared at him.

  "I'm a lawyer. I take cases that can pay my fees. In this case, I'm helping those goons raise money so they can pay me." He continued to roll up his sleeves.

  "I thought you said you weren't representing them." I took a deep breath to stop the bile I felt rise in my throat. "You are going to bring suspicion on yourself, you know."

  "How's that? Someone has to represent these guys. Just because my firm is involved doesn't mean any of us had anything to do with what happened." He seemed defensive, and it made me think that maybe he protested too much.

  "Be careful. The investigators with the AG's office are really smart." I kissed the top of his head and went into the kitchen, where I retrieved my purse. I let myself out of the front door and went to my garage apartment on Gravier Road.

  I spent the weekend in Jean Ville, so I could attend the preliminary hearing the following week. I pulled into my dad's driveway Saturday afternoon, and James's car was parked in the carport. When I went in the back door, he came out. He'd probably seen me drive up and decided to leave before I could find out why he was there.

  "What are you doing here?" I grabbed his arm as he tried to walk by me.

  "Same reason you're here. I came to see about Dad." He shook my hand off his arm. "I come by almost every day." He walked out the back door, and I heard him take the steps two at a time.

  *

  I was one of the first people in the courtroom Wednesday morning for the pre-trial motions. The defense filed motions of discovery and inspection, bill of particulars, and other stuff I didn't understand; although it all seemed to ensure the defense attorneys knew what evidence The State had against Rousseau and Thevenot.

  I sat on the first pew, behind the AG's table. I didn't know any of the lawyers or paralegals who represented The State, but I recognized Detective Sherman and Lieutenant Schiller. They both nodded at me before they took their seats.

  Thevenot and Rousseau wore orange jumpsuits, and their wrists were handcuffed in front when they entered the courtroom. A sheriff's deputy took the handcuffs off before the two sat at the table with their lawyers.

  The hearing included testimony by The State's detectives Sherman and Schiller. They said that they had eye-witness testimony from some of the people who lived around the church and were on their porches on June 30, and that one of the neighbors identified Keith Rousseau as the driver of the blue truck. A woman described a man who resembled Tucker Thevenot as the person, "riding shotgun." It was damning testimony, and the judge agreed there was enough evidence to go to trial.

  Judge DeYoung sat behind a raised desk and wore his black robe, a white shirt, and a blue striped tie. He saw me sitting in the gallery and nodded at me. Defense attorney Steven Regard once again asked the judge to consider his motion to reduce bond, to which DeYoung replied, "I'll set a hearing date for your motion. For now, the accused will remain in jail until they can produce bond."

  The following week, the judge held the hearing and denied motions by both defendants for bond reduction. The bail remained at $500,000 each.

  I let out a sigh of relief when I read in a newspaper article that the "People for the Rights of Men" had only raised $10,000. The article said the identity of the donors was confidential.

  I packed my car and headed for New Orleans, with a stop in Baton Rouge.

  *

  Miss Millie was at her desk when I arrived at the AG's office at two o'clock. She opened her window and told me that Robert was not in the office.

  "He's in court all day, probably all week." She grinned at me as though she'd won some contest. "Can someone else help you?"

  "Is Detective Schiller in?" I smiled back at her as our match continued.

  "Let me check." She picked up the phone and stared at me while she spoke. "Detective, Miss Burton would like to see you." She put the phone down and reached for the handle on her window. "He'll be right with you." She slid her window shut and went back to her typewriter.

  Schiller came into the waiting room and shook my hand. He held the door to the hall open for me, and I walked past him. We went into the second door on the right. There was a young man in a grey suit sitting at a round table in the corner. He stood when we entered the office, and I recognized him as one of the lawyers who'd presented testimony at the preliminary hearing.

  "Luke, this is Sissy Burton. Miss Burton, Lucas McMath." He shook my hand and smiled, which produced a dimple in his right cheek. He had the bluest eyes I'd ever seen, sky blue on a clear day, and his sandy blonde hair swept across his forehead like Ryan O'Neal in Love Story. I couldn't take my eyes off him, and he continued to hold my hand until I finally spoke.

  "Nice to meet you, Luke." My hand felt limp and damp. I had to bend my head backwards to look at him, which made my long hair hang down my back, almost to my butt.

  "Luke is the lead attorney on the Thevenot case." Schiller pulled a chair out and indicated I was supposed to sit in it. First, I had to detach my hand from the smoking-hot hunk who held it, as well as my attention. "We've separated the cases because they're different. Maybe you should explain, Luke."

  I let go of his hand and hovered over the chair that Schiller pushed in as I lowered myself into it.

  "Yes, well, Thevenot was the shooter." Lucas McMath sat in the chair next to mine, a stack of file folders and a yellow legal pad in front of him. Schiller sat across from me. He had his little notepad and ballpoint pen on the table. "There's more culpability for Thevenot. Rousseau was the driver. We aren't sure whether the charge of first degree attempted murder will hold up against Rousseau because his defense is that he was just driving the truck."

  "Oh. Is it possible that Rousseau will get off?" I took a tissue from my purse and dabbed at my chin, in case I was drooling. Guys didn't typically have that effect on me, but this one named Luke certainly did. I tried to concentrate on what he said, not on his full lips, which moved in perfect cadence.

  "We have to wait and see. Either way, we're going to ask the judge to try Thevenot first." His hands were folded on the table, and he looked at me when he talked. He didn't blink or shift his eyes to Schiller or anywhere else. I listened to Schiller and Lucas McMath talk about the case and some of the witnesses. I was tongue-tied for about ten minutes, then I finally remembered why I'd come.

  "Did you know about the defense fund someone set up at the Confederate Bank?" I looked from Lucas McMath to Schiller.

  "No. I don't, do you, Luke?" Schiller looked at Luke then back at me.

  "No. What's that about?" Luke stared at me as though I were the most interesting person on earth. I loved it. I told them about the fund, and that the donors were confidential. I said the last I'd heard the fund had grown to almost $40,000. "I wonder if this has something to do with the cover-up that Robert, I mean Mr. Morris, is concerned about."

  "This is interesting. I'll tell Mr. Morris about it." Schiller made a note on his pad. "I wonder whether we can get the judge to sign a subpoena for us to review the list of donors."

  "I'll draw up a request." Luke wrote something on his legal pad and nodded at Schiller. "Do you know the officers at the bank, Sissy?"

  "The president is Mr. Tom Preston. My brother, James is vice president. He's also an attorney, has the largest practice in the parish." I spoke slowly. I didn't want to implicate James, but if I acted like I didn't know he was an officer, it would seem and though I was trying to hide something.

  "James?" Luke put his pen down and leaned back in h
is chair. "James Burton? He's your brother?"

  "Yes. He's twelve years older. I was an afterthought, I think." I laughed at my own joke, but the two men were serious and didn't catch my quip.

  "Isn't his firm representing Thevenot?" Luke leaned forward and wrote on his pad. I could read James's name upside down.

  "Yes. One of his partners, I think." I didn't like the way the conversation was going. I wanted to steer it somewhere else, but while I considered how to do that, they fired more questions at me about James, his partners, his affiliation with the bank, his interest in the defense fund.

  "Do you think your brother is a donor?" Schiller asked that question, then looked at Luke.

  "That doesn't seem likely." I sat up straight in my chair, ready to spring out of it and run. "He told me he wanted the fund to work so that his firm could be paid. I don't know why he would put money into something that would go back to him."

  "You talked to him about the fund?" Schiller looked incredulous.

  "Yes, I asked him about it after I heard the announcement on the radio and read about it in the newspaper." I shifted in my seat, uncomfortably. "He told me he just wanted to be paid."

  "Did he say anything else?" Schiller asked.

  "About the fund?" I exhaled and realized I'd been holding my breath.

  "Yes."

  "No. That's all he said. He's not very talkative." I held my purse in my lap and felt my palms sweat against the leather. Suddenly it was very quiet. "Well, I'd better go. I just thought Mr. Morris might want to know about the fund."

  "Is there anything else you can tell us?"

  "I don't think so." I stood up, and Luke did, too.

  "I'll walk you out." He took his suit coat off the back of his chair and put it on. Schiller stood up and shook my hand.

  When we got to the front door, Luke said he'd walk me to my car, which was parked across the street. We didn't talk until we got to my Camaro and he made a comment about how he'd never have guessed I'd be driving an almost seven-year-old sports car.

  "My dad gave it to me when I graduated from high school." I had my hand on the door handle. "He picked it out, never asked me what I liked."

  "That's unusual." He grinned, and his dimple caved into the side of his face.

  "Yep. My dad's unusual. That's for sure." I turned towards the car and started to open the door. He reached around and put his hand on top of mine.

  "Let me get that for you." His hand covered mine, and it felt like a hot iron on my skin. I slid it out from under his, and he opened the car door. "Look. Sissy. Is that your real name?"

  "Abigail. But I prefer Sissy."

  "Okay. Look. I don't mean to be forward. But… uhm… Are you seeing anyone?"

  "What does that mean, like dating someone or going steady?" I started to laugh, and his grin widened.

  "Yes." His blue eyes glistened in the sunlight.

  "No. I'm not. Are you?" I didn't mean to ask that question, and I felt embarrassed when I heard the words come out of my mouth. Heat spread across my face and knew I was blushing.

  "You're really cute when you blush." He blocked the opening to my car so I couldn't get in without stepping over him. "No. I'm not seeing anyone. Would you go out with me?"

  "When?" I was tongue-tied, and the word just popped out of my mouth.

  "When I call you." He laughed hard, and his teeth were so white and straight that I stared at them.

  "Do you have my phone number?" I laughed, too, at him laughing.

  "No. That was my next question."

  I gave him my phone number in Jean Ville, and the one at the house in New Orleans. I didn't tell him I was looking for an apartment in Baton Rouge.

  "I'm staying at the Capitol House Hotel until Saturday." I told him I didn't have that phone number, and he said he could look it up. "I'm actually going to a high school football game Friday night. Catholic High."

  "Really?"

  "Yes, long story." I didn't elaborate because I felt my friendship with the Morrises was not something I should share with one of Robert's employees.

  "Are you busy tomorrow night?" He looked a bit shy, as though worried I'd reject him.

  "Not really."

  "Can I pick you up after I get off work? About five thirty, or six?"

  "I guess so." I shifted the weight from my right to my left leg and put the strap of my purse over my shoulder. He finally moved aside so I could get in the car. I slid behind the wheel and reached for the door handle to pull the door shut, but he was still holding it open.

  "I don't want to come on too strong, but could we have a drink tonight after I get off? We can go to the bar in your hotel."

  "I think so. I have to make arrangements because my niece who goes to LSU is staying with me. Can I call you after I talk to her." I had to look up into the sun to see him. He moved in front of the direct light when he saw me squint and took out a business card. He handed it to me and told me he'd written his extension number on the back of the card.

  "Well, I'll see you later, I hope." He handed the card to me, and I noticed that he'd also written his home phone number on it.

  "Okay. I'll call you before five." I pulled on the door handle, and he let me shut it. I rolled down the window after I started the car.

  "Okay. See you." He watched me drive off, and I watched him in my rearview mirror until I could no longer see him standing in the spot where my car had been.

  *

  Lilly was waiting for me in the lobby of her dorm when I pulled up about twenty minutes later. She ran into my arms as though she hadn't seen me in a year. She followed me to the hotel in her own car so she could drive to her class at eight o'clock the next morning.

  When we got in our hotel room, she sat on the side of her bed and talked like a chatterbox. She told me how the past few nights in the dorm had been miserable and that she almost called Brenda Morris, but decided it would be an imposition. She said her classes were getting harder, and that she had a paper due the next day and a math test on Friday. She complained about how the girls in her dorm were loud and that boys threw rocks at their window during the night and one of her roommates snuck out and didn't come back all night.

  Lilly finally stopped talking, and I told her about meeting Luke, and that he wanted to come over and have a drink with me.

  "I have homework, so that's just fine." She started to unpack her book bag, putting the contents on the desk. "It'll be nice and quiet in here with you gone."

  "Well, don't try so hard to make me feel loved and wanted." I laughed, and she giggled.

  "Is he cute?" She turned around and looked at me, hard.

  "Who?"

  "The guy you met today. The one you're going to have a drink with." She put her hands on her hips as though she couldn't believe she had to explain her question.

  "Yes. Very." I smiled and knew I probably looked ridiculous. "You can come down to meet him and see for yourself."

  "Okay, but then I'm coming back to the room to study, and I hope you'll stay downstairs a long time." She stacked her books on the desk, and I picked up the phone and pulled Luke's business card out of my pocket. A robot answered the phone and said if I knew the party's extension to dial it now. I hit 3-2-3, and he picked up after two rings.

  "Lucas McMath." His voice was deep and raspy.

  "Do you prefer Lucas or Luke?"

  "Oh. Hi." He paused and took a deep breath. "Luke is fine."

  "I can meet you downstairs when you get off work today." I felt nervous, like a silly schoolgirl. "My niece needs to study and wants me out of the room."

  "Great. I'll be there about five thirty." He sounded excited, and that made me less jittery. "Want me to call your room?"

  "No. I'll either be in the bar waiting for you or will be down soon after you arrive."

  "Okay. Good." His voice was breathy, and I heard him inhale. "See you then."

  "Okay. See you." I held the phone until I h
eard the dial tone. Lilly stared at me as though I'd just grown a large wart on the end of my nose.

  "What?" I put the receiver back on the hook.

  "You look funny, Sissy." She started to laugh. "Your face is red, and your hands are shaking."

  "Oh." I went to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Lilly was right. I was beet red. I had to get hold of myself before five thirty. I changed into jeans and a long-sleeved pink blouse that buttoned up the front. I pulled the sides of my hair back and clasped it in a barrette and added a little lip-gloss.

  *

  He was sitting at the bar facing the door when Lilly and I walked in. A huge grin spread across the bottom of his face and his cheekbones lifted. He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it sideways and away from his face, but it fell back across his forehead within a few seconds. I introduced him to Lilly, and they talked a little about LSU. He said he was an alumnus of the university and the law school.

  "I just finished law school a few years ago, so I'm not that far ahead of you." His manner with Lilly was smooth. He treated her like an equal, not like a child, and I could tell she liked him.

  "Well, I've got to study, and anyway, I'm too young to drink." She laughed, shook Luke's hand, and kissed me on the cheek. "Keep her down here as long as you like, Luke. I need the quiet time."

  "I'll try. Maybe she'll agree to have dinner with me. Can we send something up for you?" He looked at me and winked. I felt goosebumps crawl up my arms.

  "Thanks, I'll get room service." She squeezed my shoulder and left.

  We sat at a table near the window that looked onto Lafayette Street. We watched people walk in front of the bar on their way to the Convention Center next door. Luke told me there was a Van Halen concert there that night and that he'd almost bought a ticket but didn't feel like going alone. We chatted about music we liked, and he said he loved Halen's newest release, Jump. I told him I especially liked Pretty Woman and Dance the Night Away.

  He had a cocktail, and I had a glass of wine. We never stopped talking, and at eight o'clock he looked at his watch and said he was hungry, and asked whether I wanted to get something to eat? We walked a few blocks to the Pastime Restaurant, a casual poor-boy and pizza place that had been around for decades and was popular with college students. It was a nice evening, and when we walked back to my hotel, he held my hand and we talked and talked, and never ran out of things to say.