Something Foul at Sweetwater

by Sandra Bretting

  For more than 150 years, people had tromped right over a Civil War treasure when they walked into Sweetwater. Maybe Ashley was going through his mother’s things and found the map by accident. And maybe he’d heard that Hank Dupre knew all about the auctions around here. Was that how the two men got together?

  And what about Mellette? Did she catch wind of their plan and threaten to expose them? What if she’d spied Ashley with the treasure, or had checked the hiding place one day and found it empty?

  “Is something wrong, ma’am?” The attendant frowned at me.

  “What? No, nothing. I was just remembering something.”

  I turned away from the gal. So many memories came flooding back. I’d walked across that very hall with Mellette, never once guessing what lay beneath our feet. Mellette had given me the grand tour and then paused by the dining room, where she motioned to a cottage on the other side of a large picture window. She’d called the cottage a “sweet hidey-hole.” One of several hidden around the property, she’d said. It all made sense now.

  I clumsily reached into my purse for my cell. I knew better than to approach Hank Dupre by myself, since I had no idea how he’d react. Better to call for reinforcements and get Lance out to the atrium.

  I dialed his number and nervously tapped my foot until he answered.

  “Hey, what’s up? Better be important, ’cuz you’re interrupting my dinnertime.”

  I lowered my voice, even though the attendant had disappeared. “You won’t believe what’s happened. I’m at the Factory, by my studio.” Silence. “Lance?”

  “I’m here. You’re just freaking me out a little. What’s wrong?”

  I brought the cell even closer. “Remember what I said about Hank Dupre yesterday? He’s a Realtor around here and my assistant’s uncle. I saw him at your mom’s restaurant the other night. With Ashley Cox, the guy who owns Sweetwater.”

  “Yeah, I remember. What does any of that have to do with you?”

  “We’re both at the same auction.” I spoke quickly, willing him to understand. “An antique auction, and the big item for sale is a map from Sweetwater. I swear Hank Dupre and Ashley Cox took the map and now they’re trying to sell it, only Mellette Babineaux found out about it. And, Lance?”

  “Yeah, I’m still here.”

  “They want a hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the thing. That’s just the opening bid. Don’t you think it all makes sense?”

  He exhaled loudly. “You’re right. That’s a lot of money. Okay, don’t move. I’ll come right over. Try to not go anywhere or say anything until I get there.”

  Relief washed over me. “We’re all in the atrium. That’s the big glass part in the middle of the Factory. You can’t miss it. Hurry, okay?”

  “You got it. Just hold on. And . . . Missy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I mean it. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Roger that. I won’t do anything until you get here. But you gotta hurry.”

  I hung up and returned the phone to my purse. Only a few minutes had passed since I’d spoken with Hank Dupre, so he couldn’t have gone far. Although I’d promised Lance I wouldn’t do anything stupid, that didn’t mean I couldn’t keep my eye on him.

  Sure enough, he wasn’t hard to spot in that ridiculous shirt. He’d moved to the table with the bidding paddles, beside the exit.

  He leaned over the tabletop, as if looking for something. After a second he straightened and then spoke to a guy on his left. Not just any guy, either. This one had blond hair shaved at the sides and an enormous Rolex that glinted when he took a drink of champagne.

  It was Ashley Cox. Waiting with Hank Dupre by the exit, only a few feet from the door.

  Instinctively, I plunged my fist back into my purse and yanked out the cell. I began to punch in Lance’s number, until doubt crept in. What good would it do to call him again? Nagging might only slow him down. So I let the phone slide back into place.

  What I needed was a diversion. Something to keep the men away from that exit until Lance arrived. Even though their item hadn’t come up for bid yet, one of them could decide to leave early.

  Frantically, my eyes scanned the room, until I spied something tall and heavy and out of the way. It was one of the carved wood columns, placed at least three yards from the glass wall. I couldn’t, could I?

  I inched toward it, passing several easels on the way. The first one held an oil painting of a soldier wearing a tricorn hat. Next up was an antique bill of sale . . . for what, I couldn’t say. I moved faster now, past four pen-and-ink drawings, until I finally reached the end of the line.

  My eyes flew to the exit again. Sure enough, Hank and Ashley had moved even closer to the door. It’s now or never. I pretended to yawn, and then I leaned heavily against the column, which swayed under my weight.

  The pillar tottered back and forth, tantalizingly. Just when I thought it might actually topple over, it wobbled back into place.

  So I tried again. This time I lifted my arms over my head as if to stretch, and then I threw my shoulder against the wood. Pain radiated down my arm, but the column gave way. All it took was one giant push for the momentum to send the pilaster falling to the ground.

  Cccrrraaassshhh! Once again, the thunderous sound of something hard hitting marble rang out. Only this time, the entire room fell silent. People stopped in the middle of their words to turn and stare. Especially since the column bounced against the marble once, twice, three times . . . before it finally began to settle on the ground.

  Even the music stopped. I pretended to stagger backward and an attendant rushed forward to help me.

  “Are you all right?” It was the same girl from before, who blinked behind heavy glasses when she realized it was me. “Oh my goodness. You could’ve been hurt this time.”

  I wobbled unsteadily as the column finally settled into place. Then I smacked my hand dramatically against my forehead. “Thash damn good champagne!”

  The attendant was thunderstruck. She knew I wasn’t drunk, since she’d spoken to me only a second before. But no one else knew that. Little by little, the sound of nervous laughter rippled through the crowd, especially when everyone realized I was unhurt.

  “Get that girl some coffee!” a man yelled, as his buddies began to hoot and holler.

  “Ish fine.” I acted a bit more for the crowd, swaying this way and that. Luckily, several people moved forward to help me, which only made the scene look more real. Beatrice was first, who looked horrified, followed by Hank Dupre, who seemed more confused than anything else.

  “Missy!” Beatrice glared at me. “What is wrong with you?”

  Hank shushed her. “Don’t yell at her, Bea. Not her fault they’re pouring champagne like water.” He draped his arm around my shoulders and led me over to the Mies van der Rohe couch, where I collapsed against the back cushion.

  Hank jerked his head toward the Starbucks coffee bar. “Over there, Bea. See if they’ve got some coffee. Make it strong.”

  Beatrice parted the small crowd that’d gathered, and that was when I spied someone else. Ashley Cox stood on the periphery, his hands jammed into his pockets. He too looked more confused than alarmed.

  “Youse got it all wrong.” I pitched forward dramatically; so dramatically I almost fell headfirst off the couch. “I only had thish much.” I pinched my thumb and finger together and then squinted through a sliver of space between them.

  “Of course you did. Hold on a second, and we’ll see what Bea gets you to drink.”

  “More champagne?”

  He chuckled. “No, honey. No more champagne.”

  After a few more minutes of world-class acting, if I did say so myself, during which time I asked Hank to dance with me at least twice, I finally saw a blur of blue uniform rush into the atrium.

  The minute Lance entered, the mood shifted. Gone were the catcalls, snickers, and eye-rolls. Instead, the crowd took a giant step backward, as if everyone was making way for royalty.<
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  To his everlasting credit, Lance didn’t blink when he saw me pitching and swaying on the couch. My hair whipped around my face, since I’d lost my hat in the scuffle, not to mention my purse and even one of my shoes. But whether I was a hot mess or not, Lance didn’t hesitate.

  “Missy . . . Missy . . . Missy.” He sauntered over, as if this wasn’t the first time he’d found me drunk and it probably wouldn’t be the last. “Looks like you’ve had a little too much fun.”

  “Now, don’t you tell your mama ’bout dish.” I brought my finger sloppily to my lips. “Dish is our li’l secret.”

  “All right, everyone.” He spoke loudly to the crowd. “Looks like the show’s over. You can all go back to your party.”

  When he moved to lift me from the couch, I jerked my head toward Hank.

  Thankfully, Lance caught my drift. “Hey there, I could use some help. Let’s get this girl away from all these people.”

  Hank moved forward to help, and this time he slipped his hand under my arm.

  “I want him too.” I jerked my chin at Ashley. “He ish so cute.”

  “We’ll need you too,” Lance said. “I can use all the help I can get.”

  Ashley grudgingly agreed, and together, the men hoisted me off the couch on the count of three. With Hank on one side and Ashley on the other, we tottered out of the atrium in an odd procession. Lance led the way like a drum major, while Hank and Ashley stiffly marched along beside me, trying to keep me upright. That was how we approached the door, when Beatrice suddenly ran up behind us, the missing hat and purse clutched in her hand.

  “The coffee bar was closed,” she said. “Sorry ’bout that, Uncle. But we have some coffee in our studio.”

  Bless her pea-pickin’ heart. Little did Beatrice know how helpful she was being by suggesting that.

  “Dash a great idea!” I swiveled my head from side to side. “Let’s go to that schtudio-thingy.”

  Lance held open the front door and we all struggled through. Then he took the lead again, with the four of us on his heels. We lurched through the parking lot and past the studios that abutted the atrium. Soon we came to Ambrose’s Allure Couture, but the light was off, hallelujah, and Ambrose was gone.

  The minute we arrived at Crowning Glory and all tumbled inside, I dropped the act.

  “Oh, thank God.” I whirled on Ashley and Hank. “These are your guys, Lance.”

  No one spoke for a moment or two. Beatrice recovered enough to flick on the light, but that was about it.

  Hank found his voice first. “What’s going on? You’re not drunk.”

  “Damn straight.” I rose to my full height, which wasn’t easy considering I only had one shoe. “I had to buy some time so you guys wouldn’t leave. But I know what you did at Sweetwater.”

  “Huh?” Somehow Ashley had found his voice too, but it didn’t seem to help. “I don’t get it.”

  “Apparently there’s a very special map on sale tonight,” Lance said. “Does that ring a bell?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Hank’s eyes darted from me to Lance. “Of course it does. That’s why we’re here.”

  “So you admit you stole the map from Sweetwater?” I’d expected more of a fight, but they both looked incredibly calm.

  “Look, I know where you’re going with this,” Hank said. “And it might take a while for me to explain everything.”

  Beatrice moved to the counter, where she placed my things and brought out two of our stools. She handed one to her uncle and the other to me. “I don’t understand any of this. Are we talking about the map on the auction brochure?”

  I nodded. “The very same. It’s worth at least at least a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “My guess is Mellette Babineaux knew about it.” I sank onto the stool. “She probably would’ve turned these guys in.”

  “Of course she knew about it.” Ashley had been so quiet, I’d almost forgotten he was there. “We talked about it, even.”

  “So you admit it?” I said. “You guys got rid of Mellette Babineaux so she wouldn’t tell people about the map?”

  “Whoa. Hold on.” Hank slid onto the other stool. “That’s not what he’s saying. The map may be priceless, but it belonged to Ashley here. He and his brother are the rightful heirs.”

  “Ruby Oubre told me a museum wants to buy the house,” I said. “Only because of the artifacts inside. Those things are priceless. You can’t just up and sell ’em.”

  Hank somberly waved away my objection. “Unfortunately, he can. Here in Louisiana we have a little something called ‘acquisitive prescription.’ It means you get to keep anything you have in your possession for ten years or more. The exact words are continuously and peaceably.”

  “Acquisitive what?” Lance looked about as confused as I felt.

  “Prescription,” he said. “Other states have something similar called ‘adverse possession.’” He turned to Lance now. “Basically, it’s part of our civil code. The Cox family had that map for generations. Like it or not, the heirs can do anything they want with it.”

  “Heirs,” I said. “Plural. What about the brother? Did he know what was going on?”

  “Yes, he did.” Hank nodded. “They asked me to sell it for them, but I couldn’t go to the auction house without an affidavit. Both brothers had to sign it.”

  “You have the affidavit with you?” Lance asked.

  “No, sir. It’s back in my office.” He slowly rose from the stool. “You two must’ve thought we snuck out to Sweetwater in the middle of the night to steal it.”

  “But what about the tapestry?” I asked. “There was a huge tapestry back at Sweetwater and it’s missing too.”

  “The same thing,” Hank said. “We put it up for auction to see what it’d bring.”

  Even though he’d explained everything so glibly, a few things still didn’t add up. “But you brushed me off back there.” I rose until we stood eye to eye. “You got all weird when I asked you whether Sweetwater had been sold. What was that about?”

  “I’m supposed to be working for the brothers on the sly.” He gave a resigned shrug. “Guess that didn’t work out too well. A lot of people will be mad at us when they hear we’re selling off the antiques. That’s why Ashley and his brother hired me as a go-between. For both the house, now, and the treasures. The truth is that the boys need the money.”

  “Really?” That didn’t make much sense. What about the Rolex and the sports car and a key ring from Yale?

  “It’s true.” Ashley looked even younger now that he’d dropped the bravado. “There’s nothing left. That’s why we’re selling the map . . . and the house.”

  “One last question.” I glanced at Hank. “You’re a Realtor, not an attorney. How’d you know about the civil code?”

  “It comes up a lot around here. You’d be surprised.” He gave a somber nod. “And I do have a law degree from LSU. Right now there’s a big fight brewing over property rights on the Atchafalaya. People want to kick out the locals who claimed the land years ago. I’m trying to help them prove they’ve been on it for so long, it should belong to them. ’Course, none of the other real estate agents around here agree with me.”

  My gaze fell to the floor. “I guess I got you all wrong.” While it pained me to admit it, I couldn’t deny my horrible mistake. “I hope you can understand why I jumped to conclusions.”

  “I do. And I probably would’ve thought the same thing. It must have been a shock for you to see a map of Sweetwater going on sale tonight. Speaking of which . . . the auctioneer probably has it on the podium right about now.”

  I glanced up to see Ashley check the watch on his wrist, only this time he didn’t make a big show out of it. “You’re right. It’s almost seven. Maybe we should go back and see what’s happening.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Beatrice had moved away from the counter. Thankfully, she didn’t sound upset, even though I’d blatantly accused h
er uncle of murder. “Are you coming, Missy?”

  “No, I’m good. I think I’ll stay here with my tail tucked between my legs for a bit.”

  She chuckled. “Whatever you want. Course, I can’t believe you actually believed a Dupre would do something like that.” She tsked her way to the front door. “Might have to teach you a thing or two about our family line.”

  “Sounds like it,” I said. “And I’m sooo sorry for the confusion. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Of course.” She moved to open the door, followed by Hank and Ashley.

  The moment the three of them stepped through it, I turned to Lance. “All right. Let me have it.”

  “What? You were only following your gut. I can see why you’d get upset about the map. Especially when you’re talking about that kind of money.”

  “But my gut instinct was wrong, if you haven’t noticed.”

  “It only means you’ll have a better shot at being right the next time.”

  “Next time?”

  “Sure. I still want you to help me. You’ve been in on this from the beginning. And don’t forget you were right about the murder at Morningside. You’re due for another win.”

  “Lord, I hope so.” Come to think of it, maybe I should’ve gotten drunk on champagne at the antique auction, after all. Then I would’ve had a good excuse for my behavior.

  “You can’t beat yourself up.” Lance kept up the chatter, no doubt hoping to cheer me up. “As a matter of fact . . . why don’t we go get us something to eat? My treat. And if we visit my mom’s place, it’ll be on the house.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” I sagged against the counter, suddenly exhausted by the weight of the day. “That sounds wonderful. And maybe I can blame my craziness on my empty stomach.”

  Chapter 17

  I didn’t say much on our drive over to Odilia’s restaurant. Instead, I hunkered down in the passenger seat of Lance’s Olds and thought about all of the people I’d talked to over the past few days. People like Hank, Ashley, Ruby, and Hollis. Somewhere along the line I’d taken a wrong turn, but where?