Bayou Justice

by Robin Caroll

  “Not now.” He cupped the nape of her neck and drew her to him.

  His kiss was as light as the moonbeams. Her heart skittered from her chest into his. She relaxed against the sweet kiss, lifting a palm to rest against his cheek.

  “Ahem.”

  CoCo jerked to her feet two seconds before Luc hit his. Toby stood at the foot of the stairs, avoiding eye contact. “Ms. CoCo, you told me you needed some work done around here?”

  She wiped her cheeks, as if that would remove the telltale blush. “I did.”

  “I thought I’d mosey over and see if you wanted me to work for you this afternoon.” He finally lifted his eyes to hers.

  He was such a good kid. Sweet and reliable. Especially considering he’d grown up without a father on site. “Actually, I need the grass mowed. Ever since we got rain the other day, I believe the grass has grown two inches.”

  Toby chuckled, then sobered as he stared at Luc. “Mr. Trahan. I’m sorry about your granddaddy.”

  Tingles started in her toes and worked all the way up to her fingers. This was her perfect opportunity.

  “Thank you, son.”

  CoCo smiled again. “You said your daddy knew Mr. Beau, Toby?”

  The teenager nodded, his cropped hair not moving one iota. “Yes, ma’am. He works for Mr. Beau. Well, he did.”

  She held her breath, fighting to keep the excitement from coming out in her voice. This was it, she could feel it. “Toby, I’m sorry that I’ve never asked, but who is your daddy?”

  He gave her a strange look, as if she’d sprouted two heads. “It’s okay, Ms. CoCo. I only met him for the first time about six months ago. My daddy’s name is Sammy. Sammy Arthur Moran.” Toby puffed his chest out with pride.

  TWENTY-TWO

  CoCo’s heart beat double-time as she waited for Toby to fire up the lawn mower. Once its roar filled the air, she grabbed the sleeve of Luc’s shirt and twisted the fabric into a tight wad. “Did you catch it?”

  Wearing a look of utter confusion, Luc spoke slowly. “Grandfather knew the coins were here because Toby sold the one he’d found to him.”

  “Right. And if Toby showed it to Beau, it only stands to reason that Sammy might have seen it as well.” She tightened her grip on his shirt sleeve. “Could Sammy have been trying to blackmail Beau?”

  “To what means? What would Sammy have to benefit? There were no large amounts of money missing from Grandfather’s accounts.”

  An idea popped up in her mind. “What if he blackmailed Beau, but not for money?”

  “Then for what?”

  “Maybe to get Beau’s endorsement for casino manager after he retired?”

  Luc stiffened and widened his eyes. “That could be it. Sammy had talked to me several times, knowing I didn’t want to work there. He’d encouraged me to tell Grandfather.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Told me I should stand up strong for my beliefs.”

  “Knowing you wouldn’t take the job, Sammy intended to blackmail Beau to get his endorsement.”

  “Only one problem with that, beautiful.”

  Her heart took another fall. “What?”

  “We know how Sammy and Beau knew about the coins. If Sammy was the one who wrote that letter to Beau, getting ready to set him up to blackmail him for an endorsement, how could Sammy know about the KKK stuff in your attic?”

  Yep, his logic was a major problem in her theory. She chewed her bottom lip and stared out over the bayou. The gentle breeze wafted the smell of water and soil across the porch. She closed her eyes and inhaled, drawing the comforting scent in deep.

  God, we could use a little guidance. We’re missing something. What?

  Her heart crushed against her lungs. Her breaths came in forced pants. “Wait a minute. Sammy Arthur Moran. S. A. M.” She shot her glance back to Luc, her knees turning to mush. “It wasn’t a code name in her diary—it was the man’s initials.”

  The lawnmower rumbled from the backyard. Luc spun CoCo around like a man gone wild. “Don’t you see? Sammy knew about the pictures because he was the man Dwayne’s sister was involved with at the casino. Not my grandfather.”

  The dots all connected in her mind. “Sammy saw the notes Beulah had in her notebook. He broke off their relationship because he realized he had enough to blackmail Beau. And he took her notebook.”

  He nodded, smiling like a big loon, and her heart followed the way of her knees. Excitement lit his entire face. “She must’ve had enough information that implicated your grand-father and Uncle Justin. Sammy realized he could use that to get to Grandfather.”

  Anticipation built in her chest. “He knew Beau knew about the Confederate coins because of Toby, so he made the coin rubbing to prove to Beau that he made a legitimate claim.”

  “Right. Knowing Grandfather, he wouldn’t put up with blackmail. Maybe he found out Sammy was the one who sent him the letter.”

  “Would Beau have confronted Sammy?”

  Luc shook his head. “No. He would have taken the evidence to the police and exposed Sammy.”

  “Maybe that’s what he intended, and Sammy had to kill Beau to stop him from turning him in for blackmail.”

  “Sounds like Grandfather.” Luc pulled CoCo to him.

  She barely registered his head bending before his lips were on hers.

  He let her go so suddenly she lost her balance. She clutched his forearms and regained her footing.

  Luc gave a little chuckle. “We need to tell Bubba. This gives Sammy Moran strong motive for murder.”

  Something was still off. Hovering just outside the edges of her reasoning, so close she could touch it. “Hang on, let me think for a second.” She chewed her bottom lip, rewinding all they’d discovered.

  Luc leaned against the rail and let out a long breath.

  Her mind’s fingers finally grasped what she’d been overlooking. “The pictures.”

  “What?”

  “How did Dwayne’s sister know about the pictures in my attic?”

  He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know. Dwayne said that her notebook was gone. Maybe she’d gotten curious about the coins and found out about the link between them and the Klan. Let’s just assume she did know.”

  “Okay. It’s enough that Sheriff Theriot can look into it.”

  Another thought slapped her mind. “Dwayne says he knows his sister was involved with the man at the casino who encouraged her to quit. I just wonder…what if Sammy set her up from the beginning—once he found out what she knew?”

  “That’s a thought. I can ask Bubba to check that out.” Luc planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Speaking of, I should run out to Bubba’s and fill him in on what we’ve learned.”

  “Are you ready to do that just yet?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? I only have until tomorrow morning to get off the main suspect list.”

  “Will you tell the sheriff about the pictures we’ve found? One implicates your uncle in murder.”

  “What do I do, CoCo? Protect Uncle Justin or myself?”

  “I’d say you, but that’s because the truth needs to come out.”

  Luc’s laughter brushed against her face. “I don’t want to turn in Uncle Justin until I’ve had a chance to talk to him.” He shrugged. “He might feel just as bad as your grandfather did. I’d like to give him a chance to explain.”

  “Then what do we do?”

  “What if I just give Bubba the first picture? The one we found of them in the KKK robes?”

  “And not the other one?” No, Luc—the upstanding man who had a strong sense of morals and values, a strong Christian—wouldn’t withhold evidence in a murder investigation.

  “Just for now. Just until I can talk to my uncle. A day or so at most.” He narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. “I’ll pray about it first.”

  So would she. Now. Dear God, what would You have us do? A man was murdered…by my grandfather and Luc’s uncle. We have the evidence. Do we turn it over now, or hold it a day? God,
I don’t know what’s right.

  Luc’s eyes met hers, and her heart melted into a pool. She knew what to do. Her heart told her, loud and clear.

  Luc pulled out of Sheriff Bubba Theriot’s driveway, heading toward Uncle Justin’s place. The afternoon sun beat down, giving Lagniappe no reprieve. Bubba had been most receptive to his and CoCo’s theories, and had promised to start looking into things as soon as he finished his lunch, which Luc had so rudely interrupted.

  A twinge of guilt snapped against his chest. He hadn’t told Bubba about the second picture. The other one. CoCo had told him to wait until he’d talked to Justin—that he owed his uncle that much. He was thankful for her understanding. Now, he just needed the truth and he could tell Bubba the rest of the story. He groaned—his thoughts sounded like Paul Harvey.

  Turning into Uncle Justin’s driveway, Luc’s heart hammered. How exactly should he start the conversation? Hey, Uncle Justin, I found a picture of you as a member of the KKK and you murdered a man. How’re you doing? His mouth went dry. Nope, that wouldn’t work.

  Heavenly Father, I come to You for Your wisdom and guidance. This is most difficult for me, and I pray You’ll guide my words.

  He’d made it to the second step when the door swung open and Justin stood at the threshold, this time brandishing a rifle. He lowered the barrel as soon as he recognized Luc. “What brings ya by, boy?”

  Luc swallowed hard. “I need to talk to you, Uncle Justin.”

  “Come on in.” His uncle moved aside to let him cross. “If it’s about me droppin’ the eviction on your girlfriend, ya can forget it.”

  “No, it’s not about that.” Luc dropped onto the couch. “It’s about the past.”

  Uncle Justin rested the rifle on the floor, propping it against the wall. “The past?”

  “This is really hard for me, Uncle Justin.”

  “Just spit it out. Can’t be no worse than tellin’ me someone murdered my brother.”

  “CoCo and I were up in her attic…” Luc stopped when he saw the fear cover his uncle’s eyes. He touched Uncle Justin’s knee. “Are you okay?”

  Uncle Justin shook his head. When he refocused on Luc, all traces of fear were gone from his eyes. “I’m fine. But if your gonna tell me about your love life with that gal in her attic, I’d rather not hear about it.” He chuckled.

  “No, not about my love life.” He rubbed his hands against his khakis. Funny how a layer of sweat had instantly coated his palms. “We found a picture in her attic. Of you and Marcel LeBlanc.”

  Uncle Justin’s eyes became guarded. “Now that could be. He and I were friends when we were younger.”

  “I know.” Luc swallowed again. Why did his throat feel as if it’d been stuffed with cotton? “In this particular photo, y’all were wearing robes. With the KKK emblem.”

  Dropping his gaze to the floor, Uncle Justin shook his big head. “I never wanted you to find that out, boy. You’ve been like a grandson to me since I never had any children of my own. Matter of fact, you’re my sole heir, boy. I never wanted you to know that about me.”

  Relief filled all of Luc’s senses. His uncle regretted his past, just like CoCo’s grandfather had. Thank You, God. If there was no repentance, well, that would have been hard for Luc to take.

  “We were kids, you understand. Back then it was a different time. I don’t expect you to understand.” Uncle Justin never lifted his head, but spoke to the floor.

  “I do understand. We all have things in our past we wish we could change.”

  Like breaking up with the woman you love because you didn’t trust God enough to come through.

  Uncle Justin snapped his head up and stared into his eyes. “I’m glad ya understand. I’d rather just forget all ’bout that time in my life.”

  Only thing, Luc couldn’t let it drop. Oh, how he wished he could. He inched to the edge of the couch. “I understand, but I can’t let it go, Uncle Justin. As much as I’d like to, I can’t.”

  “Why not?” His uncle’s eyes hardened in a flash.

  Chills trickled up his spine. “Because we found another picture, too.” Luc licked his lips with a dry tongue. “A picture of you and Marcel standing beside a hanging black man. Marcel wrote on the back that you and he had killed the man. Murdered him.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  CoCo banked the airboat before jumping to the soggy ground. She tied the boat off on the oak tree, then slowly made her way to the mailbox. Her heart tripped as she recognized the return address of the Wetlands Preservation Center. She dropped to the dried grass, her pulse thundering in her head. This was it. She’d either get the grant approval or not. If she didn’t get it, she’d be out of a job with no income. And she’d need all the money she could get to fight Justin Trahan to keep the house.

  With a shaking hand, she tore open the envelope and withdrew the letter. Her eyes moved faster than her brain could keep up, until she came to the second paragraph. The one that told her she would receive her grant, along with the increase she’d requested. CoCo leapt to her feet, let out a whoop, and jogged to the house.

  Tara stood on the front porch, a cell phone in her hand. “This is Luc’s. He left it here on the porch rail.”

  “Okay.” CoCo climbed the stairs.

  “Sheriff Theriot’s been calling like crazy.”

  “On Luc’s phone?”

  Tara set the cell in CoCo’s hand. “Yep. I told him Luc had left the phone here by accident. He asked for you. Said for you to call him as soon as you got back, that it was urgent.” She shook her head. “Grandmere was about to send me out in the pirogue to find you.”

  “Merci.” She tuned her sister out and scrolled through the calls listed on Luc’s phone. She found the one marked Bubba and pressed the call button.

  “Luc.”

  “Sheriff, it’s CoCo. Luc’s not back yet.”

  “Where’d he go? Do you know?”

  “He was going to see you first.” A frisson of danger crept between her shoulder blades. “Why? He didn’t make it to your place?”

  “He was here.” The sheriff let out a long breath. “Told me your theory about Sammy Moran.”

  She bit her bottom lip. Hard enough that she tasted the coppery tang of blood. “And?”

  “I did some checking and talked to Mr. Moran as soon as Luc left.”

  Chills pricked her skin despite the hot afternoon. “Were we right?”

  “Partially.” His sigh hung heavy over the phone. “Look, I probably shouldn’t tell you all this, but I need to talk to Luc. I’m on my way to Dwayne’s now.”

  “Tell me what’s going on.”

  The sheriff remained silent.

  “Please. I love Luc and need to know.” As she said the words aloud, she knew she had to give Luc another chance. Had to give them another chance.

  He grunted. “Sammy admitted he’d written that letter to Beau a few weeks ago. He’d been involved with Dwayne’s sister, just like you suspected. He didn’t go through her notebook thoroughly until last month.”

  “Okay.” Fear knotted in her heart.

  “You were right about the coin, Toby’s supplying it and all. Sammy admitted he’d edged Dwayne’s sister’s out the door. He didn’t want her talking to Beau and letting it slip she knew about Justin and Marcel’s involvement.”

  “He set her up?”

  “Yes.” He sighed again. “Sammy swears he didn’t kill Beau. He has some pretty hot evidence pointing the finger at Justin.”

  CoCo hissed in air.

  Justin. Murdered his brother?

  “Are you still there?”

  “Yes. What evidence?”

  “According to the notebook Sammy showed me, Dwayne’s sister was sleeping with Justin every week. One night, after a bit too much whiskey, he told her about rogue Klan members who were killing black men. Hanging them. I guess he wanted to shock her.”

  Her stomach heaved. She gagged, but pushed it back.

  The sheriff kept talking, not notic
ing her reaction. “Dwayne’s sister felt like Justin just might have been the one responsible for her grandfather’s disappearance so many years ago. She made notes of what he told her. Documented it in her notebook that Sammy turned over to me. I need to collaborate the notebook with her diary, which is why I’m heading to Dwayne’s now.”

  It was too much. The pieces fell into place, making CoCo’s blood turn cold. “We found a picture, an incriminating one. I have it. Sheriff, Luc was going to see his uncle…”

  The sound of brakes squealing broke over the line. “Luc’s at Justin’s?” The sheriff let out a litany of curses under his breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t know it was important.”

  “I’m heading there now. I’ll get there as quick as I can.”

  Luc. With his uncle, a murderer twice over.

  If looks could kill….

  Luc stared into Uncle Justin’s eyes. Eyes filled with a rage Luc had never seen before.

  His uncle lumbered to his feet. “It’s real unfortunate ya found that picture, boy.” He paced in front of the couch. “I told Marcel to get rid of it, but nooo, he needed it. For his repentance, he said.”

  All of a sudden, the room seemed much smaller to Luc. He could feel the walls pressing in against him. He jumped to his feet. “I know, Uncle Justin. We can—”

  His uncle shoved his shoulder, hard. Luc fell back onto the couch. Faster than Luc imagined the older man could move, Justin grabbed the rifle and stuck the barrel against Luc’s chest.

  “Uncle Justin, it’s okay. We can go to Bubba and—”

  Justin shoved the gun harder into Luc’s chest. “Shut up.” He cursed under his breath. “Who else knows about the picture, huh?”

  “I took it to the sheriff after CoCo and I found it.” That wasn’t really a lie. He did take a photo, just not that one.

  Another stream of curses. Justin wiped his forehead.

  “I don’t understand…”

  His uncle’s glare stopped him short. “Ya couldn’t figure anything out. Not like my brother.”

  Luc dared not move.