Only By Moonlight Page 11

  “Damn kiddie crooks,” M.J. grumbled to no one in particular.

  “Good job, Chase,” Deputy Ferdinand said. “If we’re lucky, the DA will charge him as an adult. I’d like to see him locked up before he uses one of those guns to kill another kid.”

  Chase nodded with a solemn expression. “I didn’t know all that when I knocked him down, but I had a feeling the kid was dangerous. So, I’m good to go with the Grahams today, boss?”

  “Yeah, just remember…”

  “He’s only a person of interest, not a suspect. Gotcha.” Chase grinned widely.

  “I was going to say behave yourself so you can win the damn election. I sure as hell don’t wanna be in this job longer than necessary. You and Dave keep clean, and stay healthy.” M.J. gave a grunt and sat down.

  “You can’t want Dave Godchaux for a boss. The guys a self-righteous…” LaShaun stopped short when Dave appeared and tapped on the glass section of M.J.’s office door.

  “We’re having an action packed week, huh?” Dave said.

  “Doing what we’re paid to do, Dave. The action comes from crooks,” Chase said. His smile stretched tight across his face. When Dave glanced at LaShaun, Chase’s eyes narrowed.

  “Afternoon, ma’am,” Dave gave LaShaun a courteous nod. He glanced at M.J. “I’m going to make a loop around Black Bayou and a few miles down Highway 85. Call if you need me.”

  “Thanks,” M.J. said evenly.

  With a final curt nod, Dave closed the door again and strode off. They watched him turn down the hallway that led to the exit used by deputies and other employees only.

  “Call if you need me,” Chase said, mimicking Dave’s officious manner.

  “Dave isn’t the enemy. Sure he’s got his ways, but we all do.” M.J. slapped open a folder. “I’m sure there are stories going around about me being a pain as the boss. Now go. I’ve got work to do, and a mayor’s jumpy nerves to soothe about legal action.”

  “We’re getting out of your way, boss,” Chase said. “I’m taking you up on that lunch treat, lady.”

  “I didn’t mention treating you to lunch, Deputy Broussard. You came up with the idea,” LaShaun tossed back at him.

  “It’s a mighty good one, too. I’m hungry. Knocking sense into gangsters really works up an appetite,” Chase quipped.

  “Hey!” M.J. cracked at him and pointed a forefinger. “Not funny.”

  Chase held up both hands. “I won’t repeat it outside these hallowed walls.”

  M.J. sighed deeply as she shook her head. “The election can’t happen soon enough for me.”

  Chase opened the door and let LaShaun go first. “I’m right there with you, boss lady. Win or lose, I’m ready for the whole thing to get done. See you later, and don’t worry. With the election everything gets blown way up.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” M.J. said softly. She flipped through a report as though she’d already moved on to more important matters.

  Chase and LaShaun walked three blocks toward a new downtown restaurant. Mardi Gras was only a week away. February would be gone, and March would roar in with more cold weather according to the forecasts. They would be married in just a few short weeks. LaShaun shivered even though the day had turned warmer with the temperature in the mid sixties. She stole sideways glances at Chase. He walked with confidence as though life was normal.

  The shops and street lamps were decorated with purple, gold and green, the traditional colors of Mardi Gras in Louisiana. Giant masks hung on doors. Each lamp post had a fleur de lis made of glittering ribbon. They reached the shop owned by Savannah’s father, Antoine St. Julien. His storefront stood out among all of the Fat Tuesday finery. Mr. St. Julien was skilled at carving wood. LaShaun had no doubt that the Mardi Gras float replica so elaborately decorated was his handwork. Tiny dolls had been arranged inside it, some holding beads. A small crowd of admirers gathered around. Mr. St. Julien appeared in the window. He smiled and beckoned them inside.

  “Welcome. I haven’t seen you in a long time. How’ve you been?” Mr. St. Julien said warmly and gave LaShaun a hug.

  His paternal attention always slightly embarrassed LaShaun, but made her feel happy as well. The soft burr of his Creole accent could soothe the most jangled nerves. She smiled at him shyly. “I’m doing good, Mr. St. Julien. How’re you feeling now? Savannah says you’ve been sick.”

  “She makin’ a big deal over a little arthritis. Old men gonna creak like old houses.” Mr. St. Julien laughed at his own joke. He turned to Chase. “How’s our soon-to-be sheriff?”

  Chase grinned. “Can’t complain, sir. I hope you been lookin’ in a crystal ball. If so, I won’t spend any more money on campaign signs.”

  “Naw, I ain’t got the sight. I just hear good things being said ‘bout you round town, son. Y’all fixin’ to get some lunch at that new place?” Mr. St. Julien pointed west, the direction they were headed.

  “Yeah, figured we’d give it a try,” Chase said.

  “They got good burgers I hear. I got to avoid beef these days and eat heart healthy.” Mr. St. Julien lowered his voice and leaned forward. “But try the fried alligator tenders with tartar sauce. Owwee, that’s good eatin’. But don’t tell Savannah or my sister Marie.”

  “My lips are sealed. We guys gotta stick together,” Chase said with a wink.

  “Follow medical advice,” LaShaun broke in. “You’re needed.”

  Mr. St. Julien waved a hand. “Ah, I’m gonna stay around for the children and grandchildren,” he said, referring to Savannah, her husband Paul and their twin girls.

  “Also take you heart medicine,” LaShaun pressed.

  She put her arm through his as though encouraging him. What she really wanted was to see if she sensed that he might get sick any time soon. LaShaun had known when her beloved grandmother was moving on to the other side. To LaShaun’s relief, nothing came to her. She relaxed, patted his forearm and then let go.

  “Pooh, I’ll be here to stir up trouble for awhile yet. Deputy Dave been puttin’ the word out that he’s more level-headed.” Mr. St. Julien frowned. “I say we need fresh blood.”

  “No comment.” Chase smiled all the same.

  LaShaun cleared her throat. She felt uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. “That float in the window is gorgeous. Are you selling it?”

  “I keep that for the store. I made two special order for Quentin Trosclair. Yeah, I know what you’re thinkin’, cher,” Mr. St. Julien said when LaShaun grimaced. “But he paid good money, too good to turn down. Five thousand for the pair.”

  Chase let out a low whistle. “Whoa. I would have delivered those bad boys on my back for that price.”

  “Nah. I carried ‘em in my truck right to his doorstep though.” Mr. St. Julien shared a laugh with him.

  “Just like Quentin to suck people in,” LaShaun retorted. Quentin used money and charm to get what he wanted.

  “Don’t worry. I know what he is. Trosclair is having a big Mardi Gras ball at that big mansion of his this weekend. That’s how the Trosclair family did it back in the day, you know. All the way back to the turn of the century they been havin’ those fancy shindigs. Spend a fortune.” Mr. St. Julien frowned. “I hear them parties get wild, too.”

  “Well at least he doesn’t have the power his grandfather and great-grandfather had around here. Like you said, it’s a new day,” Chase said. He pulled LaShaun closer to him. “The Trosclair name doesn’t send folks running to do their bidding anymore.”

  “Right,” Mr. St. Julien agreed.

  The folks they called “Old Beau Chene” knew well about LaShaun’s intense affair with the rich man’s son years before. LaShaun was barely out of her teens, and using her gifts in all the wrong ways. She saw Quentin as a way to gain a fortune and power. The legends about LaShaun’s ancestors said the Rousselle clan had done the same for generations. LaShaun pushed aside the familiar weight of the dark family history.

  “You should make a few more, Mr. St.
Julien. I’ll bet you’d pick some more wealthy pockets if you did,” LaShaun joked to lighten the tone of the conversation.

  “You might be onto something, little lady. Y’all go enjoy your lunch.” Mr. St. Julien gave Chase a handshake. “You keep these criminals in line.”

  “I’m working on it, sir. You have a great day.” Chase gave him a pat on the shoulder.

  “Bye-bye.” LaShaun accepted a peck on the cheek from the older man.

  “You take care. I’m so happy you’re going to have a wedding and a family soon.” Mr. St. Julien beamed at them both.

  “A wedding yes, but if you mean…” LaShaun blushed and blinked rapidly.

  “I’m going to consider them my grandchildren, too,” Mr. St. Julien said, taking the thought even farther.

  “You sure can,” Chase piped up. He grinned when LaShaun poked his side with an elbow. “What?”

  “You gonna have babies. Your Monmon Odette told as much,” Mr. St. Julien said. His sister, Miss Marie, came out of the back of the store talking to an employee. She joined them.

  “Who gonna have babies?” she said, and waved hello to LaShaun and Chase. Then she looked at them again. “Oh, are you?”

  “No,” LaShaun said fast, loudly and firmly.

  “All young couples have them some babies, it’s natural as rain and sunshine. Why we’d have an empty, sad world without babies,” Mr. St. Julien went on, oblivious to LaShaun’s blushes.

  “Antoine, shush. You just have to forgive my brother. He don’t know better than to say what’s on his mind.” Miss Marie shook a finger at her brother.

  “Oh shoot, I’m just tellin’ the truth. Bye, darlin’.” Mr. St. Julien winked at LaShaun.

  They exchanged more goodbyes and walked two more blocks to the cafe Lagniappe Cafe. Chase teased LaShaun all the way. Mr. St. Julien’s warmth, and his sister’s down home sense of humor, had brightened the day. Heads turned when they entered the cafe, but LaShaun felt the positive waves sent toward them. The pretty waitress with blonde highlights worked hard not to stare as she led them to a table. She clearly found Chase attractive, with his handsome Cajun looks. One man gave him a thumbs up sign.

  “You’re pretty popular around town,” the waitress, Jenny from her name tag, said with a smile. She seemed not to notice LaShaun. “Everybody is talking about how you arrested that drug dealer and helped keep a serial killer from getting out of prison.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Chase replied with a gracious nod.

  LaShaun cleared her throat when the woman kept gazing wistfully at Chase. “I’ll have a glass of sweet tea.”

  “Uh, yeah. Right.” Jenny reluctantly acknowledged LaShaun’s presence. “And for you Deputy Broussard?”

  “I’ll have cola, Jenny. Thanks.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll be right back to take your order.” Jenny rushed off as though she couldn’t wait to serve Chase.

  LaShaun gently kicked him under the table and rolled her eyes. ’I’ll have cola, Jenny’,” she said, her voice pitched low mimicking him.

  “What? I can’t help being popular,” Chase joked.

  “At least this time the town gossip is in your favor for the election,” LaShaun quipped. She started to say more, but stopped in surprise.

  Neal Montgomery and his sidekick Krystal sat at a table on the other side of the cafe. He nodded to LaShaun. Still looking at her, Montgomery dropped money on the table and headed toward them. He seemed to have forgotten Krystal. She called out to him, but Montgomery merely lifted a hand in response without breaking his stride. The young woman shot an angry scowl at his back, but then followed after a few seconds. They arrived at LaShaun and Chase’s table at the same time the waitress returned.

  “I’ll come back for your orders in a few,” Jenny said and left again.

  “So you haven’t left town yet,” Chase said as he stood and shook hands with Montgomery. He nodded to Krystal, who in turn murmured a soft hello.

  “We’re on our way to New Orleans now. I’ll be back this weekend, but not on business.” Montgomery transferred his smile from Chase to LaShaun.

  Krystal wore an annoyed expression. “We’ll be back this weekend.”

  “Funny. You don’t look like the outdoors type,” Chase said mildly.

  LaShaun’s skin started to tingle like crazy as Montgomery’s smile widened. He radiated satisfaction. Montgomery relished being able to spring an unexpected piece of news on LaShaun. Her vision sharpened as if her surroundings had been switched to high definition.

  “You’re going to be a guest at the Trosclair Mardi Gras ball,” LaShaun said.

  Krystal hissed in shock. Chase looked at LaShaun with a baffled expression. Yet Montgomery’s smile didn’t waver, nor did he seem perturbed by LaShaun’s declaration. With her senses enhanced, LaShaun noticed those around them, town residents, were paying close attention.

  “Quentin throws the best parties. The Trosclair social events even get talked about in New Orleans circles. Isn’t that right, Krystal?” Montgomery did not look at her despite his question.

  “Hmm,” Krystal replied.

  “Ah, we’ve interrupted your lunch long enough. Goodbye,” Montgomery said when the waitress approached again. He started to leave but turned back. “Wait a minute. Why don’t you two come to the ball? Deputy Broussard could do his campaign some good making contacts.”

  “Quentin Trosclair might have a problem with us showing up without an invitation,” Chase quipped. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s not one of my supporters.”

  “I happen to know Quentin has no horse in this race.” Montgomery took out his cell phone and tapped the screen. “Hello, Q. Yes, we’re about to get on the road now. Listen, I’m here with Deputy Broussard. What about sending an invitation to the leading candidate for Sheriff of this fine parish?”

  Montgomery tapped the phone again. Quentin’s laughter bounced from the small smart phone’s speaker. “I should have thought of sending Chase and LaShaun an invitation. Brilliant idea. I’ll have it delivered to the Sheriff’s station within the hour!”

  “Excellent, Q. See you Saturday.” Montgomery ended the call and beamed at them. “We’re going to have a wonderful time. Well, we better get going. Goodbye.”

  Krystal merely glared at LaShaun as she swept past them to follow in Montgomery’s wake. The tall, good looking attorney attracted admiring glances from the women in the cafe. Krystal radiated resentment. Montgomery’s charisma would continually attract women, a power he savored. LaShaun suspected he used it regularly. His lover had years of misery ahead.

  Jenny cleared her throat to get Chase’s attention. “Sir, your orders?”

  Both ordered sandwiches with sides of coleslaw. They watched the waitress leave again. The other diners shot glances at them, and the buzz of conversation hummed through the air. LaShaun could imagine Beau Chene would get an update on the couple that kept them all talking, the latest episode of the deputy and the voodoo priestess.

  “Humph, that’s a strange development.” Chase drank from his glass and gazed out of the wide window onto the street.

  “What an understatement. You have my permission to be rude and send a ‘Hell no” as your RSVP,” LaShaun retorted. When he didn’t respond, her skin tingled again. “You’re not seriously planning…”

  “I think we should go. Like Montgomery said, it’s a great chance for me to make nice with the rich and powerful.” Chase looked at her. “You’re curious about out how those two got to be friends. Admit it. Here’s your chance to find out.”

  LaShaun gazed at him in fascination. Chase seemed the same, but different in a way that disturbed her, a lot. What’s more he was dead on target. She definitely wanted to see Quentin and Montgomery together to glean a sense of what was going on.

  “So I guess we’re going to the ball.” LaShaun shivered at the smile Chase gave her in response. She also wanted desperately to find out what was happening to Chase.

  Chapter 9

  S
aturday morning LaShaun went to visit Miss Rose again. The elderly woman had been delighted to get her call. The drive to Mouton Cove was lovely. Even with the cold of winter holding on for one last bite, Louisiana fought back. Green leaves mixed in with the bare gray branches of leaves stripped by frosty winds of early March. Fluffy clouds, light giant cotton balls, hovered against the blue skies. Yet the bright March sunshine hadn’t worked on LaShaun’s dark mood. By the time she reached Miss Rose’s lovely old Creole Cottage, it was barely seven-thirty in the morning. LaShaun drove down the driveway around to the back of the house. The older woman waved at her from a window.

  Miss Rose opened the kitchen door. “Hello, sweet daughter. This is a fine morning, eh?”

  “Good morning. Yes, the weather is nice.” LaShaun pulled her jacket closer against the sharp March wind. “Whew, I’m looking forward to spring though.”

  “Warmer weather and a wedding. You have good reason to look forward to spring.”

  LaShaun took off her jacket after she entered the cozy kitchen. Miss Rose chuckled as she closed the door firmly against the chill. She slipped on an oven mitt and took a cast iron skillet from the oven. She placed it on the stove. The smell of fresh coffee, biscuits, and sausage filled the air. Miss Rose placed the food on two plates. LaShaun poured two cups of coffee, and both of them sat down at the table.

  “You need something hot in your stomach. You shouldn’t miss breakfast.”

  “Thank you, Miss Rose.” LaShaun didn’t need to ask how the older woman knew she hadn’t eaten. “I’m sorry for bothering you at this early hour.”

  “Child, I get up at five o’clock every morning. Old people don’t sleep well. My husband is already up and gone. He went to his friend’s farm to help him put out hay for his cows. Fred’s kids have all moved to the city. Young folks don’t want to live the old ways, eh? Well I don’t blame ‘em. Who wants to walk through manure all day?” Miss Rose chuckled again. “Ah, but I miss the old days. My first husband had a ranch.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” LaShaun said respectfully. She knew the story of Miss Rose’s first husband. Loris Mouton had been a handsome Creole cowboy. In the forties and fifties he’d competed in rodeos.