Cypress Nights (28 page)

R
oche laughed with the rest at a joke Bleu made and felt absurdly proud of her. As if he had some part in her accomplishment! This was the second time he'd seen her give a presentation. She knew her stuff.

“What if your school is cursed?” someone shouted from near the kitchens. “Last time you talked, Jim died.”

The room became silent.

“There's been no connection made—” Bleu stopped. She looked toward the darkness outside, then at the faces all around her. “I was going to say no connection's been made. But we don't know there isn't one, either. I can't give you any details about what Spike's found out.”

“They've asked enough questions,” the same man said loudly. “What do we pay these people for? That's what we'd like to know.”

Roche glanced around and realized Spike wasn't there.

“These things take time.” It was Marc Girard who spoke up. He stood, and Roche figured this was a man the community listened to. “Let's stick with the school. If
what we can do fits in with what the parish decides it wants, Girard will donate all architectural services. Just let us know when you're ready, and we'll present renderings. Max and Annie Savage will cover surveys.”

The look on Bleu's face made Roche grin.

Applause broke out. He felt the mood change. And he silently committed himself to doing whatever he could to flush out Jim's killer. It didn't make sense that anyone would kill because they didn't want a school built. He was more sure than ever that the building projects were being used as a diversion from the real motive.

“What a community!” Bleu said. She all but bounced behind the microphone. “This is…” She raised her hands and let them drop. “Well, it is.”

Laughter rippled forth.

“Hey, folks.” A man Roche didn't recall seeing before made his way from the reception area. “I thought I'd miss this whole shindig. Me, I was late when my mother pushed me out and I ain't improved.”

More laughed erupted amid cries of, “Hey, Doug. Join the party,” among other comments.

“Some of us gotta work,” Doug said. He faced Bleu and raised a hand. “Miz Bleu, like I said on the phone, we're gonna clear the land where the old school was. We can get started on that right away. And we'll do the gradin' once you know what goes where.”

Cheers went up.

Doug bowed and kept on grinning. “We got kids to send to that school,” he hollered.

Roche shook his head. It had taken a move from New York to a tiny Louisiana town to teach him that, once you accepted the little quirks, such as addiction to speculation, people could be unselfish enough to shock you.

He caught Ozaire Dupre's eye and almost returned the man's obvious wink. Instead, he nodded his head. Ozaire, so he said, was the go-to guy when someone wanted a dog. He'd heard Bleu was planning to get one when she could, and wondered if Roche would like to make her a present of a fine specimen.

Roche had two choices—leave the picking to Ozaire or put in an order for something special. No deals had been struck, but Roche was considering the idea. He'd get ten dogs, if he thought they'd make Bleu happy.

“You've got it bad, haven't you, bro?” Max said, tilting his body sideways in his chair to get close.

Roche jumped and gave him an evil eye. They sat at a table close to where Bleu was speaking. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Also at the table was Father Cyrus, whose expression hadn't changed in minutes, as if he'd zoned out. Madge, Roche had noted, was at a table with a group of people he didn't know. Miserable didn't come close to describing her aura.

He could feel Max staring at him. “What?”

“Are you doing okay?” Max said.

“With what?”

“Everything,” Max said. “Loving a woman—being in love with a woman and everything else that goes with that.”

“You're getting
way
ahead of yourself.” But his brother knew him too well, so there had to be more explanation. “She's interesting. She interests me.”

“What do you know about her past?”

“What the…Drink your wine.”

“I suppose you know she comes from Cullen, Wyoming. I drove that way once. Nice-enough country.”

He had never asked her where she came from, Roche realized. She was Madge's cousin, and he hadn't thought about her living in a completely different part of the country. He should have. She didn't have a local accent and she'd spoken of coming to stay with Madge when they were children.

“If it was me,” Max said. “I'd be checking to see what I could find out. Just out of interest.”

“You're not me. In my world, we let people fill in their own blanks,” Roche said.

“From what I can tell, she's got a lot of blanks. Married to a felon. Widowed—”

“How do you know that?” Roche asked. He turned toward his brother. “Damn it, Max. Keep out of my business.”

“You bet,” Max said. “I like her, by the way. I did what comes naturally—I looked out for you.”

The damnable part of it was that Max really thought that's what he'd done. There wouldn't have been any malice there anyway.

“I'm too old to need a keeper,” Roche said. “But thanks for the concern.”

“Is the sex working?”

“Goddamn it!” He checked out Cyrus. The priest was only listening to his own thoughts, but Roche took his voice way down. “Would I have said anything like that about you and Annie?”

“You did.” Max swallowed some red wine. “What's the big deal?”

Their eyes met. They both knew how big a deal sex had been—and continued to be—for Roche. He didn't want to conduct his own therapy session with his brother. “Leave it be,” he said.

“Sure,” Max said.

Today, Bleu had amazed him. He wondered how much she had amazed herself and figured she ought to be in shock. Doing what came naturally would have a specific meaning for him from now on.

“I asked questions, because I understand you,” Max said. “Worldly wouldn't be a word I'd use to describe Bleu. It might be a good idea if you stuck with women—”

“Leave it.” Blood pounded at Roche's temples. “You are so far off base.”

“I probably am,” Max said. “Forget I shoved my foot in my mouth.”

They looked at each other, and the old slow grins spread.

Cyrus pushed back his chair. He got up and joined Bleu at the microphone.

More applause—and cheers.

“I think you all know Bleu is Madge's cousin,” Cyrus said. “Which helps explain why she's so good at what she does. Inspiration runs in their family. I promised I'd do my bit, too.

“That means I get to tell you the pledge cards are being passed out. The popular duties are my job.”

This time the laughter was more polite than enthusiastic.

“Also,” Cyrus said. “We have confirmation of something amazing. Pappy, who doesn't need an introduction, wants to match every monetary pledge made tonight.”

“No pressure,” Roche murmured, then took a drink.

“But awesome,” Max said. “We could be talking big bucks for Pappy.” He elbowed Roche. “You written any checks yet?”

“I keep quiet about my charitable works,” Roche said, smirking. “I hope to have an announcement one of these days. But don't worry, tonight I'll come up with something to put a little hole in Pappy's nest egg.”

“Tell me,” Max demanded, like a boy who had to know where the alligator eggs were.

“Nope. Might not work.” But he wanted the Cashman parcel almost more than he'd ever wanted anything. A look at Bleu shook him. His life could be changing and why wouldn't he be crazy about the idea?

Because if it didn't work with her, he wouldn't be unscathed.

“You really want her.”

His chest tightened. Without turning to Max, he said, “You bet I do. You know what I'm thinking around the same time I do, so I won't deny it.”

“You're right,” Max said. “Pointless. But this time I saw what you were thinking. Anyone watching your face would.”

Roche pulled even closer to Max. “You and I choose wounded women. Know that? I could have great resources for writing a paper.”

Max didn't look amused.

“Just joking.” Roche shook his head. “I want to buy Cashman's, the land next—”

“I know where it is. Is it for sale?”

“I don't know. Don't even know who owns it, but I'm doing a search.”

“I was right,” Max said. “You do have a case on that woman. An expensive case.”

“Max—”

“Uh-uh, I didn't say that was a bad thing. I made an observation is all.”

Roche tipped onto the back two legs of his chair. There was so much noise in the place, it didn't matter if he and Max had a private conversation. “I may build a house on part of the land.”

That got Max's absolute attention. “You sure?”

“No. I said I
may
do it.”

“Why don't you announce your idea?” Max said. “Folks would love it.”

Roche thought about it. “I'd rather get closer to knowing if it's possible.”

“Just the idea that you want to do it would help Bleu,” Max said, too mildly for Roche not to stare at him. “Another sign of her success.”

He had something there. Roche had already started looking for alternate sites if Cashman's fell through. He flattened his hands on the table and pushed upright.

“Go, bro,” Max said.

“Could I have a word?” Roche said loudly.

Cyrus, answering questions with Bleu, held out the mike at once. “All yours.”

“Thanks.” Roche faced the crowd. Bleu was frowning at him, and he shot her a smile. “You all know the property next to St. Cecil's they call Cashman's. I'm looking into making a purchase there, partly for a place of my own, but mostly to add to the options for the improvement projects at the church.”

For seconds, everything fell silent.

He felt Bleu's fingers on his arm and couldn't keep satisfaction off his face.

“Whoa!” Ozaire stood and nodded his shiny head. “If that isn't the darnedest thing. It's the best thing I heard in a long time. Great place for the school.”

Roars of agreement greeted Ozaire.

“Great,” someone said, his voice loaded with sarcasm. Roche didn't know the man who spoke, but he sat with Kate Harper. Sam had moved off. This guy held one of Kate's hands in both of his.

“That's George Pinney,” Cyrus told him quietly. “Mary's husband.”

Roche didn't recall seeing the man, but put him together with what Bleu had told him about her visit to Kate Harper.

“The school needs to be where the old school was,” Cyrus said, still very softly. “That's what the archdiocese agreed to.”

Roche held the mike away. “How about a senior center? A multipurpose center?”

“Great,” Cyrus said. “I don't know how to thank you.”

“Don't try.” Roche clapped the other man's arm. “The school's going to be built on the site of the old one,” he told everyone. “But wait till you see the senior center and multipurpose facility we can have at Cashman's place.” He grinned and the place went wild.

He turned to Bleu and she threw her arms around his neck. She'd regret it later, he knew, but for now he hugged her back, breathed her in and started thinking about when this party was over.

“I've got somethin' to say,” a woman's voice said clearly.

Kate Harper, with George Pinney solicitously holding her elbow, stood and very slowly let her gaze wander over the dance hall. “My Jim died because you people's ideas are bigger than your pocketbooks. They build this school, then what? How many of you got the money for tuition? There won't be a day when your children don't come home askin' for something for the school. You all let yourselves get carried away.”

“Kate,” Cyrus said. “These are terrible times for you. For all of us. We'll get to the bottom of what's happened.”

“And will that bring Jim back?” Her voice had a whiplash quality, all Southern softness wiped out. “No. Well, there's one thing I can do, right now. Cashman's, as you call it, belonged to Jim and now it belongs to me.” She pushed back her chair. “I think the killer expected Jim to make a big gift to the wretched school the night of your last meeting, Bleu Laveau. So he stopped him. Now my Jim's given enough.

“You don't have the space for a school and some sort of center on the property you've already got. If you build one thing without the other you'll have war on your hands. You need what I've got and I'm not sellin' that land.”