Night Magic (38 page)

"Oh, yeah. Damn, I should've thought about
that."

"That don't matter. Tell me what
happened."

Paul began hesitantly, afraid of the effect
discussing Claude Trosclair would have on Charles. But Charles
listened to his story impassively. Paul described his last meeting
with Claude in detail as Charles broke in occasionally to ask
pointed questions.

"When I left him he was alive. That was the
last time I saw or talked to him." Paul rubbed his neck.

"Paul, you don't have to tell me you didn't
kill him. I know all my children. Not one of 'em could or would
intentionally hurt another human bein' on this earth. 'Course now,
Sheldon might rough a man up bad if he insulted your Mama."

"Now that's the truth, Sheldon's got a temper
on him." Paul chuckled.

"But I know you didn't kill that man."
Charles still refused to call Claude his father. "If anybody in
this family could, it would have been me." He clenched his right
fist.

"Don't say that to anybody else." Paul
stroked his hand until it relaxed.

"Hey, they done already checked up on me. You
can b'lieve that, yeah. They know I been in and out of the
hospital. Hell, I been so weak I couldn't swat a fly. But you in
serious trouble."

"Since you know so much, I guess you must
know about the private detective." Paul raised an eyebrow at
him.

"LaMar Zeno. His daddy went to prison for
killin' a man. Got stabbed and died in Angola State Penitentiary.
They found out a year later he was tellin' the truth all along. He
hadn't killed nobody. LaMar been on a mission ever since when it
comes to innocent folks bein' accused. He may be a little-- well--
strange, but he good. And knowin' he workin' for you makes me feel
it's gone be all right."

"Sam thinks so, too. I hope you're both
right." Paul clasped hands with his father.

*****

Light from the late evening sun was nothing
more than a pale glow brushing the very tops of the trees as Paul
moved through the woods behind his parents’ home. The old path he
and his siblings had used so frequently was now much over grown
with vines. The once bare, dusty lane now covered with a carpet of
grass reaching up to his knees. He stood for a moment remembering.
To his left past a huge pecan tree was the way to their favorite
fishing pond and swimming hole. To his right, the woods had
stretched on to become a place for hunting. In the last six years,
housing developments had cut into the wild countryside. Still, he
found it little changed from his childhood. How they had relished
the freedom of summers spent here. He could almost hear the voices
of his sisters and their friends squealing in pretend fright as one
of the boys found some harmless snake to shake at them. Or the
shouts of joy when one of them caught the biggest fish. Feeling his
shoe strike against an object, he smiled upon pushing aside weeds
to find a child sized canteen. Obviously a new generation had
discovered his old playground. Shaking himself out of his reverie,
he continued towards the small now paved road that bordered the
eastern edge of the woods. Hand in his pocket fingering the keys to
the rental car, he emerged from a stand of wild honeysuckle
bushes.

"Stop! Walk slowly towards the car, hands
held high!" A male voice shouted from somewhere to his right.
Instinctively, Paul began to turn in the direction of the voice."No
sudden moves! Walk straight ahead to the car! Now! Do it!"

Louisiana state troopers dressed in dark blue
surrounded him. Sheriff Triche and one of his deputies stepped
forward. When he reached the car, Paul was shoved face down onto
the hood and handcuffed. While one trooper patted him down roughly
another explained his rights. Sharply pulled upright again, Paul
was put into a patrol car.

"Good capture, boys. Real good." Sheriff
Triche grunted with satisfaction as he leaned down to stare at
Paul.

*****

"So, I figure Claude Trosclair went back to
his office and was killed there. Quentin and LaShaun are strong
suspects. They had more to lose than your friend Paul. As for Kyle
Singleton, he's had his hand in the profits covering gambling
debts. Maybe the old man found out about him, too." LaMar sat back
dressed in a khaki green work clothes, a plastic hard hat on his
knee. He was the epitome of the working class man.

"Well, Savannah, what do you think?" Charice
poked Savannah's arm.

"I admit, it's interesting."

"Interesting!" Sam and Charice yelled
together.

"We got at least three people with motive
enough to waste a whole town, and all you can say is `It's
interesting'?" Sam said.

"You are unbelievable!" Charice said.

"All right, okay." Savannah held one hand.
"Let me think a minute."

"We need to be over at the Sheriff's office
telling him all of this stuff." Sam stood up.

"No, we got to prove one of them did it. Get
the evidence on him, or her." Charice chewed on a fingernail.

"No. We don't need to do either one. We just
have to present enough evidence to create reasonable doubt. LaMar,
they don't have a witness or physical evidence linking Paul to the
murder, do they?" Savannah, still calmly seated, turned to the
private detective.

"No." LaMar flashed a smile.

"People have been convicted on circumstantial
evidence, but not often. Police usually count on a suspect making a
slip during questioning or a confession."

"Right." LaMar's eyes had a gleam as he
regarded her with increasing interest.

"Since he didn't do it, he has nothing
incriminating to let slip and reveal. And nothing to confess,
either."

"You got it."

"I'm no criminal lawyer, but the case against
him is dripping with reasonable doubt." Savannah took a deep
breath. "But I do think he's going to wind up on trial."

"You don't think the district attorney will
decline to prosecute since the evidence is circumstantial?" Sam sat
down heavily.

"Sam, both he and the Sheriff are elected
officials. Claude Trosclair was a rich, powerful man from a rich
powerful family. What do you think?" Savannah said.

"Damn! No way could that be kept from Paul's
father." Charice sat down next to Sam and held his hand.

"Yeah, and he was doing so well coming back
from his stroke and all." Sam looked dejected.

"I didn't know." Savannah went to the picture
window of Charice's living room. The lush green growth of late
spring was everywhere.

"I know what you said about circumstantial
evidence, but there are thousands of brothers in prison behind less
than what they've got on Paul." Sam let go of Charice's hand to rub
his eyes. A vein stood out on his neck.

"Cheer up. Somebody might just confess, you
know." LaMar, standing at the door, tipped his hard hat to them all
before striding out to a full sized tan pick-up truck with a tool
kit across the back.

All three stared at him then each other,
mouths hanging open, eyes wide in astonishment. They were like
statues, unmoving for about thirty seconds.

"What the hell!" Savannah rushed to the door
only to watch the tailgate moving down the street.

"Honey, don't try to figure it out. I gave up
the second time I met him." Charice patted Savannah on the back.
They stood at the door as the truck turned a corner. A grinning
LaMar waved at them before the truck was lost from view. The phone
began ringing behind them.

"Hello. Oh God." Charice closed her eyes.
"Okay. They're here. Yeah, thanks for calling."

"What is it? Not the kids?" Sam's brows drew
together in concern.

"No, that was Mr. Antoine. Paul's been
arrested."

Savannah had calmly discussed the possibility
that Paul would not only be charged, but put on trial. Goose bumps
spread on both arms as the cold reality of the danger he faced
washed over her. All three came to stand close to each other,
huddled for warmth.

*****

"Gentlemen please. Circumstantial evidence is
all you've got." Gralin eyed the district attorney, Morton Daniels,
and Sheriff Triche. Paul sat next to him.

"We found a button matching one from a jacket
your client owns at what we believe is the crime scene." Daniels
held up a sheet of paper from a folder in front of him.

"Which could have been dropped at any time
since Mr. Honorè has admitted being in that office. He met with Mr.
Trosclair a number of times at that location."

"Your client left the country." Sheriff
Triche. "Went to one of them Arab places."

"Kuwait. And we have ample evidence to show
this trip had been planned for months. Look, let’s stop this game.
We all know the reason the judge released my client on bond is
because of the flimsy case you have. Taking this to trial is a
waste of taxpayers’ money."

"Our investigation is continuing. There are
certain promising leads. It might be to your advantage to tell us
what really happened. We might even be willing to discuss
involuntary manslaughter," Daniels said, taking the tone of a
solicitous uncle.

"And we might even consider not filing a
wrongful prosecution lawsuit when this is over. Goodbye gentlemen."
Gralin said. He and Paul left.

"Well?" Sam and Charice hovered around them
as they exited the courthouse.

"They won't budge. Can't afford to give up
their only suspect and admit they've got no real leads. Hang in
there, Paul." Gralin shook his hand before going back into the
courthouse.

"At least he thinks it looks good for you."
Charice tried an encouraging smile but failed.

"I've been racking my brain trying to come up
with something, anything, to prove that I didn't go back to that
office or see him again," Paul said.

"Come on, let’s get some coffee."

"What y'all staring at?" Charice faced down
the other patrons at the donut shop. "Idiots." Charice muttered
when they averted their eyes self-consciously.

"Take it easy. This is a small town. Not only
is it the first murder of anybody in six years, but Trosclair was
the town's richest citizen." Paul sipped his coffee.

"I hate small towns." Sam grumbled to no one
in particular.

"So, is Savannah okay?" Paul played with a
paper napkin.

"Fine. She would have been here but--" Sam
stammered looking to Charice for help.

"You know, she-- had stuff at the shop. Man,
since they went on television business has been just-- taken off. I
mean, she is working constantly to keep up." Charice's voice
trailed off lamely. She gave Sam a helpless shrug.

"Yeah, that's great." Paul took another sip
of coffee.

"Why don't you give her a call?" Charice
said.

"Nah, not a good idea." Paul stirred his
coffee needlessly.

"Go on. She's over there now." Charice pulled
his hand as if trying to tug him out of his seat.

"She doesn't think you did it," Sam blurted
out.

"But she's not exactly a fan either. I
understand."

"Paul, really she--"

"It's okay, Charice. Drop it. Hey, thanks for
everything. I'm going to the office. Might as well catch up on some
work, right? See ya." Paul left.

"Will you talk to her? She's your friend,"
Sam said.

"I've tried, believe me. There's nothing else
I can say. Why don't you talk to him?"

"I've tried. He won't even call her on the
phone."

"Well, that's it then. It really is over I
guess." Charice chewed a corner of a donut.

Sam nodded.

"I'm through with it." Charice said.

"Me too,” Sam said.

"They're grown and you can't make grown folks
do what they don't want to do."

"You're right."

"I have no more to say. I'm not wasting my
breath on it anymore. She doesn't have to worry about me bringing
it up." Charice waved her hands for emphasis.

"I agree totally." Sam slapped the table.

*****

"This is crazy, Savannah." Charice threw up
her hands in frustration.

"Charice, leave it alone." Savannah tied a
white ribbon around a gift basket filled with Tante Marie's
pralines and spices.

"Number one, you agree that he didn't do it."
Charice held up one finger.

"Right."

"Number two, you say you understand why he
didn't tell you about his grandfather being Claude Trosclair."
Charice flipped up a second finger.

"Sort of." Savannah raised an eyebrow at
her.

"And number three, you even understand him
getting upset about Devin." Charice held up a third finger. "Three,
count 'em, three good reasons to get back together with the
man."

"You want to keep those fingers you better
quit waving them in my face. Now you listen. Number one: I agree
that he is no murderer. I had my doubts before LaMar Zeno gave me
his information just because, no matter how angry he'd made me,
Paul is not a violent man. Number two: though I understand his
secrecy, I still think we had become close enough that he could
have trusted me. And number three, it wasn't so much his objection
to my seeing Devin as some of the things he said to me in anger
over it."

"You are some kind of stubborn."

"Besides, he doesn't want to see me. I mean,
he hasn't broken his neck getting over here now has he?"

"But what if he did come over here?"

"He won't."

"He might."

"Have you talked to him? If you've been
talking to him about me I'll strangle you, so help me." Savannah
moved towards her menacingly.

"No, no! You know I wouldn't do that after
you told me not to. Um-humm." Charice back away.

"See that you don't." Savannah resumed her
work on the basket.

*****

"Call the woman, man!" Sam thrust the
telephone receiver at him. They sat in their Lafayette office.