Sweet Mystery (42 page)

“I am old with arthritis in both knees. I
must sit now.” Estelle eased down into a chair. Everyone else sat
down mechanically and watched her with an air of expectation.

“Mrs. Jordan is very tired.” LaMar treated
her like an elderly aunt.

“I’ll start, if you like,” Rae said.

“Thank you, baby.” Estelle cocked her head to
one side as she looked at Rae. “You got his eyes. Yeah, I could see
Vincent the moment I saw them pretty eyes.”

“I really need a formal statement.” Sheriff
Thibodeaux

Estelle nodded to Rae. “Oui, you begin. I’m
so weary.” She closed her eyes; her russet face etched with lines.
Her tone revealed that her spirit was as worn down as her body.

Rae cleared her throat and glanced at Henry.
“Vincent had been having an affair with Mrs. Jordan–”

“Estelle, call me that, cher. Make me feel
like I’m young again, mais oui?”

“With Estelle. She wanted to get away, so she
stole the money. Vincent didn’t know until she told him. Then she
played on his love for high living and convinced him that he
deserved it.” Rae warmed to the tale.

Everyone was staring at her, except Henry,
who could not stop staring at Estelle.

“But how did she manage it?” Toya asked in a
soft voice.

“Mr. Henry had a safe containing the cash. He
kept it there in his office. Vincent had been alone in the office
several times that week, so everyone assumed it was him,” said
LaMar.

Estelle brushed back a stray tendril of hair
in a small gesture that made Henry sigh. “But no one noticed
flighty me left alone in the office. Henry was so preoccupied with
his new business, he thought nothing of it.”

“Anyway, Estelle asked Vincent to go away
with her.” Rae was about to go on, but Henry’s hoarse voice cut her
off.

“Why, Estelle? I gave you everything. I
wanted nothing but to please you.” Henry pleaded for an answer to
the question that had eaten into him for fifty years.

“You treated me like a possession. That I was
a prized possession did not make it better. You watched me – always
watching with hungry eyes. I felt that I’d been swallowed whole,
like I was suffocating.”

“So Dalcour played on this?” Henry snarled,
angry at the dead man.

Estelle opened her eyes to look back over the
decades. “Vincent was so dashing, always with that wonderful laugh
and such a voice. He sang to me so sweetly.”

“Vincent met Estelle in the woods, as they’d
arranged. But he got cold feet. He didn’t want to leave his family
or be called a thief, so he changed his mind.” Rae felt a lump in
her throat at the mere thought of what came next.

Estelle did not look at anyone, but spoke as
though she knew what LaMar was thinking. “I loved him and here he
was, telling me it was all a game. He said ‘we just havin’ a little
fun, cher. You oughta know that.’ He laughed when I threatened him.
When he turned his back, I picked up a big rock and hit him hard. I
was sure I’d killed him. But I hadn’t, had I?”.

Henry blinked back tears. “I followed you
that night.”

“Grandfather, don’t say anymore,” Darcy said
sharply.

“He’s ill. The stroke has left him
disoriented,” Toya put in with fervor.

“Hush, you two,” Sheriff Thibodeaux
commanded. “Go head, Mr. Henry.”

“I was glad to see him there on the ground.
How dare he touch my wife? Estelle wouldn’t listen. She just kept
crying and calling for him.” Henry passed a shaky hand over his
eyes.

“C’est pas de ta faute, cher (I don’t blame
you, dear),” Estelle said in low voice. “I drove you to it.”

“I choked her until she stopped breathing.”
Henry looked at his hands, as though they were not his. “How could
I kill the thing I loved so?”

“But you didn’t, cher. Non, I just fainted.”
Estelle looked past him again. “Shall I go on, Cecile?”

“Why did you come back? The only reason I let
you live, you whore, is that you promised never to come back!”
Cecile was transformed into a vengeful woman, her face twisted with
hatred. “Henry is mine!”

The two women glared at each other for
several seconds.

“Miss Cecile killed Vincent?” Simon shook his
head to clear it. “This has more twists and turns than a maze.”

LaMar stood up, causing all heads to turn his
way again. “Cecile had followed Mr. Henry into the woods. She
watched him choke Estelle, and then convinced him that he’d
murdered her. He was so shook up that he agreed to let her handle
things from there.”

“I couldn’t bear to look at her. Not
after...” Henry’s strangled voice trailed away.

“Estelle came to after a few minutes. Cecile
must have been startled, but she acted quickly. She convinced
Estelle that she’d go to the electric chair for killing Vincent if
she stayed. Cecile said she’d never tell, but only if Estelle left
and never returned.” LaMar glanced at Cecile. “Real cool customer.
What she didn’t tell Estelle was that Vincent wasn’t dead either,
at least not yet.”

Everyone looked at Cecile with expressions of
shock and horror.

“He started stirring. Estelle was so dizzy
and didn’t notice, the fool. I scared her silly about the death
house at Angola.” Cecile cackled at her own cleverness. “Marie came
out of nowhere. Said she’d see to Vincent while I hustled Estelle
to the car and got her to drive off. Oui, she took care of him all
right.”

Sheriff Thibodeaux scratched his head. “Ain’t
that somethin’?”

“Marie had followed Vincent. She’d seen him
laughing about how much fun he’d been having. He cut a hole in her
heart and didn’t even think twice. I knew exactly how she felt,”
Cecile said harshly. “He got what he deserved.”

Rae recoiled at the toll that a lifetime of
hatred had taken on so many lives. She leaned against Simon, who
cradled her.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispered. “I’m
here.”

“So, Marie murdered Vincent while he was
still lying on the ground semi-conscious. Poor guy never knew what
hit him. Estelle ran off, convinced she was a murderer.” LaMar took
a deep breath. “Estelle eventually settled in Trinidad, after
travelling through South America and the Caribbean for several
years.”

“Too scared to settle in one place,” Estelle
added by way of explanation.”

Rae looked at Estelle. “But you were seen
with a man in New Orleans,” she said.

“Yes, I met him on the dock. My second
husband – a drunkard and a liar,” Estelle replied. “I thought he
would protect me. Always, I chose the wrong man.”

“How did you stay hidden all these years?”
Simon asked.

“I never settled in one place for long at
first. But, after fifteen years, I settled in Trinidad. I figured I
was safe enough. Truthfully, I didn’t care by then.”

A stunned silence hung in the air until
Sheriff Thibodeaux gave a grunt and stood up. “Well, that’s that.
Like I said, Miz Estelle, I’m gonna need a formal statement. Need
one from Mr. and Mrs. Jove as well.”

Darcy went to stand next to Henry. “My
grandfather can’t take much more today, sheriff. Can’t it wait
until tomorrow, at least?” There was no haughty demand in his voice
now.

Sheriff Thibodeaux hesitated and then nodded.
“Guess you’re right. He’s not a suspect now. I don’t want to put
anymore strain on Mr. Henry.”

“Have you come back for good, Estelle?” Henry
resisted any attempt by Toya and Darcy to lead him from the
room.

“Mais, non.”

Henry leaned toward her. “There is no need to
hide now. Even after everything, I can forgive you.”

“My life is not here. It is enough that I saw
my grandchildren; fine young people. You’ve done well by them,
Henry.” Estelle smiled at Toya and Darcy, who could only stare back
with empty expressions.

“Incredible,” Deputy Zeringue said out loud,
echoing what everyone must have been feeling.

Estelle opened her purse. “Look, the one good
thing that came from my marriages. See my fine sons, my other
grandchildren? Je m’en va a la maison (I’m going home).”

* * *

“Simon, that was the most terrible story I’ve
ever heard,” Rae said.

“Beats any Greek tragedy, that’s for
sure.”

The couple sat outside in Rae’s backyard on a
new cypress swing she’d bought. The late afternoon sunlight played
across them, dappled by the leaves on the large maple above their
heads.

“How did you figure out Estelle was alive and
where to find her?” Simon asked.

“No bones. If they were caught in the woods
and murdered, why weren’t there two skeletons? Why would the
murderer risk discovery by moving one body from such a perfect
burial spot? If one skeleton was so well preserved then another one
nearby shouldn’t have been missing. The answer had to be that
Estelle escaped.”

“Good point. But how did LaMar trace her? He
tried and couldn’t find one good clue.”

“He concentrated on looking for Pawpaw
Vincent, thinking he could find him easier by trying to find out
where he’d worked. I remembered that Estelle and a man had been
spotted in New Orleans. Estelle’s reputation for collecting men
made me think. I told LaMar to find out about the male passengers
on that ship and track them down. One led us back to Trinidad
eventually. Old marriage and birth records helped us narrow the
search to that island.”

“Good detective work, babe.” Simon nuzzled
her neck.

Rae shivered, still feeling the chill of a
deadly past that reached into the present with icy fingers. Simon
pulled her close to him.“Fifty years of treachery and lies to cover
murder; all in the name of love.” Rae sighed.

“Yes, but it’s over. It’s long past time for
us to move on,” Simon answered. He brushed her hair with his long
fingers.

“Can we put it behind us? All that malice was
like a poison plant with deep roots.” Rae pressed against him,
seeking the comfort of his solid body.

“We will. Together, we can do it.” Simon
kissed her, his tongue gently stroking the inside of her mouth.
“Yes?” he whispered as his hands caressed her face.

Rae felt the warmth of his touch melt away
the cold as desire spiked through her. There was the soft light of
love in his eyes. A love for her alone. “Yes. Together.”

Without speaking, Simon led her inside the
house and into the beginning of a new life.

~~
About the
Author
~~

Mix knowledge of voodoo, Louisiana politics
and forensic social work with the dedication to write fiction while
working each day as a clinical social worker, and you get a
snapshot of author Lynn Emery. Lynn has been a contributing
consultant to the magazine
Today’s Black Woman
for three
articles about contemporary relationships between black men and
women. For more information visit:

Visit me on the web at:

www.lynnemery.com

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www.twitter.com/LEmeryWriter

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