murmured.
“I’d bet that Mrs. Trosclair and Quentin paid him handsomely to do his time and keep his mouth shut. He’ll probably do his fifteen years and head for a nice, sunny beach somewhere with no money worries. ”
“You don’t’ know?” Chase blinked at her in surprise.
“Know what, he’s out on parole?”
“Yeah, you could say that. He left in a body bag. Another prisoner stabbed him to death two weeks before he was going before the parole board. I asked around. Seems the word was he had a good chance of getting out.” Chase stared at her.
“Damn,” LaShaun said and sat back in her chair.
“Bad luck?” Chase’s dark eyebrows arched as he gazed at LaShaun waiting for a reaction.
LaShaun felt a familiar tingle. Of course, Singleton’s murder wasn’t simply bad luck. The image of Quentin’s confident swagger flashed into memory like a bad video re-wind. “His bad luck started when he crossed Claude Trosclair and thought he trust Quentin.”
“Yeah. Singleton didn’t have any incentive to protect you, He could have easily given you up as the murderer. So why didn’t he?”
“He was terrified that I’d put a bad mojo on him?”
Chase grinned and shook his head. “For whatever reason, he didn’t. The file shows the investigators couldn’t connect you to the murder. Sheriff Triche personally checked your alibi, motive and if you had the means. I read the interview transcript. Sheriff Triche told the lead investigator back then not to waste his time. Singleton took a deal and avoided a trial.”
“I see.” LaShaun thought about that file. She would give just about anything to spend time reading every page.
“There are some loose ends, but with Singleton in prison nobody cared. Not Sheriff Triche and not the district attorney. Case closed.” Chase continued to study LaShaun.
“You expect me to spill some secrets and fill in the blanks?” LaShaun said, and then yawned widely.
“I expect you to get some much needed sleep.”
A musical tune made them both jump, then search for their cell phones. Chase grabbed his and held it up. LaShaun stood watching him as the tension in her muscles gripped her gain.
“It’s me. Hello. Yes, sir, I’ll be in at six in the morning. Good night.” Chase ended the call. He looked at LaShaun. “They’ve found a woman’s body. It’s Rita.”
LaShaun’s heart beat so fast her chest hurt. She leaned against the breakfast bar gripping the marble edge. She asked the question though she already knew the answer. “Are they sure?”
Chase nodded then opened his arms. LaShaun shook her head slowly and covered her face with both hands. His strong arms and soothing voice got her through the night.
Chapter 9
The next three days went by fast. LaShaun got through the hours by putting one foot in front of the other. She felt trapped in a heavy fog of misery. Yet, she had to keep going for her grandmother. Decisions had to be made about her medical care, the financial mess Rita created, and how to manage the assets left. The lurid details of Azalei’s injuries and Rita’s murder brought a herd of reporters from as far away as Houston, Texas. The locals were only too happy to fill them in on rumors of voodoo. Claude Trosclair’s murder became news again as well. By Thursday morning, LaShaun had to go through another round of questioning, this time at the Sheriff’s station with the DA sitting in.
Savannah met her at the station. Within ten minutes, they were ushered into an interview room. Scott Hazelton, the new DA who had won election with his tough on crime stance, wore a suitably grim expression. Sheriff Triche’s face had deep lines etched into it and dark circles under his eyes. His skin looked grayish. LaShaun wondered if he could make it through the next hour, much less another seven months until he retired. Deputy Gautreau stood to the right of the DA with a satisfied look stamped on his broad features.
“I’d bet that Mrs. Trosclair and Quentin paid him handsomely to do his time and keep his mouth shut. He’ll probably do his fifteen years and head for a nice, sunny beach somewhere with no money worries. ”
“You don’t’ know?” Chase blinked at her in surprise.
“Know what, he’s out on parole?”
“Yeah, you could say that. He left in a body bag. Another prisoner stabbed him to death two weeks before he was going before the parole board. I asked around. Seems the word was he had a good chance of getting out.” Chase stared at her.
“Damn,” LaShaun said and sat back in her chair.
“Bad luck?” Chase’s dark eyebrows arched as he gazed at LaShaun waiting for a reaction.
LaShaun felt a familiar tingle. Of course, Singleton’s murder wasn’t simply bad luck. The image of Quentin’s confident swagger flashed into memory like a bad video re-wind. “His bad luck started when he crossed Claude Trosclair and thought he trust Quentin.”
“Yeah. Singleton didn’t have any incentive to protect you, He could have easily given you up as the murderer. So why didn’t he?”
“He was terrified that I’d put a bad mojo on him?”
Chase grinned and shook his head. “For whatever reason, he didn’t. The file shows the investigators couldn’t connect you to the murder. Sheriff Triche personally checked your alibi, motive and if you had the means. I read the interview transcript. Sheriff Triche told the lead investigator back then not to waste his time. Singleton took a deal and avoided a trial.”
“I see.” LaShaun thought about that file. She would give just about anything to spend time reading every page.
“There are some loose ends, but with Singleton in prison nobody cared. Not Sheriff Triche and not the district attorney. Case closed.” Chase continued to study LaShaun.
“You expect me to spill some secrets and fill in the blanks?” LaShaun said, and then yawned widely.
“I expect you to get some much needed sleep.”
A musical tune made them both jump, then search for their cell phones. Chase grabbed his and held it up. LaShaun stood watching him as the tension in her muscles gripped her gain.
“It’s me. Hello. Yes, sir, I’ll be in at six in the morning. Good night.” Chase ended the call. He looked at LaShaun. “They’ve found a woman’s body. It’s Rita.”
LaShaun’s heart beat so fast her chest hurt. She leaned against the breakfast bar gripping the marble edge. She asked the question though she already knew the answer. “Are they sure?”
Chase nodded then opened his arms. LaShaun shook her head slowly and covered her face with both hands. His strong arms and soothing voice got her through the night.
Chapter 9
The next three days went by fast. LaShaun got through the hours by putting one foot in front of the other. She felt trapped in a heavy fog of misery. Yet, she had to keep going for her grandmother. Decisions had to be made about her medical care, the financial mess Rita created, and how to manage the assets left. The lurid details of Azalei’s injuries and Rita’s murder brought a herd of reporters from as far away as Houston, Texas. The locals were only too happy to fill them in on rumors of voodoo. Claude Trosclair’s murder became news again as well. By Thursday morning, LaShaun had to go through another round of questioning, this time at the Sheriff’s station with the DA sitting in.
Savannah met her at the station. Within ten minutes, they were ushered into an interview room. Scott Hazelton, the new DA who had won election with his tough on crime stance, wore a suitably grim expression. Sheriff Triche’s face had deep lines etched into it and dark circles under his eyes. His skin looked grayish. LaShaun wondered if he could make it through the next hour, much less another seven months until he retired. Deputy Gautreau stood to the right of the DA with a satisfied look stamped on his broad features.
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