Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 02 - Skeletons of the Atchafalaya by Kent Conwell

this, Bailey Thibodeaux.
There be things you and me don’t understand in this world.
Like it or not.”
    Bailey did not respond. For a moment, the same thought
ran through all our minds.
    Giselle broke the silence. “All I know is that I killed that
cottonmouth. I popped his head clean off.”
    Nanna’s words from the day before rang in my ears. “Ils
sont dechire ce soir.” Could those words truly have been
a precognition of A.D.‘s death? Grandma Ola believed so.
If that were the case, then believing the cottonmouth was
phantasm voodoo was a small, though incredible, step.
    Later I sat in the kitchen with Uncle Patric. “Ah,” he
sighed, sniffing the rich aroma of Mom’s coffee. “That I
need,” he said.
    I poured us two cups, brimful. The others had remained
in the parlor. Placing my cup on the table, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. “I want to talk to you about
all this, Uncle Patric. Okay?” I pulled out my notebook.

    “The snake again?”
    “No. The murders.”
    A spark of irritation flashed in his black eyes, then vanished. He pursed his lips and wrinkled his button nose. “I
tell you now, me, I don’t believe in none of that voodoo
even though Nanna, they say she sees things. But, we all
family here, Tony. Even Bailey, though he don’t act like
it.”
    It was impossible to push the missing cottonmouth out
of my mind, but I made the effort. “I know. But you and
I both know someone in the family is responsible for your
cousins and Ozzy. I’ve got no idea who it could be. As far
as I know, the killer might be looking at you next.”
    He arched an eyebrow. “Or you.”
    I studied him a moment, wondering, then I nodded. “Or
me. 11
    Uncle Patric was short and thin, his curly black hair
showing traces of gray. “But, you right. What do you want
to know?”
    “First, you told me yesterday that Pa was in the room
when they found A.D.” I checked my notebook. “In fact,
you said `when we found them.’ ” I looked up from my
notes. “Did you find them?”
    He ran his short fingers through his hair. “L’oh mon non.
Oh, my no. Me, I not find them.” He shrugged and sheepishly added, “I hear what others, they say.”
    “So, you don’t know if Pa was there when they found
A.D. or not?”
    He knit his eyebrows. “Your pa, he was playing poker
with A.D. when it happen.”
    I grinned at him. “I know. Who told you about the murder?”
    “Ezeline. Maybe she find them.”
    “All right, Ezeline. Now, here’s what I know so far. Eze line, Marie, Pa, A.D., Bailey, lolande, and Leroi went upstairs. Those are the ones I want to talk about first.”

    Patric waved his hand back and forth. “Not Leroi. He
never do nothing like that.”
    “I don’t think so either. But he was seen going up the
stairs, and the murder weapon was one of his screwdrivers.
All I want you to do is answer a few questions for me. I
figure if we jot down this information while it is fresh on
our minds, then that should help the state police when they
get here.”
    He studied me a moment, then sipped his coffee. “What
you want?”
    “Iolande first. What do you think the chances are that
she stabbed A.D. and poisoned Ozzy, and then accidentally
climbed into bed with a cottonmouth?”
    Uncle Patric snorted. “Not much, Tony.”
    I nodded. “Me neither. So that leaves Ezeline, Marie, Pa,
Bailey, and Leroi.”
    “Of that group, who would have reason to kill A.D.?”
    His face darkened. “I say not Leroi.”
    “I know, but the others. Which of the others would have
reason to kill A.D.?”
    A smirk smeared a sneer across his lips. “Most all. My
cousin, he steal from whole family,” he said, making a
sweeping gesture that took in the entire kitchen.
    He punched himself in the chest. “Me. He steal from me.
He steal from my papa. I once think about shooting A.D.”
His voice dropped lower. “Once, when he drive down the
road in his fancy Cadillac, I put