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

crosshairs of my deer rifle
on his head. I think then to kill him.” He laid a single finger
on the image of St. Peter, patron saint of fisherman, which
dangled from the silver necklace around his neck. “But, I
do not. I know from the priests that one day my cousin
will answer for what he do.”
    “What about the others?”
    He shook his head. “Your pa, he big drunk. He don’t
have the muscle. My boy-no.” His shoulders slumped. His voice grew soft, filled with remorse. “I give my boy
nothing, only a life others joke about. He make something
of himself. Not because of me, but because he be a good
man.” He paused to sip his coffee. “lolande? She got no
reason. She and A.D., they like that,” he said, holding up
crossed fingers. “Of all you mention, Ezeline, she be the
one with most hate in her heart.”

    I sat back, stunned. “Ezeline?”
    A faint grin played over his wrinkled face. “That surprise
you, Tony?”
    I forced a nervous laugh. “In a word, yes.”
    “Ezeline, she never forgive Bailey for letting A.D. cheat
him out of the family money. She hate A.D. for what he
do. Ezeline, she don’t like living in a shack while A.D., he
live in big house in country. The only reason Bailey come
to reunion is because Ezeline insist. She say A.D. owe them
something for what he done stole.”
    I considered Patric’s answer. Looking at the story the
way he told it, a couple pieces of the puzzle fit together.
She could have gone into the room, found Pa passed out,
killed A.D., stole his money clip, and later claimed she
found it in Bailey’s suitcase.
    But why would she deliberately put the blame on her
husband? Was their life so miserable? On the other hand,
Ezeline could be desperate. She had no job skills. She had
never worked. If Bailey were included in A.D.‘s will, and
ended up in prison, all the money would be Ezeline’s. Not
a bad motive.
    For every question answered, I found half a dozen more
without answers.
    “Was Bailey in A.D.‘s will?”
    With a shrug, Patric shook his head. “I don’t think so.
After A.D.‘s wife die, I figure he leave everything to his
children, Osmond and Bonni.” He paused, then added,
“Maybe lolande in the will.”
    I studied the coffee cup in my hands. “Even so, now it’s just Bonni. She’d be the perfect suspect if she were here.
Where is she? You know?”

    “L’oh mon non. She go two, maybe three years back.
A.D., he spend much, but she not wants to be found, so he
don’t find her.”
    “What about Marie? She’s the only one left who had
gone upstairs.”
    “No. Marie’s husband, Walter, he smart enough that
A.D., he don’t cheat him much. The first time, he do, but
afterward, Walter know what to do. They not rich, but they
got enough to keep gumbo in the pot.”
    I nodded, studying my notes.
    Patric’s voice dropped to a whisper. “There be one I not
blame if she kill A.D. and lolande.”
    “Huh?” I looked up sharply. “But who? We’ve talked
about everyone that went upstairs.”
    He nodded. “Oui. She not go upstairs, but if she know
the truth, then she have more reason to hate A.D. than
anyone.”
    I was puzzled. “Who?”
    Uncle Patric nodded to the parlor. “Giselle.”
    “Giselle?” I stared at him in disbelief, my jaw dropping
open.
    He leaned forward. “One reason be A.D. her father. But
she don’t know. No one ever tell her. Not her mama, Affina, not A.D. her papa. Me, I think maybe only them two,
they know.”
    I’m not too swift to begin with, but when someone yanks
that kind of family skeleton from the closet, it can blow a
few brain cells. “But-but Affina and A.D., they’re cousins. Affina and A.D. are cousins.”
    Patric arched his eyebrows and shrugged. “Oui.”
    I eyed him skeptically. “How do you know all this?”
    He shrugged. “Once, when A.D. drink too much, he gots
all teary-eyed and told me. He don’t remember nothing
later.”

    For several seconds, I stared