Episode 17

Sheriff Triche seemed about to explode. His face had turned a deep red, his cheeks puffed out and his dark Cajun eyes flashed fire.

“What the hell you think?” He sputtered, his nose only inches from Chad Gautreaux’s blunt nose. “That I’m already retired? You ain’t been elected. I’m still in charge.”

Gautreaux stood at attention, yet his expression indicated he was unmoved. “Sir, I didn’t want her to leave the area after I found such serious evidence implicating her. I think— ”

“Don’t insult me by tryin’ to pretend you got brains to think,” Sheriff Triche said. He pulled a beefy hand over his face then glared at Lance Broussard. “And you.”

LaShaun winced. She wanted to defend Lance, but speaking up would only make things worst for him. Besides, what reason did she have to trust him anyway? This might all be act cooked up for her benefit. The old good cop-bad cop routine worked to a fine edge. So LaShaun kept quiet and observed.

Sheriff Triche continued to glare at Lance, as though searching for way to express his anger adequately. He seemed to finally give up. Instead he turned to LaShaun.

“Once again you causing a lot of trouble all the way round,” Sheriff Triche finally said. He heaved a sigh and rubbed his face again.

“Right. I showed up at my grandmother’s funeral just so I could get arrested on some bogus evidence and spoil your day.” LaShaun massaged the indentations Gautreaux’s handcuffs had left on her wrists.

“What is this evidence you’ve got, Chad?” Lance looked at him.

Sheriff Triche threw a brief angry glance at Lance, but said nothing. He turned to Gautreaux with a stony expression. “I wanna hear this for sure.”

Gautreaux cleared his throat. “Motive, she wanted her cousin out of the way so she could control the estate alone. The old lady’s estate is worth over seven million.”

“Mrs. Rousselle’s estate, you mean,” Sheriff Triche. “Show some damn respect.”

“She had opportunity because she only has her grandmother as an alibi. Nobody else.” Gautreaux ticked off a second point on his finger. “Finally, autopsy shows the victim was suffered one fatal blow to the head from a long blunt object, like a tire iron or crow bar. The suspect had several angry confrontations with the victim just a few days before she died.”

Sheriff Triche stood, legs apart and arms crossed at his chest. “And you found the bloody murder weapon in LaShaun’s house, or her vehicle. Right?”

Gautreaux blushed a deep red. “We haven’t found it yet, but if we search the house or property I’m willing to bet we will.”

“You’re willing to bet.” Sheriff Triche gave grunt. His arms fell and he paced in front of Gautreaux. “And who’s gonna give you a search warrant based on that crap?”

“I already got one from Judge Claiborne. He remembers Miss Rousselle here.” Gautreaux gave LaShaun a nasty smile.

“Friend of the Trosclairs, too,” LaShaun said. “Let’s talk about motive. The rest of my family wasn’t happy about Rita and me being co-executors of my grandmother’s estate. Have you checked their whereabouts at the time of Rita’s murder?”

“I don’t have to answer your questions,” Gautreaux shot back.

“But you damn well better answer mine,” Sheriff Triche retorted. “So you’ve eliminated other suspects?”

“I’m working on it.” Gautreaux stuck out his chin in defiance. “You did tell me to take the lead since Lance seems, distracted.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Lance stepped in front of his boss. “Just because I’m not carrying a grudge from the past. I’m following the facts. And so far I haven’t heard anything but speculation and gossip.”

“Just you hold on now, son,” Sheriff Triche said. His bushy gray eyebrows drew together in one fuzzy line.

“What he’s said so far doesn’t add up to probable cause,” Lance blurted out before his boss could continue.

“You better let me finish before you jump to defend you girlfriend,” Gautreaux shot back.

Lance took one long stride to Gautreaux and shoved him hard. Gautreaux bounced against a desk and swung a meaty fist at Lance’s head. His glancing blow caught Lance on the edge of his chin. Officers rushed in from all sides to pull them apart. Mable Arceneaux got in Gautreaux’s face while two deputies held him in a bear hug. Lance stood pressed against a wall, four large hands holding him in place. He panted and glared at Gautreaux, as though eager to get at him again.

“Lawd have mercy, but ain’t this a mess. You got two of my senior deputies at each other’s throats, girl.” Sheriff Triche confronted LaShaun.

Shaken, she stood against the wall opposite Lance. LaShaun steadied herself. “Don’t blame me if you can’t control your deputies.”

“Humph.” Sheriff Triche turned his attention back to his staff. “Let ‘em both go. Lemme say this just once, any man who wants his career to be over tonight take another swing at a fellow officer.”

Gautreaux pointed a finger at Lance. “Witnesses will back me up that he attacked me first. I was defending myself.”

“When we came in y’all was both goin’ at it,” Deputy Arceneaux said. She stared at him as though daring him to contradict her. The other officers wore blank expressions.

“Y’all better remember the election is not far away,” Gautreaux mumbled.

The other deputies gave him scornful glances as they filed out. Deputy Arceneaux shook her head as she stood next to Sheriff Triche.

“Just shut up. Let Ms. Rousselle go. We got squat to hold her on.”

“Not so fast. Did you know that the victim’s body had been moved? She wasn’t killed in her apartment.” Gautreaux wore a smirk at the effect his words had on everyone.

“What the hell— ” “ Sheriff Triche gaped at him.

“That’s right. She had a tiny piece of Spanish moss and some leaves stuck to her clothes. The room was tossed to make it look like she was killed in her apartment.”

“That’s crazy.” Deputy Arceneaux glanced at Sheriff Triche. “Why would anybody go to the trouble and risk of moving a body like that?”

“Maybe cause she didn’t want us to know the victim died on her property,” Gautreaux’s words cracked toward LaShaun like a bullwhip.

They all gazed at LaShaun. She didn’t care about the rest, but one set of dark eyes disturbed her. LaShaun did not understand why, nor did she like that it mattered to her what Lance Broussard thought. Deputy Lance Broussard she reminded herself sharply.

“Or she could have been killed anywhere within fifty miles, at least. Leaves and Spanish moss are all over the place around here.” LaShaun faced Sheriff Triche. “Am I under arrest or what?”

One of the junior deputies came and whispered something to Deputy Arceneaux. Mable nodded and turned to Sheriff Triche. “Sheriff, DA Picard is on the line for you.”

“Everybody just hang tight. Shoot the first one that starts a ruckus, Mable.” Sheriff Triche strode to his office.

LaShaun felt anxiety eating at her gut like acid. Still she managed to keep up her cool façade. “I don’t think he was kidding. And judging by how pissed she looks, I do believe Deputy Arceneaux would love to have a reason to plug you boys.”

“LaShaun, will you please hush,” Deputy Arceneaux said firmly.

“Yes, ma’am,” LaShaun said. She glanced in the direction the sheriff had gone then back at Lance. She transferred her gaze to some far distant point when Gautreaux grunted.

Sheriff Triche came back looking tired. He jerked a thumb toward exit door. “DA says kick her loose. Until we get more she can be out on bail.”

“What!” Gautreaux’s mouth worked as he huffed in outrage.

“That fancy lawyer Devin Martin posted bond. Wasn’t that much anyway.” Sheriff Triche ignored him. “Mable, take some men to conduct the search.”

“Fine with me. I have nothing to hide.” LaShaun adjusted the wide-brimmed hat she wore. She stared at him. “What kind of leaves and what color moss did you find on my cousin?”

“The same kind we gonna find at your old stomping grounds. You know, back behind your grandmother’s house. The place you used to have all your voodoo gatherings.” Gautreaux squinted at her.

“You’re not that bright, but you do have a vivid imagination, Deputy Gautreaux. I sure hope relying on superstition isn’t a substitute for real police work in Vermillion Parish.”

LaShaun walked out without waiting for anyone to reply. Devin Martin stood in the lobby holding a briefcase. With only a nod he followed her outside.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’ll be better when I pay back whoever killed my cousin and make the sheriff’s office look stupid. Well, even more stupid than they already look.”

“I know a top criminal lawyer in Lafayette. He’s ready to talk to you.” Devin led her to his BMW.

LaShaun got in. “I have a feeling I won’t need to meet with him.”

Devin closed the door, crossed in front of the car in got into the driver’s seat. “You know something the sheriff and DA don’t know?”

LaShaun stared at the long building that housed the Sheriff’s station. “I will soon.”