Robert Crais - Voodoo River

"Absolutely not."

When Edith came back with the coffee, Jodi was looking at the pictures on the piano. Edith had bypassed the Yamaha before, and didn't seem thrilled when she saw Jodi over there. Jodi said, "Are these your brothers and sisters?"

Edith poured the coffee, then handed me a small plate with three pecan pralines. I hadn't had pralines in years. She said, "Some of them." Not looking that way.

Jodi said, "Show me who's who."

Edith made a little frown as she joined Jodi at the pictures. "This is my mother, standing with my aunt. That's Jo-el when he was a boy. And these are my brothers and sisters. That's m amp;. I was sixteen."

Jodi nodded and leaned closer to the pictures. "Which one is your father?"

Edith seemed to pull herself in. "I don't keep a picture of my father here."

"Elvis says you take care of him."

"Yes, that's true."

Jodi stared at Edith for a moment, then looked back at the pictures. "How do you and they live with it?"

Edith started to speak, stopped, then found some words. "Families keep secrets. We've never once spoken of it in all this time. My brother Nick was closest to my age. He was twelve, but he's dead. Sara was ten, and the others even younger. I don't know if they know or not."

Jodi made a whistling sound through her teeth. "He murdered a child and he got away with it. Just like that."

Edith crossed her arms again, as she had at the gazebo. "A man named Duplasus was the sheriff back then. He came to the house, and my father told him exactly what happened and why." She pulled her arms tighter, protection from the cold. "I'm sure Mr. Duplasus felt that my father's rage was justifiable, a white girl being ruined by a colored."

Jodi said, "Jesus Christ."

Edith came back to the couch. "Yes. Well. Things like this used to be called crimes of passion. Would you like more coffee, Mr. Cole?"

"Yes, ma'am. That would be nice."

Jodi turned away from the piano and stood in the center of Edith's living room. "You could've said something. You still can." She looked at me. "There's no statute of limitation on murder, is there?"

"Nope."

Edith said, "My father is eighty-six years old. He's incontinent and he talks to himself, and much of the time he's incoherent. I care for him now in ways that he doesn't always like, but I'm the only one to do it." She shook her head. "I'm not as angry as I used to be. Leon's been gone a very long while."

Jodi's jaw worked.

Edith made a little shrug, and seemed profoundly tired. "It's just the way we feel about it. I guess that's why we have this trouble."

I said, "Milt."

Edith looked at me. "My, but you must be a good detective."

Jodi said, "Who's Milt?"

Edith looked at her. "He didn't tell you what's going on?"

Jodi was frowning. "What didn't you tell me?"

Edie said, "Some of the same people who were blackmailing you are blackmailing us, too."

Jodi looked at me. "What?"

I said, "I told you what was relevant to you. Edith's business is Edith's business."

"Jesus Christ, but you're a tight-lipped sonofabitch."

I shrugged. "Privacy is my middle name." Jodi wanted me to fill her in and Edith said it was all right with her. I said, "Rebenack was working for a man named Milt Rossier. As near as I can figure it, Rebenack uncovered Leon Williams's murder and sold it to Rossier so that Rossier would have leverage over Edith's husband. Rebenack double-crossed Rossier by going behind his back to blackmail you. Rebenack thought he was being sharp, but that brought me into it and focused attention on Rossier." I looked at Edith. "You know Rebenack is dead."

She looked confused."No. Jo-el hasn't said anything."

Jodi said, "Jesus Christ. Is everything in this family a secret?"

I said, "After Lucy Chenier and I came to see you, Rossier's goon picked me up and brought me out to the crawfish farm. There's no way that Rossier would've known that I came to see you unless your husband told him. Rebenack was out there, too. Rossier wanted to know why I was digging around, and he became upset when I told him that Rebenack was putting the twist on Jodi. He didn't know that, and I suspect he killed Rebenack because of it."

Edith shook her head. "Jo-el wouldn't murder anyone. I don't believe that."

I shrugged.

Edith put down her coffee cup and said, "I told Joel that thirty-six years is enough lying. I said that I didn't want him to do anything wrong, and he said what was he supposed to do, go arrest my father?" She shook her head again and rubbed at her eyes. "This is a nightmare."

I looked at Jodi Taylor. "Sound familiar?"

"What?"

"You didn't want to pay extortion, either."

Jodi pursed her lips, then leaned toward Edith. "Can't your husband do something?"

"He wants to, but he doesn't know what. This is killing him." The skin around her eyes and mouth was tight, and showing the strain.

Jodi said, "I think it's killing both of you."

A car turned into the drive and Edith went to the door. "That will be Jo-el. I want you to meet him."

The front door opened and Sheriff Jo-el Boudreaux walked in, campaign hat in one hand, a rolled copy of Sports Illustrated in the other, looking the way you look when you're calling it quits after a long day. He stopped when he saw us, and said, "What's going on here?" Calm and reasonable, like you walk in every day to see a detective and a TV star sitting in your living room. Only not. His eyes flicked to Jodi, then came to me, and the calm look was the kind guys get when their hearts are pounding, but they know they've got to cover. Every cop I ever knew could get that look.

Edith stood. "Jo-el, this young lady is named Jodi Taylor." She wet her lips. "She's my daughter."

Jodi stood and offered her hand. "Hello, Mr. Bou-dreaux."

Edith said, "She's the one on TV, Jo-el, She's the little girl I gave away."

Jo-el Boudreaux took Jodi's hand without apparent feeling, shaking his head and making out as if all of this was sort of benignly confusing. "I don't understand, hon. Your mother gave away a baby." Like she had made a mistake recalling which day she'd gone to the market.

"We don't have to pretend, Jo-el." Edith put a hand on his arm. "They know. Those people were blackmailing her, too, just like they're doing to us."

Jo-el's eyes got wide and he wet his lips and his eyes flicked nervous and frantic. One minute you're coming home to take it easy with the new Sports Illustrated, the next you're watching your life go down the toilet. "No one's blackmailing us."

I said, "We're not going to hurt you, Jo-el. It's okay."

Sheriff Jo-el Boudreaux waved the Sports Illustrated at me. "I don't know what you think you've dug up, but we don't want any part of it." He squared himself toward me, making himself large and threatening. Cop technique. "I think you should leave."

Edith jerked at his arm. "You stop that! We need to talk about this. We need to start dealing with this."

Jo-el was frantic now and didn't know what to do. He said, "There's nothing to deal with, Edie. Do you understand me? There's nothing to talk about here, and they should leave."

Edith's voice grew harder. Insistent. "I want to know what's going on. I want to know if you're involved in a murder."

Jo-el Boudreaux's left eye ticked twice, and he took a single step toward me and I stood. Edith was pulling at his arm, her face red. I said, "I saw you with Milt Rossier. We know about Leon Williams and Edith's father. Rebenack was extorting Jodi and her studio, and Rossier is extorting you."

Boudreaux's eye ticked again and he shook his head. "No."

Edith said, "He says that Rossier killed that redheaded man. Do you know about tliat? Are you covering up for him?"

Boudreaux blinked hard, and he looked at his wife. "You know better than that." He squinted at me to stop the blinking. "If I knew who murdered Jimmie Ray Rebenack I would make an arrest. Maybe you did it. Maybe I should take you in for questioning."