Murder in the Garden District (Chanse MacLeod Mysteries) (13 page)

“Cordelia is paying you to find someone outside her family to hang Wendell’s murder on. I knew that was what she wanted. But why dig up this past dirt, Chanse?”

She drained her glass. Her hands shook as she lit a cigarette. I’d never seen her smoke before. She saw me watching her and snapped, “I smoke from time to time, not that it’s any of your business. Usually when I’m under stress. Wendell wasn’t my favorite person, but I can assure you I didn’t kill him.”

“I never thought you did, Barbara.”

“Thank you for that.”

She poured another glass and handed it to me.

“Champagne will calm your nerves, dear.”

Her ash fell onto the white carpet. She ignored it and sat back down.

“I’m sorry you were shot at, Chanse, that I got you involved in this. But what was that girl doing talking to Archie Larousse?”

“When I was here the other morning, you made it very clear that you don’t like Cordelia Sheehan. But you interceded with me to take her on as a client. You said you owed her. And you were clearly unhappy about it. I thought if I could find out what she was holding over you, I could help free you from her.”

“By digging into my past?”

I nodded. She twirled a strand of hair around her right index finger.

“There’s nothing you can do, Chanse. I’m trapped. I’ve been trapped for almost thirty years. But I do appreciate what you’re trying to do for me.”

“Roger didn’t fall down the stairs, did he?”

I braced myself for an explosion. Instead, her posture loosened and she looked sad. She drained her glass and poured another mimosa.

“I haven’t talked about this to anyone, Chanse. Maybe it would help if I did now. I was so young and stupid. Archie Larousse is a liar. He always has been. He told Abby that I killed Roger, and that the Sheehans pressured the police into ruling it an accident and closing down the investigation, right?”

“Is it true, Barbara?” I said softly. “You can tell me.”

“Just like Cordelia threatened, all those years ago. That miserable bitch.” She wiped her eyes. “I didn’t kill Roger. I was young and stupid. I married out of my element. I didn’t belong in the Garden District, and everyone made sure I knew it. They were polite when Roger was around—he was a Palmer, after all—but whenever he wasn’t around they were politely insulting and condescending. Roger was very kind to me. And how did I repay him? By proving all those bitches right and having a cheap affair.”

“With Wendell Sheehan.”

She nodded. “He was very handsome, and he was young. I never should have married Roger. I was fond of him, but I didn’t love him. It was the money—and this house. I grew up really poor, Chanse, and I always thought money would make everything better. When I met Roger and he wanted to marry me, I thought what the hell. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was bored, I guess. Roger was always busy with his clubs and his friends and managing his money. I didn’t have any friends. And Wendell…I first met him at the Rex Ball. He was fresh out of law school, his father was the governor, and he didn’t care that I was from the West Bank. He flirted with me, made me feel like I was special. Even after I told him I wasn’t interested, he kept after me.

“Finally, one day I said to myself,
Why not? No one ever has to know
.

“Stupid, stupid girl. He kept a suite at the Roosevelt Hotel. I used to meet him there on Wednesday afternoons. It was, I don’t know, exciting. Roger had no idea.”

“What really happened the night Roger died?”

She smiled bitterly. “Undoubtedly you’ve discovered that my alibi was worthless? That was Cordelia’s idea. I was
supposed
to be at that fundraiser. But that was the day I found out I was pregnant. I thought Roger would be happy. He came into my room to see what I was wearing. Roger always helped me dress—I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I told him my news. He just stared at me. I remember thinking he wasn’t taking it as I’d thought he would. And then he said,
You can take the girl out of the West Bank, but apparently you can’t take the West Bank out of the girl.

“I asked him what he was talking about, and he started screaming at me, demanding to know who the father was. I was shocked. I had no idea what he meant. Apparently he’d had the mumps in his early twenties. I can see by your face you don’t know what that means. The mumps are a perfectly safe illness for a child—no lasting effects. But they can leave an adult male sterile.”

“It was Wendell’s child.”

She nodded.

What a nightmare that must have been.

“I’d never seen Roger so angry. He stormed out of my room. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know he had a temper he could lose. I could hear him screaming and breaking things. And then I did a really stupid thing. I called Wendell. He rushed to my rescue like some kind of chevalier. If only I’d known. I should have packed my things and left, let Roger divorce me. But I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Wendell killed Roger,” I said.

“He told me to lock myself in my room until he arrived. He said he’d talk to Roger, clear things up. I heard them yelling at each other—and fighting. Then Roger screamed. There was a crash, and silence. I came out of my room. Wendell was standing at the top of the stairs. Roger was at the bottom, dead.

“I panicked. Wendell was like in a trance, shock I guess. But when I went to call the police, he stopped me. He told me it had been an accident, but if we called the police, everything would come out—the affair, the baby. So he called Cordelia, and she told us what to do.

“We left the house, left Roger lying there. I went to the fundraiser, but I was so upset, I couldn’t go inside. I couldn’t let anyone see me. I thought people would look at me and know what had happened. Cordelia was furious with me later.
You were supposed to be seen, you little
fool. After all the trouble I’ve gone to in order to save your worthless West Bank hide, you couldn’t follow instructions? I should just let you go to jail, you stupid girl
.”

Her mimicry of Cordelia was ruthless. Tears were running down her face, but she went on without a sob or a break.

“Archie Larousse was on the Sheehan payroll. He was crooked, but I never knew the extent of it. I know he doctored the evidence, and Cordelia pulled strings from the governor’s mansion to get the whole thing hushed up.”

“But if Wendell killed Roger, what hold did Cordelia have on you?”

“My daughter,” she whispered. “Cordelia threatened that if I ever told anyone the truth about that night, she’d take my daughter away. Larousse doctored the evidence, all right. Cordelia once showed me the file. His report made it look as though I had killed Roger. The payments she made to him? Somehow they finagled it so it appeared like I had paid him. And of course, Wendell’s alibi was perfect.
She
alibied him. Who would doubt the First Lady of Louisiana? She told me if I ever talked, Larousse would leave the country and she’d see to it that I spent the rest of my life behind bars.”

She wiped her cheeks, her hands still shaking.

“Of course, as Brenda got older, I never told her who her real father was. How could I? Cordelia used that against me, too.” Her voice hardened. “
How would Brenda like it if she found
out her mother was a whore and a murderess? It’s not too late to prove her true paternity. Do you want to do that to your daughter?
”

My head was spinning. “My God,” was all I could say.

“How do you think I found out about Abby talking to Larousse, Chanse? He called Cordelia for instructions after Abby contacted him. Cordelia told him what to do, what to say. And then she called me, to twist the knife and renew her threats. She’ll stoop to anything, Chanse, to protect her family. Trust me, if I was going to kill a Sheehan, it wouldn’t have been Wendell. I would have killed that horrible old witch. I’ve been tempted to so many times. But what good would that have done anyone?”

“And all this time, you and Wendell…?”

“We never saw each other again, if I could help it. He stayed away from me, and stayed away from Brenda. I couldn’t be involved with him after that. I’ve spent the rest of my life terrified. Terrified that Brenda might find out, terrified that
anyone
would find out. When Charles was alive, she used it to get me to donate to her stupid foundation.
I’d hate for that handsome
young husband of yours to find out what you’re really like, Barbara. That would be a real tragedy, wouldn’t it?
” She buried her face in her hands.

“Now that you know the truth, do you think I’m horrible, Chanse?” she asked in a small, sad voice.

“No, Barbara, I don’t. I’m so sorry. If I’d known, I never would have allowed Abby to—”

The Sheehans had done an excellent job of painting her into a corner—and then held it over her head for thirty years.

“How could you have known, dear? You were trying to help me. You have no idea how much I appreciate that. What are you going to do, now that you know?”

“What can I do? I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“I’ll deny it all if you repeat it. The irony is that Cordelia told me if I helped her this one last time, if I got you to take the case, she’d destroy the doctored evidence. I’d finally be free of her.”

“I’m not going to let Cordelia railroad you, Barbara.”

I knelt beside her. She took my hand and gave it a pat.

“Thank you for believing me, dear. You’ve always been good to me.”

My cell phone rang. I ignored it. I felt I should say something to Barbara, but I couldn’t think what.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” she asked. “Go ahead, we’re done here.”

She got up to leave the room. When she reached the door, she turned and gave me a shaky smile. “Thank you again, dear.”

I stared after her as I opened my phone.

“MacLeod.”

“This is Janna Sheehan. I need you to come to the house as soon as you can.” Her voice was trembling.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s my daughter, Alais. She’s not in her room or anywhere on the grounds. I think she may have run away.”

“I’m on my way.”

I felt incredibly tired, probably the aftereffects of this morning’s events. As I walked out the front gates of the Palmer House, I had the feeling I was being watched. I looked up and down the street. There was no one in sight. I looked at the house.

Barbara was at one of the upper windows, watching me. She was crying. I raised my hand and waved.

She put her hand against the glass for a moment, then retreated into the shadows. All I could see was the curtains moving as they settled back into place.

Janna Sheehan herself greeted me and led me to the library, a big room painted dark coral with white trim, across the hall from the drawing room, whose door was shut. The library walls were covered with built-in shelves packed with books. Janna looked like she’d been crying, and hadn’t slept. Her eyes were shot through with red. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and her face without makeup. She wore jeans and a shapeless blouse. Her feet were bare, and her fingernails looked chewed. A vein pulsed in her throat; her hands clenched and unclenched spasmodically. The slightly sad but together woman I’d met a few days earlier was gone—or at least, the iron control she’d exercised over herself had unraveled.

“You’ve got to find her,” she said, her lips a taut line in her face. Her voice had a note of rising hysteria.

“We’ll find her,” I said in my calmest voice, pulling my pad from my shoulder bag. “Start at the beginning. When did you last see Alais?”

She swallowed, closed her eyes, and thought for a moment.

“Before I went to bed I checked in on her. She seemed fine. Well, no. She hasn’t been
fine
since she came home from school. But she didn’t seem any different last night, at least nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that I noticed. Maybe I should have paid closer attention. But all she does is stay in her room, on that damned computer. Sometimes she comes down for lunch or dinner, but she never goes outside. She used to love the pool. Last summer I couldn’t keep her inside.”

She ran her fingers through her hair.

“And this morning?” I said.

“She doesn’t come down for breakfast anymore. We used to have breakfast together all the time—Carey, Alais and myself. Wendell always left the house early. But since she came home in June, Alais never wanted to eat breakfast, so I got out of the habit of waking her up in the morning. I let her sleep in. It drove Wendell crazy. He thought I was coddling her. But she was so depressed.”

She cleared her throat.

“I came down to breakfast with Carey. I was going to look in on Alais afterward, but I didn’t. I had to run out to an appointment with my doctor. When I got back, Cordelia was calling, and I had to take her damned call before I could to check on Alais.”

“Cordelia isn’t here?”

I’d have thought the cops would have told her not to leave town, but then again, the rules didn’t seem to apply to the Sheehans.

“She had one of her fundraisers in Baton Rouge last night. We have a house up there. Cordelia called me about the storm. She’d been talking to some of her friends, and thought it might be a good idea for us to go there, if need be. She wasn’t sure if she should come back to New Orleans.”