CHAPTER SEVEN
Clay and Razor waited outside the classroom of Lottie Carver. They’d obtained permission from the principal to speak with the young woman, even though her parents hadn’t been included as yet.
“This place gives me the creeps,” frowned Razor.
“Expensive private schools always make me nervous,” said Clay. “Kids all wearing the exact same shit, looking alike, and there’s always a meanness to them. We had one in our town, and the kids always thought they were better than everyone else. It was just wrong.”
The last period bell rang out, and Clay and Razor waited for the door to open. As kids started to stream out, they looked down at the photo of the young girl. She was easy to recognize. She had more makeup on than any other girl in the room. Her hair was dyed a perfect million-dollar blonde, and she carried a leather backpack that costs nearly four thousand dollars.
“Lottie Carver?” asked Clay.
“Yeah, that’s me,” she said, looking him up and down. “You’re a little old to be here, aren’t you?” She snickered, looking at her friends, who started to laugh as well, then noticed the lack of a smile on the faces of Razor and Clay. Lottie wisely blushed and got quiet.
“Are you Lottie Carver?” he repeated.
“Yes. That’s me,” she said more respectfully.
“We’ve been given permission to speak with you about a problem,” said Razor.
“What problem?”
“Destruction of property. More specifically, the floats for the Mardi Gras parade. The same float that you won’t be queen on.” She turned fire red, looking at her friends, who all raised an eyebrow.
“You said you were queen,” smirked one of the girls.
“I will be! It was a mistake.”
“There’s no mistake. You’re not queen, and you won’t be,” said Clay. “Come on back into the room and take a seat.”
She followed him into the room and took her seat at the desk in the front row. The teacher nodded at the men, packing his own backpack and leaving. She held onto her backpack as if it were gold, and it might as well have been. No teenager should be carrying a backpack that cost more than a month’s pay for a military service member.
“Where were you two nights ago?” asked Razor.
“I was at home with my folks. It was my father’s birthday, and we had a family dinner.”
“So, you didn’t go to the warehouse with the floats and threaten everyone who worked there?” asked Clay.
“I-I was there earlier in the day. I didn’t threaten them. I just said they’d regret not picking me.”
“That’s a threat implied,” said Razor.
“I just meant they would regret choosing stupid Louisa Pollock over me! Why does everyone not understand what a mistake this is?”
“It’s not a mistake. Everyone has reviewed the information submitted by all candidates. Louisa is the right choice. You are on the court, and you should be grateful for that. If you so much as attempt to approach the warehouse again or confront Ms. Trehorn, any of the judges, or Louisa, we will make sure that you are removed,” said Clay. “You also might want to remember this. Ms. Trehorn was president of that fancy sorority that you wanted to rush this fall. Also, my wife was president of the sorority during her time at LSU. Both women are on the interview committee.”
Her eyes grew wide and filled with tears. She stared from one man to the next and nodded.
“I know you don’t believe me, but I didn’t do anything to those floats. I was with my parents.”
“We’ll be speaking with your parents as well,” said Clay. “A little advice, Lottie. You’re a lovely young girl. You make good grades. You’re pretty. But that only goes so far. Ugly is on the inside. If you want to succeed in college and in this world, learn to be kind, practice gratitude, do something good for mankind.”
She didn’t say anything, but she also didn’t roll her eyes or have a look of disgust on her face. Men didn’t usually speak to her this way. Girls were jealous and always liked to point out things they didn’t like about her. But men, even grown men, always complimented her and raved about her beauty. Not these men.
“Can I go now?” she asked softly.
“Yeah. You can go now,” said Razor.
They followed her out to the parking lot, watching to see how she would react. Her steps were slow and thoughtful. She tossed her backpack into the passenger seat and then stood for a long moment at the door. Finally, she sat behind the wheel, closed the door, and drove out of the parking lot.
“What do you make of it?” asked Clay.
“I don’t know. I think she’s everything that Deanna said, but I’m wondering if that doesn’t have more to do with her upbringing.”
“I guess we’re going to find out. Rafe and Baptiste are speaking to her mother while Tailor and Antoine are going to the dad’s office.” Razor smirked.
“I wish I had a camera.”
“Penn Carver?” asked Tailor, staring down at the man.
He looked up and swallowed, pushing back from his desk like he was ready to run. He scanned the desks outside the glass wall of his private office and obviously didn’t see what he thought he would.
“What do you want? I told them I would find it, I’ll get it done.” Tailor tilted his head and looked back at Antoine.
“Get what done? For whom?” asked Antoine.
“I-I thought you were someone else. Sorry. You do look familiar,” said Penn.
“Antoine Robicheaux, and this is my friend and business partner, Tailor Bongard.”
“Robicheaux. Right. Miss Irene and Matthew Robicheaux. You’re one of the sons or grandsons.”
“Yep. Those are my folks,” said Antoine. “We’re here to speak with you about your daughter, Lottie.”
“God, is she alright?” he asked, paling.
“Yes. She’s fine,” said Tailor, shaking his head. “Are you fine?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
“Where was Lottie two nights ago?” asked Antoine.
“It was my birthday,” he smiled. “We always do a big family dinner with my sister and her family, my wife’s brother, a few cousins, and neighbors. She was there the whole night. Why?”
“Lottie was angry that she wasn’t selected Mardi Gras queen and made some vague threats to the selection committee.”
“Threats? Listen, Lottie is an intense personality. Believe me, I know. But she’s all temper tantrum and stomping feet. She’ll calm down in a day or so. It’s happened before. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“She told the chair of the committee that they would regret not selecting her. A few hours later, someone destroyed the floats. Ripped them apart,” said Antoine. He had to give Penn credit. He frowned, a look of concern filling his face.
“I’m sure that was just her venting her frustration. She does it all the time. Look, she’s spoiled. That’s the fault of my wife and me. She’s our only one, and we’ve spoiled her rotten. Lottie tends to expect things to go her way, and we’ve given in to her. But she never acts out like that. She gets mad, pouts about it, and moves on.”
“We’re not sure she moved on from this, Penn,” said Antoine.
“I’ll speak with her tonight,” he said, standing, effectively dismissing them. “She’s always open and honest with me. If I ask her directly, she’ll tell me.”
“We appreciate that,” said Tailor. “It would be a shame if she was removed from the parade altogether.”
“You know, I have enough people threatening me,” said Penn, raising his voice in frustration. “I don’t need two jarheads doing it because of some stupid parade.”
“First of all,” said Tailor, leaning on the desk. Antoine just smirked, folding his arms across his chest. “A jarhead is a Marine. If I were one, I’d have ripped your head off for even breathing the word. We were both in the Army. My friend here was a Ranger. One of the best in the world. Don’t ever confuse it again.”
Penn said nothing, a swallow causing his Adam’s apple to go up and down. He nodded at the big man and sat back down.
“Now, is there someone threatening you?” asked Antoine.
“I–” he stopped, seeing his assistant in the door.
“Mr. Carver, you need to take that call on line three,” she said. “He says he tried calling your cell phone and you didn’t pick up.” He nodded, and Antoine and Tailor looked at one another.
“I’ll let you know what Lottie says,” he said, looking at them.
“Thank you.” They left the office, and once inside their SUV, Tailor looked at Antoine. “I think he’s telling the truth about Lottie. But that boy’s got something else going on, and he don’t want us to know.”
“Nice fucking house,” growled Rafe.
“Holy shit,” said Baptiste. “There must be thirty rooms in this place. I didn’t know CPAs or tax guys make this kind of money.”
“Me either.” He knocked on the door, and a pretty woman in her early forties opened the door.
“Can I help you?”
“Mrs. Carver?” She started to close the door, and Rafe held it open. “Mrs. Carver, we’re not here to sell you anything or to harm you. We want to ask you some questions about Lottie.”
“L-Lottie? Oh, God,” she whispered. Rafe grabbed her arm, holding her steady.
“Ma’am, she’s fine. We just want to know where she was two nights ago.”
“T-wo, two nights ago,” she repeated. “Um, two nights ago was Penn, my husband, Penn’s birthday. We had a family dinner here. Probably thirty people.”
“I see. And Lottie was here the whole time?” asked Rafe.
“Yes. What’s this about?”
“Your daughter made some vague threats to the members of the Mardi Gras committee for not selecting her as queen. Shortly after that, someone broke into the warehouse and destroyed several of the floats.”
“Oh, no,” she said, genuinely concerned. “I’m so sorry that happened, but I promise Lottie wouldn’t have done that. She was angry about not being selected as queen, but we’ve spoken about it, and she’s going to focus on using this on her resume for the sorority.”
“She seems awfully tied to this one particular sorority, Mrs. Carver,” said Baptiste.
“She is,” nodded the woman. “I didn’t belong to a sorority, and sometimes, it’s harder if you’re not legacy.”
“We’re aware, ma’am. Our sisters were all in a sorority. But there are a lot of different sororities that she could rush.”
“I know,” she nodded. “A girl who was two years ahead of her at school became Miss LSU and has raved to Lottie about the sorority and all the things they do. It’s been Lottie’s dream for two years now.”
“Dreams are lovely, ma’am, but not when they come with the destruction of property. I know she’s your daughter, but you may want to teach her that her words have impact and her attitude is watched by everyone.”
The woman said nothing, but she nodded at both men. There was a look of smugness, then displeasure.
“Do you have teenage daughters?” she finally asked.
“We both have grown daughters,” nodded Baptiste.
“Then you should understand.”
“Understand what exactly?” asked Rafe. She stared at him, not saying anything. “Our daughters were raised to respect their elders, say ‘yes, ma’am’ and ‘no, ma’am,’ and more than anything, to be kind to those around you. They never expected anything except food, shelter, and safety. If they’d behaved the way your daughter had, they wouldn’t have sat down for a month.”
“Well, it must be wonderful to have such perfect children,” she frowned.
“I didn’t say they were perfect,” said Rafe. “We’re all human. None of us are perfect. We make mistakes, and we learn from them. It’s my understanding that your daughter showed quite the exhibition of rudeness at the selection meeting. In fact, she showed her rudeness to our mother.”
That’s when it hit her. These men were Irene’s sons. She should have known. The family resemblance was too much.
“I’m sorry about that. She was stressed and overreacted. But my daughter did not tear up those floats.”
“Well, if you’d be so kind as to speak with her about this when she gets home, it would be helpful to know if she knows anything about the incident,” said Rafe. They stood and left the woman behind them. When they were driving back, Baptiste looked at his brother.
“I don’t think the girl did it, but I do think she’s got issues and the wife as well. She was scared when she opened the front door.” Rafe nodded.
“Yep. And that’s a story for another day.”