Chapter 35
Savannah frowned when Hez didn’t pick up her call. Again. She’d already left two messages, and the unusual silence alarmed
her after everything they’d been through. She needed to know he was all right and Michael hadn’t come after him. She shot
off a quick text: Call me—I’m worried.
The last of her packing tasks at the cottage beckoned, and she finished loading a box of things from Simon’s room. Grief pinched
hard. Would he ever use the baseball mitt or the basketball in his closet again?
She taped shut the top of the box and carried it to join the others by the front door. Hez would load them in the back of
his truck when he came. Movement through the front window caught her attention, and she spotted Nora jumping out of her car
to rush to the door.
Savannah didn’t wait for Nora to ring the bell and went to join her on the porch. Her smile faded when she saw Nora’s tearstained
face and red eyes. “What’s happened?”
Savannah embraced Nora and hugged her tight as she sobbed against Savannah’s shoulder. “I-it’s Tammy. The police arrested
her. I saw Hez heading into the station with Chief Dixon and Hope, but they wouldn’t tell me anything.”
No wonder Savannah hadn’t been able to get ahold of him. “What were the charges?”
“I don’t know exactly, but I have my suspicions.” Nora pulled away and moved past Savannah into the living room where she
fell into a chair. “You and I’ve been close a long time, but there’s a lot about me you don’t know. I hate talking about it,
but it’s important for you to understand. I did time in juvie myself.”
Savannah’s eyes widened. She perched on the edge of the sofa with the dogs curled at her feet. “You did?”
Nora nodded. “Uncle Michael can be charismatic, and I wasn’t immune to the lure of being with my ‘cool’ cousins.” She made
air quotes. “I admired Little Joe, Tommy, and Deke and wanted to be just like them. Until it wasn’t so cool and I got caught
driving a stolen car. Looking back, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I got sent to a great facility, and for
the first time, I clearly saw the dark side of what Uncle Michael and the others were doing. I turned my life around, kept
Uncle Michael and the rest at arm’s length, and only saw them at family reunions. I saw Tammy going down the same path, and
I wanted to help her. I even got her a job at PHPD so I could keep an eye on her, and she seemed to be on the right track.”
Savannah tensed at the word “seemed.” “But?”
Nora swiped at her wet eyes and sighed. “But I caught her in the evidence locker without authorization. She didn’t have a
good explanation for being in there, and I didn’t like how evasive she was. I talked to my grandmother, hoping she would help,
but she told me not to say anything. That it wasn’t anything to worry about, and if I kept my mouth shut, no one would find
out. That should have been my first clue that something was very wrong.”
“Tammy used your credentials, didn’t she? I knew you didn’t steal Ella’s file.”
Nora gave a jerky nod. “We resemble each other, and she could easily pass for me when she borrowed my credentials. I didn’t
want to turn her in and begged her to do the right thing on her own, but she refused. Now she’s ruined her life.” Nora buried
her face in her hands. “I don’t know what to do.”
“We can pray for her.” Savannah patted the sofa cushion beside her. “Sit by me, and we’ll pray right now.”
When Nora moved to sit beside her, Savannah took her hand and they prayed for mercy and wisdom, but most of all for Tammy
to realize her spiritual condition. They were both weeping when Nora echoed Savannah’s “Amen.”
“I have to go.” Nora rose. “I knew you’d help me. Thank you.” She gave her a fierce hug before Savannah walked her to the
door.
Sunset was falling, and the streetlights came on. A breeze lifted Savannah’s hair as she waved goodbye. Nora’s car backed
out of the driveway, and Savannah started to enter the house again. An envelope lay partially hidden by the floor mat, and
she picked it up. The flap resisted her fingers, and she ripped it open. Inside was a phone bill with Deke Willard’s name
at the top, and she glanced at the date, which was four years ago. What on earth? An entry halfway down the page was highlighted
in yellow.
Hez needed to see this right away. She rushed inside to grab her phone.
Michael’s heart rate went up as he turned into the Oyster Hill Country Club in Nova Cambridge. He’d been anticipating this for a long time.
The clubhouse was an imposing old white building with a pillared porch. It had started life as an antebellum mansion, according
to the bronze plaque Michael had read when he toured the place last week before buying his membership. Huge old oaks shaded
the clubhouse and grass as green and perfect as an emerald carpet.
Michael spotted Pierre’s silver Mercedes E 350 in the lot, even though his tee time wasn’t for another hour. Pierre must be
in the clubhouse or on the driving range. Good.
The sun stood high in a hot, cloudless sky, so Michael parked in a shady spot. He turned to Simon, who was staring at the
old mansion. “Have you ever been golfing before?”
Simon’s eyes went wide. “This will be my first time.”
“Then we’d better start you off with some lessons and maybe a bite to eat.”
They walked up the oyster-shell path to the clubhouse entrance and stepped through the double doors into the cool interior.
The foyer had a high ceiling and dark wood floors decorated with expensive-looking old rugs. A scattering of antique chairs
and tables stood against the walls. Michael inhaled deeply, drawing in the scents of old wood, fresh flowers, and a hint of
perfume from a well-dressed woman who walked by. The smell of money.
A glance through the window facing the driving range told Michael that Pierre must be in the clubhouse. Probably in the restaurant.
He turned to Simon. “I could use a burger and some sweet tea. How about you?”
Simon grinned. “Sounds great! Can I have a root beer float?”
Michael tousled his grandson’s blond hair. “Of course.”
They went to the dining room and stood in the entrance as Michael scanned the tables. It was nearly noon, and the place was
almost full. Perfect.
Simon spotted Pierre first. “Grandpa Legare!”
Pierre stared at them, his mouth hanging open. He sat with an attractive blonde of about forty whom Michael didn’t recognize.
She seemed a little surprised at Pierre’s reaction but regained her composure and smiled at them.
Michael smiled back and waved to Pierre as a host walked up with menus. Michael took the menus from the young man and gestured
toward Pierre. “I see my friend is already here.”
Michael walked to Pierre’s table with Simon trailing him. He pulled out a chair and sat. “What a pleasant surprise.” He turned
to the woman. “I’m Michael Willard, and this is my grandson, Simon Willard.”
She gave a polite nod. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Susan Beaufort.”
“What are you doing here?” Pierre asked, his voice tight.
“Having lunch with you, of course. I’m a member now, so we’ll be seeing a lot of each other—or at least we will for as long
as you can pay membership dues.” Michael spoke loud enough for nearby tables to overhear. “I know money has been tight since
you can’t embezzle from the university anymore.”
The buzz of conversation around them subsided. Pierre turned white. “That’s a lie!”
Michael laughed. “As the kids say, I have receipts—and these are actual receipts.” He took out his phone and opened a document.
“Here’s a TGU credit card statement from your time as university president.
You charged the university for remodeling at your Pensacola condo.
” He swiped on his phone. “And oh, look! Here’s a charge from Elegant Encounters. That’s an escort service, isn’t it?”
Pierre glared daggers at him. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Sure you would.” Michael swiped again and held up his phone. It showed a picture of Pierre with a heavily made-up young woman
wearing a tight cocktail dress. “This is you and Desiree from Elegant Encounters.”
Pierre slapped the phone from Michael’s hand, and it clattered to the floor. Cracks spidered across the screen. The dining
room was completely silent.
Michael leaned forward and spoke softly. “Touch me again and I’ll break your arm.”
“Get out of here!” Pierre hissed.
“Or what?” Michael leaned back and smiled. “Say you’ll make me, Pierre. Ask me to step outside. Please ask me to step outside.”
Pierre stood, quivering with rage. He turned to Susan. “Come on. We’re leaving.” He stormed off without waiting for her.
“See you at First Baptist on Sunday morning,” Michael called after him.
Pierre flinched, but he kept walking.
Michael chuckled at his retreating back. He turned to Susan, who still sat frozen at the table. “You’re welcome to stay, honey.
I’ve got lots of Pierre stories I can tell you.”
She stared at Michael for a second, then rose and hurried after Pierre.
Michael bent and picked up his phone. He turned to Simon, who had watched the whole scene with wide eyes.
“That’s your first lesson in what the Legares are really like.
They may look nice, act nice, and go to nice places—but they’re not at all nice on the inside.
Poke a hole in that pretty surface and you’ll see that they’re all fakes and cowards.
” He patted Simon on the shoulder. “Now, let’s get you that root beer float. ”
“Aunt Savannah is nice all the way through. I don’t think I want a root beer float anymore. Can we go now? People are staring
at us.”
“I’m not ready yet.” Conversations restarted around them, this time in whispers. Michael savored it. He imagined similar conversations
in the parking lot outside First Baptist on Sunday, around the boathouse in front of the building where Pierre had a condo
in Pensacola, and every other place Pierre went. It would be magnificent.
Pierre had taught Michael this tactic thirty years ago, and his brain played back that brutal lesson.
Michael closed his file folder and went to find Marie on the front porch swing of the old house. She sat scribbling in her
poetry notebook with her legs tucked under her, and he’d never seen a more beautiful sight than her auburn hair tumbling down
her shoulders. And she was all his now that the big influx of cash was in his account. He could give her the house and the
life she deserved.
She noticed him, and her smile squeezed his chest. “You seem happy.”
“I am. Let’s go house hunting.”
“What’s wrong with this house?”
“Everything. You deserve a mansion like the one you left for me.”
“I don’t care about houses as long as I have you.” She moved her legs and patted the spot beside her on the swing.
Michael started toward her, but a familiar Mercedes pulled into his weedy driveway. Marie murmured, “Oh no,” and Michael fisted
his hands at his sides and strode to intercept Pierre.
Marie’s husband unwound long legs from behind the wheel of the convertible. He wore an expression of satisfaction and held
up a sheaf of papers in one hand and a gun in the other.
Michael had left his gun in the house and had no time to retrieve it.
Pierre didn’t look at Marie. The bore of the gun pointed at Michael’s chest. “I’ve come for my wife. Marie, get your things.”
“She’s not going anywhere with you.”
Pierre smiled and held up the papers. “No? If she’s not in the car immediately, I’ll turn these over to the FBI and the DEA.
You’ll spend the rest of your life peering through bars and wishing you’d listened.”
Marie came to Michael’s side when he took the papers and flipped through them. Meth sales and extortion statements from businesses
in town were neatly chronicled. Pierre had it all.
Marie took a step back. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ll tell everyone the truth about you when I divorce you. You’ll
never hold your head up in this county again. I’ll leave you without a penny.”
Pierre laughed coldly. “My money is in a ‘spendthrift trust.’ You’ll be bagging groceries and living on food stamps.
I own the judges in Baldwin County, and you’ll never get custody of Savannah.
I’ll have your beloved daughter and all my money.
You’ll have . . . nothing.” He jerked his head toward the car. “Not another word. Get in.”
Marie was so pale that Michael thought she’d faint. He put his hand on her forearm. “Don’t listen to him, Marie. He’s bluffing.”
She pulled out of his grip. “He never bluffs.” She rose slowly, as if every movement hurt, and walked into the house. She
returned with Savannah in her arms, then walked down the rickety steps. “I despise you,” she told Pierre, who only shrugged
as she got in the car.
Michael had to watch Pierre drive her out of his life.
Michael blinked and pushed away the worst memory of his life. Since that moment he’d spent three decades doing the same thing
to Pierre. He’d had him followed, had surreptitiously gone through his trash, and had bided his time until this moment. Jess
had uncovered a treasure trove of sleaze, using her position as TGU’s CFO to dig through the university’s financial records.
Michael was still working on a few details, but he had plenty of acid to dribble over Pierre and his reputation in the meantime.
Would Pierre run away every time Michael confronted him? Or would he eventually take a swing at Michael? Both would be fun.