Chapter 43
forty-three
JUDE
I meet my nephews in the coffee shop’s parking lot, eager to see the boys. Willa’s friend Bailey gets out of the van first, presumably so we can speak without little ears listening in. “How are they doing?”
“They were playing like normal with my kids, but Aiden started to cry over a spilled soda.”
“And Willa?” I came with the police when they notified her and didn’t leave until she was surrounded by friends and Dad. I’ve only left to get some rest and talk to Greer before my nephews are dropped off. I hadn’t slept in over a day.
“I think she’s in shock. She doesn’t even know why Rob was out there in the first place. The authorities said it looks like he was night fishing, but everybody knows Rob hates fishing.”
And yet he was allegedly taking charters out daily. “Treasure hunting,” I say with all honesty. In a lie, always stick as close to the truth as possible. The way I see it, both are in search of fortunes through fool's gold.
“Is that one of the inlets where Jean Lafitte’s treasure is supposedly hidden?”
“There are rumors he’s left silver bricks all over this land. Knowing Rob, he could have been just as easily joyriding and stumbled into the shanty. He took the supped-up airboat Dad uses for flood rescue.”
Bailey gasps, “Sounds like Rob.”
Gotta give the town gossip something to run on, or they’ll cook up their own theories.
Anything is better than the truth. After giving her the gift basket Greer’s thrown together for Willa, I open the car door, eager to get to my nephews.
“Hey, little man. Did you have fun jumping on the trampoline?”
While I work on the straps of his car seat, Aiden switches his toy from one hand to the other. “Yeah, but I can’t do a flip.”
“Well, you’ll have to practice next time.”
“Braxton can do it.”
“I’m bigger than you,” my five year old nephew interrupts.
“Maybe we can go to the trampoline park soon, and you can try again,” I suggest.
As Braxton’s feet find purchase on the asphalt, a rubber ball the size of a quarter falls to the ground and bounces under a neighboring car. “That’s mine,” he cries, the picture of complete devastation.
Lying on the warm cement, I reach under the SUV and retrieve my nephew's prize. As I hand it back, I’m rewarded with a beaming smile. “Thank you.”
After switching the car seats into my Escalade, I close the van door and say goodbye to Bailey.
“I’m heading to her house after dinner. I’ll drop off the basket to her then.”
“Let me know if I can do anything.”
“Getting the boys out of the house is enough.”
I give her a chin lift to say thanks and start leading the boys to the apartment.
I doubt my sister will call for help. She’s too closed down right now, and I’m not her favorite person anyway.
In her eyes, I’ve caused the issues in her marriage.
It’s best to help and let her refuse it if it’s unwanted.
The big things are the kids and the business.
Most of our employees have been with us for years, so they’ve stepped in to run daily operations.
Couyon’s little cousin is joining the crew as a guide, happy for the work.
One of the old timers, Riffraff, is a CPA.
He’s already going through the Bayou Blue’s accounts with a fine tooth comb.
I knew it was going to be a forensic accounting nightmare when we saw that Rob tried to expense a business lunch at the country club.
Not one of our customers or anyone we deal with would step foot in that place.
When we dug up the receipts, we discovered it was golf clubs from the pro shop.
Willa let Rob run roughshod over her. With Rob gone, I can finally start stepping back from the business, but not until everything is straight.
As I sling their overnight bag on my shoulder, Braxton asks, “Where are we going?” There’s a hint of anxiety in his voice that I hate.
“Upstairs to drop off your bags, then to the park.”
“Is Ms. Greer there? Mama says she’s nice.”
“Yep, and we have a little dog named Hank.”
Greer’s waiting in the kitchen for the boys. They walk in with an uneasiness that isn’t like them. Hank breaks the ice. He waddles over to us, plops down and paws at Braxton’s leg.
“He wants pets,” Greer informs him. “It’s kind of like an entry fee.”
With a shy smile, Braxton gets on his knees, then starts to pet the little gremlin’s head. When Aiden comes from behind my legs and joins in, Hank rolls over to his belly, loving the attention.
As if he’s ever ignored.
Greer leans down to their level and asks Braxton, “Want to go with me to the park? Hank needs a walk.”
“You don’t have to carry him in a purse?” Aiden asks.
Greer laughs, “He’s too big for that. Besides, exercise is good for him, don’t you think?”
Braxton looks at me with pleading eyes, “Can I bring my drone?”
“Is it in your bag?”
“Yes, and I charged it.”
“Go get it. Make sure you have the remote too.”
After the boys somehow cause chaos with a bathroom break, we leave as a party of four.
Stopping to pick Aiden up, I hoist him onto my shoulders.
It’s easier to move two kids across the street when one is contained.
Once his legs are dangling around my shoulders, he laughs like he’s on a mission for fun.
Greer picks up Hank when we cross the road, but places him back on the sidewalk to waddle off some of the extra calories he’s likely going to ingest today.
The park is built for families with small children. It’s fenced in with a latch lock at adult height. There’s a short walking path that surrounds the perimeter, and a new playground set in the middle.
The equipment was a gift to the town from the Bayou Dogs last year after a lucrative fundraiser.
It took the club an entire day in the July sun to put it together.
Odin’s grandmother, Presh, had a cuss jar for the occasion.
By the time we were done, there was enough cash in the two-gallon pickle jar to buy a sun cover for the structure.
The park’s empty, meaning the boys can run amok without worrying about disrupting other people.
“Are y’all going to walk with me or go play first?” Greer asks.
“Maybe in a little bit.” I have some business to take care of first.
Hank starts to tug rudely at the leash, anxious to visit his favorite spots. We need to break him of that habit very soon.
Before she walks away, I take the tote she’s brought—hand sanitizer, water, sunscreen, and Braxton’s almost forgotten drone. She’s already thinking like a mama.
“He needs to roam a bit,” she says. It almost sounds like an apology.
“I’ve got it handled.”
Braxton’s halfway up a plastic rock wall before I’ve even reached the equipment. As Aiden pulls a Hot Wheels out of his pocket and sends it down the spiral slide with a coy smile on his face, every moment of hair pulling aggravation was worth it.
When Folgers approaches from the lot, I take a seat on the closest bench out of their earshot. My former sponsor drops down next to me and stretches his long legs out in front of him.
“How did it go?” I ask.
“A fire inspector is asking some questions.”
There’s no hiding all of the remains of a meth lab explosion. Our only recourse is to make the explosion look cut and dry, a simple fire, so the parish doesn’t spend any of its limited budget on an investigation.
“Sounds like he needs something else to distract him.”
“Odin already found a friend of the club to help redirect the focus.”
Another much more intriguing fire that will lead to nothing.
I pull a white paper envelope out of my cut and lay it on the bench between us.
“Let me know if you need more.” It’s not lost on me that I’ve used the money Rob was so eager to possess to cover up his own death. The universe is funny like that.
“Questions tend to stop when they know we’ve been around,” Folgers assures me.
It’s no secret that the Bayou Dogs aren't afraid to get their hands dirty when it comes to drugs in their turf. Once the authorities put two and two together and realize we’ve done the work they couldn’t, little things like trace evidence get overlooked.
“It’s best this way,” Folgers assures me, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Willa has a body to bury, and the boys don’t think their father abandoned them.”
At only three and five, I hope all they can recall about their father’s death is having fun with their Uncle and new “aunt.” Rob was such a hands-off parent that the boys aren’t sure what they’re supposed to feel. They just know Mom’s sad.
Willa is financially stable on her own and was already doing the work of a single mom. As newlywed bliss faded, adoration turned into exasperation with Rob. She wasn’t in love with him anymore. It was just easier to stay married. That doesn’t dissipate the shock of a sudden death.
“Want to come with us to the diner for dinner?”
Folgers shakes his head, “I have a guest in the old shed I need to get back to.”
My body freezes, “Any news on our other little project?”
“There’s no trace of him. Worry about your sister and the kids for now, brother. We’ll handle the rest.”
When I go back to check on my nephews, I drag the drone out of the tote and call out for Braxton.
He’s too young for the toy, but I bought it for his birthday so we’d have something for us to do together. He never forgets to charge it when he knows we’re going to see one another.
Braxton puts the drone down on the pavement.
With my help, he starts each rotor whirling before it takes off.
Knowing the rules, he hands the remote back to me.
He’s still very young, so Uncle Dude does the driving.
It soars above the playground, where Aiden is still busy sending random items from his pockets down the slide.
I circle a few times to get footage so the younger child feels included when we watch the video later.
I cruise around it, getting good shots of the area, until I notice Greer approaching. She’s done a full loop.
From the opposite direction, a male jogger slows down as he approaches Greer, a welcoming smile growing on his face.
Yeah, don’t think so, buddy.
“Hey, Brax, go check on your brother,” I say.
As my nephew hurries away, I swoop the drone down low by the jogger. He jump scares, falling on his ass, then looks around for the operator.
When our eyes meet, I give him a curt shake of the head, a warning.
Still looking shell shocked, he moves to stand, leaving the park as fast as his legs will carry him, his neck craning periodically to watch for the drone’s approach.
Sorry, buster, wrong man’s woman.
When Braxton returns, this time with his brother, I swerve the toy so it comes back toward us.
I don’t miss the disapproving glare from Greer. Even from a distance, I can make out her mouthing, “Seriously?” to me.
I shrug, because what else can I do?
I’m certainly not sorry.