Chapter 6
“First stop should be the sexton’s cottage,” Lissette said, forcing back her physical reaction to Xavier buckling her seatbelt.
“Sexton?”
“The man who takes care of the cemetery—Old Man Fournier. Some of the tombs are clearly marked. Others, not so much. He’ll know who was buried where and what families they belong to today.”
Before they reached the cemetery, Lissette had Xavier stop near the edge of town at a small cottage with peeling paint and sagging eaves. As Xavier parked his truck, a stooped old man stepped out onto the porch and shielded his eyes.
“Mr. Fournier?” Lissette called out as she climbed down from the truck.
“Dat’s me,” he said. “Who be a callin’?”
“It’s me, Lissette Gautier.” She met Xavier at the foot of the steps leading up to the porch. When the man didn’t recognize her name, she added, “Madame Gautier’s granddaughter.”
“Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Come on up. Could I interest you in coffee or iced tea?”
Lissette breathed a sigh of relief that Mr. Fournier hadn’t remembered her for her shady past and trip to the pokey. “Thank you, Mr. Fournier. I’d like a raincheck on that iced tea. We came because you know the layout of the cemetery and who’s buried where.”
The hunched old man shook his head. “Get in line behind de sheriff’s department. Dey were out to the cemetery yesterday after de grave robbers stole all de t’ings.”
“We’d like to make a list of all the folks whose tombs were broken into. Someone needs to notify the families.”
Mr. Fournier’s brow twisted. “Ain’t dat what de sheriff be a doin’?”
Lissette shook her head. “No, Mr. Fournier. No one is letting families know what happened. Madame Gautier and I would like to let them know about what’s happened to their loved ones’ resting places.”
The old man harrumphed. “Well, someone ought to tell ’em.”
“If you could go with us to the cemetery and identify the tombs, we can let their families know,” Lissette said.
“No need for dat,” Mr. Fournier said. “Made a list when I inspected de damage yesterday. Come in. Come in.”
Lissette climbed the porch steps, followed by Xavier.
Mr. Fournier stared up at Xavier, his eyes narrowing. “Who be dis man?”
“I’m Xavier Xander, a Bro—”
“Mr. Fournier, this is my boyfriend.” Lissette hooked her hand through Xavier’s arm. “He’s here to help me gather the information we need to notify the families.”
Mr. Fournier stuck out a hand. “Well den, welcome. Normally, I don’t get many visitors.” He held the screen door open and waited for Lissette and Xavier to enter the dim interior of the old cabin.
Inside was surprisingly clean. The tiny living room contained a single, faded lounge chair and a television on a stand made of concrete blocks and wooden planks.
The sexton led them into the kitchen, where a dinette straight out of a fifties catalog stood in the corner, its Formica top flecked with gold, black, and gray.
Two chairs with shiny red vinyl seats were pushed up against it.
A pad of paper lay on the table, with a list of plot numbers, items taken, and the names of the families to whom the plots belonged.
“Mr. Fournier, this is wonderful.” Lissette smiled at the old man. “This will save us so much time. I thought we’d have to go tomb by tomb to gather all this.”
Mr. Fournier shrugged. “It’s my job to care for the cemetery. I only wish I coulda been there when it happened. I might’ve been able to stop ’em.”
Lissette touched the old man’s arm. “Oh, Mr. Fournier, it’s probably best you weren’t there. You might’ve been hurt.”
His cheeks flushed a ruddy red. “Well, now, dat’s kind of you.”
“Do you mind if I take a picture of your list?”
“Not at all. Knock yourself out,” the sexton said. “Dat female deputy used her cell phone to take a picture of de list. I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t.”
Lissette pulled out her cellphone and snapped several pictures of the list, reading quickly through the names.
She’d have more time later to go over it in private and come up with a game plan.
When she had all the photos she needed, she turned to Mr. Fournier.
“Despite the fact that it’s been vandalized, the cemetery is still interesting and tells the story of the people who came before us. I still want to take Xavier there.”
“I’d like that,” Xavier said.
“Do you need me to go with you?” Mr. Fournier asked. “I was dere earlier. I like to get out dere before the full heat of de afternoon sunshine.”
Lissette held up her cellphone. “You don’t need to come with us. Since we have the plot numbers and the names listed, we shouldn’t have any problem finding our way around.”
The old man took a handkerchief from his back pocket and rubbed it over his face. “Danged heat is gettin' to me. I’ll be goin’ for dat iced tea I offered.” He raised both eyebrows. “Not too late to take me up on it.”
“Thank you, sir,” Lissette said, “but we need to be going to see the cemetery before dark.”
The flash of disappointment on the sexton’s face nearly melted Lissette’s resolve.
“I’ll try to stop by tomorrow. Thank you, Mr. Fournier.” Lissette leaned toward the old man’s face and planted a kiss on his wrinkled cheek. “You’re a sweetheart.”
His face burned a bright red. “Now, I wouldn’t go dat far.” He waved toward the door. “Now, go on. Shadows are already growin’ long.”
Lissette and Xavier left the sexton’s cottage, climbed into the truck and set off for the cemetery.
Half a mile past Mr. Fournier’s cottage lay the cemetery, with tombs and stones dating back a few centuries.
“You came here yesterday, by yourself?” Xavier asked as he slowed to a stop and shifted into park.
“I did,” Lissette said, pushing her door open, eager to inspect the damage and leave before dark. “I’d heard through the grapevine that there had been trouble and wanted to see for myself.”
The “grapevine” had been Gisele calling from Cancun. She’d heard about the vandalism from Yaya, the yoga instructor. As soon as Yaya had hung up, Gisele had called to make sure the stores hadn’t been damaged.
Lissette shook her head. “It was worse than I’d imagined.
Tombstones have been toppled, the doors to vaults and crypts have been bashed in, or the locks cut and the reliquary boxes or urns taken.
” Once again, she hooked her hand through the crook of Xavier’s arm, absorbing the strength of his muscles beneath her fingertips.
“Is that when you found out your reliquary had been taken?”
She nodded. “I was so angry and rattled, I called the one person I knew who might know where I could find it.”
“Nub?” Xavier guessed.
“Yes.” She drew in a breath, her brow creasing.
“He said he’d check on the whereabouts of the stolen items, my family reliquary in particular, and get back to me.
He called back within an hour to say he’d found mine and would drop it behind the trash bin in the alley behind the yoga studio after midnight. ”
His hand covered hers on his arm and squeezed slightly. “Where I found you last night with your two admirers.”
Lissette snorted. “Admirers, my ass.” She glanced up at him. “Thanks for coming to my rescue. There aren’t many who would.”
They entered the cemetery through a wrought-iron gate.
Lissette took more time to study the damage the vandals had left behind.
Her chest tightened. She’d done some stupid, sometimes despicable things, but she’d never desecrated holy ground.
It made her sad to see the tombstones toppled, a couple of them broken into pieces.
The doors that had been pried open on the crypts hung open, their locks broken or cut.
As she walked, she checked the list on her phone against what she was seeing in front of her. “I need to warn the families who haven’t experienced bad juju yet to be careful. Until their protection reliquaries are returned, they’re in danger.”
“With a hurricane heading this direction, the entire community is in danger,” Xavier reminded her.
Lissette nodded. “All the more reason to get those items back to where they belong.”
“Even if you manage that, there’s no guarantee the hurricane will change course and miss Bayou Mambaloa.”
“Maybe not, but people might stand a better chance of surviving.” She stopped at the end of a row of tombs and stared at a house-shaped concrete structure with the name Gautier carved above the door.
“This is our family tomb.” She turned on her phone’s flashlight and reached for the door, which hung slightly ajar.
She pushed it open and stepped inside. Each side was lined with shelves and chambers. At the far end stood an empty pedestal.
“The reliquary box stood here,” Lissette said. “Every year on the Day of the Dead, my grandmother brought us here.” Her lips twisted. “I didn’t appreciate those visits. I wasn’t a very pleasant child.”
“What about your parents? Did they go with you on the Day of the Dead?”
Lissette snorted. “My father bugged out shortly after I was born. My mother would rather take drugs than raise a daughter. One day, she left me alone in our Baton Rouge apartment when I was ten. I haven’t seen her since.
” She kept her back to him, not wanting to see pity in his eyes.
She didn’t deserve it. Not after all she’d done.
“She just left you?” Xavier closed the distance and turned her gently to face him. His brow creased in a frown. “What did you do?”
She stared at his shirt instead of meeting his gaze.
“My mother hadn’t paid the rent either. When the landlord came to collect, I told him she was at work.
I stayed in the apartment until I ran out of food.
The landlord caught me sneaking out, and the jig was up.
He turned me over to Child Protective Services.
I spent a couple of nights in a foster home, then they turned me over to my grandmother. ”
“Madame Gautier seems to be a stable sort. I would think you’d have been better off with her.”
“I was, but I didn’t make it easy on her.” She touched her hand to his chest. I didn’t want to rely on anyone.”
“You didn’t trust anyone,” he said.