Chapter 12

MORE PIECES TO THE PUZZLE

Calco Oil was in deep, with someone in DNR getting enough kickback to rationalize committing murder. Sapphire Salt, Armstrong, and Secretary Huff stunk like dead fish, too. No one in the widespread cabal would hesitate to snuff out the last minor snag in their plan, which would apparently be me. I told Placide to get ready for a trip to Father’s office, then walked up the levee and called Earlene from the pay phone.

“Earlene, did Father have a backup file system? Have you got anything that the cops haven’t confiscated?”

“I had a lot of his files backed up on paper copies, H, but they went through everything and hauled a lot out of here. Seized our floppies and reels of magnetic tape, too.”

“I need you to dig out any files you still have concerning Oka Chito. Make copies, just to be on the safe side. I’ll have Placide pick it up.” I glanced at my watch. “Do you think you can have that ready by two?”

“Might be a tall order, H. Let’s say three. Tell Placide I’ll have it ready. Also, H, I’ve had a meeting with our lawyers, and they’ve agreed to help in the investigation, so let me know if anything new comes up that I need to share with them. They’re talking about some FOIA requests.”

“Good thinking, Earlene. It just so happens that I do have some information for the attorneys. In Memphis, I learned that Warren Armstrong and Treasury Secretary Arnold Huff are in bed together. For some reason, they decided to sabotage both Sapphire Salt and Ideal Tractor in Memphis. We need to find out why and who all was involved. Give the lawyers a heads up. Also, keep LeBlanc in the loop on this.”

“Good Lord, H. Well, that should keep the lawyers busy. I’ll inform Marc right away.”

Late that afternoon, Placide arrived at my cabin door and swung a box of papers onto the deck. I pulled on a hooded sweatshirt, poured myself a glass of iced tea, then sat cross-legged on the deck beside the box and began poring over stacks of paper while Placide picked up my pole and cast off the bow. Unfamiliar names and a few familiar ones shouted out at me from Father’s records. Some of the familiar ones I knew to be shysters and con artists. Father would never have allowed himself to get sucked into a crime for money or any other motive for that matter, but he seemed to be acquainted with a lot of people who just might.

One unfamiliar name that popped out at me was Léon Savois with Calco Oil in the Lafayette office. Father had an appointment with him in his Houston office on November 19th, the day before the inundation. The name rang a bell. I remembered a Savois at Father’s wake, the old man who damn near lost his life in a fishing boat the day of the inundation. I had the old man’s number, but I never figured it would be any use to call him. Of course, Savois is a pretty common name in Louisiana, but there could be some connection. At least it was worth exploring.

Dallas Matherne’s name appeared briefly too, but there were gaping holes in files concerning him. Clearly, the police had helped themselves to anything of use, but the sparsity of Matherne in the files incriminated them and him. My guess is that Father was looking into his background and dealings, too. I needed to have Earlene locate this Matherne guy, even though he could mean trouble. But first, I decided to find Savois, see if he could fill in any pieces of the puzzle. I wanted to have as much information in my pocket as possible before I confronted Matherne.

At dinnertime, while we shared the bream Placide had snagged off the bow, I told him to contact Earlene tomorrow morning and have her set up an appointment with Léon Savois. Placide appeared at my cabin door the next day with a small slip of paper that read: Meet Savois 1 PM Friday at the office.

Placide dropped me off for the meeting at the office a little early on Friday. At about ten after the hour, a tall young man entered and glanced around the office. I stood and thrust my hand out. “Léon Savois?”

“That’s right.”

“I’m H Doucet. Pleasure to meet you. Let’s talk in the conference room. This way.” A strikingly handsome forty-something Cajun, he probably looked more like Vic’s brother than I did, minus the bravado. He had the same black wavy hair, the same Roman nose, except his smile was wide and sincere.

After we seated ourselves, I said, “I found a note that Father was to meet you a day before the inundation. Did you keep that meeting?”

“Yes, I did. I was at a meeting at our main Calco office in Houston when I got word Harvey Doucet was in town and wanted to talk to me. So, I called, then passed by his Houston office.”

“Would you mind telling me what the meeting with Father was about? A few questions have come up regarding his death, and I just want to make sure I understand everything.”

“What sort of questions, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“You see, he was a passably good Catholic, if you get my drift. Suicide wouldn’t even have been an option for him.”

“I’m a good Catholic, too.” His smile faded. “If you think I had…”

“Oh, no, no! I didn’t mean to imply… No, I’m just hoping you can shed some light on things. First of all, does this look like the map Calco was using in the drilling operation?” I produced the flawed map from my folder.

He studied it for a minute, then nodded. “Yep, that’s the map.”

“Do you know where it came from? Who produced it?

“DNR sent it certified mail. Why? Isn’t it accurate?”

“As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure it’s nowhere near accurate. Do you happen to remember whose office it came from at DNR?”

He thought a minute. “Man name of Joseph Haggerty, I believe, out of Louisiana’s Gas and Oil Resources branch.”

“Do you remember how long ago that was?”

“Year and a half, two years ago, when Calco was taking over the rig. Calco Oil had merged with Aloco Oil by then. Oka Chito was originally an Aloco Oil project before the merger. They let the ball drop at Oka Chito, though, and Calco picked it up. But I guess you know all that.”

“I’ve been out of touch with the company the last few years,” I said.

Actually, I had been aware of the merger. Lots of oil companies merged after the 1973 oil shortage. When OPEC members refused to sell oil to Israeli supporters of the US, oil was in short supply. Demand in the US was escalating, and winter in the North was on the way. Lots of the small fish got swallowed up by the big fish. Even gas stations were running out of gas. I just hadn’t kept up with Father enough to know anything about his involvement in the Oka Chito project.

“Did Calco Oil keep any Aloco employees on at the Oka Chito site?” I asked.

“A handful. Nearly all the Aloco employees, the rig workers, anyway, were given a severance package, transferred to other sites, or flat laid off. Big shakeup in the main office, too. Everything was on hold for several months. The original drilling company was canned, and that’s when Calco Oil brought Doucet Drilling into the picture.”

“And you were with Calco Oil then?” I asked.

“Yeah, I came in with the new Calco group. My department is in charge of contracting and overseeing drilling operations, so we had pretty close ties with Doucet.”

“Oh, I need to introduce you to Marc LeBlanc. He’s taking over for Father and working on some contracts.”

“I know Marc. We’ve worked together in the past. Is he here now?”

“Yes, I’ll take you by his office when we’re done here.”

“I’d like that.”

“When you and my father last met, did Father sound at all suspicious?”

“Your father was always suspicious of Calco Oil, especially after the merger. He wasn’t too excited about the new CEO of Sapphire Salt, either. My job was to assure him of Calco Oil’s integrity. And I do believe in the company. Or I did before the merger, anyway. I couldn’t have stayed on with them if I didn’t.”

“I see your point,” I said. “I wonder why you stayed on after the merger, then?”

The question seemed to take him aback. He thought for a moment before he said, “Well, H, it’s pretty hard to find a better job in this financial climate. Pay’s good, and I got a young son to raise and get educated. At least until someone convinces me Calco doesn’t have at least as much integrity as any other oil company, I guess I’ll stay on.”

“Point taken. Can you think of anything else Father said when you met?”

“He might have seemed a little more suspicious than usual, I guess, looking back, but he always acted like it didn’t faze him, no matter what happened.”

“Yeah, he always was good at hiding his feelings.”

“At least, I always respected him. Couldn’t help him much, though. Calco Oil plays close to the vest. I just do my job, don’t ask questions. Just try to stay employed, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I gotcha! I wonder why Father set up that last meeting with you? He must’ve already had the map for some time.”

“Pretty routine, if you ask me. He said he was in Houston for a few days checking on some jobs he was doing for Calco. He checked in with me pretty regular, so it wasn’t unusual for him to contact me when he learned I was in Houston too. He asked me a few questions about Oka Chito Island and some other jobs. Just technical business stuff, nothing out of the ordinary. He wasn’t focused on Oka Chito, didn’t seem to me.”

“You mentioned your young son. Is Auguste your father, by any chance?”

“Yes! You know my father?”

“He and your mother came to my father’s wake. He sure thinks the world of his grandson.”

“Yes, sir. I carried Jamie down there when I had to go to Houston. He loves to go fishing with his Papaw. When the little bateau was getting sucked toward the whirlpool, his Papaw got the strength from God, is the only way I can figure it, to drag Jamie through the mud to the island. My daddy is a hero, in my view.”

“That’s quite a story. You’re a fortunate man.”

“Oh, I thank God, every day. If it hadn’t been for my daddy’s bravery, there’s no telling.”

After our meeting, I walked with Léon up to Marc’s office and left them to catch up with each other, maybe even to come up with a Doucet contract.

If the inundation was planned, it was clear that Savois didn’t know anything about it, or he wouldn’t have allowed his son to go fishing. But I got a couple more crucial pieces to the puzzle from him. Oka Chito Island had originally been an Aloco operation, and the merger simply produced one much larger international conglomerate. Calco Oil could have paid someone off for that map before it began operations. Or Aloco could have ordered it for a selling point. But who would agree to produce such a false map? And why? And what about Joseph Haggerty in DNR? What was his involvement with that map?

I also needed to learn more about Sapphire Salt and its executives. I decided Jack Brouillette, the burly salt miner, would be my next contact. After Savois left, I dug out Jack’s card and rang him.

Jack’s wife Mable answered. “Nope. Jack’s over at Oka Chito. They kept a few of ‘em on to sift through what’s left of the building. I expect him about four this evenin’.”

I still had a couple hours to kill before I could contact him, so I decided to call Marlisa, Charles Daigrepont’s widow, to see if she’d thought of anything. Or hell, maybe just to talk to a sympathetic soul.

“Marlisa? This is H. Doucet,” I said when she answered, hoping she might be more receptive than at our last meeting. I wasn’t disappointed.

“Oh, H. It’s good to hear from you. How are you?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. Is everything all right? You sound a little rattled.”

“Everything’s OK, I guess, except that people keep calling and asking me a million questions. I was glad it was you calling. It seems to me like everyone is trying to blame Charles for dying!”

“Oh, wouldn’t they love to be able to put the blame on him somehow. Save themselves a lot of settlement money if they could prove negligence. We don’t dare let that happen, Marlisa. That’s a good reason for me to continue digging into this, for Charles’s sake.” I hoped she agreed with that reasoning.

“Have you learned anything new, H?”

“Nothing concrete, but I have some hints. Would you consider meeting me for some tea or coffee this afternoon? I’ve got a few hours to kill before I can meet Jack Brouillette, and I’d like to share what I’ve found and compare notes.”

“Well, it would be good to talk to someone who’s on my side, for a change,” she agreed after a pause. “How about 3:00 at Provost’s?”

“Perfect.”

Placide dropped me off a little early, and I found an inconspicuous corner seat. Placide sat near the front window. Twenty minutes later, Marlisa walked in, still in mourning clothes, a black sweater over slender black pants that elongated her legs to model proportions. The sun behind her in the doorway as she walked in gave her thick auburn hair a momentary golden halo. She was a goddess, all right. She looked around the room but didn’t recognize me until I stood and motioned for her.

“Marlisa,” I said, holding my hand up. I guided her to the chair next to mine. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too, H.”

“Tell me how you’re getting along.”

“It’s been tough.” After the waitress took her order for iced tea, she continued, “Charles was my strength. I’ve had to learn how to handle all those little details he used to take care of: taxes, insurance, credit card bills. But the nights are the worst. I still find myself saying, ‘I’ll have to tell Charles when he calls,’ or, ‘I’ll ask Charles when he gets home.’ Then I catch myself.” She glanced up at me. “Do you have experiences like that?”

“I’m sure there’s no comparison. I only saw Father every couple of years. I want to get to the bottom of his death, but it’s nothing like losing a lifetime companion. It’s eerie, though, everywhere I go, I see reminders of him, almost as if he’s speaking to me from the grave. And he’s still alive in my dreams, too, urging me on in this investigation. I’d have to say, he seems more alive to me now. It’s almost like I’m just now getting to know him.”

“I still see Charles in my dreams, too. Then I cry when I wake up and find out he’s not there. A few of the wives looked in on me at first. Not much anymore, though. I think some of them didn’t like me, or at least didn’t like the fact that Charles married me.” She thanked the waitress for the tea, then sprinkled in a packet of sugar.

“Jealous, I imagine,” I said. “Don’t let it worry you, though, Marlisa. I think Charles was extremely fortunate.”

“You’re kind,” she mumbled self-consciously. “I do have one close friend, though, Christie. Her husband is an accountant for Sapphire. They’re around my age, so that makes a difference, I think. Most of the wives are older.”

“I rest my case,” I said, smiling at her.

“Christie stops by for coffee and to check in on me every few days. It helps a little to have someone to talk to now and then, someone besides attorneys and investigators. Anyway, what was it you wanted to talk to me about, H?” she asked, moving the subject in the direction I had hoped to move it.

“Partially, I have to admit, I just wanted to see how you were getting along,” I said. “I know this has been devastating. I’m glad to hear that someone is looking in on you occasionally.”

“Thanks. And the other reason?”

“Yeah, you got me. There was also an ulterior motive. I’m still digging into this disaster, of course. I suspect some nasty characters were at the root of it all. And they’d like to have me eliminated. I just can’t quite put my finger on who or why yet.”

“But I’ve told you everything I know.”

“I know. But who knows what could turn up tomorrow? Any slightest incident could be a new piece to the puzzle. How has Sapphire dealt with your benefits, for example?”

“Oh, they’ve been dragging their feet, of course. Besides looking for some way to blame Charles for dying, Sapphire is arguing that the inundation is Calco Oil’s and Doucet Drilling’s joint responsibility. They’ll go to any length to pass the buck and come out smelling like a rose, and I’m sure Calco and Doucet Drilling will do the same. The lawyers will be haggling over this one for a decade, I’m afraid.”

“How are you doing financially? I could help you out if need be.”

“Oh, no, H. Thank goodness, Charles was depositing part of his paycheck into a nice savings account since before we met. ‘For a rainy day,’ he always said. And he had bought a life insurance policy, too, so that’s helped a lot.”

“Well, don’t be afraid to let me know if you need some help.”

“Thanks, H. That’s very kind, but I think I can manage. I’ll keep hounding Sapphire for a while, see if we can’t reach a settlement before too long.”

“Well, OK. I wouldn’t put anything past Sapphire, or Calco Oil for that matter, but I’d stake my reputation on my father’s innocence,” I said. “I know he’d want me to give you a hand. Despite all his flaws, and he had plenty, integrity and generosity were his greatest assets. If I didn’t believe in his integrity, I don’t know if I could go on with this.

“I believe he had begun to snoop into Sapphire and Calco Oil himself before the disaster,” I continued. “I think if he hadn’t suspected them, he’d be alive today.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that your father had any blame. I don’t trust Sapphire, though,” she said. “They’ve been extremely evasive. Have you learned anything more about the new boss?”

“Just that he moved here from Ideal Tractor in Memphis. And that someone up there wants me dead. I’ve got my ear to the ground, though. I’ve already learned a good deal about Armstrong’s shady dealings at Ideal. There’s no reason to think he cleaned up his act with Sapphire.” I paused to let that sink in. “I wonder if you’d be willing to share any of the correspondence you’ve had with Sapphire?”

“Well…I suppose I could make copies,” she replied. “You could also talk to some of Charles’s working buddies. They’re all waiting for settlements, now, too. Tempers are flaring.”

“I imagine so! But I’d like to keep as few people in the loop as necessary right now. I’m hoping to meet Jack Brouilette in a little while, but other than Brouilette, you’re my only source at Sapphire for now. I’d rather you didn’t tell anyone else about our meetings, though. It’s for your own safety as well as mine,” I said. “I’d even be careful about saying too much to your friend, Christie. I hate to sound paranoid, but I’m beginning to wonder who we can trust.”

“Well, you know you can trust me.” She finished her last sip of tea, then looked at her watch and rose to leave. “OK, H, I’ll make copies of any of the letters I get from Sapphire Salt.” I rose, too, and laid enough on the table to cover our tea and a tip so I could walk her out.

What was that lump in my throat after we said goodbye and I closed her car door? Just sympathy for her loss, I told myself. Anyway, it was time to call Jack Brouillette. I walked over to the pay phone on the corner and fished out his card. Jack picked up on the first ring.

“Brouillette,” his gravelly voice boomed over the phone.

“Mr. Brouillette? This is H. Doucet. Remember me?”

“Sure thing, Major Doucette. Call me Jack, sha. Mable told me you called. Comment ça va?”

“Ça va bien. And call me H. Look, do you suppose we can meet sometime? In fact, I’m in New Iberia for a little while today, if you’re free.”

“Be glad to. I can meet you soon as I shower. Where y’at?”

We met a half-hour later at Bourbon Hall, the same little dive where I had spoken to the disgruntled old drunk, who, as I suspected, was seated in a cloud of smoke on the same bar stool, undoubtedly his home away from home, poor fella.

“Thanks for coming out on short notice,” I told Jack, extending my hand when he arrived.

He took the stool beside me and ordered a Bud.

“I’m trying to see what I can find out about Warren Armstrong,” I began after he’d lit a Marlboro and taken a swig of the beer the waitress set in front of him. “Any chance you have any insights to share?”

“Oh, no, H. The only thing I know is he’s a slave driver. He’s fighting the settlements and our damn pensions. We’re waiting on our class-action suit, but I expect that’ll take years. And him, sittin’ on his yacht down there in Corpus. A Pure-D bastard, if you ask me.”

“Don’t hold back,” I laughed. “I heard he had cut your crew to emergency level. Was production off?”

“Yeah, Old Armstrong said times was hard, and sales were way down, what with the recession. He just pushed those of us left all the harder. Son of a bitch didn’t bother keepin’ up his business, far as I could tell. Equipment was wearing out, breaking down every day. Seemed like he wanted it to fall apart. I get pissed off every time I think of how hard we all worked just to keep that old bastard floating on that yacht. I never told Mable, and I know Charlie never told his wife, but it was gettin’ damn dangerous down there. I figure it would’ve folded soon even without an inundation. That disaster just saved old Armstrong’s ass, is all I can say.”

“Yep, that’s about what I was afraid of. Seems Armstrong had a vested interest in destroying the mine.”

“Oh, I ain’t saying he had anything to do with the inundation. Just a lucky day for him. Yep. A real lucky day. He can just set back on that yacht and wait for his lawsuit against Calco to add a few more millions to his coffers.”

“Pretty sad when ‘luck’ means the death of over a dozen innocent people,” I said. Jack raised his bushy eyebrows but just shrugged as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

Odd, I thought. Why would Armstrong purposely let the mine deteriorate? And if he was in on the inundation, wasn’t he responsible for Charles Daigrepont’s and the others’ deaths? “Thanks, Jack,” I finally said. “Look, I may get back to you after I do some more digging around. That be OK?”

“Sure thing, H. Glad to help, anytime. You got my card.” He took another drag on his Marlboro, then downed half a beer in a gulp. “Sorry I don’t know no more than that.”

While Jack finished his beer and ordered another, I went to the pay phone in back to call Earlene. Dallas Matherne must at least have known Armstrong back at Ideal Tractor, if not been his pawn. It was time to locate him.

“Earlene, have you still got Dallas Matherne on the books?” I asked.

“Oh, he’s on the books, H. But we haven’t heard from him since the inundation. I figure he must’ve looked for work elsewhere. Most of the guys stayed with Doucet, but a lot of fellas moved on.”

“Matherne is the only one I’m interested in right now. I need to find out where he went and what he’s up to. Think you can do that for me? See what you can turn up?”

“I’ll ask around. Don’t know how to locate these strays. I expect they’ll all contact me come tax time. But maybe somebody’s heard from Dallas.”

“Well, just be careful who you ask. If he finds out I’m looking for him, he might dig in deeper.”

“No worries. I’m pretty tight with one or two of these old fellas, and your daddy trusted them.”

“Another thing, Earlene. See if you can find anything on Matherne’s past. So far, I know he spent his early career on offshore rigs, probably born and raised right here in Louisiana. Why would a guy like that suddenly move to Tennessee for a maintenance job, then move back in just a few years? Doesn’t add up. Think you can find out anything about that?”

“I can try, H. That’s all I can tell you. Your daddy never mentioned it, and I expect he might’ve been the only one to know, if anyone.”

“Also, I need you to see if Mr. Gremillion’s secretary is still at DNR. See if she’ll meet me, somewhere outside of her office or our office.”

“Ok, I’ll look into it.”

“You’re the best. I’ll call you back tomorrow, around lunchtime?”

“OK, H. Just be careful! Your Aunt Ethel is worried sick!”

“I know. But I’m afraid I’d put her in danger if I went home, so it just has to be this way for a while. Try to make her see that, Earlene.”

“I’ll do my best,” she said. “Just be careful, H.”