Chapter 16

BLACK EYED PEAS

I pressed my forehead to the airplane window to watch the Lilliputian world below. Old Man River, twisting like a garden hose, was dotted with toy barges; HO gauge trains snaked their way to and from storage docks, where thousands of miniature Lego containers waited to travel north and west; tiny Erector Set refineries pumped gray and yellow smoke into the void between earth and plane. My waltz through white-collar conspiracies on exotic tropical islands had taken its toll. I was ready to get back into the gritty world of the oil industry that kept paradise afloat.

“Happy Holidays, H,” Placide said, taking my outstretched hand.

“Thanks, Placide. Same to you.” I clapped my other hand on his substantial upper arm. “Great to be back. Aunt Ethel still doing OK?”

“Yes, H. No more threats. Maybe they believed your promise.”

“Dream on. No, they’re just waiting to see what we do next.” After he grabbed my bag, I said, “Let’s stop for a bite. Airline pretzels and coffee are just a tease. Then I need to stop at Lakeside Center to pick up a late Christmas present for Ethel.”

Knocking off two birds with one stone, as the saying goes, Placide drove to the mall, where we could fulfill all our desires, so long as they were just eating and shopping.

After we got our heaping catfish plates, I asked Placide, “Do you recognize the name Deslatte?”

“There’s a Lance Deslatte. Bought a shale processing plant near Morgan City several years back. Shady character. That’s a whole ‘nother long story.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. I saw him bullshitting Earlene at the wake. How ‘bout you give me the short version.”

“Rumor has it he borrowed $500 million from a bank in Houston for expansion of his plant, but he didn’t do no expansion. Put $400 mill of the loan in his own pocket. He’d pay his bills to suppliers for a couple small orders, establish credit, then place a huge order and default on his payment. Your daddy’s supply officer wised up quick and wouldn’t deliver to Deslatte until after his check cleared.”

“And this guy’s still in business?”

“Far’s I know. Word is, he pays off Governor Mansur to keep his nose clean with the EPA. Pays off just enough on his debts every month to stay out of jail somehow. He also operates a hazardous waste dump on the same site. He offers his creditors free waste disposal when they start puttin’ the heat on for past due accounts.”

“How do you know all this, Placide?”

“Through one of our suppliers, but it ain’t any secret. Your daddy got invited to the supplier’s deer camp a few times. Of course, your daddy didn’t go noplace without his bodyguard, so I heard some stuff. Always got my ears open even if I don’t say no whole lot. Deslatte even offered your daddy some hush money one time. He learned soon enough he couldn’t buy off a Doucet. Your daddy tried to turn Deslatte in once, but it didn’t go nowhere. Deslatte always knows who to pay off. That’s old stuff, though. What does it have to do with Oka Chito?”

“I may be out in left field, but I believe this Deslatte guy and Warren Armstrong are in bed together. I don’t know why, yet, but I’m getting closer. His name was mentioned regarding Matherne. If I’m right, just trying to turn Deslatte in could have been enough motive to off Father. Might help if we could put a mole in his operation.”

After lunch, we walked over to D. H. Holmes, where I picked up a likely-looking nest of imported mixing bowls for Aunt Ethel and a box of assorted teas and biscotti for Earlene. An LSU ball cap and sweatshirt for Uncle Louis and my late Christmas shopping was done for another year. I figured I’d just stick some cash in an envelope for Placide.

I tossed my shopping bags on the back seat, and we headed to New Iberia. Now that my aunt had been dragged into this mess, I decided I’d better move back home so I’d be there to take the heat if those thugs tried to rough her up again. My attempt to protect Ethel and Louis by getting lost in the swamp had failed.

Aunt Ethel greeted me in the yard, all flailing arms and smooches. “Oh, Aitchie, I’m glad you’re home, cher,” she said between wet cheek kisses. “You had us so worried, boy.”

“You’d think I was gone a year!” I laughed, enduring the gush of affection.

Uncle Louis, less thrilled to see me, continued taking the Christmas lights off the last wicker reindeer in the front yard. I remembered those decorations from when I was a kid. In fact, Vic and I had broken one of them trying to ride it like a horse. I saw that it still wore the wire Louis had used to re-attach its back legs, though I thought it best not to remind him. I began rolling up the lights for another year in the attic. Louis worked on silently for a few minutes; then he stopped what he was doing, stood motionless looking at the ground, and said, “Please don’t put Ethel’s life in jeopardy no more, H.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, keeping my eyes glued on the string of lights I was winding.

~

On New Year’s Eve afternoon, after a few crisis-free days laying low, Earlene came by with a plate of homemade Christmas cookies. Ethel sent her home with brownies, candy, and more cookies, the traditional passing of the baton. Earlene seemed to like the box of assorted teas, the biscotti, and the trinkets I’d picked up in Nassau. “My lands, where is this boy going next?” Aunt Ethel complained when I also gave her a few of the same Nassau souvenirs and the conch shell I’d purchased from the two budding capitalists. But I could tell she was glad I didn’t forget her.

As I walked Earlene to the car, I gave her a heads-up that Deslatte had something to do with Matherne.

“Were you able to get in touch with Dallas before he left?” I asked her.

“I tried, but his wife told me he wasn’t home, and she didn’t know where he was.”

“I learned that Matherne’s already been sent to Costa Rica,” I informed her. “I also learned that he has some connection with Deslatte, I think through Matherne’s father. I figure Deslatte, and maybe Matherne, must have had some stock to sell off before the inundation, too. That seems to be the modus operandi of these thugs. Money before human life. So, they’re both implicated in the inundation and the deaths. Looks to me like the disaster was intentional, Ethel.”

“My God! Intentional? Deslatte was already trying to get me to invest in some new venture when he spoke to me at your daddy’s wake,” she told me. “I let him know all the funds are tied up right now.”

“I figured as much. He probably came into a hefty sum recently from a lucrative stock selloff that’s burning a hole in his pocket. He’ll be investing in some new scheme soon if he hasn’t already.

“See if you can think of someone daring and trustworthy enough for some covert snooping that we can get hired on at Deslatte’s processing plant,” I continued. “Someone Father would have trusted implicitly. Besides Placide, that is… Oh, and I also need someone to come out and stay with Ethel and Louis around the clock, Monday through Friday. I can’t risk having them get hurt, and Placide and I can’t be here every second.”

“I’ll be thinking, H,” she said. “Your aunt and uncle shouldn’t be a problem. But finding someone Deslatte doesn’t pinpoint and getting him hired might be a challenge.”

“I’ll come by the office after New Year’s. We can talk more about it then. I just want to keep Ethel and Louis safe and out of as much of this mess as possible.”

“I couldn’t agree more. You’re putting a lot of pressure on them both,” she said. “But I understand, H. Maybe I can come up with a name or two between now and then.”

Victor managed to drag himself out to the house long enough for a late morning New Year’s toast. Before he took off, he cornered me. “Look, big brother, I know you’re avoiding me. But we need to get together and work out the details of my company.”

“Vic, I get it. I’ve been a little busy the last few days. If you want to talk about details, why don’t you have your attorney contact Earlene? She’ll put you in touch with Father’s attorney, and those two can hash it out any way Father wanted it. I’ll agree to whatever they work out.”

There was a time I was afraid Vic had been in on the inundation plot, hoping to take over the drilling company. But the fact that Vic pissed off everyone he had dealings with made that unlikely. He was too involved in spending his daddy’s money on cars, women, and gambling to have an organized plan in his head. And I was confident the billionaire class wouldn’t have trusted Vic to pull off their insane plots anyway. But boy did they screw up when they trusted Matherne!

Thankfully, Vic didn’t stick around long. Probably had a silicone-titted bimbo waiting at his condo to help him bring in 1981 with a bang, so to speak. At least he had the decency not to bring her to the house. He knew Ethel might have run her off if he had. Vic was in a big hurry to leave, but not without snarling, “Watch your back, redbone,” on his way past Placide.

I was relieved not to have any more drop-ins, family or otherwise. I told Placide we’d be fine if he wanted to visit his family, but he said he didn’t know if he had any left.

“Well, I guess you know, you have a family now,” I assured him. He had been staying in the bedroom with the bath adjoining my room since Ethel got roughed up, so his stuff was already there.

At Ethel’s request, she, Louis, Placide, and I met in the parlor the next morning for our late family Christmas exchange by the artificial tree that had replaced live trees after Vic and I grew up. But there was no escaping the ritual in this household, even if you missed Christmas day. I guess I wouldn’t have it any other way, truth be known. It just wouldn’t be home otherwise. It wouldn’t be Aunt Ethel, anyway.

Ethel gave me a new wallet to replace the beat-up one she had seen me carrying and a new Day-Timer for 1981. She gave Placide some XL socks and a 3X plaid flannel shirt. He beamed at both our gifts, particularly the envelope stuffed with money I handed him. All we had to suffer through yet was the traditional New Year’s dinner for good luck in the coming year. Clearly, we hadn’t eaten enough black-eyed peas last New Year’s.

Aunt Ethel carted her new mixing bowls to the kitchen. Uncle Louis put on his new ball cap and sweatshirt, pulled on a jacket, and escaped to the yard for a smoke break, described instead as “a look around the back forty,” while he waited for the Orange Bowl to come on. I followed Ethel to see if I could help in the kitchen. She had me dice some peppers, celery, and onions, the Holy Trinity, probably the only task she trusted me not to screw up.

“Aitchie, I don’t know what kind of business you’ve got yourself mixed up in, but you’re putting us all in danger, hear?” she scolded as she seasoned the large pot of black-eyed peas.

“Aunt Ethel, I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am about all this,” I said, my eyes watering from the onions. “I’m just trying to clear your brother’s name. I never believed he committed suicide, and every threat we get convinces me more.”

“Yes, but Aitchie, you need to let the police do their job. Those men scared the devil out of me and Louis. And your Uncle Louis’s heart ain’t all that strong. Do you have any idea how awful he felt, watching them hoodlums push me around, and him not able to do anything?”

“I feel awful about that, too. But don’t you see, Ethel? The cops aren’t doing a thing. In fact, they’ve already closed the case on Father’s so-called suicide. I promise to make sure no one ever hurts you again. But don’t you think we owe it to Father to continue his fight? Wouldn’t he do the same for us?”

“I hate when you put it that way, ‘Tee. You’re a hard man to argue with, just like your daddy. But I’m worried about you. Plus, I sure don’t want to see your uncle have a heart attack over this. Wouldn’t losing him defeat your purpose?”

“I couldn’t agree more, Ethel. In fact, Earlene is finding someone to come out here and stay with you and Louis around the clock, so you don’t have to worry about anyone ever hurting you again. We’re not going to let you stay alone out here for now.”

“I don’t want some stranger here, Aitchie,” she whined, shaking her head miserably as she slid the onions I’d cut into a frying pan.

“I’m sure it won’t be for too long. I’m getting really close, Ethel, so I’m hoping this will all be a bad memory soon. Just try to think of it as one of the hired hands you used to have around all the time,” I said, trying to reassure her. “It will give you someone else to feed all that food you whip up before dawn every morning.” I attempted a laugh, but it fell flat. “And, whoever it is, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind giving Louis a hand out back when there are chores. Try to think of it like that. Louis could use some help with this old place, Lord knows. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you or Louis.” I opted not to tell her about all the deaths I already felt responsible for.

Ethel remained sullen the rest of the day, but she served up her traditional southern New Year’s dinner: ham, black-eyed peas, cabbage, corn bread dressing, all the fixin’s necessary for a lucky 1981. She had set a place for Vic, in case he returned, but of course, he never arrived. She finished saying grace with “…And Dear Lord, please let Aitchie finish with whatever he’s got himself into before anybody else gets hurt. In Jesus’s name, Amen,” and Louis chimed in, “OK, dig in, everyone.” Then the four of us stuffed ourselves to oblivion in relative silence. After dinner, three of us planted ourselves in front of the TV for the Orange Bowl. After LSU’s loss to Florida State earlier that year, Louis felt vindicated when Watts’s pass to Valora for a two-point conversion gave Oklahoma its one-point victory over Florida in the last minute of the game. It was good to see Louis smiling again, even though Ethel had chosen not to join us in front of the TV.