Chapter Eighteen

Remy got through Saturday night easily enough, satisfied after sex with Julia and tired from dealing with the crisis at the Bayou Queen. Sunday night didn’t go nearly as well with the worry over the upcoming meeting with Hartz, the possibility that NuNu had been arrested since he hadn’t spotted him at the trailer, and total silence from Julia.

How to deal with a powerful billionaire and still keep his obligation to the Broussard family? Remy guessed he could bail NuNu out, but how suspicious would that look to Sheriff LeDoux?

And Julia, whom he’d pegged as being just his type, a career woman who enjoyed recreational sex without a mention of marriage and children. The trouble was, Jules ran hot, not cold. She poured passion into everything from restoration to making love. Maybe that was the problem. He loved what she did and how she did it. Every once in a while, he caught himself wondering how many of their offspring would inherit her blue eyes—strictly from an interest in genetics. What if they merged their businesses as well as their bodies? Not likely to happen since he’d insulted Todd.

Monday morning inevitably came following a sleepless night. Remy shook off his fatigue with a hot shower and counted on Starbuck’s for breakfast and a hefty shot of caffeine. He braced himself to enter Chapelle’s modest police department and inquire if Sheriff LeDoux had solved the crime over the weekend. Shown right into the office, LeDoux stood to shake his hand after a quick bush of powdered sugar off his belly. Remy suspected the source as Pommier’s beignets.

“Got your report right here. Blaise faxed me his statement. No need to make two stops. Definitely arson using a gasoline accelerant. We went back to the site in the daylight to look for shoe prints or tire tracks, but it’s been too dry. Good thing you mowed recently, or the fire department would have had a hell of a brush fire to control. We strung some crime scene tape just for good form. Don’t think the ruins will tell us anything more.”

Remy didn’t want to be the one to bring it up, but he must. “Did you check out Todd and NuNu?”

An amused smile curved the stern mouth under the gray mustache. “Right after I left the scene. Rousted the intern from his bunk over the cab in the motorhome. Sleeps in his tighty-whities. Scrawny dude who fit the description, but the older men were still awake playing cards and vouched for him. He’s off the list. No motive, good alibi. As for NuNu…” LeDoux paused to take a deep drag of coffee from a truly hideous mug. “My little granddaughter made this. Like it?”

“She shows some real artistic talent.” Remy wished he’d get to the point.

“Which says you are a smooth liar. This is a mug only a grandfather could love. I’d offer you some bullpen coffee, and you’d probably claim it ain’t swill. About NuNu, he wasn’t at his trailer. I walked around the property. No sign of gas cans.”

Grateful that NuNu possessed enough intelligence to get rid of the evidence, probably in the bayou, Remy carefully let out a breath. “So, did you track him down?”

“Sure. Out at the Barn flipping burgers and frying catfish like he does every Saturday night. All the kitchen workers swore he’d been there since six when his shift started. No time cards used out there. Old Broussard says he trusts his employees to arrive when they should and do their job.”

Remy very nearly blurted out that they’d seen NuNu at his trailer around seven, which he guessed was the chief’s intent. He held it in and prayed the man wouldn’t question Julia too. He stood and gathered the reports. “Thanks for your diligence. Lots of people have taken sides on the issue of the Queen. I guess we’ll never know who tried to burn her down.”

The sheriff took another swig from the lumpy mug heavily adorned with purple unicorns and rainbows. “Mostly the Broussards against the town as usual. Might be they lose this one. If you want to protect your property, even for salvage, you better think about hiring a guard.”

“I’ll give that some thought.”

Remy found his way out, zigzagging around close packed desks. He had plenty of time to drive out to the Hartz mansion for the meeting. He’d expected to meet the big man in a boardroom on the campus of Hartz Technology, but Jonathan had developed the common touch since moving to Chapelle and marrying local. He could two-step and bass fish with the best of the Cajuns and belonged to nearly every organization in town, even Ducks Unlimited, though he didn’t hunt. They’d have their discussion at his Pecan Grove home, keeping it casual. The word beloved came to mind concerning Jonathan Hartz.

Remy figured he’d never earn that adjective, not the way this project was going. Truly, he meant to give this mostly rural parish a development they could tout and profit from, but the populace proved to be stuck in the past like so much of the South. He tried to soothe himself on the way out of town, passing the beautifully landscaped technology plant that employed so many, and heading beyond it into the country where Hartz lived by Indian Lake.

Pink Mexican primroses, hiding the wayside debris of beer bottles and fast food wrappers, festooned the edges of the deep ditches. Beautiful land if only people wouldn’t trash it. Crap, now he thought like Jane Tauzin. He arrived at the Grove a half-hour early, bad form, showed eagerness. Remy was only eager to get the meeting over and done. He took the gravel road running between the wall of the Hartz estate and a vast sugarcane field. Driving alongside the levee and hoping to distract himself with some eagle watching, Remy parked by the docks and waited, but only the usual blue herons and great white egrets appeared stalking prey in the shallows.

Two Indian mounds rose out of the haze on the far side of the lake. Known as the Twin Sisters, local lover boys had also dubbed them the Two Tits. Another place to take a girl not afraid to hike through a cane field at night and lie on a blanket under a starry sky. Julia came immediately to mind, naked and willing. No use loitering anymore, Remy turned his truck toward Pecan Grove and whatever waited there.

As soon as he’d been cleared at the gate by some serious hired muscle, Remy found Julia’s Regal Restorations truck already sat in front of the mansion. No sign of Jane’s hybrid. Good, though Celine Hartz would surely be inside. He parked and mounted the brick steps of the portico with its four slender white pillars. A ring of the bell brought Hartz’s Hispanic housekeeper to the door. She escorted him past a truly magnificent hanging staircase and hand-painted wallpaper murals of Louisiana swamp scenes to a cozy breakfast room at the rear of the mansion.

There they waited, four against one, lacking only Jane Tauzin. Hartz, sitting at the head of a blue distressed table Remy would call shabby chic, rose to offer his hand. Nothing forbidding about the slight man with the expensive haircut that kept his blond hair from falling into baby blue eyes framed today with barely noticeable eyeglasses. He had a cordial smile for Remy and offered coffee from a carafe, a bottle of water, and a delectable assortment of Pommier’s pastries. If Remy recalled correctly, the housekeeper had married LeJeune Pommier and sometimes worked at the bakery, only one of several strange matches in the house.

Celine, the Cajun bride, sat on her husband’s right and his personal assistant, a tall, severe woman with blue eyes so sharp they could probably cut paper, held the place on his left. Inexplicably, this all-business female was the billionaire’s sister-in-law through an alliance with Celine’s brother, the game warden of Indian Lake. Yes, people still talked about that one too. Must be something in their water. Remy didn’t judge. To each her own. He wondered if the town gossips already speculated about himself and Julia. Let them say what they will.

What did bother him was Todd standing squeezed up against a tree-trunk side table festooned with ferns and other houseplants as if he were part of the display. Considering his build, he had large, long-fingered hands, and both rested on the rear of Julia’s chair as if guarding her back. Todd’s usually bland face scowled Remy’s way. Bearing a grudge, he guessed, about being accused of arson. Couldn’t be helped.

Julia merely nodded to acknowledge his presence and sent no smile his way even though he took a chair next to her. She wore her business attire and her no-nonsense face to the meeting. Sipping her coffee from a china cup, she selected and ate a mini-éclair in two precise bites. Instead of licking her fingers as she had at the picnic, she wiped them on a cloth napkin before speaking. “We lack only Jane before we can start.”

Celine Hartz with a smile as sunny as her husband’s poured coffee for Remy and passed it to him. Why all the happy, Remy wondered? She indicated the sugar and cream, real stuff, and the refreshments. “Jane said she might be late and to begin without her.”

Remy tested the coffee and added a bit of cream, fairly sure the beverage had been made with Starbuck’s beans since Hartz missed his Seattle brew and made sure the brand became available in Chapelle. The billionaire possessed the money to create whatever he wanted, wherever he wanted it. His proposal should be interesting.

With his assistant taking notes on a HartzPad, the billionaire started immediately. “To keep things short and sweet, I’ll offer you four times what you paid for the Queen, and reimburse you for the bush-hogging and the new dock if you supply me with the receipts for the work.”

“A generous offer, but I have investors who want the Black Diamonds development to be built on that land. I cannot renege.”

“Would they consider another site?”

Remy chuckled. Exactly how long had Hartz lived in the Ste. Jeanne d’Arc Parish? “What other site? Lots of agricultural land surrounds the town, but no one will sell, at least for a reasonable price. Remember when the Dollar Store paid big bucks for a ramshackle place to tear down and put up their building?”

Hartz nodded. “Yes, now everyone thinks their backyard is worth a million.”

“We need a lot more land than that for Black Diamonds. Being on the bayou is a huge selling point.” A thought occurred to Remy, one he might as well propose though he couldn’t be sure Old Brossard would approve. But, trying to cooperate might gain him some points from Julia. He didn’t care about refusing Hartz.

“That sugarcane field next door to you—it runs down to the levee road. Maybe Indian Lake could be a draw. Ever try to buy it?”

Hartz issued a rueful grin. “Often. The Patin family owns it and the sugar mill. Their board of directors is made up solely of relatives. Their policy is not one acre of cane land will be sold lest their heritage and livelihood be harmed. They mean it too.”

Curious, Remy asked, “What did you plan to do with the field?”

“I like my privacy out here and preserving the environment. I thought I might put in an arboretum. I’ll admit having a condo complex right next door does not appeal even if I could get the land.”

Remy shrugged. “Probably too far out of town anyhow.” He swept a glance past Julia to see if she’d been impressed by his effort to find a new location for his project. Her usually expressive face remained as stiff as a plaster of Paris figurine. Not impressed.

Hartz fingered through a second proposal. “What if I became your partner to restore the Bayou Queen? I buy out your current investors and provide forty-nine percent of the funds to leave you in control of the project. We use my money to get matching grants giving other organizations some stake in the renovation. The more diverse the support we have, the better.”

Julia spoke for the first time. “Jane is already looking into available grants. Your matching funds would make the process so much easier.”

Yeah, maybe if Remy were as rich as Jonathan Hartz he could buy her love. No, no, he meant her admiration.

Hartz shoved the papers Remy’s way. “Study this. Take the idea to your investors. See what they think. They can go in with us, or I can buy them out. Then their cash will still be available for Black Diamonds when an alternate place is found.”

“I can ask them, but I don’t think…”

The doorbell rang at the front of the house, followed by the thud of running shoes, and the appearance of Jane Tauzin flapping a set of papers. She wore a rumpled skirt and blouse, having obviously been in and out of her car so often the vehicle did not cool off between stops. Her brown bangs hung in sweaty strands glued on her forehead. “We got it—the historical designation for the Queen. And more! An injunction against its demolition.” Jane rounded the table and kissed Jonathan Hartz on the forehead and both cheeks. “Thank you, thank you for making those calls. I can start writing the grants now.”

His nerd-pale face colored. “Happy to do it, Jane, but don’t tell your husband you kissed me, okay?”

“Ha! He’ll understand. If you kissed me, it might be another story.”

Remy closed his eyes for a moment, then said the words that would only anger Julia further. “We’ll fight that injunction—because I doubt my investors will buy into the plan. They like things their own way.”

Hartz nodded. “The Broussards. Stubborn people. Hard to deal with them. But you will present the plan?”

So, he did know the ins and outs of the parish. “Yes, but don’t get your expectations up.”

He addressed this statement to Julia whose blue eyes blazed with new hope. Behind her, Todd wore a self-satisfied smirk. Remy gathered the paperwork and stood to let Julia pass, but he cut between her and the intern. She couldn’t leave without Todd—or without speaking to him. They left Jane behind glugging a bottle of water.

Out on the portico, he headed Jules off before she could bolt for her truck. “Give me a minute! You did see I tried to suggest another site for Black Diamonds.”

“You knew it wasn’t possible. Weren’t you the one who told me how precious land is around here?”

She’d remembered, but she wasn’t done with him. “You owe Todd an apology for accusing him and—and embarrassing him—in an attempt to keep your own kin out of jail.” She shoved the intern forward and between them.

“NuNu isn’t in jail. He had an alibi too.” Remy tried to peer around the guy, skinny as a beanpole without the greens growing on it, but Julia evaded his try. “Okay, okay, Todd, I’m sorry I implicated you and caused Sheriff LeDoux to drag you out of bed in your tighty-whities. At least, you had something on. He would have caught me in the raw.” Maybe he implied that’s the way real men slept.

Though Julia’s eyes peeking through Todd’s akimbo arms showed a flicker of interest at his last statement, she wasn’t ready to relent. “Now, you’ve embarrassed him again. I doubt your sincerity.”

“It’s the best I can do. I’ll take this proposal to the old man and see what he says, but Julia, you have no idea how dangerous it is to interfere.”

“You mean he’ll send another arsonist to burn the Queen.”

“The sheriff did say he thought I should post a guard, but I can’t see the expense to protect a building that will be demolished sooner or later. Not what I meant though. Intimidation is the Broussard style. I don’t want anything to happen to you—or Todd, I guess.”

“I can take care of Ms. Rossi and myself,” Todd stated, folding his arms across his thin chest.

“Please do that.” Remy found he meant it. Talk about heartfelt sincerity. He gave up and turned to leave.

Julia stepped out from behind her defender. “When will you talk to your grandfather?”

“Probably tomorrow.”

“Well, you be safe too.”

Maybe she cared a little. “They probably won’t kill me.” At least, he hoped so.