Edith made a little frown as she joined Jodi at the pictures. "This is my mother, standing with my aunt. That's Jo-el when he was a boy. And these are my brothers and sisters. That's m. I was sixteen."

Jodi nodded and leaned closer to the pictures. "Which one is your father?"

Edith seemed to pull herself in. "I don't keep a picture of my father here."

"Elvis says you take care of him."

"Yes, that's true."

Jodi stared at Edith for a moment, then looked back at the pictures. "How do you and they live with it?"

Edith started to speak, stopped, then found some words. "Families keep secrets. We've never once spoken of it in all this time. My brother Nick was closest to my age. He was twelve, but he's dead. Sara was ten, and the others even younger. I don't know if they know or not."

Jodi made a whistling sound through her teeth. "He murdered a child and he got away with it. Just like that."

Edith crossed her arms again, as she had at the gazebo. "A man named Duplasus was the sheriff back then. He came to the house, and my father told him exactly what happened and why." She pulled her arms tighter, protection from the cold. "I'm sure Mr. Duplasus felt that my father's rage was justifiable, a white girl being ruined by a colored."

Jodi said, "Jesus Christ."

Edith came back to the couch. "Yes. Well. Things like this used to be called crimes of pa.s.sion. Would you like more coffee, Mr. Cole?"

"Yes, ma'am. That would be nice."

Jodi turned away from the piano and stood in the center of Edith's living room. "You could've said something. You still can." She looked at me. "There's no statute of limitation on murder, is there?"

"Nope."

Edith said, "My father is eighty-six years old. He's incontinent and he talks to himself, and much of the time he's incoherent. I care for him now in ways that he doesn't always like, but I'm the only one to do it." She shook her head. "I'm not as angry as I used to be. Leon's been gone a very long while."

Jodi's jaw worked.

Edith made a little shrug, and seemed profoundly tired. "It's just the way we feel about it. I guess that's why we have this trouble."

I said, "Milt."

Edith looked at me. "My, but you must be a good detective."

Jodi said, "Who's Milt?"

Edith looked at her. "He didn't tell you what's going on?"

Jodi was frowning. "What didn't you tell me?"

Edie said, "Some of the same people who were blackmailing you are blackmailing us, too."

Jodi looked at me. "What?"

I said, "I told you what was relevant to you. Edith's business is Edith's business."

"Jesus Christ, but you're a tight-lipped sonofab.i.t.c.h."

I shrugged. "Privacy is my middle name." Jodi wanted me to fill her in and Edith said it was all right with her. I said, "Rebenack was working for a man named Milt Rossier. As near as I can figure it, Rebenack uncovered Leon Williams's murder and sold it to Rossier so that Rossier would have leverage over Edith's husband. Rebenack double-crossed Rossier by going behind his back to blackmail you. Rebenack thought he was being sharp, but that brought me into it and focused attention on Rossier." I looked at Edith. "You know Rebenack is dead."

She looked confused."No. Jo-el hasn't said anything."

Jodi said, "Jesus Christ. Is everything in this family a secret?"

I said, "After Lucy Chenier and I came to see you, Rossier's goon picked me up and brought me out to the crawfish farm. There's no way that Rossier would've known that I came to see you unless your husband told him. Rebenack was out there, too. Rossier wanted to know why I was digging around, and he became upset when I told him that Rebenack was putting the twist on Jodi. He didn't know that, and I suspect he killed Rebenack because of it."

Edith shook her head. "Jo-el wouldn't murder anyone. I don't believe that."

I shrugged.

Edith put down her coffee cup and said, "I told Joel that thirty-six years is enough lying. I said that I didn't want him to do anything wrong, and he said what was he supposed to do, go arrest my father?" She shook her head again and rubbed at her eyes. "This is a nightmare."

I looked at Jodi Taylor. "Sound familiar?"

"What?"

"You didn't want to pay extortion, either."

Jodi pursed her lips, then leaned toward Edith. "Can't your husband do something?"

"He wants to, but he doesn't know what. This is killing him." The skin around her eyes and mouth was tight, and showing the strain.

Jodi said, "I think it's killing both of you."

A car turned into the drive and Edith went to the door. "That will be Jo-el. I want you to meet him."

The front door opened and Sheriff Jo-el Boudreaux walked in, campaign hat in one hand, a rolled copy of Sports Ill.u.s.trated in the other, looking the way you look when you're calling it quits after a long day. He stopped when he saw us, and said, "What's going on here?" Calm and reasonable, like you walk in every day to see a detective and a TV star sitting in your living room. Only not. His eyes flicked to Jodi, then came to me, and the calm look was the kind guys get when their hearts are pounding, but they know they've got to cover. Every cop I ever knew could get that look.

Edith stood. "Jo-el, this young lady is named Jodi Taylor." She wet her lips. "She's my daughter."

Jodi stood and offered her hand. "h.e.l.lo, Mr. Bou-dreaux."

Edith said, "She's the one on TV, Jo-el, She's the little girl I gave away."

Jo-el Boudreaux took Jodi's hand without apparent feeling, shaking his head and making out as if all of this was sort of benignly confusing. "I don't understand, hon. Your mother gave away a baby." Like she had made a mistake recalling which day she'd gone to the market.

"We don't have to pretend, Jo-el." Edith put a hand on his arm. "They know. Those people were blackmailing her, too, just like they're doing to us."

Jo-el's eyes got wide and he wet his lips and his eyes flicked nervous and frantic. One minute you're coming home to take it easy with the new Sports Ill.u.s.trated, the next you're watching your life go down the toilet. "No one's blackmailing us."

I said, "We're not going to hurt you, Jo-el. It's okay."

Sheriff Jo-el Boudreaux waved the Sports Ill.u.s.trated at me. "I don't know what you think you've dug up, but we don't want any part of it." He squared himself toward me, making himself large and threatening. Cop technique. "I think you should leave."

Edith jerked at his arm. "You stop that! We need to talk about this. We need to start dealing with this."

Jo-el was frantic now and didn't know what to do. He said, "There's nothing to deal with, Edie. Do you understand me? There's nothing to talk about here, and they should leave."

Edith's voice grew harder. Insistent. "I want to know what's going on. I want to know if you're involved in a murder."

Jo-el Boudreaux's left eye ticked twice, and he took a single step toward me and I stood. Edith was pulling at his arm, her face red. I said, "I saw you with Milt Rossier. We know about Leon Williams and Edith's father. Rebenack was extorting Jodi and her studio, and Rossier is extorting you."

Boudreaux's eye ticked again and he shook his head. "No."

Edith said, "He says that Rossier killed that redheaded man. Do you know about tliat? Are you covering up for him?"

Boudreaux blinked hard, and he looked at his wife. "You know better than that." He squinted at me to stop the blinking. "If I knew who murdered Jimmie Ray Rebenack I would make an arrest. Maybe you did it. Maybe I should take you in for questioning."

I said, "Sure. That would look good in the local papers."

He shook his head again, and now the eye was ticking madly, like a moth caught in a jar. "I don't know what Edie's been saying to you, but she's been confused. She's not making sense."

Edith made a sudden, abrupt move and slapped her husband on the side of the face. There wasn't a lot on it, but the sound was sharp and clear, and Jo-el stepped back, surprised. Edith grabbed his arm and shook him. "Don't you dare speak about me that way! We have been living in a way that makes me ashamed, and I want it to stop. I want it to stop, do you hear?"

Jo-el took his wife by her upper arms. You could barely hear him. "You want me to go arrest your father? That's what will happen, and won't that be fine? You can even testify at his trial."

Edith was crying.

Jodi said, "We're on your side. Maybe we can help you. Maybe we can work together."

Jo-el Boudreaux said, "There's nothing to talk about. I don't know anything about this, so you take care of your business and let me worry about mine."

Edith was crying harder. "I want to stop lying. I want this to end."

Jo-el said, "Edie, G.o.ddammit. There's nothing to talk about." Denying it to the end.

Edith pulled away from him and ran back through the house, and a door slammed. For a long moment no one moved, and then Boudreaux went to the front door and held it open. He was breathing hard, and it took him a minute to control it. He looked at me and said, "Do you have a statement that you wish to make in the murder of Jimmie Ray Rebenack?"

"Let us help you, Jo-el."

He looked at Jodi. "I'm glad Edie had a chance to meet you, but there's just been a misunderstanding here. We don't know anything about Milt Rossier, or about the murder of Leon Williams."

Jodi said, "You're being a fool."

Boudreaux nodded and looked back at me. "Where's it go from here?"

I said, "Jesus Christ, Boudreaux."

He blinked hard once. "I want to know." I thought he was about to cry.

I took a deep breath. "It starts here, it stops here. We won't give you up."

Sheriff Jo-el Boudreaux stood at the door, the big hand holding it open, the soft sounds of the neighborhood drifting in with the moist scent of cut gra.s.s, and then he simply walked away, back across the living room and through a door and after his wife.

Jodi and I went out through the door, closed it behind us, and drove away. The late afternoon had given way to the evening, and the sky in the east was beginning to purple. Fireflies traced uneven paths in the twilight.

Jodi huddled on her side of the car, arms crossed, staring out the window and chewing her lip. The lip started bleeding so she stopped with the lip and chewed at a nail. We drove in silence.

I said, "So say it."

"They're good people. He thinks he's protecting her because he's a big dumb goober, but he's making it worse for both of them."

"Uh-huh."

She glanced at her watch and her right knee began bouncing. Nervous energy. "I have to go back to L. A. to finish the show, but I can't just walk away. I want you to stay here and find out what's going on and see if you can help them."

The air had cooled, and smelled sweet, but I didn't know from what. "I have found that, in cases like this, the only way to escape the past is to confess it. They don't seem anxious to do that."

"I want you to try. Will you?"

"What about you?"

She looked at me. "What does that mean?"

"Who are you, Jodi? Do you want these people in your life?"

She stared at me for what seemed like years, and then she crossed her arms and settled back into the shadows. "I don't know what I want. Just help them, okay?"

"Okay."

Chapter 22.

W e drove directly to the airport. Jodi bought the last remaining first cla.s.s seat on a flight readying to leave the gate. They held the plane. Can't just fly away and leave America's sweetheart holding her bag. Jodi said, "Call me whenever you want. The pickups should only take a few days, and then I'll come back."

"Sure."

She gave me a kiss, and then she was gone. A businessman with a receding hairline watched Jodi get on the plane. "Say, podnuh, that who I think it is?"

"Who'd you think it was?"

"That one on TV. The singer."

I shook my head. "Nope."

As I walked back through the terminal, I felt alone and at loose ends and overly aware that Lucy Chenier was only a short drive away. Of course, Lucy seem particularly interested in my proximity, but that didn't make it any easier. I tried not thinking about her. I thought, instead, that perhaps I should do something exciting to clear my head. With a clear head, I could probably think of a way to help Edith Boudreaux, which was, of course, what I was being paid to do. Also, something exciting would probably make it easier to not think about Lucy.

It was twenty-three minutes after seven, and there were exactly six people in the terminal besides me. A man of action is ever resourceful, however, and one's options are limited only by one's imagination. Hmm. I could hike up to the levee and shoot rats, but that would be noisy and one probably needed a rat-shooting permit. Difficult to obtain. Okay, I could scale the outside of the state's thirty-two-story capitol building then paraglide onto the Huey Long Bridge, but where would I get the parasail? Rent-a-chute was probably closed, too. Elvis Cole, this is your life!

I drove to the Riverfront Ho-Jo, checked in yet again, then ordered a turkey sandwich from room service, and went up to my room. Twenty minutes later I was eating the sandwich when the phone rang. I said, "Diminished expectations. Elvis Cole speaking."