Free Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 02 - Skeletons of the Atchafalaya by Kent Conwell

sip of coffee and noticed I was
watching Pa and Uncle Bailey. “How long has it been since
you’ve seen your father?”
    “Huh? Oh, a year or so. You remember. I told you about
it.” I stared at him, feeling nothing. Maybe I should have,
but I couldn’t give myself any reason I should have feelings
for him. When I looked at that emaciated old man behind
a week-old beard, so thin his clothes hung on him like a
scarecrow, I couldn’t believe he was a partner in giving me
life. I shivered at the thought.
    He bailed out on Mom and me when I was seven. I didn’t
see him again until last year when I found him stumbling
about the streets of Austin. The first time I took him in, he
stole my camera, what was left of a six-pack of beer, and
the spare tire for my pickup. The second time, it was my
sheepskin-lined coat, a VCR, and another camera.
    Why should I have feelings for a father like that?
    ,.You didn’t know he was coming to the reunion, did
you?”
    “No. And now he wants to come back home.”
    Janice looked up at me. “You told me. I wonder why?”
    “Beats me. It isn’t to die like Sally said,” I muttered
bitterly. “But, I’ll talk to Mom later this morning. See what
all was said.”
    Uncle Henry approached. “George and me checked all
the doors and windows. Shutters seem to be holding up.”
As if laughing at his announcement, a gust of wind rattled
the shutters.
    “There’s your grandmother, Tony,” Janice said, nodding
to the broad stairs descending from the second floor.
    Bailey’s wife, Ezeline, was with Grandma Ola. I went to
meet them. I gave Grandma a peck on the cheek and
pointed both of them to the kitchen. “Mom’s got coffee
ready. See if you can talk her into baking some homemade
bread.”

    Ezeline looked around. “Where’s lolande? She’s usually
the first one down.”
    Grandma Ola gave me a playful slap on the arm. “Go
wake her, Tony. If we got to sit and worry about the storm,
she does too.”
    Both old ladies laughed.
    With Janice, I headed up the stairs, my boots squishing
water. Giselle was coming down, brushing at a stain in her
green tank top. “Hey,” she called out with a bright smile.
“Where you guys going?” She arched an eyebrow, her eyes
glittering mischievously.
    I pointed upstairs. “Grandma Ola wants us to wake Aunt
Iolande.”
    Giselle grimaced. “She took A.D.‘s death hard.” She cut
her eyes toward Sally and Leroi below in the parlor. Whispering, she added, “She swears Leroi did it.”
    “Because of the oil property?”
    With a rueful grin, she nodded. “Yeah. You believe
that?”
    I glanced at Janice, then looked back at my cousin. “I
can believe anything about this family right now.”
    Smoothing at the wrinkles in her own blouse, Janice
turned to Giselle. “Oil property?”
    “Yeah. Leroi’s mother owned some land that A.D. swindled Leroi’s pa out of after she died. Turned out there was
oil on it. Iolande actually believes that Leroi has waited all
these years to get at A.D.” She quickly changed the subject.
“By the way, I have some extra blouses if you want a fresh
one. Might be a little large, but you’re welcome.”
    Janice nodded. “Thanks. I might take you up on that.”
    Giselle looked up at me. “Who do you think killed A.D.
and Ozzy?”
    I half laughed, half snorted. “Hey, I don’t know about
Ozzy. I don’t think Leroi killed A.D. I know he went upstairs before we left, but I just can’t believe he did it. To
tell the truth, at first I thought Ozzy might have.”

    Both women looked at me in surprise. “Ozzy!” they exclaimed simultaneously.
    “His own father?” Giselle gaped at me. “You’re kidding.”
    “Not at all.”
    Janice spoke up, “But, why?”
    “Remember when we went into A.D.‘s room yesterday? And remember how Ozzy pulled the screwdriver from
his pa’s neck? I figured it was deliberate, a surefire way
of erasing any fingerprints while pleading