Under the Cajun Moon Page 19

  To trick the assayer into performing public tests on the one and only statuette on that stage today that really was solid gold. Once the assayer’s test proved it, the audience extrapolated, as Law wanted them to, that the proof applied to all of the statuettes, not just that one. What the audience—and indeed the experts—had failed to consider was that the statuette Law had tested was the one that had been presented to him by the royal goldsmith, not one of the statuettes from the trunk.

  To use all of the above to make people to want the gold so badly they’d be willing to go across an ocean for it.

  Jacques thought of Law’s comment, when he’d said to the crowd, If you don’t mind, I plan to keep this extra one myself, as a commemorative of this grand and glorious day. What a liar! The only reason Law had kept that one for himself was because he knew it was real—and that the others were all fakes.

  As far as Law knew, the other real ones were currently secreted away in a distant, isolated location where a goldsmith who had been paid to keep his mouth shut was quickly melting them down into bars. Had things not gone wrong and Papa been able to do as he had been told, by morning there would have been no evidence left in France of this grand deception. The gilded statuettes would have been on their way to the New World, the real statuettes would have been transformed into bars and likely moved into Law’s private vault, and no one except Papa, M. Law, and M. Freneau would have known the truth.

  Unbelievable.

  As it was, now the swindler himself had ended up being the one swindled.

  Jacques was tempted to leave well enough alone and let the real gold sail with these two hundred trusting people to the New World as they had been promised. But if he did that, then what would happen two days from now when M. Freneau came back out to pick up the gold bars and learned what had happened? Papa might be held responsible for returning gold he didn’t have.

  By the time Jacques reached the stage, the trunk had already been locked up and was being loaded onto a cart bound for La Rochelle with great fanfare. M. Freneau was supervising the loading, but Law and the other two men from the presentation were merely standing nearby, watching the proceedings and chatting softly among themselves. Law’s eyes darted frequently to the sign-up table, where the line was slowly growing longer and longer.

  Jacques chose to go to M. Freneau first. After all, there was still a chance that this morning’s mistake hadn’t been a mistake at all. The only way Jacques could know for sure was to speak to Freneau himself.

  “Monsieur, a word with you, if you please,” Jacques said to him as politely as he could.

  Freneau turned and looked him over, from his sweating brow and windblown hair to the mud on his shoes.

  “Sign-ups are over there, boy, not with me,” Freneau said, gesturing toward the table and dismissing him.

  “I have to talk to you about the statuettes. I am Jacques Soliel, Henri Soliel’s son.”

  “Sorry, don’t know the man.”

  “That’s funny, because you were with him just this morning, about ten miles past Charenton. Remember? He loaded the trunk with gilded statuettes while you tried to get yourself a hot breakfast and only came away with a biscuit.”

  Freneau’s head snapped up, eyes wide with shock. He managed to recover quickly, but at least Jacques knew he had his attention now.

  “That was a private arrangement between him and me,” he hissed, moving in close to Jacques so no one else would overhear their conversation. “What do you want?”

  “I came to deliver a letter from my father,” Jacques said, pulling it from his pocket and handing it to Freneau.

  He tore it open and quickly read it, Jacques studying his features as he did. The surprise and fear on his face told Jacques what he needed to know, that the mistake was genuine and not yet another part of this complicated ruse.

  “What does he mean I took the wrong cart? I took the cart he rolled out to me!”

  “Yes, but I was the one who loaded the trunk for him, and he didn’t realize that I had moved the carts around a bit while loading. It was my mistake for moving the carts, his mistake for not double-checking them, and your mistake for hitching your horse to it without verifying that you had the right load.”

  Glancing around, Freneau crumbled the letter and shoved it deep into his pocket, his face flushing a brilliant red.

  “So what you’re telling me is that the real statuettes are here in this trunk, about to be loaded on the boat bound for the New World?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A dozen competing thoughts seemed to flash across the man’s features as he considered the ramifications of what had happened.

  “Please, we must discuss this further in private. Can you wait for me to finish here and then we can talk on the way to La Rochelle? You can ride in my carriage. There will still be time to rectify the situation, I assure you. I just have to think through the best way to do this.”

  Jacques glanced at M. Law, who was at that moment working the crowd, apparently trying to talk more people into signing up. The other two men, the royal goldsmith and the assayer, were just leaving the stage in the opposite direction, likely to head back to their apartments at the Louvre. Were Jacques to call their attention to what had happened here today, they would be angered, yes, and likely mortified and humiliated as well. They had served as pawns in a very clever scheme, after all. But they were good men, honorable and true. They wouldn’t allow M. Law to go unpunished, nor would they keep silent merely to protect their own interests. Jacques couldn’t be so sure about M. Freneau, as he simply didn’t know him well. If he allowed Freneau to “straighten out this mess” in private, then Jacques would become a party to this swindle as well. His poor father, who hadn’t a dishonest bone in his body, would have had a hand in deceiving two hundred people.

  “I must speak to the royal goldsmith,” Jacques said, quickly making his decision. Before Freneau could stop him, he was off and running, around the stage and through the crowds all the way past Les Halles, where he finally caught up with the royal goldsmith and the assayer.

  “Sirs! Please! I must speak with you! It is urgent!”

  The men paused, but before Jacques could say another word, the assayer had waved over a pair of royal guards who were advancing on him.

  “Please! Listen! It is about the gold statuettes! There’s been a tremendous deception!”

  At that, the royal goldsmith’s face turned a vivid red, and he began striding away even more quickly. The guards had Jacques tightly in their grip, but no matter how hard he struggled, he couldn’t get free.

  “Get this riffraff off the streets,” the assayer said to the guards before trotting ahead to catch up with the other man.

  “Please! I am a goldsmith! You must listen to me! You know my father, sir! Henri Soliel!”

  At the sound of his father’s name, the two men stopped.

  Still red faced, the royal goldsmith marched back to him and told him to be quiet, that if he had something to say about the statuettes, they would discuss them in private.

  “If you are Soliel’s son, then I will hear what you have to say,” he hissed. “But not here. Guards, bring this man to the Chambre de Jaune.”

  Much to his relief, the guards released their hold on Jacques as the other two men strode away. He didn’t know where they were taking him, but he was happy to get an audience with the royal goldsmith. They had all been pawns of Law and Freneau. Once Jacques explained everything, the royal goldsmith would know what to do.

  As it turned out, the Chambre de Jaune was a room at the Louvre, a comfortable sitting room decorated primarily in various shades of yellow. After a stop outside for Jacques to clean the dirt from his shoes, the guard allowed him in and told him to wait. Then the guard left and Jacques was alone.

  The room was quite opulent, and ordinarily he would have enjoyed spending time in such a luxurious setting. But today he had no use for material pleasures. He needed to get back to his father, who was slowly dying
outside of town.

  Jacques didn’t know how much time had passed, but it was at least an hour before the royal goldsmith finally showed up. The man was much calmer now, and when he came into the room he took a seat on the yellow silk sofa and actually apologized for the delay.

  “I don’t know what you have to say to me, young man, but I hope it was worth the display you put on out there for the crowd. I only hope your father was not there to see it, because he would have been mortified at your behavior.”

  “Sir, my father is on his deathbed right now, hidden away at an old blacksmith’s shop about two hours east of town.” Jacques went on to explain everything, starting with the secret commission that had come to his father and all that had happened since, ending with his conclusions about M. Law’s intentions and the swindle he had perpetrated. As Jacques talked, the man across from him seemed to grow more and more upset. When Jacques’ story was done, he was relieved to see that the man was giving him the benefit of the doubt.

  “These are very serious accusations, young Soliel,” he said. “If you are not telling me the truth, I am afraid there will be consequences. You will have been guilty of slandering the names and reputations of M. Law and M. Freneau.”

  Jacques sat up straight and looked the man directly in the eye.

  “All you need do to see that I am telling the truth is come with me to the workshop where my father now lies dying and see the second set of statuettes for yourself. Once you have, you will understand. We are both victims in this situation.”

  “Very well. For your father’s sake, a man I have long known and respected, I will do as you ask. Please wait here while I make the necessary arrangements.”

  The necessary arrangements ended up taking at least another hour. When someone finally came for Jacques and led him to the stables, there was practically a caravan waiting there for him. The best that Jacques could tell, that caravan included three carriages, two guards, and five officials from the guild, including the royal goldsmith himself. Jacques was told to sit up front with the driver of the first carriage to direct them where to go.

  As they finally headed out, moving ever so slowly through the busy streets of Paris, all Jacques could do was pray that his papa would still be alive when they finally arrived.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Travis started up the boat at that moment, and I was glad because I could not have come up with a reply to save my life. My mother had been an exotic dancer? Lola Ledet, the most beautiful, elegant woman I had ever known, had gone by the stage name Fifi LaFlame? Conrad might as well have told me that the moon was made of cheese and babies came out of cabbage patches.

  At least Travis was busy guiding the boat back down the channel, so we didn’t have to converse. Moving past the same camps on the way out that we’d seen on the way in, I could barely bring myself to focus long enough to return their friendly waves.

  “It’s getting late,” Travis said to me finally, “but I say we keep going all the way to Charenton.”

  “How far away is it?”

  “’Bout forty miles west of here. I can cut across Lake Palourde and Flat Lake to get us to the Atchafalaya River, and then we’ll be able to take that most of the way.”

  “Go for it. I don’t think we have much choice at this point.”

  Using my phone, I went online and searched for an address.

  Sure enough, a Ben Runner was listed in Charenton. I gave that address to Travis, and he plugged it into the GPS unit. After a few minutes, he made a sharp turn that brought us from the narrow channel into the wide expanse of Lake Palourde. He pushed down the throttle all the way, and soon we were soaring across the greenish brown water as fast as the boat would take us.

  We only had a few hours of daylight left, but at least Travis seemed to know where he was going. All I could do was sit there in the boat, look out at the beautiful scenery, and try to calm the desperate swirling of my mind. I had been through so much already, but at this point it felt as though the shocks and surprises were never going to end. My mother’s secret past surely had nothing to do with what was going on now, so I would have to find some way to put it out of my mind and focus on things at hand.

  That was going to be easier said than done, though. Now that I had this knowledge about my mother, I tried to fit it into the puzzle that my life had been. I always thought I was drawn to rules on my own, that maybe I had taken after my mother in that regard a bit, but that primarily it was just a part of who I was, a refuge from the chaos and neglect I suffered at home. After what Conrad had told me, I realized it was more complicated than that. Who I was hinged in part on who my parents were, so if they weren’t who I thought they were, who was I?

  No wonder I had a headache!

  The engine began to sputter, and I looked at Travis, but he just gave me a shrug and kept going. Eventually, we managed to make it across the lake, under a highway bridge, and into the next lake. Going slower there, the engine began sputtering again, and this time Travis told me that we should probably switch to a different boat if we could. He called a cousin with a camp not too far from where we were and made the necessary arrangements. Soon, we had worked our way up a narrow bayou to that camp. This time, the dock was on my side, so I stood and leaned out of the boat to grab a rusty pole mounted there and guide us into place. Travis cut the engine and quickly began to close things up. With my help, we had the boat zipped and sealed and tied up within minutes.

  Climbing from the boat, I realized this wasn’t really a camp at all, just a plot of land with a covered boat garage on it. Both of the open bays were full, and I wondered which of the two big boats we were changing to. Both of them were very nice but also quite big, and I couldn’t imagine the amount of effort it was going to take to get one of them into the water.

  I needn’t have worried, because as it turned out we were taking neither. Instead, Travis led us to another one I hadn’t noticed, a small aluminum fishing boat that was propped up on cinderblocks near a tangle of bushes.

  “Might be a good idea to be in a different boat now anyway,” Travis told me as he reached down and grabbed a large limb from the ground. “If Conrad tipped off the police that we’re out riding in a Sea Ray Bowrider, then that’s what the cops will be looking for, not this little aluminum fishing boat.”

  Travis approached that boat now and, much to my surprise, began whacking the ground all around it with the big stick.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Jus’ scaring off any snakes that might be hiding here, cher. In Louisiana, you don’t ever go near tangled brush like this without giving it a few good whacks first.”

  “Oh, great.”

  Between the two of us, we managed to get the boat into the water, but I was stunned to see how very low it rode compared to the nice boat we’d just gotten out of. These waterways were filled with snakes and alligators, I felt sure, though I hadn’t yet seen any today. Given that, our little boat was far too close to the water for my comfort.

  “Come on, cher. Time’s a passin’.”

  Reluctantly, I climbed aboard and soon we were on our way again. This time, Travis had to sit in the back, steering the outboard motor via the handle that was attached to it. I sat across a wide metal slat closer to the front, taking care to keep my hands and fingers fully inside the boat lest they be snatched off by a roving reptile.

  This ride was much bumpier as well, and as I was knocked and jolted along the waterway, I could only hope we didn’t have much farther to go. At one point, Travis veered into a side channel, and though I hoped that meant we were almost there, instead he soon slowed down and told me that since we were so close to Paradise he thought I might want to detour past it.

  “Past Paradise? Where is it?”

  “This is it. Starts right here. Nobody lives here year-round anymore, of course, but my grandparents still own the land.”

  Travis gestured to our left, toward a vast expanse of shoreline that was mostly overgrown with thick trees and b
rush, punctuated by a small, rickety dock. I knew it went on for a while, because I could remember my one and only visit there when I was a young teenager. The place had been impressively huge to me then, a mix of cleared and developed land and undisturbed forest. From what I could recall, the Naquins’ house sat somewhere in the middle and was surrounded with a rolling, shaded lawn, a fenced-in garden, and a network of woodsy paths and trails.

  I remembered being skeptical of their claim that just by taking a ten-minute walk on the property, one could pick an entire fruit salad. To prove it, Travis’ grandmother had taken me to do exactly that, starting with strawberries in the lush garden the Naquins had planted there, then moving to the various fruit trees in the yard and then finally venturing up a wooded path to get the wild berries.

  That had been fun, but otherwise my trip to Paradise had been a major disappointment. Though I had begged my father to bring me along with him for once, he had ended up sticking me at the house with the women while he headed off with the guys and their shotguns into the woods. Between the noisy family that never stopped jabbering with each other in a language I didn’t understand, the mosquitoes that left massive welts on my arms and legs, and the humidity that frizzed my blond hair into steel wool, I was mostly just miserable. Making things much worse, of course, was that I had wanted to go there so I could have some time with my dad, but as it turned out I barely saw him from the moment we arrived until it was time to load up and leave. In the end, I didn’t understand the attraction the place held for him, not at all. And I sure didn’t see how it had earned its name. Paradise, indeed.

  “That leads up to the house,” Travis said, pointing to the dock and the walkway beyond. “It’s just used as a cabin now. Nobody lives there anymore.”

  “Is that the dock where my father was shot?”

  “I don’t know. We already passed one dock, back there, and there’s another one around on the river side. Had to be one of those three, but I don’t know which one.”