“That sounds so good right now.”
As she followed Gaynell out of the woods, she glanced back at the bayou and saw a pair of black eyes staring back at her. The gator’s head then rose just above the water, and Maggie could swear it was grinning at her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A warm shower and a couple of croissants revived Maggie, and despite the urging of her family, she refused to take to bed like a distressed damsel. She threw on a teal cotton tank top and shorts and then went to find the Rykers before they and their treasure-hunting gear got away. She’d been relieved to hear that both the Rykers and Cuties had delayed their departures, not wanting to leave until they got all the dirt on the morning’s events and arrests.
Maggie found the Ryker kids entertaining themselves on the lawn in front of Crozat. Alice was texting on her cell as the boys tossed a ball back and forth. “Hey,” she greeted them. “Have you seen your parents?”
“They went for a walk,” Sam said, pointing down the road. “We’re sticking around to hear the copper’s story.”
She thanked Sam and headed in the direction that he’d gestured to. After a short stroll, she saw Carrie and Lachlan resting on a boulder, pulling their damp clothes from where they’d stuck to their bodies. Maggie wasn’t surprised to see that they hadn’t gotten very far. It was the kind of clammy Louisiana day that could produce perspiration in only a few yards.
Maggie sat down next to the Rykers. “Hi, there.”
“Hello,” Lachlan said politely.
“You know,” she said. “I realized something very interesting about this week. Well, besides the murders, which pretty much top any list of interesting events. Anyway, what I realized is that most of our guests had an agenda for their visit. What Detective Durand would call an ulterior motive. The Butlers, the Georgia boys, the Clabbers . . .”
“We didn’t,” Carrie said. Her face was red and her voice weak. She was a terrible liar.
“Oh, I think you did. So let’s talk about your clandestine treasure hunting on our property.”
Carrie and Lachlan exchanged a guilty look. “We’re awfully sorry about that,” Carrie said. “It’s just . . . things have been rather hard for us lately. I owned a needlepoint shop in Sydney, but when the economy crashed, it took my store with it and left us with a pile of debt that we’re still paying off.”
“And then about eight months ago,” Lachlan said, “the daily paper I wrote for folded. You can imagine how hard it is to get a job as a reporter these days. I was born in Los Angeles, so I’m actually a U.S. citizen. We thought maybe we’d give America a go, you know, start over and all that. We were going to head straight to LA, where I still have family, but when we read about Louisiana and all the rumors of hidden treasure . . .”
“It was stupid, we know that now,” Carrie admitted. “Color us desperate, I guess.”
Maggie’s anger at the couple dissipated. She could certainly empathize with financial hardship. “Well, you’re not the first people who got sucked into that fantasy. And the hole you dug did save my life.” She paused. “What will you do now?”
“I have a great-uncle I’ve never met who lives in Sherman Oaks in the San Fernando Valley,” Lachlan said. “He’s a widower with a nice house, and he offered us a place to stay while we both job hunt. If you can bear our brood for one more night, we’ll start off on the drive in the morning.”
“We’ll pay,” Carrie added quickly. “We insist on it.”
As much as she wanted to, Maggie couldn’t bring herself to take the struggling family’s money. “Please, at this point, don’t worry about that.”
“Thank you so much. Oh, before I forget . . .” Carrie pulled something out of her pocket. It was Maggie’s missing gris-gris bag. “I found this by our car. It’s yours, isn’t it? It must have fallen off when you were rummaging through the dumpster.”
“Keep it,” Maggie told Carrie. “You need it more than I do now. In fact, I’ll ask my cousin to make you each one for prosperity.” Right then, it hit her that she hadn’t touched base with Lia yet. “I have to go. I’ll see you later.”
When Maggie got back to Crozat, she saw Lia’s car parked in front. She ran up the wide-planked stairs into the house, where she found Lia and Kyle in the front parlor with Tug, Ninette, Gran’, and the Cuties, including Jan. Maggie threw her arms around Lia and then took turns hugging Kyle and Jan. “It’s over,” Maggie said as she sank into a damask chair. “What a relief.”
“It wouldn’t be over if it wasn’t for you,” Kyle said.
“Amen to that,” Jan declared, thumping the arm of her chair with her fist for emphasis.
“Thanks, but I had plenty of help,” Maggie said.
Gran’ wagged a finger at her. “Darlin’, what did I tell you about learning to take a compliment? I believe this calls for champagne. Tug, please pop open a few of my personal bottles.”
Tug did as his mother told him and filled delicate flutes for all. They toasted to Maggie, who tried not to feel uncomfortable with the attention. As they were about to sip, Sam ran in yelling, “The copper’s here!” Sam was followed by Luke, Carrie, and Lachlan. Alice lagged behind, trying to pretend that she wasn’t interested in what Bo had to report. But she took a seat in front of her brothers and ignored their griping.
Bo walked in a moment after the Rykers. He was still in his official attire of crisp shirt, blazer, and jeans. But when Gran’ asked if he was on or off duty, Bo quickly responded “off” and took the flute of champagne that she offered him.
“So,” he said as he sipped his champagne. “How is everybody?”
His audience groused, and Maggie chucked him playfully on the shoulder. “Stop being a jerk and tell us what happened. Did they reveal anything?”
“Mack MacIlhoney went from congratulating Kyle and Jan on their releases to signing up Emily as his next client,” Bo said. “So he shut her down as quick as possible. But by the time Shane’s public defender showed up, he’d given us enough of a story to make a cable miniseries.”
“I think I figured out at least part of it,” Maggie said.
Bo grinned. “Go for it.”
“Beverly Clabber was obviously the original distant relative who inherited the peerage. Remember how they called each other milord and milady? They weren’t just being obnoxiously cutesy. They were actually, well . . . milord and milady. That’s what Beverly planned to reveal and throw in Gran’s face. Gran’ may be ‘Louisiana royalty,’ but that’s a joke compared to the real thing, at least in Beverly’s eyes. She would have finally one-upped Gran’. I’m guessing her plan was to make a big announcement and then start flashing the ring around. The initials stand for Beverly, Duchess of Dundess.’”
“Like I care about that sort of thing,” Gran’ huffed.
“You never got the chance to give Beverly that lack of satisfaction because Emily, Miss Next-in-Line-for-the-Title, got rid of her competition.”
“Wait, this means Beverly and Emily were related,” Lia said.
“Very distantly,” Bo said, taking over the story. “In the way that I once met a man whose last name was Rockafellow, and he was distantly related to the Rockefellers. ‘Rockafellow’ was their original name and an ancestor changed it at some point.”
“Did Emily and Beverly know each other before this all came up?” Ninette asked.
“According to Shane, no. Emily only found out about Beverly when she was contacted by the Dundess estate solicitors from Great Britain. That’s when—again, according to Shane, but we think he’s the money in this case—Emily came up with the scheme. She and Shane were both making squat at their start-ups and basically living off Emily’s trust fund, which was drying up. She manipulated her way into getting Beverly’s contact info from one of the solicitor’s assistants and then got in touch with Beverly using ‘family history’ as an excuse. When she found out the Clabbers were coming here, she booked a trip too. She convinced Beverly to keep their connection on the down low so it wouldn’t blow Beverly’s big moment of revealing her duchessdom, or whatever you call it, to Mrs. Crozat.”