Darkwater Lies Page 23

  “Funny you should mention the vault, Mr. Pampalon.” Beau flipped pages back in his notebook. “It seems that Addy Fountaine was right in that you had an item in the safe in the vault at the time of the robbery. An item that was a couple of feet long, tubular, in a black pouch.” He glanced over his shoulder at his partner. “A size that would match a rolled-up two-foot-by-two foot canvas, wouldn’t you say, Detective Taton?”

  “I do. Almost a perfect match, I’d say.”

  “I’ve already told you that Ms. Fountaine was mistaken. I filed no claim of anything of mine missing from the safe, except for the hotel’s cash.” Claude looked at Dimitri, his eyes pleading his son not to dispute his statement.

  It was beyond that. The police already knew.

  “No, she wasn’t mistaken, Mr. Pampalon, and you’re lying. I know this because we have a copy of the video surveillance from your hotel on Monday morning of you carrying in that exact item to your vault. You leave minutes later without it. Twenty-four-hour video from that time until the robbery shows you never went back and removed the item. It was in there, and you didn’t report it because it’s the stolen Van Gogh painting.” Beau shut his notebook.

  “Here’s a photo of it to jog your memory.” Marcel stuck out his cell phone to Claude’s face. “It’s in police custody, being authenticated at this exact moment.”

  Claude’s eyes went wide, and he stood. “This discussion is now over, gentlemen. If you’d like to speak to me again, please do so through my attorney.”

  “That’s okay.” Beau pulled his handcuffs from the back of his belt. “You can call him from the precinct yourself. You’re under arrest for the possession of stolen goods, attempting to sell stolen goods, and that’s just to start. Please put your hands behind your back.”

  “Dimitri, tell them. This was Edmond Jansen’s doing. It’s his painting. He’s having an online black-market auction. It was supposed to be tonight, but the painting was stolen. Tell them it’s not mine. I didn’t set up the auction.”

  Beau put the handcuffs on Claude, then paused, looking at Dimitri.

  “Son . . . tell them they’ve got it all wrong. It was Edmond and his father, not me.”

  A million memories washed over Dimitri in a flash. As a child, when he ran to greet his father with arms outstretched, but Claude pushed him away. Giving his father his report card, so proud of the honor roll he’d struggled to make, and Claude asking why he hadn’t made all As. His mother begging Claude to give Dimitri attention, and Claude denying his son any affection. Every rude comment to employees. Every harsh word spoken. It all flooded Dimitri into emotional overload.

  “Son . . .”

  Dimitri stood, pulling up to his full height. “No, I won’t lie for you, Father. You acquired that stolen painting and brokered a sale of it to Edmond Jansen. Yes, he planned an auction to sell it to the highest bidder, but he had to buy it from you first.”

  “You can’t prove anything,” Claude basically snarled, spittle waggling from the sides of his mouth.

  “Maybe not, but I heard you and Edmond Jansen arguing. I heard the entire conversation where you admitted to having the painting before it was stolen from our safe.”

  “It’s my word against yours, and who would believe you over me?” Claude’s sneer was all too familiar.

  “I would.” Beau jerked Claude toward the door by his arm. “And I’m betting the district attorney will as well. And we haven’t even talked to Edmond Jansen yet, but that’s next on my to-do list, and I’d bet he’ll sell you out since he never actually took possession of that stolen painting. Now, let me read you your rights. You might want to pay attention to this first one. You have the right to remain silent . . .”

  Addy

  She opened her eyes. Sunlight splashed across the room. Wait, her window wasn’t on that side of the wall.

  Where was she?

  Addy bolted upright in the bed, blinking several times. The panic subsided as she recognized she was safe in her bedroom at her father’s house. She let out a slow breath.

  Maybe her ordeal in the warehouse yesterday had affected her more than she’d originally thought. At least the headache she’d nursed all the way home from the hospital last night had subsided.

  She stretched, appraising that while her wrists and ankles were a little sore and her head still had a goose egg, she seemed no worse for wear physically.

  Addy moved to the window and stared out. The blazing sun felt good against her face. It’d be nice weather for the parade.

  Parade!

  What time was it? She turned and picked up her cell phone that she’d had charging on her bedside table. Nine fourteen? Oh, mercy . . . she was later than she’d ever been before. She needed to get a move on.

  Thirty minutes later, she was showered, dressed, with makeup on and hair fixed, and in her father’s kitchen waiting on the fresh pot of coffee she’d made to finish brewing. Vincent walked in from the front door just as she poured her first cup and dropped her bread in the toaster.

  “Good morning, Addybear.” He kissed her temple as he reached for his own coffee mug. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Too soundly, apparently. I think my alarm might be messed up along with the cracked screen.” She set her cell on the counter and grabbed the butter and knife.

  Her father gave her a quizzical look as he poured creamer into his cup. “You should probably take your cell to be checked. No telling what all is messed up.”

  That might make sense why the alarm didn’t go off. She nodded. “I’ll add that to my list today. I’m already so late. Why didn’t you wake me up?” The toaster popped. She quickly buttered her toast and stood over the kitchen island to eat. “I’ve got so much to do today. Claude’s krewe’s parade is at noon.”

  “Surely you aren’t going in today?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” She sipped coffee in between quick bites.

  “Seriously, Addy?”

  She set down her mug and met her father’s stare. “Yes, seriously. I’m fine. The doctors told you last night that I was okay. I’m quite capable of doing my job.”

  “I talked with Beau this morning. He arrested Claude this morning.”

  Wait, what? “For what?”

  “That item you knew he had in the safe?”

  She nodded and chewed, then washed the toast down with coffee. “Apparently it was a stolen Van Gogh. Beau and Marcel recovered it from the security guard’s house. Beau said they made the arrest this morning.”

  “I knew it! I knew he had something in there.” She nodded and took another drink of coffee. “Yeah, it was about the size of a rolled-up canvas. A stolen Van Gogh?”

  “That’s what Beau said.”

  “Wow.” She finished off the toast and stuck the plate in the dishwasher before grabbing her cup. Claude would probably be out on bond soon, but still . . . “Then that’s all the more reason for me to be at work.”

  Vincent let out a heavy sigh. “Lissette Bastien is still out there somewhere.”

  That’s what had him worried? “Daddy, Lissette isn’t going to try anything. She played her hand, put her master plan in motion, and I’m okay. Now she’s wanted by the police. Trust me, the last place she’d show up would be at the Darkwater Inn.”

  “Maybe you should take today and rest.”

  She took the last sip of coffee, stuck the cup in the dishwasher, then crossed the kitchen and pulled him into a hug. “Daddy, I can assure you I’m fine. I love you for worrying, but really, I’m okay.”

  He hugged her tight for just a second longer than usual. “The doctor also told you to take it easy.”

  Addy pulled back a little so she could look into his eyes. “I’ll take it easy.”

  He gave her The Dad Look, as she and Beau had dubbed it when they were teenagers.

  “I promise. I’ll sit behind my desk a lot. I’ll let Dimitri feed me lunch.”

  Her father gave her another quick hug and kissed her crown. “I couldn’t stop you i
f I tried.” He held out her keys. “Beau delivered your car this morning.”

  She smiled and took them. “That was really sweet of him. I thought I was going to have to beg you for a ride.”

  “He’s a thoughtful one, that Beau.”

  Addy put her hand on her hip. “Daddy, I need to tell you something.”

  “What now, honey?”

  “I have a date tonight.” She let that sink in for a minute. “With Beau.”

  Her dad grinned. “Well, it’s about time.”

  The heat shot up the back of her neck. “What?”

  “Addybear, that boy’s been heartsick over you for years. It’s about time you put him out of his misery and went out with him.” He nodded. “I approve, by the way. Not that you were asking for my approval or that you need it, but you have it anyway.”

  While happy to hear her father approved, Addy knew she had to go ahead and tell her dad the whole thing. “And I have a date tomorrow with Dimitri.”

  That pulled the smile right off his face. “Addy!” No denying the disappointment in his voice and in his expression. “You can’t string two men along.”

  “I’m not.” Yet she felt awful at the insinuation. “Both men know I have feelings for both of them. I’ve told both of them that I’m going out with them to see how I feel. I’m not stringing either along.” She let out a sigh. “Daddy, I’m trying to be as honest as I can, to them but also myself. I care about them both, and at this point I don’t know which one more in a romantic way. Dating them is the only way I’m going to figure that out.”

  “Just so long you stay honest. A man’s emotions and intentions are nothing to play around with.”

  She nodded. “I know, and I promise you I’m not playing with them. I’m truly trying to figure out my own feelings, and as soon as I know which way my heart leads, well, I’ll just have to make that choice.” Just the thought of that nearly made her break out in hives.

  The vibration from her cell phone drew their attention, followed by a sick-sounding beep.

  “Well, guess I will need to get my cell looked at.” She picked it up. The display was blank. Definitely would need it repaired. “Hello.”

  “Ms. Fountaine, this is Vicky. I’m sorry to bother you, but neither Mr. Pampalon nor Ms. Bastien is here.”

  “That’s not a problem, Vicky. I’m about to head to the hotel anyway. What’s the problem?”

  “It’s the princess, Ms. Fountaine. She’s asking about her crown for the parade today. I don’t know what to tell her.”

  “Tell her I’ll be there soon. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Yes, Ms. Fountaine. Thank you.”

  “I’ll see you in a few.” Addy ended the call and gave her father a final hug. “I love you, Daddy.” She paused, then gave him an extra hug. “Thank you for everything.” Emotions thickened her throat, so she rushed out the door and to her car.

  Once on the road she tried to analyze herself. So emotional lately. Maybe she should grab a new journal and see what happened. She certainly felt like expressing herself here lately.

  Addy didn’t know if that was necessarily a good thing or not.

  Guess she’d find out soon enough.

  30

  Dimitri

  “Are you very hungry?” Dimitri had been watching Adelaide for the past hour as she helped Princess Katerina get ready for the parade. She’d been escorted to the float by Sully and a hired driver about ten minutes ago.

  He’d finally gotten Adelaide to sit down on a barstool in the hotel’s kitchen for a few minutes, and he now pushed a bowl of grapes in front of her. She’d been going nonstop since she arrived at the hotel, and Dimitri worried she was overdoing it and would tire herself out.

  “I am, actually.” She popped a grape into her mouth. “I wonder where Edmond Jansen is. Katerina’s very upset she hasn’t been able to locate him.”

  Dimitri began chopping onions and celery to whip her up an early lunch. “I’m sure he’s heard about my father’s arrest and is running scared somewhere.”

  “Maybe, but I’m not so sure. If he was running, I think he’d tell Katerina.” She ate another couple of grapes.

  “Perhaps you’re right. My father was just arrested a few hours ago.” As far as he knew, Claude hadn’t been released yet. Then again, he hadn’t called and checked, nor had he called his father’s law firm to inform them. Let Claude do his own work. Dimitri had already had to cancel his contract with Rodney Ardoin and tell him it was likely he was being followed by someone Claude had hired.

  The reach of his father’s dastardly deeds was long.

  Dimitri slipped the chopped onions and celery into a skillet coated with olive oil.

  “How are you doing with that?”

  “Well, it’s not easy, that’s for sure.” He sautéed with a wooden spoon as he shrugged. “I don’t really know how to feel. I mean, he’s my father, so I should feel bad, right? But I don’t, and that makes me feel guilty.”

  “Oh, Dimitri. You can’t feel guilty over that. Your father has done some horrendous things over the years. Not to mention that this time three men died. Not that their deaths are his fault, but he didn’t really care. He worried more about finding the Van Gogh and not getting caught with it. You can’t feel guilty for not being upset that he’s been arrested.”

  He could always count on her to make him feel better. It was a natural gift she had, and he appreciated it. There was just something about Adelaide that made him want to be a better man. “I know.”

  In a big mixing bowl, he whisked together an egg, mayonnaise, dry mustard, garlic powder, onion powder, and ground red pepper and then added the tender celery and onions. “I just wonder how many more stolen items he’s brokered over the years.” He shook his head. “It’s staggering to think about it.”

  “I’m sure the police and the district attorney have all that being investigated.” She finished off the last grape, then grabbed the water bottle he’d set before her.

  “Tilda’s beside herself. She was literally wringing her hands when they took Father out. I told her that everything would be okay, but she’s distraught. I’ll have to go by this afternoon and check on her.” To the mixing bowl, he added bread crumbs, fresh crab meat, and diced red and green sweet peppers. He stirred everything together.

  “Dimitri, you’re a good man, which is why I care so deeply about you, but you cannot, and should not, have to go behind your father and correct all the wrongs he’s committed. It will wear you out.”

  His heart swelled as he began forming the mixture into little crab cakes. “I know, but Tilda’s like family. Hey, she practically raised me.”

  “I know, and I appreciate that. I’m just telling you to monitor yourself. It’s not your job to clean up Claude’s messes. If you try to do it too much, it can take over your life. That’s exhausting. I know because I tried to do that behind my mom.” She shook her head and ran her fingers along the water bottle. “She was such a drunk that she was mean to so many people. Damaged stuff. Was just awful and never even so much as apologized. It drove me insane.”

  “I’m sorry, mon chaton.” He dropped the crab cakes into the skillet with more olive oil. “I never realized.” He hadn’t known her or her family when she was a child—he was only three years older than Adelaide. Sure, once they were older, and Claude learned who Vincent Fountaine really was, he’d known all about the whole family. He couldn’t imagine what the young Adelaide had had to endure with such an alcoholic as a mother.

  She took a drink of water and shrugged. “It is what it is, but I’m just giving you a friendly warning: you can’t undo what they do, what they say, who they hurt. Even apologizing for them doesn’t matter because it never matters how regretful you are, it’s they who need to be apologizing and making amends.”

  Dimitri laughed a humorless laugh. “Like Claude Pampalon will ever apologize for anything. Ever.” He flipped the already nicely browned cakes over.

  “Then it’s not for y
ou to do. I’m serious. I spent years apologizing for my mother’s rudeness, in words and deeds, and it was never enough. Once I even used my allowance to buy old Mrs. Fontenot a new tulip plant after my mom ran hers over in one of her drunk-driving excursions. At first, she was really nice, until she realized that my mother wasn’t even with me. She threw the potted tulip off her porch and slammed the door in my face. She had to be at least seventy or so, and she hurled that off her porch like it was nothing.”

  Dimitri had never wanted to slap an elderly woman that he’d never met more than he did right at that moment. “Talk about rude.” He waited a minute more for the cakes to finish cooking, then pulled them out and let them sit on a paper towel for a moment.

  “Yes, but I later realized it wasn’t the actual tulips that were the issue. It was that my mother hadn’t even cared. No matter how many apologies I made or tulips I bought, it would never be enough because it wasn’t my amends to make. It was a lesson that I can only be responsible for myself and no one else.”

  “True. But that Mrs. Fontenot was still rude.” He put the crab cakes on a plate, added a fork, then set it in front of Adelaide.

  She laughed. “She was, but now every time I see a tulip, I smile. Funny that they turned out to be my favorite flower. Or maybe that’s not so funny after all.” She took a bite. “Oh, merciful heavens, Dimitri, these are wonderful. Crispy, but melt-in-your-mouth fabulousness.”

  He grinned and leaned on the counter across from her. Her pleasure in eating his creations brought unexplainable happiness to him. He loved cooking for her. They were good together. They balanced each other and complimented the other’s personality.

  “Ms. Fountaine!” Vicky burst into the kitchen. “Excuse me, but you told me to let you know if anyone saw Mr. Jansen.”

  “Yes?” Adelaide stuck another bite in her mouth even as she hopped to her feet.

  “The doorman reported him when he entered the hotel, and the elevator attendant took him to the princess’s suite.”

  Adelaide pulled out her phone. “I’m calling Beau.”