Page 31 of The Shop on Royal Street
He scratched his chin, looking at the door from all angles. “Well, looks like some durn fool’s nailed it shut. I’ve got a few ideas ’bout that.” He led us back downstairs, pausing at the open wall beneath the stairs. Leaning into the space between two exposed studs, he said, “See this?”
I stood next to him to look closer. “It’s a wire.”
His mouth twitched. “Right. I see that college education of yours taught you real good. Yes, this here is a wire. Part of the old knob and tube wiring probably running through the whole dang house. Over time they get worn out, and when they’re covered in housing insultation,poof.It’s like a match hitting gasoline.”
I stepped back, trying to distance myself before I said anything rash. “I’m not doubting your credentials, Thibaut. It’s just that, well, you were in jail for murder.”
“Manslaughter,” he corrected.
“Still, you admitted that you were guilty.”
“Yes, ma’am. My lawyer said that was best and I didn’t argue.”
I shared a glance with Beau. “Yes, but...”
Movement inside the half wall remaining between two studs had me reaching for the can of Raid I kept in every room.
“Hang on,” Thibaut said. “It’s a different kind of critter.” He squatted down and reached for something small scrabbling at the wall before cupping his giant hands and lifting it up. “It’s a young squirrel,” he said. “Open the door and I’ll let him get back to business.”
We watched as this giant of a man gently placed the squirrel on the ground outside before it scurried away.
“So,” I said. “About the job. Beau and I need to have a discussion before we can make any hiring decision.”
He looked genuinely confused. “I thought I was interviewing y’all. And I haven’t decided yet that I’m going to accept an offer.”
I looked at Beau, who just shrugged.
Thibaut took a deep breath and looked around him. “If you don’t mind me saying so, this place is a wreck. Looks like them houses redecorated by Katrina—although I think some of them were left in better shape than this. I think I saw more sanitary bathrooms than that cesspool upstairs. Can’t figure out why the demo was left half done. If I didn’t love old houses so much, I’d say tear it down. But I’m a big believer in rehabilitation. Buildings and people have a lot in common that way, y’know?”
If there was nothing else to convince me to hire Thibaut Kobylt, that cinched it. “Yeah. I do.” I swallowed. “How about I call you tomorrow?”
“Nope. Don’t got no phone. I’ll just show up here at eight in the morning and we can talk then.”
Before I could explain that I couldn’t be there because of my real job, Beau stepped forward. “I’ll be here and we can talk it out.”
Thibaut nodded, then turned to face Jorge.“Adeus. Vejo você manhã.”
Jorge, having heard him perfectly, smiled.“Adeus.”
I waited until Thibaut got into his truck before I turned to Beau, speaking before he could. “If I decide to hire him—assuming he wants the job—you have to promise not to tell my parents about his background.”
“If?” he said. “Except for that one small thing, Thibaut is the perfect guy for the job. And if you have the time and money to wait until we can find another person as qualified, fine. But I don’t think you do.”
“I don’t. And I don’t think murder has ever been called ‘one small thing.’ ” I thought for moment. I couldn’t help remembering Thibaut’s enormous hands cradling the squirrel. “Do you know how he killed his wife?”
“He shot her. Found the gun covered in his fingerprints a few blocks from his house. His defense lawyer said there were other prints,too, but they were too smudged to identify. Could have been from somebody who found it in the garbage can but then decided to put it back. Not that it mattered, since he pled guilty.”
Our eyes met, and I knew we were both wondering why a big man with muscles, and with every construction tool easily accessible, would choose a gun to commit his one and only crime.
A dark blue Audi sedan pulled up in front of the house, and we watched as Jaxson Landry climbed out of the car and approached us, carrying a black camera bag and a tripod. He and Beau gave each other man hugs like the old friends they were.
“It’s been a long time, bro,” Jaxson said. “Can’t believe we haven’t seen each other since you been back. We’ll have to grab a beer or two and catch up.” He looked at me. “Sorry I’m a little late. I had to talk a client out of representing himself. That never ends well, since I have a law degree and he doesn’t. Took me longer than I expected to explain that to him.”
“No worries,” Beau said. “You’re just in time to get a lot of ‘before’ footage, as well as of Jorge, who’s hand stripping the staircase spindles and is about ready to start on these porch railings.”
“Excuse me,” I interrupted. “I’m in charge here, remember?” To Jaxson, I said, “Beau forgot to add that I will be upstairs pulling down the fake wood paneling and that I washed my hair so you can get some of that on film.”
“Actually,” Beau said, “I think Jaxson has enough to keep him busy.” His expression changed to that of someone who was about to get a root canal. “Because I think now would be a good time to have a driving lesson.”
