Page 83 of The House on Prytania
“Noooo. I’d rather not get on her bad side. I’ve seen what she can do with a Barbie head.” He grinned, and I found myself grinning back.
We rode around a group of oblivious pedestrians in the bike lane. I had a precarious moment swerving around fresh goose poop before returning to Michael’s side.
“I like your basket,” a little girl from the group called out. I chose to wave instead of being insulted that only a five-year-old might find my basket attractive.
“So,” Michael began, “besides my aunt and uncle wanting to explain their side of the story about the whole misunderstanding...”
“Misunderstanding? You mean having you pose as a romantic interest and break into my house to find evidence that could be used against them in a kidnapping? That misunderstanding?”
“Not in so many words, but yes. Obviously, there’s a lot that needs to be discussed about that... whole mess. They just want to be able to tell you their side and hopefully earn your understanding and forgiveness.”
“And if they don’t?”
He leaned back, sitting straight up in his bike seat. “At least they tried. And maybe I’ll understand a little more about their motivations. I know you don’t believe me, but I was in the dark as much as you were.”
“Until you ran away to your house in the North Carolinamountains, where there wasn’t any cell coverage. Very manly of you, by the way.”
“I’m not proud of that.” He slowed his bike and I did the same, following him as he dismounted and walked his bike across the grass to a park bench facing the lagoon. We leaned our bikes against one of the weeping willows and sat down on the bench, keeping more than a hand’s width apart.
“I know it’s hard for you to believe,” he continued, “but maybe when you meet my aunt and uncle you’ll understand how hard it has always been for me to go against them in any way. My parents abandoned Felicity and me when we were very young, but old enough to know that we’d been rejected. Our aunt and uncle raised us as if we were their own, giving us the love and attention that our parents seemed unable or unwilling to give. I owe them my loyalty. Which is why I have never questioned anything they’ve ever asked, knowing that every request comes from love and respect. And family.”
He leaned his elbows on his legs, clasping his hands between them. “You need to understand that my aunt, Angelina, and my father, Marco, were raised in the same household that included their grandfather Antoine. As you can probably guess, he commanded complete allegiance and devotion from every family member and his employees.”
“How? By fear and intimidation?” I thought of the dark shadow in my house and the unholy voices coming from the phone in my apartment. “Did he make people who crossed him disappear?”
Michael looked at me sharply. I met his gaze full on until he dropped his own to stare at his hands. “I don’t know for sure. He died when I was eight years old. Old enough to understand that he demanded my respect, but not old enough to know what would happen to others if he felt disrespected.”
“Your parents knew. Your father was his only grandson. That must have been a tough burden. But your aunt and uncle knew him and chose to stay.”
“I didn’t think you’d understand, but I had to try to explain.”
Instead of arguing, I stared out at the pond as a snowy egret stood still, serenely watching its reflection in the water.
“By the way, congrats to Beau for snatching up that shotgun on Esplanade.”
I knitted my brows together. “How did you know about that?”
He shrugged. “My uncle told me. He keeps an eye on real estate, and other things that might interest him, tidbits he might find useful.”
“That he might ‘find useful,’ ” I repeated.
He had the decency to look embarrassed. “I realize now how bad that sounds. But don’t worry. The Sabatier Group isn’t interested in that house. I don’t know if you’ve been inside, but it’s a complete dump. The missing man’s sisters are acquaintances of my aunt’s. That’s how we knew it was being sold.”
“Yeah, well, you definitely wouldn’t want it after you learned how haunted it is.” I wasn’t sure why I’d added that. Maybe because of a defense mechanism, so his uncle wouldn’t renew his interest.
He reached over and took my hand. “The reason I’m telling you all of this is to give you some insight on why we are the way we are. My uncle doesn’t want to come across as a bully, but his business training came from Antoine Broussard.”
I slid my hand from his. “Did that training include kidnapping?”
He frowned. “There’s no proof of that. Any evidence that Mimi Ryan thought she had is either circumstantial or simply baseless. A blurry film negative of a black car with an indistinct license plate means nothing. My family agrees with you on this point: What happened to Sunny was horrendous. And we are beyond grateful that she has returned to you as a happy and well-adjusted young woman. We applaud Beau’s efforts to find her kidnappers, but he should be looking elsewhere.”
“Michael. Either you’re lying or you’ve been brainwashed. Don’t you remember standing in my house in the middle of the night and telling me about a phone conversation you overheard your uncle having with someone? He quoted Leviticus. ‘Broken bone for brokenbone, eye for eye, tooth for tooth.’ That was when you realized that Sunny’s kidnapping and Jeanne’s murder were related. Remember?”
He was shaking his head. “No. I mean, I remember saying that. I asked him about it, and he was having a conversation with someone about Antoine. Apparently, that’s something my great-grandfather would say. I misunderstood a lot, and I know how it must look to you, but it’s the truth. It’s why I want you to meet my aunt and uncle. They’re good people, Nola. They wouldn’t be involved in a kidnapping.”
I stood, ready to walk away and forget the reason why I was with Michael in the first place. “Then why did your uncle want you to break into my house and steal anything in connection with Jeanne’s murder? And don’t tell me that your uncle has no idea what Mimi can do with a piece of evidence. She doesn’t keep her psychometry a secret.”
Michael stood to face me. “It’s clear that you were raised by a stepmother who can communicate with the dead. And a father who writes bestselling true-crime books. It’s no wonder that you see zebras when there are only horses. You have an incredible imagination. It’s one of the things that first attracted me to you.”
