What the Hatmaker Heard. Sandra Bretting
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moment he turned, the memory solidified. It was Darryl Tibodeaux, the Cajun caretaker from Morningside Plantation. Darryl and I met three years ago, when a bride disappeared the night before her wedding at the plantation. Darryl worked as a groundskeeper, and he and I bonded during the police investigation.
Time hadn’t changed a thing. Darryl’s coveralls still wore a fine layer of potting soil, and his thinning hair exposed a pale, freckled scalp.
He recognized me right away, too. “Miz DuBois!”
He hurried over and thrust out his left hand, since the sleeve on his right side was empty. Darryl lost the appendage in a horrible accident at an oil refinery, but he refused to be bitter about it. In fact, he could hoist things that were so heavy they would challenge a man half his age.
“No need to be so formal, Darryl.” I smiled and gave him a quick hug. “Last I heard, you were managing an arboretum in Alabama.” In addition to being a top-notch handyman, Darryl possessed a love of plants that inspired me to start my own garden back home. “What made you decide to come back?”
He winked. “Dat’s water under da bridge. I missed ma people too much ta stay away.”
“So, now you’re working here?” I was stating the obvious, since an embroidered HH decorated his coveralls, but I didn’t care. I was just so happy to see him.
“Yes, ma’am. Come back las’ month. Got da job here wit’ da Honeycutts now.”
“Darryl, that’s so wonderful! I guess you can take the man out of Louisiana—”
“But not da Louisiana outta da man,” he finished for me.
The minute our conversation lagged, I remembered why I came outside in the first place.
“Say, Darryl, I’m afraid Mrs. Honeycutt sent me out here to help you. She’s worried sick about her daughter’s fiancé, and she thought I might be able to help you find him.”
His aqua eyes slanted a bit. “It don’ look good, ta tell you da truth. I covered da house from top ta bottom, and most a’ da fields out back.”
“Hmmm.” It seemed to me Darryl would have a handle on the best places for someone to hide if he wanted some peace and quiet. Especially someone who wasn’t feeling well. “So, what’s left to search?”
“I was abou’ ta look at da silos.” He nodded at the twin water towers that bookended the mansion. Two stories tall, they resembled thin, pastel pagodas that stood watch over the property.
“But how will you get inside?” I peered at the nearest one, which faced east.
“Look closer. Deys got doors on der backs.”
Sure enough, someone had carved three-foot-high doors into the backsides of the towers, and crude wood handles kept the panels in place.
“I see. Why don’t we divide and conquer? I’ll check the one on the right, and you can check the one on the left.”
He nodded, apparently satisfied with the plan. “Meet ya back here. And be careful, Miz Dubois. No tellin’ what’s inside dem.”
I gulped, since I hadn’t even thought about what could be lurking in the structures. For all I knew, the towers could be home to a family of possums, a fez of armadillo, or worse. At least the structures were close to the house, so everyone would hear if I let out a bloodcurdling scream.
We turned, and, like two gunfighters in a duel, we each took a dozen paces to our respective water tower. Being July, the ground had hardened, even with last night’s showers, and my flats slapped against the hardpacked earth. Once again, I thanked my lucky stars I wasn’t wearing stilettos, because my toe caught on the exposed root of a pin oak on my way to the tower, and it nearly upended me.
After I regained my balance, I appraised the silo in front of me. In addition to a simple door that covered the opening, a turret spiraled from the roof of the tower, and it was made of horizontal slats that allowed water to seep into a holding tank. It was quite charming, actually, given the sunny yellow paint on the walls and peacock-blue turret on top.
I paused in front of the door. One twist of the handle and it slowly swung open, emitting a loud and high-pitched squeak.
My, but it’s dark inside. I automatically reached for the flashlight app on my cell phone. Once I trained it into the darkness, it pierced the black with a shaft of light. I leaned as far as I could into the opening, since I had no desire to wiggle into the tank and come across a curious marsupial or two.
I waved the phone at the walls, but they all looked perfectly normal to me. A sheet of aluminum covered them, and mineral deposits freckled the surface. The storms last night had added about a half-inch of water to the tank, and a lone ladder stretched from the concrete floor to the roof. Apparently, no one had used it in quite some time, because cobwebs crisscrossed the ladder’s rungs.
Just when I was about to shut off my phone and cry “uncle,” I noticed something navy lying against the far side of the ladder. It looked like one of Darryl’s coveralls, which he must’ve tossed into the tower at some point and forgotten about.
“Interesting,” I said, more to myself than anyone else.
“What’s dat?”
The voice startled me so much, I dropped my cell phone and it lurched toward the water.
“Oh, sugar!” I quickly dove for it. Luckily, my reflexes saved the phone from a watery death, and I scooped it up in the nick of time.
“Ya shouldn’t drop yer phone like dat.” It was Darryl again, who hadn’t moved from his spot behind me.
“And you shouldn’t scare the bejesus out of me.” I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. “Okay, then. Did you find anything in your water tower?”
“Nuthin’ but sum fresh rain and spiders. You?”
“Same. Oh, and you might want to check your supply of coveralls. I think you left one over there.” I pointed my cell into the maw, which illuminated the pile of clothing I’d spotted earlier.
“I don’ keep nuthin’ in here. I gots a supply closet for dat.”
Now it was my turn to look confused. “So, what’s that over there?”
We both reached the same conclusion at the same time.
“Aaaiiieee!” we screamed, the noise ping-ponging around the tower like machine-gun fire.
The moment we finished, our individual instincts kicked in. I moved aside so Darryl could hop into the tower ahead of me. Bravery was one thing, but foolhardiness was quite another, and Darryl knew the towers much better than I did. Once he disappeared into the darkness, I did the same. He bent to inspect the pile of clothes as the rainwater puddled around his ankles.
“Don’t tell me—” I trained the phone lower to give Darryl a better view.
“Yep, it’s da boy ’sposed to be gettin’ married today.”
My heart fell. Of all the horrible discoveries to make, this one took the cake. While I’d uncovered more than my fair share of bodies here on the Great River Road, not one of them was a groom. I could only imagine how Lorelei would feel on what should’ve been one of the happiest days of her life.
Darryl extended his shaking hand to Wesley’s body and placed two fingers against the groom’s neck. When he quickly withdrew his hand, I knew there was no hope.
“Dead?” I asked.
“Yep. Cold as ice.”
“What should we do?” The moment I said it, though, I knew the answer. It was time to call Lance LaPorte, one of my oldest and dearest friends, who served as a detective with the Louisiana State Police Department. Lance would know what to do.
Once again, he’d innocently take my call and breezily ask about