Mercy

  “He looks happy to me.”

  “He’s melancholy. He only gets the family album out when he’s feeling blue.”

  John Paul was sprawled out on the sofa. His hands were stacked on his chest and his eyes were closed.

  Jake was sitting at a big round oak table in the country kitchen, which opened to the living room.

  “Now aren’t you sorry you didn’t go to the funeral?” he asked his son.

  John Paul didn’t open his eyes when he answered. “No.”

  “You should be,” Jake said. “Your cousin wasn’t the sourpuss you thought she was.”

  “I never said she was a sourpuss. I said —”

  His father quickly stopped him. “I remember what you said, but I don’t want you repeating it in front of company. Besides, I know you’ve got to be feeling contrite now.”

  John Paul didn’t have anything to say about that, unless a grunt qualified as a response.

  “Your cousin was mindful of family after all. Mike, come and sit at the table. I’ve got something important to tell you. Theo, you sit down too. I want you to see some pictures.”

  Theo pulled out a chair for Michelle, then sat beside her. Jake took hold of Michelle’s hand and looked her in the eyes. “Brace yourself, sugar. This is gonna be a shock.”

  “Who died?”

  Her father blinked. “No one died. It’s your cousin Catherine Bodine.”

  “The dead one,” John Paul called out.

  “Of course she’s dead. We’ve only got one cousin in the family on your mama’s side.” Jake shook his head.

  “What about her?” Michelle asked.

  “She left us money. A heap of money,” he stressed, raising his eyebrows.

  Michelle didn’t believe him. “Oh, Daddy, that’s got to be a mistake. You’re telling me Catherine left us money? No, she wouldn’t.”

  “I just told you she did,” her father countered. “I know it’s hard to believe, and it’s a shock, just like I warned you it would be, but it’s true. She left us money.”

  “Why would she leave us anything? She hated us.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” he chided. Pulling his handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his eyes. “Your cousin was a wonderful woman.”

  “That’s called rewriting history,” John Paul muttered.

  Still the doubting Thomas, Michelle shook her head. “There has to be a mistake.”

  “No, sugar, there isn’t any mistake. Aren’t you curious to know how much money she gave us?”

  “Sure,” she said, wondering what kind of joke Catherine had played. From what she’d heard about her cousin from her brothers, the woman had a cruel streak.

  “Your dear cousin left each one of us one hundred thousand dollars.”

  Michelle’s mouth dropped open. “One hundred . . .”

  “Thousand dollars,” her father finished for her. “I just got off the phone with Remy. I called your brother to tell him about his cousin’s generosity, and his reaction was just like yours and John Paul’s. I raised three cynical children.”

  Michelle was having a difficult time processing the shocking news. “Catherine Bodine . . . gave . . . one hundred . . .”

  John Paul laughed. “You’re sputtering, little sister.”

  “You hush now, John Paul,” his father ordered. In a softer voice, he said to Michelle, “You see, sugar? Catherine didn’t hate us. She just didn’t have much use for us is all. She was . . . different, and we were a reminder of hard times.”

  Michelle suddenly realized Theo wouldn’t have any idea who they were talking about. “My cousin was around seven or eight when her mother married a very wealthy man named Bodine. They moved to New Orleans and pretty much severed ties with us. I never met Catherine,” she admitted, “or spoke to her on the phone. I can’t believe she would leave us anything.”

  “Catherine’s mother was my wife’s sister,” Jake explained. “Her name was June, but we all called her Junie. She wasn’t married when she found herself in the family way. Back then, having a child out of wedlock caused quite a stir, but folks forgot about it as time passed. Her father never forgot or forgave her, though. He tossed her out on her ear is what he did. Now, Ellie and I were newly married, so Junie moved in with us. When the baby came, the two of them stayed on. It was crowded, but we all made do,” he added. “Then Junie met that rich fella, got married, and moved away. Junie passed on when Catherine was eleven. I wasn’t going to let that child forget she had family in Bowen who loved her, so I made it a point to call her up at least once a month and visit with her. She never had much to say, though, and I did a lot of bragging about my three so she’d know her cousins. Catherine was real impressed when she found out Mike was going to be a doctor. She was proud of you, sugar. She just never said so.”

  “Catherine didn’t even invite you to her wedding,” Michelle reminded her father. “And I know that must have hurt your feelings.”

  “No, it didn’t. Besides, it was a tiny affair in the courthouse. She told me so herself.”

  Michelle had her elbow propped on the table and was twirling a lock of hair around her finger in an absentminded fashion while she thought about the windfall. The money was a godsend. There was more than enough to fix up the clinic and hire a nurse.

  Her father was smiling as he watched her. “There you go again, twisting your hair.” Turning to Theo, he said, “When she was a little tiny thing, she’d wrap her hair around her fingers and suck her thumb until she fell asleep. I can’t remember the number of times Remy or I had to untangle the knots she made.”

  Michelle let go of her hair and folded her hands. “I’m feeling guilty,” she said, “because I can’t think of one nice thing to say about Catherine, and I’ve already figured out how I’m going to spend some of her money.”

  Her father pushed the thick family album with a black-and-red-checked cover toward Theo. Theo opened it and began to look at the photos while Jake pointed out who was who. Michelle excused herself to get a Diet Coke and carried one back to the table for Theo. He’d put his glasses on and looked quite scholarly.

  Putting her hand on his shoulder, she asked, “Are you hungry?”

  “Yeah, sure,” he answered as he turned another page.

  “Daddy, Theo doesn’t want to look at our family photos.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  She reached over Theo’s shoulder, put her can of Diet Coke on a coaster next to Theo’s, then straightened and turned to her brother. “John Paul, fix Theo and me something to eat.”

  “Like that’s gonna happen,” he chuckled.

  She walked over to the sofa and sat down on his stomach. He knew what she was going to do and braced himself.

  “I’m sleeping,” he snapped. “Leave me the hell alone.”

  She ignored his grumbling and pulled on his hair as she leaned back against the cushions. “Can you believe Catherine left us so much money?”

  “No.”

  “It’s mind-boggling.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Open your eyes,” she demanded.

  He sighed loudly, then did as she asked. “What?”

  “Can you think of anything nice to say about her?”

  “Sure I can. She was a selfish, obsessive, compulsive, greedy —”

  Michelle pinched him. “Say something nice about her.”

  “She’s dead. That’s kind of nice.”

  “Shame on you. Are you hungry?”

  “No.”

  “Yes, you are. You’re always hungry. Come help me.”

  He grabbed her arm when she tried to stand. “When is Theo leaving?”

  The question came out of nowhere, catching her off guard. “Monday,” she whispered. “He leaves with his friend, Noah, Monday morning.”

  Even she could hear the sadness in her voice. She didn’t try to be cavalier or pretend she didn’t care, because she couldn’t fool her brother. John Paul knew her better than anyone in the whole world, and he had always
been able to see through her defenses. She never lied or played games with him.

  “You were stupid,” he whispered.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to become so vulnerable.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why didn’t you protect yourself? He’s an outsider.”

  “I didn’t see it coming. What can I say? It just . . . happened.”

  “So?”

  “So what?”

  “So are you gonna fall apart when he leaves?”

  “No,” she whispered. Then she said it again more forcefully. “No.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Theo wasn’t paying any attention to Michelle or John Paul. He had just turned a page in the album and was looking at a faded photo of a beautiful young woman. She was posed standing under a tree, holding a bouquet of daisies in her hand. The woman wore an ankle-length, light-colored organza dress with a ribbon streaming down from her waist. Her short, curly hair framed an angelic face. The photo was black-and-white, but Theo guessed her hair was red and her eyes were blue. If the clothes and the haircut had been more contemporary, he would have thought he was looking at Michelle.

  “That’s my Ellie,” Jake said. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, sir, she is.”

  “I look at my three, and I see Ellie in all of them. Remy got her laugh, John Paul got her love of the outdoors, and Michelle got her heart.”

  Theo nodded. John Paul was following Michelle into the kitchen, but when he heard his father mention his mother, he paused to look over Theo’s shoulder. Then Theo turned the page, and John Paul moved on. There was a photo of Remy and John Paul when they were little boys and a girl standing between them. The boys looked as though they’d been rolling around in mud and were happy about it. Their grins were ornery. The girl wasn’t smiling and had outgrown the dress she was wearing.

  “That’s Catherine,” Jake told him. “She always had to wear a dress, no matter what the occasion. That one was one of her favorites because it had lace on it. I remember she would nag her mama to stitch this or that seam back together. Catherine had a healthy appetite.”

  Theo kept turning the pages. Catherine’s mother must have sent photos after she’d moved, because there were at least twenty of her daughter. In each photo the girl was wearing a dress, but the quality had improved. In one, the child stood in front of a Christmas tree holding two identical dolls in her arms. He turned another page and saw Catherine in a different dress holding two stuffed bears.

  Jake chuckled when he saw the photo. “Catherine always had to have two of everything,” he explained. “Some folks, once they’ve been poor, when they come into money, no matter how young or old they are, well, they just can’t have enough. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

  “Yes,” Theo answered. “People who lived through the Depression were always storing up for the next one.”

  “That’s right. Catherine was just like that. The Depression was just a history lesson to her, but she acted like she’d lived through one. She was worried she’d run out, I suppose, so if she liked a doll or a bear, she made her mama buy her another one just like it in case something happened to the first one. She did the same thing with clothes. Once Junie had money to spend, she made sure her daughter had the finest of everything and she catered to her every whim. Ellie thought Junie was spoiling her out of guilt because she wasn’t married when she had her.

  “I thought she’d outgrow the need to hoard things, but she didn’t. Come to find out, it got worse. She started doing some mighty strange things. She even put in a second phone line. When I asked her why, she said it was in case the first line broke. Said she didn’t want to have to wait on the phone repair people.”

  Michelle interrupted when she came back to the table. “John Paul’s warming up the gumbo,” she said.

  Theo was turning the pages back and forth. He looked at the photo of Catherine dressed in an obvious hand-me-down that was too small for her growing body, then flipped back to the photo of Catherine dressed like a princess, clutching the two identical dolls.

  “The poor thing started putting on the weight after she married,” Jake remarked.

  “How would you know that?” Michelle asked. “She never let you come and see her.”

  “Her housekeeper told me,” he said. “Rosa Vincetti and I would chat every now and again when she answered the phone. She’s a real nice woman. Very timid, but sweet as can be. She gave me a recipe for homemade pasta, but I haven’t tried it out yet. She also told me she was getting alarmed by Catherine’s weight. Worried her heart would blow up on her, she said.”

  “Catherine was —” Michelle began.

  “Weird,” John Paul shouted from the kitchen.

  “And you’re not?” Michelle countered.

  “Hell, I’m normal compared to her.”

  “Daddy, how did you find out we were getting money?” Michelle asked.

  “You still don’t believe me?” Jake asked.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You’re still not convinced, though, are you?” Jake pushed the chair back and stood. “I got a certified letter to prove it. It came about an hour ago.”

  Jake went to the kitchen counter, lifted the lid on the elephant-shaped cookie jar where he kept all his important papers, and pulled out the envelope.

  Michelle was sitting next to Theo now, looking through the album. There was a photo of her mother holding a baby in her lap. With the tip of her finger, she touched her mother’s face.

  “That’s Remy when he was a baby.”

  Two pages later, he was looking at photos of Michelle and laughing. In every photo there was something sticking up or out. Her hair, her shirt, her tongue.

  “I was adorable, wasn’t I?”

  He laughed. “Definitely adorable.”

  Jake dropped the envelope in front of Michelle. “Here’s your proof, Dr. Smarty-pants.”

  Michelle just shook her head and smiled. “Daddy has lots of cute nicknames for me.”

  Theo was laughing when he glanced over and saw the name of the law firm in the upper left-hand corner of the envelope. “That’s it,” he whispered. “That’s it,” he repeated and slapped the table.

  “What’s it?”

  “The connection. It’s the same law firm. Son of a . . .” Turning, he grabbed the letter out of Jake’s hand. “Do you mind?”

  “Go ahead,” Jake said.

  “But you haven’t explained . . .” Michelle started.

  Theo put his hand on hers. “In a minute. Okay? Where are my glasses?”

  “You’re wearing them.”

  “Oh, right. Man, it’s falling into place.”

  Jake and Michelle both stared at him while he read the letter. When he finished, he pushed his chair back and stood. “I’ve got to go to New Orleans.”

  Michelle picked up the letter and quickly read it. According to Catherine’s instructions, her attorney, Phillip Benchley, was hereby informing each of the beneficiaries of the total sum of the estate and the amount of each bequest. The Renard family was to receive four hundred thousand dollars to be divided equally among Jake and his three children. Rosa Maria Vincetti would receive one hundred fifty thousand dollars for her years of loyal service to Catherine. John Russell, Catherine’s husband, would receive one hundred dollars, and the remainder of the vast estate would be given to the Epston bird sanctuary.

  “Her husband gets only a hundred dollars?” she asked, astonished.

  “They might not have had a happy marriage,” Jake remarked.

  “No kidding,” John Paul offered from the kitchen door.

  “Rosa sure didn’t like him,” Jake added. “I think it’s nice that Catherine didn’t forget to leave her housekeeper something. She took good care of her.”

  “John must have signed a prenuptial agreement for Catherine to control her own money,” Michelle said.

  “He’ll still
try to contest it,” Theo said. “What does the man do for a living?”

  “He’s a lawyer,” Jake told him. “He works for one of the big banks in New Orleans. I’ve never actually talked to the man, and I think that’s a crying shame. Mike and I didn’t even get a chance to speak to him at the funeral, did we, sugar?”

  “No, Daddy, we didn’t. But that was my fault. I had to get back to the hospital, and you had to drive me.”

  Theo’s cell phone rang and interrupted the conversation. Noah was on the line.

  “Where are you?” Theo asked.

  “I just reached St. Claire,” Noah answered.

  “Drive to Jake’s house. Do you know the way?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “What did you find out?” Theo walked through the kitchen and onto the screened porch. He pulled the door shut behind him.

  Michelle assumed he wanted privacy and decided to set the table. John Paul was leaning against the counter, glaring at her.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked as she opened the drawer and got out the place mats.

  “You’re gonna let another FBI agent inside this house?”

  “Yes, I am,” she said. “Don’t give me attitude, John Paul. I’m not in the mood. You’re going to be polite to Noah.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. Daddy? John Paul . . .”

  She didn’t have to go any further. Her brother shook his head in exasperation and then smiled. “You’re still telling on me, aren’t you, brat?”

  She smiled back. “It still works, doesn’t it? Thank you, John Paul.”

  “I didn’t say . . .”

  “You didn’t have to. You’re going to try to remember how to be nice.”

  She went back to the table and put the place mats down. Weary, she sat down and propped her head on her hands. She kept thinking about the hundred thousand dollars, and her guilt was intensifying. Why would such a mean-spirited woman do such a kind thing? And what else had Catherine sent her that was of such interest to the police and the men who would kill to get hold of it?

  Daddy was sitting next to her, going through the album again.

  “Poor Catherine,” Michelle said. “She didn’t have many friends.