The Whispering Room

“I know what she did.” The good-ol’-boy facade slipped for a moment as something unpleasant flitted across his weathered features.

“You were around back then?”

“I was a deputy,” he said grimly. “Still wet behind the ears when we got the call that day, but what we found out there at that old house seasoned me real fast.”

“I can imagine.”

“I never saw anything like it, and hope I never do again. I couldn’t sleep for a month. What that woman did to those li’l’ ol’ kids…” He trailed off, shaking his head, still, after all these years, unable to fathom how a mother could take the lives of her own children. His dark eyes fastened on her, and she could see his natural curiosity warring with the small-town cop’s wariness of his big-city counterpart. “What’s your interest in that case, anyway?”

Evangeline decided to be up-front with him. The last thing she wanted was to alienate local law enforcement. “We think there may be a connection to a recent homicide in New Orleans.”

He cocked a dark brow in surprise. “I don’t see how that’s possible. Mary Alice has been locked up in the loony bin ever since it happened.”

“I realize that. But I’m interested in her daughters.”

“You think one of them is involved? How?”

“It’s a long story.”

He folded his hands behind his head. “I’m not going anywhere. Besides, cooperation is a two-way street in my book. Let’s hear what you got.”

Evangeline paused, glancing out the window as she wondered where to start. Across the street, a woman pushed a baby carriage along the hot, steamy sidewalk.

“Rebecca Lemay may have been involved in the murder of a prominent New Orleans attorney named Paul Courtland. Have you ever heard of him?”

“Can’t say I have, no.”

“Mary Alice’s husband, Charles, had a sister named Leona. Paul Courtland was her son.”

Thibodaux stroked his soft chin. “Well, let’s see, then. That would make Rebecca Lemay this Courtland fellow’s first cousin, wouldn’t it? And you think she killed her own kin?”

“Right now, she’s a person of interest. Which is why I need to talk to her. Do you know if she’s been seen around these parts lately? I heard someone was spotted at the old Lemay place not long ago.”

He dropped his hands to the arms of his chair, drumming his fingers against the scarred wood. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in that story if I were you. Stevie Ray Wilson claims he saw Mary Alice looking out one of the upstairs windows, but we know that can’t be true. Knowing Stevie Ray, he probably just saw his own reflection or something. That boy’s never been the sharpest knife in the drawer, plus, he likes to hit the sauce pretty good. So he’s not exactly what I’d call a reliable witness.”

Evangeline nodded absently. “Could I ask you some questions about that case?”

“Thirty years is a long time, and my memory’s not what it used to be. Don’t know how much help I’ll be. I’ll answer what I can, though.”

“Can you tell me if all the bodies were recovered?”

“Yep. We found all three of the little boys. And that’s all I want to say about that.”

“What about the baby?”

He stared at her for the longest moment. “How did you know about that? It’s not common knowledge, even around these parts.”

“I’ve talked to Ruth Lemay. She goes by the name of Lena Saunders now. She’s a writer. She said she spoke to you on the phone recently about the sighting at the old house.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know who she talked to, but it wasn’t me.”

“You’re sure?”

“My short-term memory is just fine, so, yeah, I’m sure.”

He looked a little peeved by her question, so Evangeline decided not to press him on it. “So what about the baby?”

He turned his head and stared out the window for a moment. “All we found was a bunch of bloody sheets and the severed umbilical cord wrapped in an old towel. After we took Mary Alice into custody, she was examined by a doctor, and he confirmed that she’d recently given birth. My guess is she threw that baby into the swamp. A body that size wouldn’t last long out there.”

“Who called the sheriff’s office that day?”

“Mary Alice’s cousin. A woman named Nella Prather.”

“Does she still live around here?”

“Nah, she’s been gone for years. She married an old boy name Mike Blanchard, and last I heard, they’d moved up to New Orleans. Shouldn’t be too hard for you to locate her.”

Evangeline took a moment to jot the woman’s name in her notebook. “When Mary Alice was brought in, did she say why she’d done it?”

“She said something about wanting to save them. That doesn’t make any more sense to me now than it did back then. How did killing those little boys in cold blood save them?”

Evangeline knew it was a rhetorical question.

“What about the girls? Did they have much to say about what happened?”