He leaned over until his face was close to hers. “There are people in town who are talking. I don’t want you to believe anything they’re saying. It’s all a bunch of nonsense.”

“What are they saying?”

Ned shook his head bitterly. “Some are saying Bobby was a deserter and that he denounced his American citizenship and lived as a German all those years he was missing in action. They’re saying he wasn’t a hero at all, that he was a Nazi sympathizer. But that simply isn’t true, Rose. Bobby is a hero.”

“I know it, Ned. I don’t pay any mind to people who gossip or say hurtful things. Over the years people have said a lot of unkind words about me. But I’ve grown a thick skin and it doesn’t bother me now.”

Ned smiled weakly. “Okay, good. Keep us informed how your mother is doing. And let me know when you’re leaving on your trip.”

“I will, Ned. I promise,” Rose said. She took one more look at the casket, and clutching the flag close to her chest, headed for her car.

Chapter 30

After closing the journal, Annie dabbed at her eyes. Rafter could tell his wife had been deeply touched by the entry. But she wasn’t the only one in the room with watery eyes. Tears rolled down Ned Hoxley’s face as well. “I’m sorry, Ned. Hearing Annie read that must have been tough for you,” Rafter said.

Ned nodded his head almost imperceptibly. “I won’t lie, Jon; it was hard to hear those words. But not for the reason you probably think.”

“Whatever the reason is, it’s understandable,” Rafter replied.

Ned continued to shake his head. “I’ve been carrying around a secret for fifty-two years. It’s time I come clean. Rose did go off on an extended trip when her mother died. And I did more than just feed her dog and water her plants. I searched for the treasure, turned this house upside down looking for it. I never did find the treasure, but I did find guilt, lots of it. And the guilt has been eating me alive ever since.”

Arcadias stopped his pacing and looked at Ned intently. “Where all did you look?”

“I looked everywhere. It’s simply not here. But finding it is not what you want to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I believe there is a curse on the treasure. You’re better off not finding it.”

Arcadias laughed. “A curse you say? I’m an ex-history professor, Mr. Hoxley. I taught Louisiana history at McNeese State. I’ve studied Jean Lafitte extensively. I’ve never come across any mention of a curse.”

Ned shrugged weakly. “The curse may not be documented, but it’s there. You are proof of the curse, Arcadias. It has grabbed hold of you and is eating up your mind. Anyone in this room can see your sickness.”

Arcadias pursed his lips. “And what is the final outcome of this curse?”

Ned snorted. “You are one clueless fool, aren’t you? Can’t you see you’re headed for prison, or worse, the grave? The Lafitte treasure is cursed because it’s blood money. Lafitte amassed his wealth by stealing the cargo from Spanish galleons. Granted, the Spaniards were no angels, but there was bloodshed from time to time. They didn’t always willingly give up their cargo to Lafitte. He took it outright because he was a pirate.”

Arcadias interrupted Ned. “I prefer to call Lafitte a privateer, and you couldn’t be more wrong about him. Back in his day Jean Lafitte was well thought of around here. He floated the cargo from the galleons up through the bayous and sold it to the people at bargain prices. He provided a needed service. Most importantly, Lafitte and his men also fought for America in the War of 1812 and helped defend this region during the Battle of New Orleans in 1814.”

“You make Lafitte sound like Sam Walton. And he was not a patriot by any means. He fought in exchange for a pardon. Jean Lafitte was nothing but a thief and a thug,” Ned countered.

Arcadias smiled knowingly. “Lafitte and his men used letters of marque issued by Cartagena—a Spanish republic at war with Spain—to legally plunder the Spanish galleons. Letters of marque authorized a privateer to attack and capture enemy vessels, and were considered legal during the 18th and early 19th centuries.”

Arcadias waved his gun hand around the room. “Look around you, Ned. Look what this so called curse gave the Whitcombs. Does this magnificent house look like a curse? It sure doesn’t to me.”

“The curse didn’t affect the Whitcombs because they used the treasure for good. They were generous with their money. They helped this entire community make it through The Great Depression and World War II.”

Ned launched into a coughing fit for several seconds before continuing his lecture. “When you give away money to those in need you acquire treasure in heaven. Heavenly treasure is the only kind of treasure that will last. I would say the Whitcombs are fabulously wealthy up in heaven right now.”

Rafter smiled inwardly at hearing Ned put Arcadias in his place. Sometimes the elderly could get away with things others couldn’t. But there was a limit to how much abuse Ned could heap on Arcadias. Rafter feared that Ned might stir up Arcadias’ ire a little too much. The ex-history professor might erupt into violence if pushed too far.

For the past half hour Rafter had subtly observed Arcadias, looking for mannerisms and tendencies he could somehow use to his advantage. Although Arcadias’s brain currently operated in a dark and sinister place, Rafter wanted to go there to better understand the man. Rafter’s past training as a NYPD hostage negotiator impressed upon him to find common ground with Arcadias, the sooner the better. More importantly, he needed to change Arcadias’s opinion about him.

Right now Arcadias considered him the enemy. Rafter knew he could blame only himself for that. He’d threatened the man not long ago, a mistake he couldn’t repeat if he hoped to gain Arcadias’s trust.

It had been a decade since Rafter had last negotiated a hostage scene. If he hoped to talk down Arcadias he would have to knock off rust quickly. But being both the hostage and the negotiator at the same time posed an enormous challenge, a challenge he didn’t relish. Lord, if you could soften Arcadias’ heart I would really appreciate it. Otherwise, he will not comply and I will fail.

For the third time in the past hour the doorbell rang, interrupting Rafter’s thoughts. He watched Arcadias walk slowly to the door.

“I’ll get it this time. I certainly can’t do any worse than you two,” Arcadias said to Damien and Iris. Arcadias reached the door and looked through the peephole.

Damien called out, “Who is it, brother?”

Arcadias retreated halfway into the parlor. “The police,” he said softly.

Ned smiled. “Now you’re going to get your comeuppance, Arcadias.”

“How many are there?”

Arcadias looked at Damien. “There’s only one policeman, and I’m going outside to talk to him. It will be okay, you’ll see.”

Chapter 31

Arcadias stepped out onto the gallery, shutting the door behind him. He looked over the stocky policeman for a brief moment before his gaze shifted to the squad car parked out front. The cruiser’s lights didn’t flash. He counted it as a good sign.

“Is everything okay, Officer?”

“I’m looking for an old man. His name is Ned Hoxley. Have you seen him?” Josiah Barrett asked.

Arcadias nodded. “He’s inside.”

“Is he okay? His wife is worried about him?”

“Oh, he’s fine. Ned is a real chatterbox, and very opinionated.”

“Well, tell him to hurry home so his wife can rest easy.”

Arcadias shook his head. “I wish I could, but I can’t. Ned knows everything.”

Josiah Barrett’s mouth dropped. “He knows everything? How did that happen?”