Page 71 of Xavier

“I have them here,” the older woman said.

Lissette fisted her hands on her hips. “You need to be packed and on your way out of the hurricane’s path tomorrow.”

“I’ve lived on dis island my entire life and weathered no less than seven hurricanes in dis house. It stands. I’ll stay.” She looked up. “Have you had supper?”

“No,” Lissette continued to frown at her grandmother. “And don’t change the subject.”

“No change. End.” She pointed to the oven. “I made shrimp étouffée and kept it warm for you.”

“Oh, Grand-mère.” Lissette grabbed an oven mitt from a drawer, pulled two dishes from the oven and set them on trivets. “What are we going to do with you?”

“Love me.” Her grandmother leaned over, kissed her cheek and smiled. “Je t'aime tellement, mon cher.”

Lissette’s frown smoothed. “I can do that. I haven’t told you enough. But I do love you and appreciate all you’ve done for me. I’d like to appreciate you a lot longer, which is why you need to pack a bag and let me take you north.”

“I will be fine.” Madame Gautier got two plates from the cabinet, laid them on the counter, and then switched off the oven and the stovetop. “Feed your man and tell me what has happened.”

Xavier nearly laughed at the bright red color flooding Lissette’s cheeks.

“He’s not my man, Grand-mère,” Lissette insisted as she spooned rice out on the two plates and covered it with the creamy, rich shrimp étouffée.

Her grandmother cocked an eyebrow. “Ah. I see. You do no know it, yet.”

Xavier frowned, but he didn’t contradict the woman.

“Tell me what you know,” her grandmother said.

In between bites of the amazing food, Lissette told her everything that had happened since she’d last been at the house, minus making love with him.

Which Xavier appreciated. Some things you just didn’t divulge to your grandmother, especially in mixed company.

Xavier filled in what he’d heard from Remy on his way over from Nub’s. “They learned PHT stands for Prejean Heritage Trust, run by their director, Odette Prejean.”

Madame Gautier turned from the stove, her brow furrowed. “Odette Prejean?”

“You know the name?” Lissette asked.

Her grandmother left the room without answering.

Xavier exchanged a glance with Lissette.

“You know, now that I think about it, the woman that came into Mamba Wamba after we were closed said her name was Odette.”

“You’re right. She had you sign the gift card with that name.” Xavier’s frowned. “How common is Odette in this area?”

“She’s the only Odette I’ve heard of,” Lissette said.

Madame Gautier entered the room, carrying a photograph. She laid it on the table between Lissette and Xavier and pointed at a younger version of the woman who’d purchased the miniature coffin for her niece.

“That’s her,” Lissette said. “She came into the store after we’d closed.”

“Odette was my apprentice,” Madame Gautier said. “I turned her out for takin’ what was no given. It makes sense.”

“What makes sense?” Lissette asked.

“Odette knows every tomb in dis parish dat holds de reliquary. She helped create or add to half of dem.”

“Well, hell.” Lissette laid her fork on the table. “She knew exactly which ones to rob. We definitely need to have words with her.”