Wyatt whistled. “I hope it wasn’t a long drive for you because Lord, trying to talk to that man is a waste of time.”
“Not to mention it can be bad for your health if he’s feeling that trigger finger,” Jeb said.
“What can you tell us about him?” Ida Belle asked.
“Man’s a—” Wyatt started.
“Now, now,” Jeb interrupted. “There’s ladies present. Let’s just say Silas doesn’t have many redeeming qualities.”
“Doesn’t have any far as I’m concerned,” Wyatt said. “Man’s mean as a snake and sneaky as a feral cat. Treated his wife and kids so bad they all run away as soon as they could.”
“Have you heard that his daughter recently disappeared?” Ida Belle asked.
Both their eyes widened and they shook their heads.
“Molly? What happened?” Wyatt asked.
Ida Belle explained that Molly had gone out on her boat and never returned and it was found floating loose but without any sign of her.
“Well, that’s just horrible,” Jeb said. “That Molly was a good girl. My granddaughter was a tiny little thing—used to get picked on at school until Molly found out. She set them bad ’uns straight and my granddaughter never had any more problems.”
Wyatt nodded. “Both those kids turned out good, especially considering the uphill battle they had.”
“I don’t suppose either of you saw Silas two days ago?” Ida Belle asked.
They both frowned and scrunched their brows.
“That was chili night at the VFW,” Wyatt said.
“No, that was the night before,” Jeb said. “Two nights ago was lasagna.”
Wyatt made a face. “That’s right. We always skip lasagna night. Gives us heartburn. So that means we were sitting right here, having day-old hot dogs and Frito Pie with spiced relish.”
“Because that doesn’t give you heartburn,” I said.
“Of course not,” Jeb said. “And as a matter of fact, we did see Silas. He was headed toward the highway that afternoon.”
“You’re sure it was him?” Ida asked.
“Positive,” Wyatt said. “Needs a new muffler on that truck of his. Thing’s so loud you can hear him coming from a mile away. Probably hasn’t done a lick of maintenance on it since he inherited it.”
I made a mental note. They must be talking about Johnny’s truck.
“Do you remember what time that was?” Ida Belle asked.
“Before two for sure,” Wyatt said. “We watch our soap opera at two.”
“Did you see him return?” Ida Belle asked.
They both shook their heads.
“Got our beer shipment in after the soap opera,” Jeb said. “We were probably inside stocking.”
“Thanks,” Ida Belle said. “I really appreciate it.”
“Can we ask what this is about?” Wyatt asked. “I mean, we don’t have any allegiance to Silas—no one does—so we don’t mind answering your questions. But I’m curious.”
Ida Belle looked at me so I jumped in.
“We’re investigators looking into the circumstances surrounding Molly’s disappearance. You know how insurance companies hire out sometimes.”
Neither of them looked like they completely understood but both nodded.
“Anyway, we’re collecting data for a report,” I said. “And one of the things we need to know is the whereabouts of any of Molly’s relatives who lived in the area during the time when she disappeared.”
Jeb stared. “The insurance thinks he killed her. Well, I’ll be a son of a gun.”
“I didn’t say that,” I said. “Insurance companies are like the government. There’s all kinds of red tape to process before they handle claims. They pay people like us to make sure everything is thorough.”
“If you say so,” Jeb said, looking slightly disappointed. I assumed he was hoping we were going to find Silas guilty of something and haul him out of the bayou in handcuffs.
“I’m curious about something myself,” I said. “Do you think Johnny’s death was an accident?”
“I knew it,” Jeb said. “You do think he killed her.”
“When two children of the same man both die under similar and somewhat questionable circumstances, we’re required to do a little extra footwork,” I said.
Both men frowned.
“It does seem rather odd,” Wyatt said. “I guess truth be known everyone round here was shocked as heck that Johnny got caught out by a storm. He was smarter than that. One of the best shrimpers around and he knew his way around the bayous and his boat. A lot of us found it hard to believe that he got caught unawares.”
Jeb nodded. “But we saw him drive by headed toward the marina and a fisherman saw him at the boat dock so it seemed like that’s what happened.”
“Did Johnny still live with Silas?” I asked, a little surprised.
“No,” Wyatt said. “He and Angel lived in an old house she inherited from an aunt of hers. It’s just down the road a bit. Angel sold it after Johnny passed and moved to New Orleans. I can’t say that I blame her.”
“You didn’t happen to see Silas pass by that day, did you?” I asked.
They both shook their heads.
“According to the police, Silas was on the phone yelling at the tax assessor right about the time Johnny was headed for the marina,” Wyatt said.
“And Johnny didn’t have any enemies?” I asked.
“Good Lord no,” Wyatt said. “Johnny Broussard was as nice a guy as they make. The only person that had a problem with Johnny was Silas, and that’s because he has a problem with everybody.”
“Was the problem specific?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Not sure of the particulars, but word had it that Silas was always hitting Johnny up for money. I think in the beginning, Johnny obliged some—that whole he’s-your-father argument. But as he got older and wiser, he wasn’t so obliging. Mind you, he had no reason to be. If your parents are good people and you have the means, then of course you should help out when you can, but Silas wasn’t due anything from Johnny.”
“Except maybe a thousand butt whuppings to even the score,” Jeb said.
“That’s the God’s honest truth,” Wyatt said.
“So I understand that when Johnny went missing, Silas got all his things,” I said. “You hear anything about that?”
“Oh yeah, we heard it,” Wyatt said. “Silas had been behind on his property taxes for a coon’s age. The town thought they were finally going to get rid of him and it all be legal and such. Then Johnny passed and he had cash from Johnny’s accounts and the sale of the boat. He kept the truck, paid himself up regular on the taxes, and that was that.”
“Why wasn’t he paying his taxes?” Gertie asked. “They can’t be much on a place like his. And since he’s living mostly off-grid, Social Security should cover his expenses.”
“There’s two places Silas goes every week,” Wyatt said. “He buys staples he can’t grow, hunt, or fish at the Walmart up the highway. Won’t buy anything local. Says he won’t pay the markup.”