“Poor Romain,” he said with a tsk.
“You don’t say that with much sympathy.”
“He’s not the type to inspire sympathy.”
“Even after everything he’s been through? He’s your brother-in-law.”
“Believe me, I know who he is. He has a very long shadow.” Walking to the window, he gazed outside. “It’s going to rain,” he commented.
“What is it you don’t like about Louisiana?” she asked.
“I don’t feel comfortable here. These are Susan’s people, and they’re always judging me.”
Jasmine didn’t respond. What he had or hadn’t done was none of her business.
But she could tell from what Romain had said on their way in and Tom’s interest in her at the table that he paid more attention to other women than he should.
“You don’t think Moreau murdered Adele, do you?” he said, turning back to face her.
It wasn’t a question. “Let’s just say I’m open-minded about the possibility that there might be someone else,” she said.
“And you’re here to find the real killer.”
“Obviously, you’re open-minded about the possibility, too.”
“These letters would certainly suggest it. There’ve been others, you know. I got one at my house, too. This guy is blanketing the family with them, trying to get to Romain.”
Trying to get to Romain. But why would taunting Romain be that important to him? “When did this start?”
Tom raised a hand to signify silence as footsteps approached. It was Travis.
They knew because he called back to one of his brothers.
The door wasn’t quite closed. Travis didn’t seem to notice them as he moved past the office to the bathroom, but once his son was gone, Tom shut the door to guarantee their privacy. “Ours came a month ago, after Thanksgiving. My in-laws received one then, too. The letter you have in your hand arrived yesterday. Really upset the old man to get another one,” he added. “I think he was hoping the first one was a fluke and this would just…go away.”
None of them wanted to believe that Adele’s murderer was still out there, and she understood why they’d feel that way. “Does Romain know about these letters?”
He grimaced. “Of course not. Alicia practically threatened to disown Susan if we so much as breathed a word of it.”
“Maybe she’s afraid he’ll go after someone else.”
“That’s not the reason. It can’t be.”
“Why not?”
“Alicia doesn’t believe he killed Moreau. No one in the family does, not even me.”
Jasmine blinked in surprise. “But the shooting was on tape. How can you or they believe anything else?”
Tom went over to the desk and picked up a photograph of Romain as a little boy. He was holding a fishing rod and standing next to a fish that was bigger than he was. “He caught that thing at ten years old,” he said, handing it to her. “Impressive, huh?”
“It’s a nice catch,” she said. Where was Tom going with this?
“He was always the best at everything.” He sighed loudly. “Tough to compete with a guy like that.”
Jasmine had sensed that Tom and Susan didn’t have the perfect marriage. Now she wondered how bad it really was. “What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t know where to put my support. Now that he’s fallen from his pedestal I don’t look so bad myself, and my wife isn’t constantly throwing him up to me as the gold standard. I’m almost afraid to see him recover.”
“And yet you recognize that as selfish and petty. I hope.”
His grim smile indicated he recognized it all too well. “You see my dilemma.”
Jasmine put the photograph back where it belonged. “Romain’s your brother-in-law, not your rival.”
“Still, I’d give anything to have Susan think as highly of me as she once did of her brother.”
“You’re not going to get her to think highly of you by cheating on her.”
Jasmine knew she had no business saying so, but she couldn’t resist. And they’d asked her enough personal questions.
He straightened the collar on his polo shirt. “I know, but the damage is already done—it’s not like she’ll ever forgive me for my…” his smile turned sardonic “…indiscretions. And sometimes the temptation’s too great to resist. I don’t know if I could ever trust myself. It’s nice to live the fantasy for a while, to feel like a god to someone, even if it doesn’t last.”
And the resulting anger and possessiveness his affairs inspired in Susan confirmed that she cared. It was a double payoff.
“Take you, for instance,” he went on.
“Me?”
“You’d be too attractive to resist.”
“Because you think I’m with Romain. That’s the temptation. You want to convince yourself you’re just as desirable as he is.”
“Am I?”
Jasmine knew Tom wouldn’t be saying half the things he was saying if he hadn’t had too much to drink, so she edged away from his inferiority complex. He’d probably be embarrassed when he sobered up. “You’re married,” she stated flatly.
“It wouldn’t matter even if I wasn’t, would it?”
She ignored the question and asked one of her own. “Did you know about the illegal search of Moreau’s house?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Pearson Black insists he’s not the one who leaked that information to the defense. He thinks it might’ve been you.”
Tom brought a hand to his chest. “Me? How could I leak something I didn’t even know about? I wasn’t there that night.”
“There were several cops who were. One of them could’ve confided in you.”
“No one did. And if I knew, I wouldn’t have told. I loved Adele. I wanted to see her killer caught and, at the time, I thought Moreau was her killer.”
“Until the letters.”
“Until the letters,” he repeated.
“If your wife doesn’t believe Romain pulled the trigger and killed Moreau, what does she hold against him?”
“Have you slept with Romain?” he asked.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“That’s a yes.”