At the top of the well, Lucy brushed the crud off her face. Making sure the rope was securely threaded through the groove of the etched rim of the pulley, she gave it a pull. The line slowly moved upward, until she was able to get the green bag out and on the ground.
The morning sun peeked through the clouds; she no longer needed the light on her hat. She took a deep breath and unzipped the bag.
“Oh my God!” she let out in a whisper, digging her hands into the bag. Bundles of money, neatly packed with Clarksdale Bank logos on the wrappers, filled the bag. She wasn’t sure how much money there was. On the low side, maybe one hundred thousand dollars, but it could be a lot more.
From the green Clarksdale Bank bag, she dumped all the money into her duffel. Working quickly, she packed up her tools and dropped the bank bag to the bottom of the well.
There was only one thing left to focus on, and that was getting to the car with the money and getting the hell out of there.
CHAPTER TEN
Before leaving Tupelo, Lucy drove to the Lee County coroner’s office to identify her father’s body. Along with Vivien’s Buick, Lucy had borrowed two hundred cash for the release and shipment of Edgar’s body to New Orleans.
Wanda hadn’t wanted Lucy to claim the body. After ninety days, it would be the responsibility of the county to incinerate the corpse and bury the ashes. That’s all Wanda felt Edgar deserved. However, Lucy had won the argument about making the arrangements and giving him a proper send-off.
The old Buick stood out among the newer model vehicles in the parking lot of the coroner’s office. Lucy waited for the place to open, catching a couple of winks before the drive back to New Orleans. When a security officer unlocked the metal-framed glass door and flipped the sign from closed to open, the clicking of the locks awakened Lucy.
Before approaching the building, she checked that the car was locked and double-checked the trunk. With a duffel bag full of money hidden under the spare tire, she wasn’t taking any chances. Once the papers were signed and the fee paid, she rushed back to the car. Peeking in the trunk, feeling under the spare tire, she again confirmed the duffel bag of money was secure.
On the way back to New Orleans, she kept an eye on the Buick’s oil gauge and stuck to the speed limit, not too slow and not too fast. She didn’t want to break down or give a cop any reason to pull her over.
Seven hours later, she rolled up in the French Quarter garage Vivien used and parked in slot 156, Vivien’s designated space. Taking a deep breath, Lucy swung the duffel bag over her shoulder and kept telling herself to relax. Half the people in the district carried shopping bags or knapsacks, so a duffel wasn’t out of the ordinary.
She made it to the salon, and the first thing out Vivien’s mouth was, “What’s in the bag?”
“Just some personal items of my dad’s,” she said and kept walking.
After twice counting the money behind a locked bedroom door, she came up with one hundred and twenty-seven thousand dollars. She had to be careful spending the money. Nothing to draw attention to herself. Detective Nelson had already showed his hand, that he had his suspicions about her and Wanda.
That night, the only thing that lit up her room was the neon billboard from the rooftop of a building across the street. All she could think about was the money. It would be useless if she couldn’t spend or invest it. She had to have a plan, and the best she could come up with was to involve Vivien. Wanda had to be in the dark about the money. She was a loose cannon, and you never knew when she might go off. Lucy tried to get some sleep and planned to start the process of testing the waters with Vivien in the morning.
The smell of French Market Coffee and Chicory blend brewing led Lucy to the kitchen. “Good morning, Vivien.”
“Lucy, did you sleep?” Vivien asked. “You look like hell.”
“No, rolled around most of the night.”
“Well, that was to be expected after what you had to go through yesterday.”
Lucy made small talk for a while, and then asked for Vivien’s help in planning Edgar’s funeral, deep down knowing he didn’t deserve much of a burial. At times during her drive to Tupelo, she had considered agreeing with Wanda not to identify Edgar and let the county deal with his remains. But in the end, Lucy had elected to give him a send-off in style, and Vivien had the connections to make that happen.
Vivien recommended Annabel, who handled most funerals in the French Quarter. From the most elaborate to the uncomplicated—nothing was off-limits.
Lucy and Vivien took their coffee to the rooftop of the building. It was Lucy’s favorite place, and a peaceful way to start the day. Sipping coffee as traffic noise built in the distance brought the morning alive. From the rooftop, she observed the architecture of the century-old buildings, and the echoes of ferry boat horns in the river reminded her what made New Orleans so charming.
Lucy had rehearsed several versions of how she was going to approach Vivien on the money issue. None felt comfortable. She decided to just wing it.
“Vivien, can you keep a secret?”
“Of course, honey. Got something to talk about?”
“I don’t want Wanda to know, but my dad left me some money. Cash. I can’t just deposit a lump sum like
