Read Online Under the Cajun Moon by Mindy Starns Clark - Free Book Online
Authors: Mindy Starns Clark
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was here to keep me from leaving.
I knew if I had indeed killed Kevin myself, my only hope lay in remembering how and why. Could I have done it in self-defense? Near panic, I forced my mind back again to the memories of last night.
Kevin had explained the rest of the story as we ate, saying that neither my dad nor Mr. Naquin had been able to turn up any information at all about the origin of the statuettes. Of course, they hadn’t exactly been experts at historical research, and there was no Internet back then to make it easier. Finally, Ruben had offered to do the research on their behalf, but at a price. If he was able to find proof that the treasure was free and clear, he wanted a share of the profits. His offer seemed fair, so the three men signed a contract to that effect. Because Ruben was just starting out in a law firm and didn’t have much spare time, progress was slow. Eventually, the whole thing turned into a hobby for him, one that he did on the side whenever he could.
Ruben kept at it, telling the others to be patient, but eventually my father reached the point where he wanted to melt down the rest of the treasure—or at least his half. There were fifty-five statuettes left, and gold was still hovering around forty dollars an ounce, so his share, melted down, would have given him a little more than a hundred thousand dollars. He was an accomplished chef by that point and eager to create a first-class restaurant, one that could compete with the likes of Antoine’s and Broussard’s and Galatoire’s and the rest. In the late sixties, that much money would have allowed him to buy the building he had in mind, renovate it, and cover all operating costs in those first crucial months until the restaurant began turning a profit. Most men in that position would have taken on partners, but my father wasn’t interested in giving anyone else a say in how he did things. This was to be Julian Ledet’s baby from start to finish. He needed the treasure to make that happen.
Ruben, on the other hand, was convinced that the treasure was worthat least three times that much intact, so he came up with a clever alternative. They could handpick several wealthy investors, ones who knew how to keep their mouths shut. Julian would tell them about the treasure, describe the conundrum they were still in about trying to find its true origins, and offer his share as collateral. If the restaurant was a success, they would get back their initial investment plus a healthy rate of interest. If the restaurant failed, they would get the value of their initial investment paid back in gold statuettes. At that point, it would be up to each investor whether he wanted to melt down his share and sell it for the going rate or hang onto it until the research was complete and the statuettes’ true value could be determined.
Except for the statuettes, that part of the story fit in with what I knew about how Ledet’s got started. My impression had always been that my father owned the restaurant free and clear but that a few well-heeled friends had helped him to get it going—and that he had done so well so fast that he had been able to pay them all back in full within three years. One of the investors, Conrad Zahn, was involved in local politics, and he had also been pivotal in helping my father navigate through the complicated red tape of renovating the historical structure that would house the restaurant.
“Okay, I think I have a pretty good understanding of what went on back then. What happened with the treasure?”
Kevin dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and then spoke.
“Ledet’s was a huge success, so the investors got their money back plus interest, and your dad’s share of the treasure remained intact. Unfortunately, in the meantime my father’s research turned up at least one tie between the statuettes and the French crown. It wasn’t enough to prove that the treasure belonged back in France, but it definitely gave them reason
I knew if I had indeed killed Kevin myself, my only hope lay in remembering how and why. Could I have done it in self-defense? Near panic, I forced my mind back again to the memories of last night.
Kevin had explained the rest of the story as we ate, saying that neither my dad nor Mr. Naquin had been able to turn up any information at all about the origin of the statuettes. Of course, they hadn’t exactly been experts at historical research, and there was no Internet back then to make it easier. Finally, Ruben had offered to do the research on their behalf, but at a price. If he was able to find proof that the treasure was free and clear, he wanted a share of the profits. His offer seemed fair, so the three men signed a contract to that effect. Because Ruben was just starting out in a law firm and didn’t have much spare time, progress was slow. Eventually, the whole thing turned into a hobby for him, one that he did on the side whenever he could.
Ruben kept at it, telling the others to be patient, but eventually my father reached the point where he wanted to melt down the rest of the treasure—or at least his half. There were fifty-five statuettes left, and gold was still hovering around forty dollars an ounce, so his share, melted down, would have given him a little more than a hundred thousand dollars. He was an accomplished chef by that point and eager to create a first-class restaurant, one that could compete with the likes of Antoine’s and Broussard’s and Galatoire’s and the rest. In the late sixties, that much money would have allowed him to buy the building he had in mind, renovate it, and cover all operating costs in those first crucial months until the restaurant began turning a profit. Most men in that position would have taken on partners, but my father wasn’t interested in giving anyone else a say in how he did things. This was to be Julian Ledet’s baby from start to finish. He needed the treasure to make that happen.
Ruben, on the other hand, was convinced that the treasure was worthat least three times that much intact, so he came up with a clever alternative. They could handpick several wealthy investors, ones who knew how to keep their mouths shut. Julian would tell them about the treasure, describe the conundrum they were still in about trying to find its true origins, and offer his share as collateral. If the restaurant was a success, they would get back their initial investment plus a healthy rate of interest. If the restaurant failed, they would get the value of their initial investment paid back in gold statuettes. At that point, it would be up to each investor whether he wanted to melt down his share and sell it for the going rate or hang onto it until the research was complete and the statuettes’ true value could be determined.
Except for the statuettes, that part of the story fit in with what I knew about how Ledet’s got started. My impression had always been that my father owned the restaurant free and clear but that a few well-heeled friends had helped him to get it going—and that he had done so well so fast that he had been able to pay them all back in full within three years. One of the investors, Conrad Zahn, was involved in local politics, and he had also been pivotal in helping my father navigate through the complicated red tape of renovating the historical structure that would house the restaurant.
“Okay, I think I have a pretty good understanding of what went on back then. What happened with the treasure?”
Kevin dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and then spoke.
“Ledet’s was a huge success, so the investors got their money back plus interest, and your dad’s share of the treasure remained intact. Unfortunately, in the meantime my father’s research turned up at least one tie between the statuettes and the French crown. It wasn’t enough to prove that the treasure belonged back in France, but it definitely gave them reason
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