by Lynn Emery
“I’m not saying we’re the most progressive place, but when it comes down to it good old Cajun common sense wins out.”
LaShaun thought about what he said for a few moments. “Oui. Monmon Odette said our culture has been unique down through history. We’ve tried to treat each other decent for the most part, before Louisiana became part of America that is. Seems like there is always somebody eager to point out the differences and whip up hatred.”
“We don’t plan to let that happen. With the election delayed I’ve got more time to campaign. And we can concentrate on these murders, and figure out what Patsy’s been up to.” Chase frowned.
“Did she have anything to say that would help?”
“I can’t go into details, but she gave a little bit that might lead to something. The biggest part of being a cop is dealing with people who don’t tell the truth, or at least don’t tell it all.”
“I hear her husband won’t let her come home or see their kids. Maybe she doesn’t want to admit she ran off with another man. If they divorce she could lose custody of the children,” LaShaun said.
“*Unless Vince is really dumb he’s already figured out the story with the rest of the town,” Chase said, then he kissed LaShaun tenderly. “Speaking of marriage.”
LaShaun looked at the ring on her finger. Light danced in the facets as the colors seemed to come alive the longer she gazed at it. Would it be selfish to grab a chance for happiness? Chase would likely face ostracism from family and friends.
“I know what I’m getting into, cher,” Chase whispered as though he could read her thoughts by looking at her expression.
“You have to promise me something, “LaShaun said after a few moments. She looked into his dark eyes.
“That’s what this night is all about, promises.” Chase kissed shoulder and neck.
“If at any time you feel the going is too tough, or you can’t cope with the whispers and...”
“I won’t, but go on,” Chase broke in.
“You’ll tell me honestly. Don’t keep it in, or brood about it. Like you said, we’ve got to be honest with each other. Sometimes it might be us facing the world. Make this decision with a clear head, no hearts and flowers to make things look rosy.” LaShaun pulled away from him. The love in his eyes tugged at her soul, but she resisted the urge to melt into him. “This is a huge decision for you. I’m already an outsider.”
“Stand by me, love, because I’m more than ready to stand by you,” Chase said firmly, no trace of doubt in his voice or his dark gaze.
LaShaun gasped at the impact of his honesty. No matter what, they would be a force of love that would meet every test thrown at them. She bent her head and tasted his sweet lips, savoring his eager response. When she pulled back LaShaun nodded. “Yes.”
Chase closed his eyes and nuzzled her neck. “Yes,” he repeated. Several minutes went by as they held each other before he spoke again. “Darlin’?”
“Yes.” LaShaun sighed.
“Can we please eat? I’m starving.” Chase grinned at her.
With a burst of laughter LaShaun gave his arm a swat. Then she jumped from his lap. “The bread!”
For the rest the evening the darkness just outside the windows looked romantic and cozy, like a country quilt around their special world. They didn’t look at the news, or talk about death, crime and the mystery of what was happening in their beloved bayou parish. Later LaShaun drifted off to sleep cradled by Chase’s long body. A howling far off in the woods barely registered in her semi-conscious haze of contentment. Her eyes flew open for only a second or two then closed again.
Chapter 9
The next morning LaShaun woke up in a strange mood, she wasn’t quite sure what she felt. Anxiety floated around her like a sticky swamp fog. She should have been happy. And indeed looking at the drop dead gorgeous ring on her finger brought a rush of joy to her heart. Then she would feel anxious again, and the good vibe faded as the implications of saying “Yes” to Chase’s proposal sank in. She also had a vague sense that more bad events would soon happen.
Still she greeted Chase with a smile when he woke next to her. They cooked breakfast together and exchanged small talk. LaShaun sent him off to work with a loving kiss. Anyone watching would see a normal scene. Except LaShaun had to admit she agreed with Reverend Fletcher. Something sinister had settled in Vermillion Parish. She washed the few breakfast dishes left, unloaded the dishwasher of dinner dishes and put them away. She hummed a light tune hoping to banish the unsettling feeling inside her gut. It didn’t work.
She went to the small parlor and found the leather bound book she’d tucked away in drawer. The rare volume from Monmon Odette’s library felt warm and heavy as she picked it up. LaShaun turned to the section where she’d placed the antique copper bookmark her grandmother used so often. The text described a creature LaShaun didn’t want to believe existed. Turning a page she gazed at the drawing of a half human, half animal monster. Finally she decided. After calling the museum she drove into town to meet with the curator, Pete Kluger. One of the employees, a young student named Nyla, grinned at LaShaun when she walked into the lobby.
“Good morning. It’s a beautiful day,” Nyla said.
“I’m glad someone is feeling cheerful,” LaShaun grinned back at her. “New fella? No, wait. You reunited with an old love; one that you feel sure really cares about you.”
Nyla’s stared at LaShaun with her mouth open for several seconds. “Damn, you really are psychic.”
“Watch your language, young lady. I have to keep repeating myself,” Dotty muttered as she walked to the reception desk. The office manager ran a tight ship.
“Hi Dotty. I hope you’re having great morning,” LaShaun chirped. “Pete is expecting me.” Before Dotty could reply LaShaun zipped past her toward his office.
“Thinks she owns the place...”
Dotty’s voice faded as LaShaun kept walking down the hall. She entered the small ante room decorated with antique furniture and through a second door into his office. She stopped when she saw Miss Clo and Joyelle seated in two chairs. Joyelle sniffled and blinked hard when she saw LaShaun and then whimpered. Miss Clo patted her back and made soothing noises. Pete blinked rapidly and kept rubbing his forehead as he gazed at them. Pete seemed to let out a sigh of relief at the sight of LaShaun. He met her at the door.
“I’m glad to see you,” he blurted out. “So glad.”
“Hello everybody. What’s going on?” LaShaun looked a bit bewildered.
“I was discussing local legends with these ladies. Um, maybe they took something I said too literally.” Pete hefted a large leather bound volume to show LaShaun.
“I don’t believe any of it,” Miss Clo blurted out. She glanced at her friend. Joyelle merely shook her head, took out a tissue and dabbed her eyes. “Honey, don’t get upset. There’s got to be another explanation.”
“Explanation of what?” LaShaun sat down across from Joyelle on a large upholstered chair.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have upset you, Mrs. LeJeun. I sometimes get excited about Louisiana Cajun lore.” Pete looked at LaShaun as though asking for help.
“He does,” LaShaun plunged in, and gave him a pointed look. “What legend are we talking about?”
“Rougarou. << Rougarou or Loup Garou - a mythical creater with the body of a human and the head of a wolf said to prowl the Louisiana swamps>> Mrs. LeJeun described the behavior of her... patients, and I may have hastily extrapolated to reach a conclusion. I didn’t mean to suggest that--”
“That I’ve been consorting with evil, and helping a pack of rougarou prey on the innocent,” Joyelle said. She sobbed quietly into the bunched up tissues in both her hands.
“Don’t be silly, dear,” Miss Clo said quickly, and put a consoling arm around her friend.
“I’m sure Pete said no such thing, did you?” LaShaun said, her voice strained.
“Oh no, I just said that the behavior of the individuals sounded like local s
tories!” Pete protested.
“Joyelle insisted we talk to Mr. Pete because he’s an expert on history in the parish.” Miss Clo looked at Pete who shrugged.
“I knew he had a lot of old books and diaries from long ago. When I was a girl, my monmon told stories about her granddaddy. He was a famous traiteur. He prayed over this man, and he was a rougarou.” Joyelle made the sign of the cross. “Protect us Holy Father.”
“You don’t really think Patsy is roaming around because she’s a werewolf, do you? We all know she ran off with Tommy Daigle.” LaShaun put calm and reason into her tone.
“And he’s dead,” Pete said. He winced when LaShaun glared at him. “But there is something distinctly human about the whole story. Faithless wife and angry, jealous husband. Or maybe Tommy wanted to return to his wife and Patsy became enraged. The sheriff will figure out what happened.” He broke off from rambling and cleared his throat.
“We have no reason to think this is anything but a lot of horny young people behaving badly,” LaShaun quipped. “Pete’s right. Between the sheriff’s office and the state police all the dirty details will be sorted out soon.”
Joyelle stared at LaShaun steadily. “Have you seen anything, you know, with your extra sight?”
“Nothing,” LaShaun replied promptly. She walked over to Joyelle and put a hand under her elbow. Joyelle stood, and LaShaun glanced at Miss Clo who followed her lead. “Why don’t you ladies do a bit of shopping and then have a nice lunch. It’s a beautiful day. Sunshine and blue skies will chase away those nerves over old fairytales.”
“You don’t believe in rougarou?” Joyelle asked.
“In the old days people didn’t understand strange behavior. They had to explain things some kind of way. My grandmother told me a lot supernatural stuff was just people acting crazy or being mean on purpose.” LaShaun laughed.
“Exactly what I was going to say after I mentioned the rougarou thing,” Pete put in. He smiled and nodded at the two older women.
Miss Clo squinted at him and then glanced at LaShaun. “Right.”
“Our competent sheriff and her deputies are making sure the parish is well protected,” LaShaun said. “I’ll walk y’all out.”
“Let me visit the ladies room first,” Joyelle said demurely. She sniffed and wore a shy smile. “I do feel a bit foolish getting so upset. The truth is my grandmother admitted great-great grandfather Landry told a lot of whoppers, and he enjoyed moonshine a bit too much. I’ll be back in a few, Clo.” She laughed and went down the hall.
Miss Clo watched her friend disappear around a corner to the ladies restroom. She faced LaShaun and Pete. “Now you two quit spinning that bull, and tell me the real deal.”
“There aren’t any werewolves roaming around Vermillion Parish,” LaShaun said quietly, looking over her shoulder.
“But you do have a clue that something more than just bad behavior is at work. That wasn’t a question, young lady,” Miss Clo said sharply when LaShaun opened her mouth to reply. “I’ve heard the rumors about that man at the hospital acting crazy. Somehow this all ties together.”
LaShaun sighed, exchanged a glance with Pete and nodded. “He’s human, Miss Clo.”
“But I believe you’re going to find out soon enough, and no, I’m not claiming to see the future,” Miss Clo whispered. “But I agree we shouldn’t say anything more in front of Joyelle.”
“I’m can’t promise,” LaShaun started, but footsteps on the tile floor caused her to break off.
“Well, I’m ready to go. Thank y’all so much for humoring a jumpy little old lady,” Joyelle said with a chuckle.
“Not at all,” Pete said beaming at her. “You ladies have wonderful day.”
“Thank you. You do the same.” Joyelle waved goodbye.
LaShaun walked with them to Joyelle’s Pathfinder. “Bye, now. And don’t you worry.”
Miss Clo pulled LaShaun close to whisper. “I’ll be calling you later, Missy.”
“C’mon , Clo. We can get to the store early, and then beat the lunch crowds at the restaurant,” Joyelle called out.
“Goodbye, LaShaun,” Miss Clo said in a normal voice volume.
She glanced at LaShaun and pointed a finger at her to emphasize she’d be in touch. Then Miss Clo got in the car, buckled up and started chattering as though they hadn’t only moments ago been discussing demonic half animal/half human predators. LaShaun waved goodbye and put on her best cheery smile. Then LaShaun marched through the museum as Dotty and Nyla stared. She entered Pete’s office and shut the door firmly. When she spun to face him, Pete stuttered.
“Joyelle’s imagination took over. Okay, maybe I did go on about some local legends, but of course I wouldn’t put any stock in those old stories.” Pete gave a nervous laugh and then sighed. “Thank God you came in. Weeping women scare me worse than any werewolf ever could.”
LaShaun rubbed her eyes and let out a slow breath. “Joyelle is on edge with Reverend Fletcher all but saying that she’s ‘consorting with the devil’.”
“Don’t get me started on that nincompoop,” Pete said. He dropped the heavy book he still held onto the round table in the corner of his office. “She’s got more Christian charity in her pinkie finger than that so-called man of God has in his entire body. I hope to never meet that man in person. I probably would be ex-communicated.”
“You haven’t attended any church on a regular basis in several years, and aren’t you Unitarian anyway?” LaShaun helped him put away more books.
“Let me. Some of these volumes are heavy.” Pete took one large tome from her. “Knowing Fletcher he’d try to get me thrown out of any and everything, even have my car club membership revoked.” He laughed hard at his own joke.
LaShaun stood at the window as Pete continued to go on with sarcastic comments about Reverend Fletcher. She looked out at the tree lined street. Going west it led back toward the picturesque business and shopping district of Beau Chene. South it became a small two lane road that connected to Highway 35 leading into swamplands.
“Hmm,” LaShaun said as he kept talking. His voice sounded like a steady buzz in the background. Finally she heard her name repeated.
“Sorry to go on a rant but intolerance galls me. Let‘s have some hot chocolate to wash away the bitter after taste.” Pete bustled out and came back with a ceramic pot. “Filled this up with the delicious brew. Oops, better not say such things too loudly. Some of Fletcher’s congregation might think we’re having a witches’ conference.”
“Hmm,” LaShaun repeated, still taking in the country autumn scene.
“Things go better with chocolate, eh? Come on, LaShaun. No more brooding,” Pete said. He walked over to her carrying both dark green mugs with the museum’s name on them in gold. He handed her one.
“Thank you,” LaShaun mumbled as she took it.
“Now, my friend, why did you come to see me?” Pete smiled at her and sipped hot chocolate.
“To discuss an infestation,” LaShaun said and held the mug without drinking from it.
“Are we talking about termites, ants, or nutria?” Pete chuckled.
“Werewolves,” LaShaun replied.
Pete choked and sputtered hot chocolate down the front of his sweater, then fell down. Fortunately for him the wide window seat broke his fall.
*****
Two hours later LaShaun left Pete, who was by turns excited and terrified. LaShaun helped him sober up from dreams of becoming a superstar historian. She reminded him of victims ripped to pieces. Pete decided his research would turn to wiping out the creatures. Still he also wanted to preserve at least one specimen, he insisted; preferably dead with no chance of coming back again. That was just fine with LaShaun. Now she faced the task of telling Chase. That vow to always be honest with him was about to bite her on the butt. She could only imagine his reaction. She drove to his house after calling him.
Chase had been walked through two crime scenes again, this time with state police forensic techs.
Both were located on the country back roads of the parish, which meant he could easily drive out to his house for lunch. He opened the door to LaShaun with a delighted grin. She was about to ruin his good mood.
“Hey, babe. Nice break after looking at weird photos and then the real thing.” Chase kissed her firmly on the mouth then let her go ahead of him to his kitchen. “At least we have cool weather with low humidity. No fighting off flying insects the size of model airplanes trying to bite my butt.”
“I don’t blame them, nice butt,” LaShaun quipped and winked at him.
“I accept your admiration, the bugs not so much. I’ve got sliced smoked turkey, beef and a selection of cheese for po-boy sandwiches. You get the chips and soft drinks.” Chase pulled out a French loaf from a bread box. Minutes later he had mustard, mayo and sweet relish on the counter. “How’s your day been?”
“Interesting I guess you could say,” LaShaun replied. She found a bowl and poured corn ships into it.
“Yeah, well mine was boring and routine. But it’s the kind of police work that solves crimes,” Chase said as he sliced bread for their sandwiches.
“Hunting for evidence to crack a case sounds pretty exciting.” LaShaun went to the stainless steel fridge and grabbed two dark brown bottles of ginger ale made in Louisiana.
Chase licked mustard off one thumb. “No matter what folks see on television, real police work is a lot of sweaty, unpleasant stuff that goes on for hours. We end up sorting through garbage of one kind or another a lot.”
“So those sites in the woods have anything helpful?” LaShaun got the answer she expected.
“Nothing I can talk about. But don’t expect any breaking news reports, I’ll tell you that much. Lots of paper baggies full of icky stuff you wouldn’t want to discuss over lunch. All of it is off to the lab. At least once we collect it we’re done. The lab guys have to pick through it, stare at it and jiggle it for more hours. I thought about going into forensics, but changed my mind.” Chase grimaced. “I’ll stick to the field work.”