by Elle James
Elaine sat in the seat across the Formica table from Mozelle, her eyes widening. “Oh.” What did you say to top that? The older woman had scored.
Mozelle popped out of her chair and pulled mugs from the cabinet. Over her shoulder she commented, “I haven't had sex that good since Mr. Reneau passed away over ten years ago. For that matter, I hadn't had sex. I was almost afraid I'd forgotten how.”
Elaine cringed and prayed she didn't go into the gory details. She liked Mozelle, but there was such a thing as too much information. “I'm really happy for you.”
With two cups of hot coffee, Mozelle returned to the table. “I never thought I'd get Joe to notice me. He's been avoiding me for years.”
“Joe? As in Joe Thibodeaux? Craig's uncle?”
“The one and only.” Mozelle tipped her head to the side. “I think the alcohol had something to do with it, but I'm sure in the light of day, he'll realize we were meant to be together.”
Elaine clapped a hand to her forehead. “Did you get him drunk and take advantage of him?”
Mozelle stared at her. “Of course I did. How else was I gonna get him to dance? The old coot's been pinin' away for Craig's mamma for the past forty years. It was about time he got over it.”
“Whoa! Wait a minute. Joe was in love with Craig's mother?” Elaine sat back in her chair. This was an interesting tidbit. “And she didn't love him?”
“I have my suspicions she might have, but Joe didn't get around to askin' afore his brother did.”
“Wow. And she said yes. How sad.” Elaine wondered if Craig knew anything about this. “That had to hurt Joe.”
“Yessum.” Mozelle smacked her palms on the table. “That's been quite a while back and, like I said, it was about time he got over it. I just gave him a little push. Don't know why I hadn't done it sooner. Must be the new 'do. Makes a woman feel like she could conquer the world.”
Elaine almost groaned. Here she'd been thinking along the same lines just that morning. Hearing Mozelle say it didn't make her feel all warm and fuzzy like she had earlier. The same words that had empowered her now only made her feel like a fraud.
Had she coerced Craig into bed last night? Had she taken unfair advantage of him? She closed her eyes and thought through their activities. No. He'd been just as eager as she had. Whew!
Still. Maybe she shouldn't get so carried away and over-inflate her opinion of her sexual prowess.
Time to change the subject. Elaine opened her eyes. “Mozelle, what are the local industries in this area?”
“Huh?” The change in topic had Mozelle wrinkling her brow.
“I'm studying the impact of pollutants on the swamps around Bayou Miste. I figure since you've lived here for a good portion of your life, you might know what industries are nearby.”
Mozelle waved her hand. “That's easy. There's only one between here and Morgan City. Littington Enterprises.”
“Littington?” Elaine mentally scratched her head. Where had she heard that name before? Then it hit her. “Does Jason Littington have anything to do with Littington Enterprises?”
“Yessum, he owns it. That place employs most of the people in the three surrounding towns. Without it none of us could afford to stay. My husband worked there for thirty years before he retired. You don't suppose that's where the pollutants are comin' from, do you?”
Elaine sure hoped not. “I plan to find out.”
Mozelle sipped from her mug. “Be a shame if it causes trouble for the refinery, bein' as how most people depend on it for their livelihood.” She stared over at the angry red letters on the wall. “You thinkin' someone from the refinery's doin' this to you?”
“It's a possibility. All my specimens and research are missing. Whoever did it is trying to keep me from proving the swamp is being polluted.”
“And is it?” Mozelle asked.
“Yes.”
The older woman shook her head. “It'll be a shame if they close down that refinery.”
“It'll be a bigger shame if everything in the swamp dies due to negligence.” And a shame if she had to stand up in court against attorney, Craig Thibodeaux, who just happens to represent Jason Littington.
“Yes, yes, you're quite right.” Mozelle stared across at her. “So whatcha gonna do about it?”
“I don't know.” Elaine pinched the corner off the powdery end of a beignet, popped it into her mouth and chewed on the sweet and her thoughts. The lump in her chest that used to be her heart, hurt with every beat. She couldn't believe Craig hadn't bothered to tell her. Had he only helped her collect specimens to keep an eye on the enemy? If so, he was a slimeball that didn't deserve her heartache. “I need to get back out on the swamp and collect more evidence.”
Mozelle reached across the table and grasped Elaine's hands. “It could be dangerous.”
“I know.” All her life Elaine had lived safely within her parent's home, safely within the walls of the lab, and safely behind her microscope. But some efforts demanded that one conquer her fears and leave her safety net behind. Elaine stared at the writing on the wall, a chill slipping down her spine. “This is something I have to do.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
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Exhausted from his late-night activities, Craig had hunkered down next to Dawg on Elaine's front porch and slept like the dead. He didn't wake until Old Lady Reneau showed up carrying a basket of heaven.
As Ms. Reneau had stood on the porch talking to Elaine, the voice clicked in Craig's memory. This was the voice he'd heard earlier that morning at his uncle's cottage. Craig stared up at her as if seeing her for the first time. Uncle Joe was sleeping with Old Lady Reneau?
He'd rolled the revelation over and over in his mind. For a woman in her sixties, he guessed she was okay to look at. Although she'd chased the local teenagers out of her peach trees, she'd shared beignets with them on occasion, and darn good ones at that. She'd been alone for the past ten years, and Uncle Joe had never married. Why not?
When Elaine had pushed the door open, Craig leapt out of the way to keep from being stepped on by Ms. Reneau or crushed by Dawg. He hadn't hopped fast enough to get inside, but figured it was just as well. Ms. Reneau could talk the ear off a frog when she had a mind to.
Once the door closed, Dawg had rolled back over arid blocked it again. Craig could only stare up at the door, but after a few minutes, he'd thought he might want to hear what was going in there after all.
He'd hopped down off the porch and around the house, trying to get close enough to overhear some of Elaine and Ms. Reneau's conversation. After the success of last night's love lessons, he was anxious to see if the older woman had more advice for Elaine. He was also interested to see if Ms. Reneau planned to talk about her visit to Uncle Joe's last night. Craig had a lot to discuss with his father's brother.
No matter where he'd stood, he couldn't hear the conversation inside the cottage. He would have loved to have been a fly on the wall. Speaking of flies... He shook himself. Save the hunger pangs for nighttime. No more flies for this guy!
What felt like two hours later, Ms. Reneau emerged with an empty basket dangling from her fingertips and a promise to drop by the next day.
“Thanks for the beignets. They were wonderful,” Elaine called out.
The sound of her voice bathed him in the same afterglow as their previous night's foray into foreplay and hot steamy sex. He wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and hold her throughout the day. But he couldn't as long as he remained a frog.
“Oh, hi, Todd. I didn't see you out here earlier.” Elaine squatted next to him in her khaki slacks and white blouse. She had her satchel and bucket in one hand, and a little powdered sugar on her chin. “Is Dawg taking good care Of you?”
Craig stared up at the powdered sugar. If he stretched far enough, his tongue could reach out and wipe that sugar right off her. But what would that buy him? She'd freak
out at being licked by a frog and he'd still be a frog.
Mon Dieu! What the hell had he done to deserve this?
Elaine stood, walked down the steps and across the street toward the marina.
When Craig could pull himself together and quit thinking about that little speck of powdered sugar, he hopped after her. Where in the heck did she think she was going at this time of day? The sun wouldn't go down for another hour.
Craig hopped faster.
He'd just reached the marina parking lot when Elaine eased out onto the dock. Uncle Joe was pumping gas into the outboard tank of a small skiff.
“Mr. Thibodeaux?” she called out.
“Oh, hello, Miss Smith. Didn't expect to see you here so early.”
So far, even from a distance, Craig could hear everything. He prayed she wasn't there to go out on the swamp yet.
“I had a break-in at the collage last night while I was at the Raccoon Saloon. I thought you ought to know about it.”
Good. She was telling Uncle Joe about the trouble at the house.
“Really?” His uncle hung the gas pump back up and scratched his head. “Never had anything like that happen around here. Any of your equipment missing?”
“No, but all my specimens and research are gone.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Actually, that's why I'm here.” Elaine looked around the dock and back up at the bait shop. “Is your nephew around?”
Uncle Joe rubbed his chin and nodded. “Likely.”
Craig hopped down onto the wooden planks and closer to the pair.
“Do you suppose he could take me out earlier this evening?” Elaine asked.
“Depends on how much earlier.”
Craig would have smiled if he could. His uncle had a way of dancing around the issue when he wanted to. Must have been all the practice he'd gotten as a lawyer more than thirty years ago.
Elaine shrugged. “I was hoping to go out now. Do you suppose he could take me?”
With a slow shake of his head, Uncle Joe answered, “Not hardly”
“Maybe I could ask him myself. Is he here?” Elaine stared back up at the bait shop.
“Maybe he's here, maybe he's not.”
Way to be evasive, Uncle Joe! Craig inched closer.
The fine lines of Elaine's eyebrows drew together behind her glasses. How long before she got fired of Uncle Joe's riddles and decided to go home?
Soon, Craig hoped.
“Could you take me out on the swamp?” Elaine stared at Uncle Joe with those big brown eyes. “Out to your friend Bernie's old fishin' hole?”
Craig might have fallen for those eyes, but not Uncle Joe. “Now, I don't know about that. My eyesight ain't what it used to be at night.”
“I really need to get those samples as soon as possible. If we go now, we could be back before dark.”
Rubbing his chin, Uncle Joe dipped his head to the side. “You sure you can't wait until Craig can take you?”
“After what happened last night and the other nights we were out on the swamp, I don't feel comfortable going out after dark. Besides, to stop the polluting I need to get solid evidence to show the EPA.”
Joe rubbed his chin again, and stared up at the sky.
Don't do it Uncle Joe! Craig hopped up and down to get his uncle's attention. Don't let her coerce you into something dangerous.
“Well, if you think we can make it back by dark, I guess I could take you.”
Oh, Uncle Joe, you caved. Craig croaked his disappointment.
“Thank you, Mr. Thibodeaux.” Elaine kissed the old man's cheek.
If Craig could have, he would have groaned. Uncle Joe was a goner. The kiss just sealed the deal.
“Could we leave right now?” Elaine asked.
“Sure. Let me lock up the bait shop. Business has been kinda slow, anyway.”
Elaine moved to the side to allow him passage on the boardwalk.
While Joe climbed the steps to the bait shop, Elaine eased over to the skiff and tossed in her bucket and satchel. With careful precision, she placed one foot at a time into the little boat while clinging to the wooden planks on the dock. Finally she sat on the metal bench and breathed a huge sigh.
Craig admired her spunk, even if he didn't agree with her decision to go out on the bayou. She'd gotten into the boat all by herself this time.
“I left a note for Craig telling him we'll be at Bernie's old fishin' hole, in case we're late getting back,” Uncle Joe called out from behind Craig before he stepped into the boat.
Craig took a flying leap and landed on a pair of rubber hip-waders piled in the front of the little boat. No way he'd let Elaine and Uncle Joe go out in the swamp without him. Too many crazy things had happened in the bayou lately.
He glanced up at the sky. The sun was low, but not quite low enough for Craig to change back into a man. If they ran into trouble out on the water, he couldn't help them, but he'd at least be there to know what was going on.
Craig had an ominous feeling about their little trek. He felt it all the way to his diminutive frog bones. Maybe the sensations had a little to do with the voodoo curse he was caught up in. But he was absolutely certain something was about to happen, and he wasn't going to like it.
In deference to her fear of the water, Craig had driven the boat slow and smooth, easing around twists and turns.
Not Mr. Thibodeaux. He drove like a madman.
Elaine clamped her teeth on her tongue and kept her eyes glued shut most of the way. When they slowed, she looked around to see the overhanging Spanish moss guarding the entrance to what she'd begun to think of as hers and Craig's lagoon - a polluted lagoon, but theirs nonetheless.
How strange to be out on the bayou without him. She missed his teasing and his understanding of her fears. Much as she liked Joe, he wasn't Craig and she didn't have the same comfort level. “Could you take me close to that little island?”
Joe aimed for the small outcropping of land. Then he shut off the motor and allowed the craft to drift to a stop with a gentle thump against the bank.
Elaine stared around, but she didn't see a single frog jumping into the water. “Where are all the frogs? And I don't see any dead fish,” she mused aloud. “There were at least a half-dozen the last time we were here.”
“Maybe someone came in and cleaned up the evidence.” Joe dipped a paddle into the water and maneuvered the skiff to another position farther along the island.
At the very least, she could take some water to test. Carefully bending over the boat's side, she collected a sample in a tube, labeled it, and slipped it into her satchel.
When they reached the end of the lagoon, Joe dug his paddle deeper into the water to turn the boat around.
Thunk!
Elaine's gaze met Joe's.
As one, they peered over the side and into the water. In the shadows cast by the late-afternoon sun, they could just make out the curved edge of a barrel below the surface.
“Holy Moses,” Joe said.
“No kidding,” Elaine responded. “We've found the source of the pollutants”
Joe glanced up at the sound of an engine. “I think we'd better get the heck out of Dodge, or we'll be sittin' ducks in this pond.”
“Let's go.” Elaine sat up straight, trying to see through the dense foliage and lengthening gloom.
Turning in his seat, Joe pulled the crank rope, and the motor leapt to life.
Thank you, God. Elaine sent a silent prayer to the heavens. Now would not be a good time for the motor to be stubborn. As far as she was concerned, Joe could drive any way he pleased as long as it was fast and furious.
They'd just cleared the low-hanging tree at the entrance to the lagoon, when the same deck boat she'd seen before stormed around a bend in the bayou and headed straight for them.
Joe spun the skiff around and gave it all the gas the little motor could take.
The wind whipped her hair out of its neat ponytail, and the strands lashed at her
neck. She alternated between watching out for low-hanging branches and glancing over her shoulder. The closer the other boat came, the more she looked back.
“Hang on, I'm gonna turn,” Joe yelled.
Already clinging with a death grip, Elaine leaned into the sharp turn. Just as they completed the ninety-degree angle, Elaine looked back. The other boat bore down on them, aiming for the back end of the skiff where Joe sat.
“Look out, Joe!” Elaine yelled.
The force of the collision lifted the smaller boat sideways, launching Elaine from her seat. Joe catapulted into the water several feet away.
Although petrified of the tea-colored water filling her nostrils, Elaine forced herself to be calm. Last time she'd fallen into the bayou, she'd only been in water about chest deep. If she just waited to get her feet under her, everything would be all right. Her lungs burned for a breath of air when her knees finally touched the soft silt at the bottom.
Quickly, she scrambled to get her feet beneath her and pushed to a standing position. Oh, no. Even erect, her head didn't quite clear the surface. Panic surged through her veins, pooling in her gut, threatening to overwhelm her senses. She pushed hard against the slimy bottom, bouncing up to the surface where she gasped for breath before submerging again.
When her head was above the water, she could see dusk had settled over the bayou. Below, fragments of dirt and decomposed vegetation swirled around her, and a bullfrog swam by. She had to get to Joe. He may be hurt.
Craig didn't see the other boat coming. He'd only seen the terror on Elaine's face seconds before the skiff flipped over. He tried to leap aside, but the heavy rubber of the hip-waders dragged him below the surface. For a few panicky seconds he thought he'd be forever trapped and ultimately drowned beneath the rubber.
Just when he thought he was one dead frog, the rubber waders stopped their downward drift and buoyed upward. Craig kicked his webbed feet and swam free. As he reached the surface, the sun plummeted below the horizon, melding shadows together into full darkness.
Before he could locate Elaine and Uncle Joe, the change hit him with the force of a Mack truck. With the strain of bones and skin stretching and growing, the pain dragged him beneath the surface.