Voodoo on Bayou Lafonte

by Susan C. Muller

  He stuck his hand in his pockets and kicked at the dirt. The bottom three inches of his jeans were covered with swamp grass and debris. Had they looked this bad ever since his trek down to the bayou with Gabby? No wonder the motel manager had frowned when he entered the office.

  He bent down to brush them off and glanced at Gabby’s. He should have known. She had already cleaned up. Her slacks had one ivy leaf on the back of her right ankle, where she couldn’t see it.

  All three swerved around at the sound of Ruben’s approaching footsteps.

  “About time we had some luck. The maid was a gold mine of information. She’s familiar with Danny Cryer, and she doesn’t think much of him. He comes about every two or three weeks and leaves a mess for her to clean up; beer and pizza spilled on the sofa, rings on the table, stains on the sheets, even vomit on the floor of the bathroom.”

  A cool breeze blew up from the bayou and brushed against Remy’s face. “Does she report this to the manager?”

  “Ah, there’s the rub. She hates the manager even more than she hates Danny, and Danny, bless his heart, always leaves her a big tip. At least twenty dollars, sometimes more, depending on what else he’s left in the room.”

  “So what else does he leave behind?”

  Ruben’s eyes narrowed. “Women. A different one each time. They’re usually still asleep when she comes in to clean. Sometimes they just curse and groan, or demand she come back after they take a shower. But sometimes she can hardly wake them up, and they seem confused; don’t know where they are or how they got here.”

  Remy glanced at Adam. “There’s the GHB the funeral home guy told us about, but how are we going to prove it?”

  Adam nodded. “Other than your charming personality, why was she so willing to talk this time?”

  “Several reasons. The girl in the next cabin died, and she got scared. That guy followed the same pattern as Danny, only he never stayed more than one night.”

  Remy felt a flicker of hope. Now they were getting somewhere. “Did Danny and that guy know each other?”

  “Oh, yeah. They partied in each other’s cabins and left on the same morning, although Danny always got here first.”

  “From the pattern, it sounds like Danny was on a drug run for his dad and the other kid was the supplier, bringing the product in from Houston. If it was GHB, Danny and his friend must have been pinching part of the supply for their own use.”

  How many woman had that fucker harmed in his young life? Finding Adrienne had to be first on his list, but once she was safe at home, that slimeball Danny Cryer and his dad better watch out.

  Their drug-running days were about over. He’d see to that.

  Adam picked at his teeth with a bulrush stem. “You said several reasons. What else?”

  Ruben chuckled. “This time, when the girl left, she stole the tip Danny had left.”

  Gabby gave a short gasp. “Could the girl have been Adrienne?”

  “Naw, she knew the girl, that’s what made her so mad.”

  Remy scratched his head. Something didn’t feel right. “Still, why would the maid tell you these things? Do you believe her?”

  “I believe her all right. Last time she came to Houston to see her grandkids, she got a ticket. She didn’t have the money to pay, so she just ignored it. The she got a letter saying a warrant had been issued for her arrest. Now she’s afraid to even cross the state line. She hasn’t seen her grandkids in nine months. If everything she told me checks out, I promised to fix the ticket for her.”

  If Ruben believed the woman, that was good enough for Remy. He trusted the guy’s instincts. “If Danny picks up here, and takes the supplies back to Comeaux by boat, that explains the increase in drugs for both De Lyon and Comeaux. What are you going to do about it?”

  “She gave me a description of the guy and the car, complete with tag number. I plan to talk to Narcotics first thing Monday morning. Then I plan to ride their ass until not only do they take down the supplier, but also the De Lyon chief, his assistant, and anybody else we can find. I’ll even work with the feds if I have to.”

  “If the police chief here is in on it, the Comeaux sheriff must be also.” Remy grinned. Now they were getting somewhere. Adam and Ruben would make sure those asswipes were taken care of.

  He glanced at Gabby, expecting her to feel better about a potential lead but her shoulders slumped.

  She shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you found out what was happening to these poor girls. The men responsible need to be taken down. The misery they’ve caused has to stop. But, really, how does any of this help us find Adrienne?”

  The sadness in her eyes sent a knife through Remy’s heart.

  Ruben took both her hands in his. “I don’t know how all this ties together, but it does. If we keep following each thread, they will lead us back to the source and we’ll find your daughter. Wherever she is, she’s fine, and unharmed. I promise you. She’s just waiting for her daddy to show up and rescue her.”

  Chapter 14

  Hours had passed since that evil old man had left, and Adrienne was only now feeling like herself again. She stood inches from the screen door. That close, the air moved across her body with a soft touch, not like on her cot where each breath weighted her down.

  She had spent part of the afternoon sitting on the old split oak rocking chair on the galerie. She kept it well back from the edge even though the old man had insisted it was safe.

  She’d believed him while he was here, and even for a few hours after he left, but now she wasn’t so sure. And she certainly wouldn’t venture out there at night when things stirred in the water only feet away.

  The butane lantern had gone out before they reached her, and the old man had been angry that she ran it all night. He made her practice lighting the new one with her eyes closed so she could do it in the dark if she needed to, but Mrs. Dupre had insisted the man with them give her his flashlight.

  Mrs. Dupre hadn’t been angry about the light. In fact, she’d looked frightened herself, but she’d fussed at her for not eating enough. “You have to force yourself. Think of the baby. That little one needs nourishment. And he can only get it from you. We’ll be back every few days with food, don’t you worry.”

  She’d even brought her fresh clothes and a couple of books. “You have been taking your vitamins, haven’t you?”

  Adrienne placed a hand on her abdomen, above where her baby grew. That’s the one thing she’d done right. Even when she didn’t want to eat, she’d taken the vitamins, twice a day, just the way she’d been told.

  She didn’t like them. They were huge and hard to swallow, almost sticking in her throat each time. They smelled nasty, too, and left a bitter taste in her mouth. But whatever she decided to do about the baby, raise him herself or put him up for adoption, he deserved the best start she could give him.

  She knew it was a boy. The old man had told her so. Why she believed him, she wasn’t sure, but she did.

  Just thinking about the baby caused her eyes to burn as fresh tears collected. They ran down her face in hot rivulets. What was she supposed to do? If only she could talk to her mama, everything would be better.

  When the boat drew away, Adrienne had listened as the motor grew steadily fainter. She sat in the rocking chair, almost in a trance, until a screech owl had startled her.

  She’d gone inside then, and when the heat became unbearable, had tried on the clothes Mrs. Dupre had brought her. They were horrible, tacky. The material felt like something used to make seat cushions for outdoor furniture. At home she wouldn’t be caught dead in them.

  But she wasn’t at home, was she? And her jeans cut into her skin now and her boobs threatened to spill out of her bra. When had all this happened?

  The elastic waist of the new shorts let her bre
athe and the loose-fitting top felt like being released from prison. Okay. She’d wear them. But only as long as no one could see her.

  She hadn’t known what to expect when the boat arrived this morning with Jean-Paul’s mother, that old man, and a young man with arms and shoulders like one of those firemen calendars Margaux’s mother bought.

  Adrienne started pacing. She wasn’t afraid of Jean-Paul’s mother, but the young man made her nervous. She kept well away from him. But the old man truly frightened her.

  Whenever she stared into those watery blue eyes, she lost a chunk of time and what felt like a piece of her soul. Sebastian Guidry had been around town for years. He’d been a joke to her friends, but never to Jean-Paul, who’d acted a little afraid of him.

  Sebastian always had the cane, but he seemed to carry it like an accessory in those days, rather than a tool. Even then, she’d considered him old, but anyone over forty had been old when she was a kid.

  Now she had no doubt. Sebastian Guidry was ancient. He leaned on the cane and needed help to climb the ladder onto the galerie. She’d almost swear he was older than when she’d seen him last Wednesday, and that was only a few days.

  It was all bluster, but she’d faced them when they tied up to the porch. “You can’t keep me here like this. My daddy will come for me. You better watch out. He’s a policeman. He’ll hunt you down. He’ll never stop until he finds you.”

  A lot of good that rant had done her. One glance into the old man’s eyes and she was a goner.

  Next time she’d know better.

  She’d kick the bodyguard as he was helping Sebastian onto the porch. Then she’d jump into the boat. If Mrs. Dupre tried to stop her, she’d push her into the water.

  Adrienne pictured the area as it’d appeared during the day. She’d head left, that’s the way they’d come. After that, she had no idea. But getting lost in the swamp had to be better than sitting here waiting, not knowing what they had planned for her.

  Remy’s headlights cut through the darkness as he tried to watch the road and keep an eye on Gabby while checking for any animal that might dart out from the woods.

  She was so silent. He couldn’t gauge her feelings. Was she despondent over the lack of news about Adrienne? He couldn’t blame her for that. She kept her face turned toward the passenger-side window.

  “That was nice of your friends to come all this way to help us. And on their day off, too.” Her voice came from the dark.

  Good. She was talking to him at least. “They both offered to stay, but I sent them home. I believe they can do us more good from there. Adam used to work narcotics, and he still has some friends in that department. He’ll have things moving by the time the sun comes up.”

  “That was odd, the way he spoke about ghosts and evil spirits. Does he believe in them?”

  “I think so. He doesn’t talk about it, but something strange happened to him when he first met his wife. Something he couldn’t explain. What about you? Do you believe in things you can’t see or don’t understand?”

  Gabby opened her mouth, then closed it again. Several seconds passed before she answered. “I wanted to say ‘No, of course not.’ Then I thought of Grand-mère. After she died, I talked to her. I know lots of people do that, but I swear sometimes she answered me. Today, I pretend it was just what I thought she’d say, but at the time, I was sure I heard her voice.”

  Remy nodded. He’d never told this story to anyone, but this was Gabby. He could tell her anything, right? “I was working a case once, where the suspect was some kind of paranoid wacko. He was reported to have booby-trapped his place. SWAT was just sitting around when I came up so I decided the place was clear. I guess I was in a hurry, so I didn’t check with them first.”

  Okay, I had a hot date and didn’t want to be late.

  “I started in the door, and this voice says in my ear, ‘Don’t go in, it hasn’t been cleared yet.’ I stepped back and this SWAT guy comes running up, waving his arms. They hadn’t been in yet. They were waiting for the bomb-sniffing dogs. The thing is, all the SWAT guys and all our guys had southern drawls. The voice in my ear had a definite New Jersey accent. I hadn’t heard my father’s voice since I was ten years old, but it sure sounded like him.”

  And none of the other guys would have called him ha’ben sheli, my son.

  Gabby turned to face him. “It’s easy to sit here and laugh at ideas you don’t understand, but I have to believe there are things in this world that defy logic.”

  Remy chewed on that for several miles. He hadn’t thought of it that way before, but she sure had a point. “What about this dark voodoo we’ve been hearing about? Do you believe in it?”

  “The only time I’ve ever heard the term dark voodoo before this week was in movies. You know, when the drums beat faster and faster, and they dance around, waving their arms in the air. Finally someone bites the head off a chicken and everybody falls to the ground.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, and if you find a chicken foot in your bed, you’re not long for this world.” He slowed as two eyes glowed at him from beside the road. An armadillo ambled by, unaware how close he’d been to becoming road kill.

  “I suppose that’s better than finding a horse head in your bed, but yeah, like that. It’s certainly not anything like what Grand-mère practiced. I can remember feeling all nervous and anxious about a test, and before I left the house, Grand-mère would bless me. Maybe it was all mental, but I would go to school calmer, ready for the test.”

  They had reached the one stop light in Comeaux and the blinking red light bathed the inside of the car in an eerie glow.

  “I never knew anything about voodoo until I moved in with you and Grand-mère. The way she practiced it always made me feel welcome and loved. Nothing about what she did made me uncomfortable or set off any alarm bells.”

  Gabby chuckled. “Yeah, but that gris-gris bag I stole and put in my purse didn’t prevent conception like it was supposed to.”

  He had to laugh at that. “Maybe it needed to be closer to the action. Then the smell of it would make you think twice.”

  “Are you kidding me? A skunk strolling past wouldn’t have stopped us. A torn condom certainly didn’t.”

  Was she actually accepting partial responsibility for what happened? That was new. Or was it? Had guilt and his mother’s recriminations made him take all the blame? Was that why he’d spent years believing that, deep down, he was a louse and a heel and then set about proving that judgment was correct instead of trying to prove it wrong.

  Gabby put her hand on his arm. “Things may not have turned out the way we wanted, but I’m not sorry about anything that happened. I didn’t marry you because I had to. I wanted to with all my heart. Besides, we ended up with Adrienne, and who could regret that?”

  The crunch of his tires on her cement driveway covered the desperate sound that escaped from his throat.

  She dropped her face into her hands. “Do you think we’ll ever find her, Remy? Or will we spend the next twenty years rushing around, trying to identify dead bodies?”

  “Ruben said she’s still alive, and, yes, I believe him.”

  “But why? How would he know? He was just trying to make us feel better.”

  “Did you notice how tall he is?”

  She raised her head and gave a feeble smile. “That’s kind of hard to miss. When you called him Poncho Grande, I was picturing a Hispanic sumo wrestler, not Andre the Giant.”

  Remy switched off the engine and twisted toward Gabby. “Remember what you said about there being things we don’t understand? There’s a rumor Ruben’s related to some behemoth family of Romanian gypsy fortunetellers and that he can see the future. I don’t know if that’s true, but he has the best gut instincts of any person I’ve ever met. He’d have known not to go into that house without anyone whisp
ering in his ear. Some of the things he comes up with are frigging unbelievable. If he says Adrienne’s alive and unharmed, I trust him. And I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t honestly believe it’s true.”

  Chapter 15

  Remy scratched his head and stared at the bedroom. Now what? Gabby had taken a quick shower and gone to bed, but she’d left the door open. Was he supposed to join her?

  She’d been up and down all day. First cold, then hot. Clingy, then standoffish. He understood her mix of emotions. He had them, too.

  If he went into the bedroom and she asked him to leave, it would break that fragile bridge they were starting to build. If he didn’t go, she might think he didn’t want her.

  He pulled a pair of clean boxers from the package he’d bought at Wal-Mart and headed for the bathroom. The shower seemed the safest place in the house.

  Three minutes later he stood letting hot water hit him in the face and stream over his body, allowing all the tension of the day to circle down the drain. The stink of the mortuary still clung to his hair, and he scrubbed vigorously.

  The rasp of the shower curtain opening startled him and when he jerked his head up, shampoo ran into his eyes. He was still trying to wash out the sting when he heard Gabby’s voice.

  “I thought you might need some help getting your back clean.”

  He was so surprised he almost slipped on shampoo suds. She’d never done anything like this when Grand-mère was alive, but he didn’t plan on complaining.

  “Thanks. There’s a spot between my shoulder blades I never can reach.” He hesitated to speak. What if he scared her off? He’d always thought of her as shy. But how could she not have been, with Grand-mère so close? And why hadn’t he understood that?

  “This spot right here?” she asked, her caress as soft as her voice.