“You missed your calling. You should have been a gun moll.”
“Do they still have those?” She let the door swing closed and leaned against the metal surface. The constant hum of activity in the hall died away.
“If not, they should. I got a look at the sheriff myself and that was almost worth all the stitches.”
Gabby’s eyes widened. “How did you manage that?”
“Ruben stopped by. He had to sign a bunch of papers in De Lyon. Afterward, he swung by the jail to see the police chief. Or should I say the ex-chief. Apparently, Ruben just watched the guy shuffle in wearing his orange jumpsuit and handcuffs, laughed, and left the building. He had so much fun he wanted me to have the opportunity to see Guidry in handcuffs.”
“And they let him take you?”
“With Ruben, you don’t so much let him as stay out of his way.”
“How did he look?”
“Guidry? His heart monitor started racing when I tapped on the window of his ICU cubicle and waved. Ruben, on the other hand, looked okay, smiling and everything, but his voice lacked his usual deep rumble. As if he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.”
Gabby bit her lip. “I guess two broken ribs will do that to even the biggest guy.”
Shit. Maybe he should change the subject before she started obsessing over how close he’d come to heading into that big sleep. “You’ll love this. Tessa didn’t come with him because she wasn’t feeling well. Her stomach had been upset all morning, but she called and was much better. She’d made herself a peanut butter and pickle sandwich. Then she called again and asked him to bring home some boudin sausage.”
The corners of Gabby’s mouth twitched. In a moment she was giggling. Remy tried not to join her, it hurt too much, but he couldn’t help himself. “Do you think we should tell them?”
“Nah,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. “They’ll figure it out for themselves. Besides, we could be wrong. I haven’t eaten all day and that sandwich sounds pretty good to me.”
The air conditioning kicked on and swept her perfume over him, wiping out the antiseptic smell that had filled his nose.
She nodded toward the door. “I’ve got your car out front. Ready to head home, Grandpa?”
Where was home? Texas, Louisiana? Comeaux, Houston? His apartment, or Grand-mère’s old house?
“Sure, as soon as the doc gives the okay.” He turned another page, trying to hide the emotions swirling inside him.
“Whatcha reading so intently?”
“A list of the people missing during the storm.”
“Why would you read that? You already know more than any of the people trying to write about it.”
He glanced around the room and lowered his voice to a whisper. “If you kill a man, you ought to at least know his name.”
He watched the blood drain from Gabby’s face. He shouldn’t have said that. This was hard on her, too.
“And?” She took one step closer.
“His name was Jacque Guidry, a former football player from Lafayette with a lengthy juvenile record. He was supposed to be living with his grandfather, Sebastian Guidry. One more in the long line of Guidry’s involved in this case.”
Her gulp was audible from across the room. “Are they searching for him?”
“Not so much. Apparently Sebastian’s house burned down during the storm in a suspicious fire. In an odd coincidence, Sebastian had withdrawn all his money from two different banks that morning and wired it to an offshore account in the Cayman Islands. I think it’s more Sebastian’s body they’re looking for.”
And they weren’t likely to find that unless some old swamp rat caught Alfred. And his money was on the alligator.
She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What about Yvonne Dupre?”
“She turned up, sort of. She must have made it out of that cabin, because her body was found tied to a log. She had close to fifty thousand dollars stuffed into her blouse and pants pockets. Those waterlogged bills may have been part of the reason she drowned.” He tamped down a wave of guilt. He should have tried harder to make her come with him.
All the color drained from Gabby’s face and she sank into the nearest chair. She wasn’t going to faint on him, was she? He couldn’t catch her if she did.
“What’s going to happen to Jean-Paul?”
“He might be able to keep the money as long as no one claims it, but if the government decides it’s from the sale of drugs, that’s all she wrote. He’s shit out of luck. Most likely they’ll compromise, let him keep a pittance. He has a full scholarship and a house he could rent out. I’ll bet Sherri Lynn’s mother would jump on that now that she’s working full time. He’ll be okay.”
“Okay but without a mother or father.”
“She wasn’t that much of a mother, chère. I’m sure he loved her and it will be hard on him, but I’ve seen them together. They weren’t a close family.”
He studied her, sitting in the chair on the far side of the room instead of the one beside the bed. The pain in her eyes matched the one in his heart.
He could joke about her being a gun moll, but she wasn’t wired for this kind of life. The life he glimpsed every day in his job.
He took a deep breath. “Now it’s my turn. Here comes the sixty-four million dollar question. What about us?”
She glanced up, tears in her eyes. “Last time, we got pushed into something and I never trusted it. I can’t tell you what to do. I need you to tell me what you want without any pressure.”
He could only get turned down. How much worse could that be than never knowing? Although with his luck, knowing might be worse. “I want us to be together. With Guidry out of the picture, the sheriff’s job is open. We could live here and I could run for Sheriff.”
She started shaking her head before he finished talking and that hurt worse than Sebastian’s knife. “That won’t work,” she said.
“Okay, if that’s what you want.” At least he knew. And he’d take a knife to the back any day.
“You could never get the sheriff’s job. You’re still a newcomer and too many of Sebastian’s followers would resent you. Besides, the young deputy, Mercier, his father was Sheriff before Guidry. Now that he’s had a few years training, he’s planning to run for the office. And there’s one more thing.”
This was too confusing. Was she accepting or turning him down? He’d just had surgery, damn it. He wasn’t up to playing guessing games. “What’s the one more thing?”
“Adrienne. I don’t think she should live in Louisiana. Not after all that’s happened.”
Was she asking him to take Adrienne home to Houston with him?
“She claims the old man insisted the baby has special powers. I don’t know if that’s true, but after all we saw, I’m not willing to take a chance. I think he needs to be raised in a good, loving home with parents who understand and are willing to help guide him. I’ve talked to Adrienne and she agrees.”
“You want to do what the old man suggested and place Hakan with a voodoo family?” Not if he had anything to do with it.
“No. I want us to go back to Houston and take Hakan with us. You have a good job there. I could stay home and help raise him. Adrienne could go to school. We could be the family we never got the chance to be.”
All the shattered pieces of his heart flew back together. “And that’s what you want, with me?”
“Yes, with you. I was a fool when we were young, but I might have gotten a little smarter over the years. I’ve had my heart wrapped around you since I was sixteen. Nothing’s changed. If you’ll have me, I’d like to marry you and start over where we screwed up.”
A slow smile spread across his face. Maybe he wasn’t the unluckiest SOB in the world after all.
&nbs
p; If you liked Voodoo on Bayou Lafonte,
check out these other books from Susan C. Muller:
The Secrets on Forest Bend
Book 1 of the Occult Series
A detective discovers a crooked cop, an intriguing woman, and a vengeful ghost. Can he bring down the cop, win the woman, and destroy the ghost before he becomes the next victim?
The Witch on Twisted Oak
Book 2
Murder. Secrets. Revenge. Detective Ruben Marquez must use himself as bait to protect all he holds dear . . . his family, his career, and the mysterious witch on Twisted Oak.
Please turn the page to read Chapter 1 of Book 2.
Chapter 1
The full moon called her name with increasing urgency, but she didn’t move until the sounds of sleep-laden breathing filled the house. She padded silently across threadbare carpet. When she reached the kitchen, her steps echoed—click, click, click—against worn linoleum and she paused, but the rhythm of the house didn’t change.
She pushed through the small opening and the flap closed behind her with a soft swish.
Freedom.
Smells assaulted her from every direction and she quivered with excitement. Which way to go first?
The boxer next door had peed against the big pine tree again, and she released a few drops of her own to let him know she’d been by. The breeze wafted a new scent her direction and she stopped in mid-stream.
What was that?
Light spilled from the small building behind the house where the old people lived. Scents poured out that were both foreign and familiar. Smells weren’t good or bad to her, only something to be investigated, but that house reeked of sickness and she usually avoided it on her nightly romps.
Inside the building was a playground filled with sights and smells and objects she’d never encountered before.
She danced in circles and jumped from one piece of furniture to another with abandon. She rolled and squirmed and wallowed in every new scent. And they were all new and different and intriguing.
An object caught her eye and she batted it with her paw. It skittered a few feet and stopped. She tried again, but it refused to roll any distance. Maybe if she tossed it.
The taste was as new and fascinating as the smell. She shook her head and it flew in the air, landing with a solid thunk.
This was fun, but how much more exciting if she had someone to play with. The boy was always grumpy since he started changing into a man.
The girl. She’d play any time of night or day.
She flew across the street and through her opening, toenails first clacking on the linoleum, then falling silent on the carpet. The door to the girl’s room was closed, but she nudged it open, then bounded onto the bed, dropping her treasure at the girl’s side and nuzzling her face. The girl might not be willing to play, but was always ready to cuddle.
When the first scream pierced the night air, she leapt to the floor and cowered under the bed.
Ruben groaned and reached for the phone. The buzzing was bad enough, but the vibration against the unfamiliar table made his teeth hurt. He punched the ‘talk’ button automatically, and reached for a pen.
No pen, no paper, he couldn’t even find the damn light. “Marquez,” he mumbled, keeping his voice low. No sense waking—he glanced beside him—Cheryl, if he didn’t have to. Although there wasn’t much doubt he’d have to.
His eyes went wide and his heart lodged in his throat as he listened. Shit, that couldn’t be right. He must have misunderstood. “Did you say Twisted Oak?”
Speed was suddenly more important than silence.
His shirt was on, though unbuttoned, and he was searching for his other shoe when Cheryl turned over and moaned.
“What are you doing? You can’t leave now. Come back to bed. You promised to take me out to breakfast. We were going to spend the day together.” Her voice took on a demanding tone.
“I don’t have time to talk now. This is an emergency. I warned you when you invited me over I was on call and might have to leave on a moment’s notice. I’ll make it up to you later.” Not another scene. He couldn’t handle a scene after that phone call.
It never failed. The first week they were easy going, laughing. By the second week, their whole personality changed.
She threw a pillow at him. “You jerk. You probably paid a buddy to buzz you just to avoid taking me out.”
“Cheryl, honey, please. I have to go, now.” He ducked as her phone sailed through the air toward his head.
“I’ll call as soon as I’m free,” he said. “I promise.” Would he? Yeah, but not with the message she wanted to hear.
He scooped her phone off the floor and tossed it beside her on the bed as he hunted for the door, a sliver of moon the only light. A string of curses followed him into the hallway.
His phone buzzed again as he reached the street. No need to check the readout. He knew who it was. “Yeah, I’m on my way.”
“Where are you?” His partner’s familiar voice sounded distant in the cold night air.
“Almost to Texas City. Where are you?”
“At home. Where else would I be at three in the morning when we’re on call?”
“You might have had a date.” Ruben clicked his key fob and his car lights blinked twice, half a block away.
“Yeah, right. And if I did, I’d of had enough sense to bring her to my place, not drive thirty miles away from Houston.”
“Sure, because leaving women alone at your house has worked out so well for you in the past.” This time last year, Adam would have been out every night, on call or not. When had he turned into such a model of respectability? When he met Jillian, that’s when. Adam wouldn’t hesitate to trust her alone in his house.
His car started with a roar and he pealed out. “Quit bitching at me and get moving. Did you see the address?”
“I recognized it, and I’m already on the road.” The siren’s wail came through Ruben’s phone. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Whatever it is, you don’t have to worry. I’ll make sure she’s safe until you get here.”
Ruben flashed his badge and a young officer lifted the crime scene tape. Red and blue flashing lights made crossing the uneven grass tricky, but he knew every obstacle by heart.
A news crew called out to him, but he ignored them, even though that was dangerous. Vindictive jerks. They could make a guy look bad and screw up a case if you got on their wrong side.
“Over here.” His partner’s voice came from the shadows of the yard next door.
“Adam.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “What do you know?”
“She’s fine. Didn’t even wake up until I got here to check on her. I had to pound on the door to get her attention.”
Asleep? Not likely. No one had ever slipped into that house, day or night, without Mamacita knowing. When Julio stayed out too late, he got a friend to drop him off a block from home and walked the rest of the way. He crawled through a window only to find Mamacita waiting for him.
Mamacita would never sleep through any commotion next door. If she didn’t answer Adam’s knock, she was on the phone, checking with the neighbors.
Adam pointed to the house behind him. Jack-o’-lanterns, skeletons, and fake spider webs filled the yard. “The body’s over there. The owners turned the garage into a big, one room apartment.”
Ruben noticed the crime scene techies for the first time, swarming in and out of a dilapidated building that had once been a two-car garage.
“Do you know the people who live here? Or the woman they rented to?” Adam had his spiral notebook out, pen at the ready.
“The Villarreals? Sure, I’ve known them all my life. They’re so decrepit now the neighbors all pitch in to take care of them. But when I was growing up, mi Dios, y
ou didn’t want to mess with them. Vincente broke their window one time and the old woman had him doing chores for a month. And that was after he’d paid for the repairs. I don’t have any idea who they rented to. Didn’t know they had rented to anyone.”
“Detective Campbell?” A uniformed officer cleared his throat and stammered, “Th-there’s a woman over here that’s demanding I let her through. Says she’s Detective Marquez’s mother.”
Adam glanced at Ruben and grinned. “I told her to stay put. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”
“Tell her I’ll be right there,” Ruben said before whirling back to Adam. “Bring me up to date fast. I won’t be able to put her off for long.”
Adam checked his spiral. “Victim’s a Hispanic female, late forties. Someone took their time with her. There’s a shit load of blood and a few parts missing. Whoever did this was plenty angry about something. Unfortunately, the homeowners didn’t hear a thing.”
“Of course they didn’t. They’re both older than God and as deaf as the devil.” Ruben raked a hand across his chin. He should have taken the time to shave. He’d hear about that from Mamacita.
Adam continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “The victim’s only lived here a month, maybe less. The Villarreals report steady traffic in and out, but there’s no sign of drugs. Looks like she was some type of psychic. ”
“Not a very good one if she didn’t see this coming.” How long had it been since he’d dropped by the house? No more than two weeks. He hadn’t noticed anything strange and Mamacita hadn’t complained. “Do we have a name?”
“We have lots of names, that’s the problem. We don’t know which one is real. If any of them are. Yolanda Garza is the one she used when she rented the room.”
Voodoo on Bayou Lafonte Page 27