Not One of Us

by Debbie Herbert

  I’d been selected queen one year in high school. I smiled at the recollection of a happier time before Deacon’s disappearance. Dana and two other runners-up had been part of my court. The duties were fun, consisting only of dressing up in our sashes and tiaras for various town events.

  One thing our small town had going for it—we loved to celebrate old traditions. Our intimate connection to this remote land and the surrounding sea bound us together in a way many modern cities and their inhabitants probably didn’t experience.

  Even though the local fish processing plant was now our largest employer, nearly half of the town’s population was still made up of small, family-owned shrimpers. They embraced the challenge of netting the daily catch while the sun shone on them from above and the mysterious depths of the sea below tantalized them with its bounty and beauty. The occasional storm was to be expected alongside the peace and majesty of the sparkling vista.

  I’d tried to stay calm and focused at the barrage of committee members’ reminders—had I booked all the speakers and entertainers? Sent application forms to past vendors and boaters? Arranged for rental of all the needed equipment? Gently, I reminded them that this was my fourth year coordinating the event and that I had everything under control.

  Uncle Buddy, a commissioner and board member, had stealthily winked at me across the table. He knew me too well to be fooled by my strained smile.

  At last, Mayor Rembert clapped his chubby hands together. “Seems like everything is running right on schedule. Thanks, Jori. Our last meeting is scheduled for Thursday of next week. Let’s pray for fair weather.”

  “Amen,” several members mumbled.

  Last year’s Blessing had been a bit of a nightmare. It had rained the entire weekend. I’d managed to secure extra tents for vendors and moved the band from playing outdoors in the park to Broussard’s Pavilion, and to my surprised relief, the rain had little impact on the festivities. The crowd was huge and enthusiastic. Afterward, visitors and locals had assured me that nothing could dampen their enjoyment of the event.

  I’d never loved my hometown more.

  Thank heavens the meeting was over. I wanted nothing more than to return home and make sure Mimi and Zach were safe. As people shuffled out of the room, Rembert swaggered over and patted me on the shoulder. “Excellent job as always, Jori,” he boomed. He never seemed to talk in a normal tone of voice. It had the loud ring of a politician’s forced hardiness and cheer. “Heard you were staying in town awhile. Everything going all right with Oatha Jean and Zach?”

  “We’re fine,” I lied, feeling like nothing could be further from the truth. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Good, good.” His attention had already slid to someone else even as he responded. “Hey, Jeeter,” he said, extending a hand to a commissioner who’d arrived after the meeting had already started. “How you been doing these days?”

  Uncle Buddy slid into the vacant chair beside me and grinned. His tall frame and broad shoulders dwarfed the small chair. Sixty-six years old, and he had the physique and energy of a man half his age. Only the weathered lines on his face betrayed the depths of his experience.

  “You handled that well. As usual,” he said.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Secretly, I was relieved I’d pulled off a professional display of competency given my shattered nerves.

  “Don’t let all their questions get to you. They have to speak up and act like they’re paying attention and earning their pay.”

  “Our tax dollars at work,” I quipped, leaning back in my seat and running a hand through my hair. “It’s fine. They kept me on my toes and stopped me from worrying so much about . . . other things.”

  His grin faded, and his brows drew together in concern. “What troubles you? Is Oatha doing worse? Or is it Zach?”

  “Nothing like that. They’re both fine,” I assured him. “Guess you didn’t hear the news. We had a break-in yesterday at the house.”

  “Break-in?” His eyes widened and jaw slackened.

  “It’s okay. We didn’t encounter him. Nobody got hurt, and nothing valuable was stolen. It’s just . . . it’s scary to know someone sneaked in.”

  “I don’t understand. If no one saw him and nothing was stolen, how do you know someone broke in?”

  “They went through a bunch of my personal stuff and left a threatening message.”

  “Damn. What kind of threat? Did you report it to the police?”

  I started to wish I hadn’t brought up the subject. I’d been sure either Mimi or someone else had already mentioned it to Uncle Buddy. Word spread fast around the bayou.

  “Of course. Do you know Deputy Blackwell? She was helpful.”

  “Tegan? Yep. She’s good people. Went to school with her daddy.” He frowned and rubbed his stubbled jaw. “I don’t like the idea of y’all living so remote from everybody.”

  “It’ll probably never happen again. Just some sick prank.” I wished I could convince myself of that.

  “What kinda threat did they leave?”

  “Just something vague. Uncle Buddy, what was Jackson like?”

  “Jackson?” He snorted with surprise. “Why are you bringing him up?”

  I preferred not to tell him that I’d been snooping. No doubt he’d disapprove. “Simple curiosity. The Strickland murder got me thinking of him—that’s all.”

  He drummed his fingers on the table. “Your cousin was a challenging child for your aunt to raise. Always experimenting with drugs and defiant as all get-out.”

  “No one seems to have a good word about him. Was he that bad?”

  “Pretty bad,” he admitted grudgingly. “He’d been caught stealing a time or two, got in fights, that kind of thing. Hung out with the wrong crowd. I even heard tell he was dealing in drugs. Kid was heading down a bad path. I felt sorry for Tressie and Ardy.”

  Poor Jackson. No one had a good thing to say about him except for his mom. “Did Aunt Tressie ever talk to you about the adoption?”

  “Not really. If you’re asking if she was sorry she adopted Jackson of all people, then no, she never said anything like that. Never would. Tressie was blind to how seriously troubled Jackson had become.”

  Uncle Buddy had nothing to add to what I already knew. I gathered my notes together and slipped them in a folder. “So tell me, are all your rooms already booked for the Blessing?”

  The concern in his eyes instantly cleared, and a smile lit his craggy features. “Sold out weeks ago. Did I tell you we’re thinking of building more cabins out back? Business is great. Hunters are coming down from places as far away as Ohio and Pennsylvania.”

  “Always expanding. That’s terrific.”

  “Speaking of expanding the business, I have a proposition for you. How’d you like to come work for me full time after the Blessing of the Fleet is over?”

  The offer caught me by surprise. “Really? Full time?”

  “Absolutely. Along with the job, you’d get health insurance as well as sick and annual leave.”

  The mention of benefits made me suspicious. I regarded him with narrowed eyes, my pride on the defensive. “Are you offering me this just because you’re trying to help us out? We’re doing okay financially.”

  That was slightly stretching the truth. We got by, but barely. I’d have to decide soon about letting go of my apartment. I couldn’t keep it up while also helping out Mimi and Zach. If I needed to move here permanently, there was no sense paying rent in Mobile.

  Still, as much as the thought of stable employment with benefits enticed me, I hesitated. “Don’t you need to check with your partner?” I asked, hedging.

  “Already talked it over with Cash. He’s in one hundred percent agreement with me. This isn’t doing you a favor—you’d be helping us out.”

  “Do you do that many events? I can’t imagine it would take me forty hours a week to schedule them.”

  “You wouldn’t just be doing special events. My company needs marketing to draw more
hunters and other kinds of visitors. I was thinking that during the off-season, we could offer things like bird-watcher tours and wildlife adventure classes. That kind of stuff. Plus, you could help out with admin work if you had more time. Cash and I are a mess when it comes to keeping up with all the paperwork.”

  I was so tempted. Only the thought of giving up my independence reared its ugly head. This felt so permanent. But wasn’t it? I was only kidding myself that I could move back to Mobile and leave Mimi and Zach to fend for themselves. Especially not now after our home had been invaded. I’d once broached the idea of them coming to live with me in Mobile, and Mimi had laughed in my face. “I’ve lived here all my life. Ain’t got no plans to be leaving now.”

  Uncle Buddy nudged my arm with his elbow. “Besides, you’ll be working with family. No stress or mean bosses.”

  “If you’re sure . . .”

  “Positive.” He rapped his knuckles on the table and stood. “I know you’re tied up working for the city right now, but whenever you’re ready, come on by, and I’ll draw up the papers.”

  I also stood up. Any other time I’d have been thrilled with the offer, but after recent events, my joy was tempered. “Thank you, Uncle Buddy. I’ll work hard and do my best.”

  “I know that.” He cocked his head to the side and gave me a slow grin. “What kind of businesswoman are you? You haven’t even mentioned salary. What seems fair to you?”

  Mentally, I tallied my freelance income for the past year and quoted Uncle Buddy a number slightly under that amount.

  “We can do better than that.”

  “No, really. You don’t have to—”

  “Enough said. Come on—I’ll walk you to your car.”

  We walked down the marbled hallway and passed by office doors where county employees sat typing away on computer keyboards.

  “I appreciate what a help you’ve been to Oatha and Zach,” Uncle Buddy said. “You’re awful young to take on so much responsibility.”

  “Not a problem. They’re family.” I shot him a sideways glance. “And thanks for helping them out with the bills. Once I start working for you, I can take over.”

  “How are Oatha and Zach doing?” he asked, his face grave.

  “Zach’s as set in his ways as ever. If I deviate from his routine or don’t understand what he’s trying to communicate, he tells me, ‘Mimi knows.’ I worry how he’ll react if she goes into a nursing home one day.”

  He nodded solemnly.

  “I don’t know how much you realize it, since you don’t see her every day, but the moments of confusion have turned into minutes where she forgets who she is and what she’s doing. And typical Mimi. She refuses to admit how dire the situation is.”

  A wry smile lit his face. “Sounds like Oatha. She always was stubborn growing up. Mama used to despair of her. Said it would take a special man to put up with Oatha Jean’s bossy ways.”

  It was my turn to chuckle. “From what I hear tell, Big Daddy was a match for Mimi.”

  “Those two could fight dawn to dusk, but they were inseparable until Jimmy’s heart attack. Wish he were still around to take care of her.”

  “She’s got me now.”

  “My sister’s a lucky woman for that. Are you at the point y’all need a home health care worker? I can pay for what her Medicare doesn’t pick up.”

  “I’ll let you know when the time comes. Right now, we’re fine. The house isn’t much, but it’s paid for. Between my salary and Zach’s SSI, we should get by from here on out. More or less.”

  We exited the back door, which emptied into the parking lot. Sunshine slammed into me, the air thick and sticky with droplets of water that attached to my skin in a fine film. Uncle Buddy waved goodbye, heading the opposite direction. I’d made it halfway to my car when I realized I’d left my file in the conference room. I backtracked and returned to the building. Voices spilled from an open doorway in the hall. One was familiar. Their urgent tones swirled like a symphony in my mind.

  At the first open door on my right, Dana and a long-haired man in grungy clothes stood close together by the file cabinets, eyes locked. I stopped cold in my tracks at the tension crackling between them. Dana’s job as the mayor’s administrative assistant didn’t normally include speaking with people on courthouse business.

  “I’ve already told you everything,” Dana said with a hiss. “Why don’t you get a warrant and search his records?”

  The man shook his head, although I couldn’t see his expression since his back was to me. “I need something besides your suspicions. I need proof.”

  “Isn’t that like . . . your job?”

  “I’m trying. If you really want me to trust you, then—”

  From a connecting side door, Hank Rembert strolled into the room where the two were talking. Both of them abruptly halted the conversation.

  “So the driver’s license renewal is downstairs?” the stranger asked Dana, his manner as smooth as an oil slick.

  “Right. After you exit the elevator, turn to your left and follow the signs. Actually, I was leaving anyway. I’ll go with you.”

  Before they could turn and catch me eavesdropping, I hurried down the hall, heart skittering. What in the world had they been talking about? Search whose records? Was there a political scandal brewing in the bayou?

  Chapter 13

  TEGAN

  Only six days into my first murder case and I was more confused now than the day we discovered Strickland’s bloody corpse. What we’d initially suspected as a barroom fight that had carried over when the victim returned home didn’t hold water. Ray’s confrontation with Sims and his bully-boy friends hadn’t produced a valid suspect. Oliver theorized, and I agreed, that someone had been lying in wait for Strickland to get home from the bar that evening. While Oliver felt confident this was a drug-related crime, my meetings with Jori raised other possibilities in my mind. It couldn’t hurt for me to examine those possibilities away from Oliver’s scrutiny and disapproval.

  I wearily climbed my porch steps, wanting nothing more than a quiet evening at home reading over the Cormier file, but loud voices from the kitchen assailed me as soon as I opened the door.

  “Pepperoni and sausage,” Luke said. “Thick crust.”

  “No. I want onions and mushrooms,” Linsey insisted. “Thin crust.”

  “If you want vegetables, why don’t you just eat a salad?” he argued.

  I shut the door and sighed. You’d think twins would have similar tastes, but not these two. And special closeness? Forget about it. Ever since they’d turned thirteen, the two went at it regularly. Two years now of bickering. I crossed my fingers, hoping this was a phase about to end.

  Linsey turned to me and pleaded her case. “Mom, we had pepperoni and sausage last time. It’s my turn to get what I want.”

  A good mom would have fixed a nutritionally balanced meal for her family, something I hadn’t done for the past week. I’d been working almost nonstop, eager to prove myself on my first murder investigation. So, once again, I opted for the easy way out. “Call in one of each and have them delivered. And no more fighting, please.”

  Luke called in the compromised order. Appeased, Linsey plopped onto the sofa in front of the TV, shooting me a hesitant look full of hope and dread all at once.

  “Mom, have you thought some more about the dance next week?” she asked. “You’ve met Max. He’s been over here several times, and I know you like him.”

  Not that again. I rubbed my eyes, feeling too weary to make a decision. It was almost as if Linsey sensed this and homed in, ready to strike while my defense was down. I hated to keep outright denying her permission to go on a group date to a school function. After all, her sixteenth birthday was in less than two months anyway. I’d long promised her that she could begin dating at that age.

  Frankly, it scared the shit out of me.

  My protective mama-bear nature warred with my sense of fairness. Max had always been friendly and respectful whe
n over at our house. I’d even met his parents at a few football games, and they seemed perfectly normal as well. Neither of the parents, nor Max himself, had any kind of local criminal record. I’d secretly checked, not that my daughter knew that little factoid. It was one of the few perks of my job that I could make inquiries on my children’s friends. I felt no compunction to apologize for it.

  “Okay, okay,” I finally relented. Linsey’s face lit with excitement. “But you have to meet my conditions.”

  Her face fell. “Like what?”

  “Your brother goes in the car with you and Max to and from the dance.”

  Luke groaned from his position on the couch.

  “And you have to be home by ten o’clock,” I added.

  “Eleven o’clock,” she immediately countered. “All my girlfriends’ curfews aren’t until midnight.”

  “Ten thirty. Take it or leave it.”

  She scowled a moment and then nodded, her frown turning to a grin. “Deal.”

  Had I just been bamboozled? I shook my head ruefully. I couldn’t shelter my kids forever. It was a school event, and Luke would be around as their unwelcome chaperone. Just because I’d experienced that horrific experience at age sixteen, it didn’t mean that Linsey would meet the same fate.

  I needed to believe that. Or lose my mind with worry every time one of the twins left the house. It had been so much easier when they were little and content to stay home and play with their mother. I missed those days, hectic as they’d been, keeping up with their double trouble of mischief.