by Jana DeLeon
Richard shook his head at the question and clutched the roll bar of the jeep. His mind had been swimming with possibilities ever since Dorie had told him the story of her dad and Buster's past with Roland, and none of them were good. Further complicating the whole mess was the other lie that only he and her father knew about. Another lie that had been perpetuated for more than thirty years. What would stop the man from lying about everything? And how would they know when he was telling the truth?
What if the sheriff had been involved with Roland all along? What if the story he told about Dorie's "adoption" was just another lie created to cover up his part in Roland's drug trade? And how would Dorie feel if Richard was single-handedly responsible for taking down her father and her dad?
At least he no longer suspected Dorie of direct involvement with Roland, but the knowledge was poor consolation at best.
He blew out a breath and looked out over the bayou. So deceptively peaceful. The tide rolled gently out toward the gulf. The marsh grass swayed with the rhythm of the water with the sun reflecting down on it all, creating bursts of color. And in spite of the view, this sleepy little town held secrets no one could imagine.
All of which centered on Dorie Berenger.
He looked over at her and didn't like what he saw. Her face, usually flushed with anger or excitement, was unusually pale. There was no doubting the strain she was under. Not that he blamed her, but he was afraid it would take her edge off. And if her dad was dealing with Roland, they were going to need all the edge they could get.
It was long after midnight before they returned to Joe's house. Dorie and Richard found Buster's truck and trailer at Dorie's place, but the boat was nowhere in sight. And despite spending the remainder of daylight and half of the night in the bayous, they had come up with nothing. Joe dropped onto the couch in exhaustion, Dorie headed to the shower and Richard went into the kitchen for a much-needed beer. "Do you mind?" he asked.
Joe waved a hand. "Go ahead. Hell, bring me one while you're at it."
He nodded and carried two beers into the living room. Slumping into a recliner across from Joe, he tossed a beer over to him. "We should probably eat something. Last thing we need is a middle-of-the-night emergency on a stomach with only beer."
Joe nodded. "Yeah, and unfortunately, the odds of a middle-of-the-night emergency have increased dramatically ever since you came to town."
Richard blew out a breath. "I know. Damn, I never thought things would get this complicated. All these years, I've been chasing a one-dimensional criminal. I never considered how it might affect other people."
Joe nodded in understanding.
“I never even imagined that people, like the sheriff or Buster, could have been involved with someone like Roland." He ran one hand through his hair in frustration. "It's like a bad horror movie, with me starring as The Asshole."
Joe snorted. "No one's blaming you. It's true this town's been sitting on things that were best left sat on. But that's not the way life works. Life has a way of uncovering secrets, usually at the worst moment possible. How we choose to deal with them is what makes us better than those who kept them in the first place."
Richard considered Joe's words for a moment, then nodded. "Anyone ever tell you, Joe, that you're damn smart sometimes?"
Joe shook his head and smiled. "Not very often. I try not to let that information out."
Richard studied the man for a moment. "You've spent your entire life in Dorie's shadow, and it's never bothered you, has it?"
"No, it hasn't," he said immediately. "But then you know Dorie better than some people who have lived here all their lives. Would it have bothered you?"
Richard considered this for a moment. He thought about Dorie's dedication to the town and her family, her passion for the animals under her care and her absolute conviction for the truth, even at her own expense.
"No," he replied softly. "It wouldn't have bothered me at all."
The three were sitting down to a very late supper of grilled-cheese sandwiches and chips when the phone rang. Everyone jumped from their chairs, but Joe made it to the phone first and answered, almost breathless. Dorie watched his face for any sign of the information he was receiving, but quickly realized the call had nothing to do with her dad. Joe's expression went from expectant to exasperated in under two seconds.
"It's Maylene," he said, putting his hand over the receiver. "She says the boats are out making noise again." He moved his hand. "I'll be out there in twenty minutes or so to take care of the problem."
A burst of sound came out of the receiver that Dorie could hear clearly from where she stood. Joe put his hand over the phone again and looked at Dorie. "She wants you specifically. Do you want me to tell her you're not available?"
Dorie sighed. "No. I'll probably never hear the end of it since she's already complained once and apparently is still hearing things. I'll take a ride out there. It's probably nothing."
"Nothing a decade of coffee drinking couldn't fix," Joe agreed and told Maylene to expect Dorie shortly.
Richard rose from the table and followed Dorie to the front door. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked.
"With you," he said. "You're not going anywhere alone. That was the agreement."
She sighed and motioned to Joe to hand her what was left of her sandwich. "At least eat on the way," she said to Richard. "This night has been far too long already and morning is coming up fast. Neither one of us can afford to be tired and weak."
Richard didn't even bother to argue. He grabbed his sandwich from the table and the two headed out the front door.
"Call if you need me," Joe yelled from the kitchen as the door slammed behind them.
The road to Maylene's house was much worse at night than during the day. At least during the day, Richard could see the giant holes coming. It was too damned late to be awake, and he was definitely not in any condition to see Maylene half-naked again.
Dorie swung into Maylene's driveway and parked in front of the house. Maylene was standing outside in all of her glory-and that was about it. Dorie tried to hold her laughter and Richard choked on the last bite of his sandwich, convinced that his mother was right when she said God had a sense of humor.
When Maylene saw the jeep, she hurried down the steps toward the driveway. No human being should have to suffer through watching this, he thought as her body bounced up and down. He was still trying to figure out what the hell she was wearing when she tripped on the last step and came to a rolling stop in front of the jeep. Dorie jumped out and peered down at her.
You all right, Maylene?" she asked.
"Oh, hell," Maylene replied. "I'm probably going to have to-redo-this wrap now. I bet it's all off-kilter."
Richard peeked around the other side of the jeep, still trying to decide what exactly was covering Maylene's rotund figure. Whatever it was, it was see-through, and although he had no idea what a "kilter" was, based on the display in front of him, he was pretty sure that it was off.
Maylene grabbed the front bumper of Dorie's jeep and struggled to her feet, wrenching the bumper off the jeep with a loud screech. "What in the world are you wearing?" Dorie asked, confusion mixed with aggravation written all over her face as she gazed from Maylene to her fallen bumper.
"It's Saran Wrap," Maylene replied, trying to smooth the sticky plastic back down over her mammoth thighs. "You don't think I keep this figure by just sitting around, do you? I wrap up at least three times a week. It sweats off the fat and keeps me lean and sexy."
Richard took one look at the expression on Dorie's face and was pretty sure she wanted to shoot Maylene. Hell, he kind of wanted to shoot her, too, but he didn't want anyone back in D.C. to get wind of his presence at the Saran Wrap parade.
Dorie shook her head and looked around in the darkness. "What about the noise, Maylene? I don't hear anything."
"There was noise all right," Maylene said indignantly. "I called just after it started. And I went light on the bre
w tonight, so I know what I heard."
"Ummhmm," Dorie said and looked skeptical. "So what direction was this noise coming from?"
"Up"
"Up?" Dorie repeated.
Maylene nodded rapidly, the Saran Wrap starting to droop under one of her chins. "Up. And I got to thinking. Maybe it wasn't boats. Maybe it was a plane."
Dorie nodded her head and sighed. "I'm sure that was it. It was a plane." She looked up at the sky. "Doesn't appear to be around any longer. I'll have to check with the airport in Lake Charles tomorrow morning."
Maylene blew out a breath. "Well, if that's the best you can do."
“That’s it."
"Then I guess I'll be going on back inside. I gotta redo this wrap and that takes time." She looked over at Richard, who was still wisely crouching alongside the jeep. "Unlessin' of course, you'd like to help me out." She gave him a sexy smile. “But then with a man like you around, I wouldn't be so much interested in putting stuff on as I would be taking stuff off."
Richard held back a smile. You had to hand it to the old girl for persistence. "Sorry, Maylene, but I'm dreadfully allergic to plastics. Can't even carry a sandwich in a baggie or I break out in a huge rash when I eat it. it's a very rare but serious disorder."
"Hmmm," Maylene said and put her hands on her hips. "Guess there's no use having you around me if you can't touch anything good. I'll catch up to you once I've been through the shower a couple of times.” She glared once more at Dorie, gave Richard her version of a sexy smile and turned around, Saran Wrap in tow.
Dorie grinned and picked up her bumper, tossed it in the back of the jeep, and climbed in the vehicle. Richard jumped in beside her, still shaking his head. "That woman is a detriment to-society."
Dorie laughed and put the jeep in gear. As she backed out of the driveway, she turned and looked at him, still grinning. "You sure you don't want to stay? I could pick you up a box of Benadryl for those allergies. Look what you're turning down."
He knew he shouldn't have, but he looked. God help him, he looked.
Maylene started up the stairs, all the wrap that used to cover her behind hanging just below her cheeks. At that very moment, the clouds cleared and he found himself staring at the biggest, whitest butt he'd ever seen in his life-with more wrinkles than a Shar-Pei.
"I'm sure," he said, slamming his eyes shut. "I may need counseling after this. There has got to be something you can arrest that woman for."
Dorie laughed again and began the bouncing journey back up the road. "People in Gator Bait know better than to go around Maylene. Unfortunately, it's my job."
Richard shook his head and looked out of the jeep into the black sky. "What do you think about the plane idea?"
“I don't think about it at all. She's drunk. That's all there is to know."
He was silent for a moment. After all, Dorie wasn't exactly wrong-Maylene was drunk. But for some reason, her complaint still bothered him. He had that nagging feeling in the back of his mind that something important was happening. "I don't like it," he finally said.
Dorie stared at him in obvious surprise. "You're serious? Two weeks ago Maylene Thibodeaux called and reported a Mardi Gras parade passing by her house, complete with floats and a marching band playing 'When the Saints Go Marching In.' Does that sound reasonable to you? The woman is out of her head about ninety-nine percent of the day."
He shrugged. "Call it intuition. Hell, call it indigestion, but I think there's something to what she's saying."
"Okay. If you don't like it, we'll check into it first thing in the morning. Lake Charles should be able to tell us if anything showed up on radar, but they don't have anyone answering the phone in the tower until the morning shift comes on at six."
He nodded, studying the strained expression on her face. For the millionth time he hoped that the morning would bring news of the sheriff. The kind of news that didn't require an arrest warrant or a body bag.
Despite Richard's “feeling" about the plane and her own worry about her dad, Dorie insisted on going to sleep when they got back to Joe's. "There's nothing we can do about either of them right now," she said, "and I'm too damn tired to think anymore."
Richard pulled her close and kissed her gently, wrapping his arms around her. "This will all be better tomorrow. I think it's all about to come to a head."
Dorie nodded and buried her head in his chest, relaxing for a moment in his strong arms, hoping his words came true and her dad came out of this alive. Finally, she pulled back and tried to smile. "We'll get on it first thing in the morning. But right now we've both got to get some sleep."
Richard nodded and gave her one more kiss, then trudged off to the living room couch, apparently too beat to disagree. Joe was already asleep, the cordless phone still clenched in his hand. Dorie pulled the phone from his grasp and placed it on the nightstand, then made her way to the guest room, where she collapsed on the bed, not even bothering to undress.
She awoke the next morning with a cramp in her shoulder and a pain in one foot, probably due to sleeping in her boots. Oh well, it cut down on getting-ready time. She stepped into the small bathroom and quickly washed her face and neck.
Richard was already awake when she walked into the living room, but not yet to the moving-around phase. "Morning," he said from his spot on the couch.
Dorie waved a hand in greeting and went to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee, then slumped into a chair in the dining room, still half-asleep, as Richard headed for the bathroom. The coffee was almost done brewing when Joe finally rose from the dead and made his way into the kitchen with a freshly showered Richard close behind.
"What's the plan for today?" Joe asked as he poured a large cup of coffee and passed the pot to Dorie.
"Not sure," Dorie replied and poured both herself and Richard a cup of the steaming brew. "I need to call Sherry and give her an update. Then we need to check the shrimp house and Buster's place again, although it will probably be a waste of time. After that, I guess the only thing to do is start questioning every damn person in town about seeing Buster or my dad yesterday. There's no way they made it out of Gator Bait without someone seeing them. It's just a matter of finding the right person."
"What about the plane?" Richard asked.
Dorie sighed. "You and that damn plane. I'll call over to Lake Charles and see if anything passed on radar during the night."
"What plane?" Joe asked.
Dorie rolled her eyes. "The one Maylene says she heard. The one Dick thinks she heard."
Joe raised his eyebrows. "Not very likely, but I guess we ought to check it out. Was she drunk?" He waved a hand in the air in dismissal. "Never mind. Stupid question. Was she dressed?"
Richard choked on his coffee and Dorie had to smile. "Kinda," she said as she walked out of the room to get the phone, "but I'll let Dick tell you about it. I've got some phone calls to make."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dorie picked up the cordless phone in the bedroom and dialed the retirement center. She knew it was stupid, but she didn't feel like making the call in front of Richard and Joe, even though she knew Sherry wouldn't have anything to report. Sherry answered on the first ring and confirmed her thoughts. There had been no sign of the sheriff or Buster.
Sherry had spent most of the previous day questioning everyone in the center and found two residents who had seen the sheriff leaving with Buster, but neither man mentioned where they were going, and the residents hadn't asked. Dorie hung up the phone in disgust. What ever happened to nosy old people? First time she needed them to be in her business, they didn't know a damn-thing.
She lifted the phone again, dialed Information, and asked for the number to the Lake Charles airport. While waiting for a connection, she walked slowly back into the living room. It was almost a minute before someone answered and a little bit longer than that to transfer her to the air traffic division. Finally, someone picked up.
"Traffic, this is Larry."
"Hi, Larry,
this is Deputy Dorie Berenger of Gator Bait. We had a noise complaint last night after midnight. Lady says a plane passed over her house. Mind you, this particular lady starts happy hour somewhere around nine A.M., but I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't at least ask. Is that something you can check on for me?"
Larry laughed. "Sure, I can check. I wasn't on shift last night, but there will be a log. Let me take a look."
She heard paper rustling and a couple of seconds later the man was back on the phone. "Yep. Looks like you had a pass-over at about 12:20 A.M. No one contacted us establishing a flight pattern, so I can't give you any information on the plane."
“It didn't land in Lake Charles?" she asked, a bit confused. Richard sat up straight on the couch and looked expectantly at her.
"No way," Larry said. "We'd have the info if it had. It looks to me like it came in from over the gulf and headed back out the same way after circling. Kinda strange, but we get a lot of rich, bored people playing with private planes. That's probably what it was."
"Hmmm, maybe so," she said, even though the explanation didn't sit right on her.
“Let me know if you have any other complaints. If it keeps occurring, we'll look into it. We don't like unestablished flight patterns over the gulf with all the choppers coming in from the oil rigs. That's a recipe for disaster."
"I'll be sure to tell you if it happens again. I had one complaint before, but I can't say for sure if it was the same problem."
"Same happy lady?" Larry asked.
"Yeah. Same happy lady. Thanks for the information, Larry. I'll get back to you if I hear anything else."
Frowning, she hung up the phone. "Well, Maylene's not crazy. At least, she wasn't last night," she said, then relayed the rest of the information Larry had given her.
"Is that our drug drop?" Joe asked. "I know we've been thinking about boats, this being the heart of the shrimping industry and all, but a plane's not a bad idea. Especially if the drop is in a fairly isolated spot." They both looked at Richard.
