One Tough Texan

by MJ Rodgers

  He sent her a scowl and she sent him one right back. Damn him. Well, there went all her good intentions. Rough edge, nothing. This man was a full-fledged, prickly cactus.

  Jamie had never sought anyone’s approval before. Why did she keep trying to be friends with Matt? And why did it bother her so much when she failed?

  MATT’S ANGER KEPT licking at him all the way through the flight to New Orleans. Jamie ignored him, her nose stuck in the latest John Grisham thriller she’d purchased at the airport.

  The polite professional distance he’d been working at so hard just wasn’t working.

  As much as he tried, he couldn’t refrain from trying to find out what she thought of him. When he heard the warmth of approval in her voice when she finally described him as a big chunk of Texas sky and earth, it had nearly stopped his heart

  He never imagined she’d ever noticed him in any way or with any warmth.

  For one wonderful moment she’d fooled him into believing that she might have thought of him as someone special. That would have meant so much to him. He wanted to be someone special to her because she was someone real special to him.

  But she hadn’t thought of him that way. It had all been just a conversation piece. To make him smile.

  Well, he wasn’t smiling.

  Anger was a good shield to disappointment. Matt wrapped it tightly around his thoughts. Way he figured it, he needed all the protection from Jamie that he could get.

  It was just about fifty miles from the Moisant International Airport in New Orleans to the north shore and the Lagarrigue home. Matt drove through rolling hills and past cypress swamps, wisteria, palmettos and trees dripping Spanish moss.

  “This is pretty,” Jamie said. It was the first thing she’d said to him in over three hours. Matt tried not to feel so happy to hear the husky sweetness of her voice again.

  “Have you seen Louisiana before?” he asked.

  “The coast, when there was an oil spill in the gulf. I was with a team that was fixin’ to evaluate the impact on the waterfowl. This looks like something right out of a book. Why these trees are so thick sometimes you can’t even see the sky.”

  “Just as well. It’s coming up a cloud.”

  “It is a mite sticky. So, is the plan that we just drive up to the house and knock on the door?”

  There was an eagerness in her voice. She was fingering the large, gaudy locket that she’d been wearing that day she came to his office. And every day since.

  “That’s the plan,” Matt said, feeling torn. On the one hand, finding this guy was what he’d dropped everything else to do. On the other, he still had a big problem with getting her together with this lost love.

  “After the way Erline spoke to me on the telephone, I’m not sure she’ll even open the door to us.”

  “I’ll talk us inside,” Matt assured.

  “And how are you going to do that?”

  “Private investigators are good at that sort of thing.”

  “It would sure solve a lot of problems if Tony were there.”

  “Seeing as how he’s thirty, I rather doubt he’s still living with his folks.”

  “Cade and Liz still live out at the ranch with your mama and daddy.”

  “Yes, but the ranch is a business to them, as well as a home. Besides, the separate wings that have been added on are more like separate houses.”

  “That being the case, why did you move out, Matt?”

  “I’m not fond of commuting.”

  “But your business wasn’t even started up before you took off for San Antonio.”

  “This is the house,” Matt said, avoiding a response.

  He pulled up in front of a comfortable-looking home sitting on half an acre on a tree-shaded corner lot. They walked up the long pecan-tree path to the door. Matt knocked on the screened-in porch.

  A tiny gray-haired woman who looked to be somewhere in her fifties came out of the house a moment later. She squinted up at Matt through the screen as she dried her hands on a dish towel.

  “Something I can do for you folks?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Matt said. “We’re looking for Erline Lagarrigue.”

  “You found her. And who might you be?”

  “My name’s Matt Bonner, Mrs. Lagarrigue. I’m a private investigator.”

  “Matt Bonner?” Erline got on her tiptoes to squint up at Matt some more. “You’re that fellow who has that TV show?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m not wearing my glasses or I would have recognized you right off. Ought to, seeing as how I watch your show all the time. Well, Matt Bonner here. Imagine that.”

  “Can you spare us a moment of your time, ma’am?”

  “Since you come all this way, I guess you got something important to say. Step on inside.”

  Erline unlatched the screen door and gestured Matt and Jamie through the entry into a large living room.

  Matt’s mama had been collecting antiques all her life.

  Which is why he knew the leaded-glass table lamps he walked past, as well as the cherry candle stands on which they sat and the sidechairs that surrounded them, were all extremely valuable.

  He stepped carefully, just as he had done growing up, as if he were moving through a field of land mines.

  “Make yourselves to home while I go look for those pesky glasses,” Erline said bustling out the room.

  Matt was relieved to see that there was a couch in the living room that had a sturdy look to it. As he made to take a seat on the end opposite to the one Jamie was heading for, he noticed the unopened mail on the Chippendale tea table.

  Sitting just behind a telephone bill from South Central Bell and a letter from the Heritage Antiques and Collectibles Company was a pair of glasses.

  Matt picked up the glasses and studied them. They were bifocals, with strong lenses both top and bottom. Matt wondered how Erline saw at all without them.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, I believe I’ve found your glasses,” he called out.

  Erline came bouncing in from the back room. “Well, saints be praised.” She took her glasses from Matt’s outstretched hand and set them on her nose. Her eyes grew enormous behind them as she looked up at Matt.

  “Now that’s a heap better. It’s great to have a clear view of this old world again.”

  “I can imagine it would be,’ ma’am,” Matt said, treating her to a smile. “Here, let me hold that chair for you.”

  Matt circled around to the back of the delicate antique chair that Erline was heading her behind toward and held it steady for her.

  “Much obliged, Mr. Bonner. Always such a pleasure to be around a mannered man.”

  Matt took the opposite end of the. couch, where Jamie was seated, and faced their hostess.

  “You come here because of my call to the station last night, is that it?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Lagarrigue. You spoke to Jamie here.”

  Erline looked over at Jamie and studied her face. Matt saw the sudden stiffening of her posture. Her arms hugged her sides as her hands folded tightly at her waist. Her tone was just as wooden as her body.

  “Oh, so that was you. I didn’t get a clear look at your face last night on account of I didn’t have my glasses then. But I’m telling you again. My Tony never went out to any dance with you, you hear?”

  “Mrs. Lagarrigue,” Man said, quickly interjecting, “why are you so sure of that?”

  Erline’s magnified bug eyes swung back to his.

  “Because my Tony was never in Texas a day of his life. He was born and raised right here in Louisiana.”

  “I…see,” Matt said, not really seeing but beginning to wonder. “Then you and your husband, Oscar, have never lived in Texas, either?”

  “’Course not. My granddaddy was a sharecropper on this land. My daddy bought it. My husband and I have lived in this house all our married lives.”

  “Yes, ma’am. If you don’t mind my asking, how old is Tony?”

  “Don’t m
ind at all. He’s thirty. Born December 3, 1967.” “And where is he now?”

  “Why, at work at the brewery in Abita, of course. Been there ever since he came out of high school.”

  “And your husband?”

  “Working right alongside him. I have to tell you when I heard you saying last night that this woman was looking for Tony Lagarrigue, son of Oscar and Erline Lagarrigue, you gave me quite a fright, even though I knew right off it weren’t true.”

  “I can understand how you’d feel that way, ma’am,” Matt said, carefully. “Do you have a picture of your son that I might see?”

  “There’s one right up there on that mantel. You just help yourself.”

  Matt retrieved the framed portrait that Erline had pointed to. He scrutinized it while standing by Jamie’s chair so that she could study it, too.

  “That’s me and Oscar and Tony,” Erline said. “Belinda—she’s Tony’s wife—is taking the picture. They were married last year. She’s going to be having my first grandchild soon. She called me up last night after hearing you talk about Tony. It upset her to think that some woman could be looking for him.”

  Matt skipped over the faces of Erline and Oscar to concentrate on that of their son, Tony. Other than the fact that Tony Lagarrigue possessed dark hair and eyes, he did not resemble the picture Jamie had given Matt at all.

  Erline would have obviously recognized this, too, if she had had her glasses on the night before when she was watching his show.

  “Ma’am, did your daughter-in-law mention the picture I ran with the story?” Matt asked.

  “She said it didn’t look at all like Tony, which was a puzzle to her—seeing as it’s his name and all.”

  Jamie rose from her chair. “Mrs. Lagarrigue, Belinda didn’t recognize Tony’s picture because it wasn’t a picture of her husband. I apologize to you for any distress my appearance on Mr. Bonner’s program has caused you or your daughter-in-law. You are quite right, of course. Your son never took me to a dance. I’ve never even met him.”

  “Well, then, why did you say you had?”

  “It was a case of mistaken identity, ma’am,” Matt said as he returned the picture to the mantel. “We’re not looking for your son. We’re looking for someone else.”

  “Another Tony Lagarrigue? But you said Tony’s mama and daddy were named Erline and Oscar!”

  “I regret any misunderstanding, ma’am. I will be sure to broadcast on my next Wednesday show that the staff at ‘Finder of Lost Loves’ is not looking for Tony Lagarrigue of Louisiana. How does that sit with you?”

  Erline’s ruffled feathers appeared to be dampening down some. Her hands came unclasped from around her waist. “You’ll say it wasn’t my Tony? You’ll make it quite clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Quite clear. Simply a mistake.”

  “Well, now, I suppose that mistakes do happen.”

  Matt sent her another smile. “That’s right understanding of you, ma’am. Much obliged.”

  Erline actually smiled back. Matt took hold of Jamie’s arm and made a quick exit.

  “This makes no sense at all,” Jamie said with a voice full of disappointment, when they were in the car and back on the road.

  Matt turned to look at the haunted expression on her face.

  He turned his eyes back toward the road.

  “You’ll feel better after a good lunch,” he said. “There’s an old plantation house on the bayou, just a mile or so from here, that’s been converted into a restaurant. It’s a picturesque step right back into the past with lots of high-octane seasoning and wrought-iron railings. Better yet, it’s the best little eat ‘em up in this particular part of Louisiana.”

  “You seem to know this area well. When were you here last?”

  “Couple years ago.”

  “A case brought you here?”

  “Yes.”

  “But your practice is in San Antonio.”

  “P.I.’s get around.”

  He felt her eyes studying his profile again. He could always feel when she did that Each time he wondered what she was seeing, thinking. Each time he told himself it was better he didn’t know.

  A couple of fat raindrops hit the windshield just as Matt pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. They raced to the entrance, just making it in time before the deluge broke out from above. A chubby-faced woman wearing a happy smile showed them to a corner table right off the balcony on the second floor. From it, Matt could hear and smell the rain coming in through the open windows.

  He ordered the homemade gumbo without looking at a menu. Jamie followed his lead. It was full of French roux, African okra, American Indian filé, Spanish peppers, Cajun sausage and burned his throat as only real good gumbo could.

  He was so intent on the food that it wasn’t until he was half through that he noticed Jamie had only taken a few bites.

  “Not to your taste?” he asked, realizing that it would disappoint him if she didn’t like it.

  “No, it’s perfectly good. I just can’t figure out what’s going on. That picture of Erline’s son looks nothing like the Tony I knew.”

  “What about Erline?”

  “She’s nothing like the Erline Lagarrigue I met, either. I know it’s been fifteen years and folks do change, but no one could change that much.”

  “What did the other Erline look like?”

  “She was tall, lots of pretty red hair, big boned. And as you saw, this Erline is small.”

  “And the other Oscar?”

  “He was nothing like the picture Erline showed us of her husband. Tony’s daddy was more like Tony, dark haired and slender. This is definitely not the Lagarrigue family that was in Sweetspring, Texas fifteen years ago.”

  “So it would seem.”

  “But how many thirty-year-old Tony Lagarrigues can there be with a mama and daddy named Erline and Oscar?” Jamie asked, mirroring Matt’s thoughts closely.

  “I’d say the unusualness of those three names appearing together narrows the pickings down a piece.”

  “I don’t know what to make of this, Matt. The strongest lead I had on Tony was his name and that of his folks. I was so sure they were Oscar and Erline. Did I remember wrong?”

  Matt hated hearing the tone of defeat in her voice. He was suddenly overcome with a strong need to take it away.

  “We’ve hit a dead end here,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean we won’t spot another trail up ahead. Don’t worry. I’ll find this Tony for you. In the meantime you might as well eat that gumbo, because it’s going on my expense account for this trip.”

  Her eyes met his and she smiled. “That’s about the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Matt Bonner.”

  Her smile slipped inside him, warmer and more filling than any food. He wanted to reach across the table to touch those smiling lips. But instead he put a note of gruffness in his voice.

  “I didn’t know you’d be so pleased to be reminded you’re paying for this somewhat less than satisfactory excursion.”

  “Not that. It was the confidence with which you assured me that you’d find Tony. It sounded real good when you said it. I was getting discouraged.”

  “Oh, that,” Matt said, pretending not to know that was what she meant. “P.I.’s are trained to cheer up clients.”

  And then he concentrated on his gumbo, because he could feel her eyes were once again studying his face.

  WENDY MCCONNELL WAS not happy. Nope. Not happy at all. She glared at her husband, Jerry, across the table.

  And Jerry could feel that glare. He’d been feeling it for the past twenty-five years.

  “I really wish you’d put that newspaper down when I’m trying to talk to you.”

  Jerry McConnell knew there was no ducking it anymore. It had reached the stage where it would have to be dealt with if he was going to get any peace.

  He put down the paper and looked up at Wendy with as attentive a look on his face as he could manage.

  “I shouldn’t have listen
ed to you,” Wendy said. “I should have called that TV show the other night.”

  “Look, Wendy, we agreed. No more toll calls. Last month’s long-distance charges were more than the mortgage. And it wasn’t me on the phone to your sister half the day and night.”

  “Now, Jerry, you know Maddy’s been going through difficult times since her divorce. I’ve just been trying to be supportive.”

  “You should have sent her the money for a shrink. It would have cost less.”

  “You spend your share of the budget, Jerry. Don’t think I don’t know you got all those sports-bloopers videos in the mail last week. Forty bucks each. What a waste!”

  “Waste? They’re classics! And I don’t order them every month. They’re a one-time thing.”

  “And my call to that station would have been a one-time thing, too,” she retaliated. “I feel awful about not helping Jamie find her Tony. And I could have, too!”

  “It’s probably not even the same guy.”

  “Of course, it’s the same guy. I recognized his picture right away. You even agreed it looked exactly like him.”

  “A lot of people look like a lot of other people.”

  “But this one is her Tony. I just know it.”

  “What do you want to go getting involved for?”

  “Oh, isn’t that just like a man. If she were looking for some guy because he played wide receiver on some football team fifteen years ago, you wouldn’t have been able to rush to the phone fast enough.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the fact that it doesn’t touch you at all that this Tony made her life special by taking her to a dance and being the first boy to kiss her, does it?”

  “Damn it, Wendy. We’re not going to get into one of those conversations again, are we?”

  “We are already in one of those conversations again. I’m talking about feelings, Jerry. Those annoying little things of mine you do your best to ignore.”

  Jerry knew when he was licked.

  “Oh, all right, I give up. Go call the station. Stay on the phone an hour, for all I care. And when they deliver the next telephone bill in a truck because it’s so heavy with charges, you can get the loan from the bank to pay it.”