Bayou Bodyguard

by Jana DeLeon

  “Thanks,” she said, and occupied herself with adding sweetener to the coffee.

  “I guess I don’t have to tell you that today’s a bust. This storm is supposed to continue until evening.”

  “Since it’s been coming down like that all night, I kinda figured.” She took a sip of her coffee and tried to sound normal as she delivered her next statement. “Unless you need me for anything around here, I thought I’d drive into New Orleans. There’s a couple of things I’d like to check up on.”

  Brian looked across the counter at her and nodded. “Did you find a lead in the diary pages?”

  “I’m not sure. Their thinking is so different than mine that I’m afraid I might miss something important. I want to talk to a woman I know about some of the old ways.”

  “A voodoo woman?”

  “A priestess, actually.”

  Brian raised his eyebrows. “I thought you didn’t believe in the old ways?”

  “I don’t hold much stock in them, but Marilyn Borque did. I want a second opinion on how the emeralds would have been bound. I won’t reveal the actual situation or the location, of course.”

  “No, of course not. Well, if it helps you decipher the past, I’m all for it.”

  Justine’s shoulders relaxed and she realized how tense she’d been. “What will you do?”

  “Get a better patch job on the window and see about getting a new one. Maybe visit our friends at the café and see if I can learn anything more about the locals. I think someone in Cypriere is behind the things happening. I’m going to have John start running some background checks on a few of them—maybe help me come up with a motive.”

  “Did you ask John about the paperwork from Wheeler’s office?”

  “Yeah. He’s supposed to scan the documents first thing this morning, and email them all to you.”

  “Great. Maybe if I finish up early with the priestess, I can swing by the library and do a little research based on Wheeler’s documents. I may be able to find a starting point with some surnames…help narrow down your list of suspects for John to check on.”

  “I appreciate anything you’re able to find, but don’t let it distract you from your real work. I can handle the protection duty.” He looked a little embarrassed. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, given that you’re been attacked twice on my watch—”

  Justine waved her hand to cut him off. “I don’t think anything like that. You can’t prepare for everything that can happen. No one could have known that we’d run into so much adversity from the very first day.”

  “No,” Brian agreed, although he still didn’t appear overly convinced. “But that first attack should have put us on high alert. I think we’ve both been lax about our safety.”

  “If someone wanted me dead,” Justine argued, “I already would be. You know that. I think he’s just trying to scare me.”

  “For now. But if he doesn’t succeed…”

  “I’ll just have to work faster. Maybe the priestess will be able to give me more direction—save me some time.” She rose from the stool, still clutching her coffee. “I better get ready and get on the road. I figure the drive may take a while, with the storm.”

  Brian nodded. “I’m going to pay a visit to the café. Drive safe.”

  “Count on it.” Justine left the kitchen and headed into her bedroom. She glanced at the window and saw the plastic peeking out from behind the drapes. She pulled on a pair of jeans, a long-sleeve T-shirt and her tennis shoes, then grabbed her car keys.

  Brian was already gone when she left the rental house. As she drove down the narrow road, she hoped that the information from Wheeler’s office gave her the answers she sought, but at the same time she was afraid it wouldn’t be the answers she wanted.

  THE CAFÉ WAS about half-full when Brian stepped inside. No surprise, really, given the weather. A lot of people were probably taking a weather-related holiday. He slipped onto a stool at the bar next to Chris Pauley, the guy who’d taken care of his tire problem. Chris didn’t even look up as he took his seat, but Tom, the café owner, nodded briefly before turning back to the grill.

  “You still here, city boy?” Chris said, still looking down at his coffee. “I would have thought those slashed tires would be an indication that you weren’t wanted around here.”

  “It was an indication, all right. I just don’t care.”

  Chris looked up at Brian, an amused expression on his face. “Guess you got more money than sense, then.”

  “I’m here on business. The estate pays all my expenses, so I couldn’t care less about the cost.”

  “That right? Well, then, I’ll order some more tires like what you got, if you planning on sticking around awhile longer. Might see a sharp increase in my business that way.”

  Brian stared directly at Chris. “Careful, now. Someone might think you’re the one behind the problems if you’re the one profiting.”

  Chris leaned back on his stool, his face turning red with anger. “Are you accusing me of something?”

  Brian shrugged. “Do I need to be?”

  “You better check yourself, mister. You can’t come walking into town, swinging your weight around, and accusing decent hardworking people of such things.”

  “I wasn’t aware that I had.”

  “Well, see that you don’t.” Chris slid off the stool and tossed a couple of dollars on the counter. As he shoved his wallet in his jean’s pocket, he stared at Brian. “You might want to reconsider your current employment. Not everything can be replaced with money.”

  Chris whirled around and exited the café. The rest of the patrons pretended to be busy with their food and coffee, but Brian knew not a single one of them had missed a word of the exchange.

  Tom plated the food from the grill and passed the plates to Deedee, who scurried away, careful not to make eye contact with Brian. “You want coffee?” Tom asked.

  “Yes, please, and I’ll order breakfast here in a bit. I’m not quite ready to eat yet.”

  Tom poured a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter. “You got Chris pretty riled up.”

  Brian took a sip of the steaming liquid, then looked directly at Tom. “Really? Sounded like he was threatening me. Not the other way around.”

  “Well now, you might have hit on a sore spot with ol’ Chris. You ain’t the first person that’s accused him of breaking something so he could charge to fix it.”

  “Sounds like a real nice guy. I’m sorry I pissed him off.”

  Tom laughed. “I can tell you’re really tore up about it. Chris is all right for the most part. He’s just a little rough around the edges and a bit of a hothead.”

  Brian took another sip of coffee, carefully formulating his conversation in his mind. Chris Pauley had set off alarms since their exchange at his garage. If Tom was in a talking mood, Brian might be able to get information out of him as long as he didn’t ask the wrong thing.

  “What’s he got to be so angry about?” Brian asked. “This town seems nice, quiet…he’s got a good business going, with no competition. He probably fishes and hunts and there’s no shortage of that around here. Seems almost perfect for a simple life.”

  Tom nodded. “You’d be correct, sir. Cypriere is indeed the perfect spot for an outdoorsman looking to live quietly, but Chris always had ideas bigger than that. Wanted to own a car dealership in the city, not some garage in a town with a handful of people. ‘Delusions of grandeur’ my grandma used to call them.”

  “Seems like a big stretch,” Brian agreed, “from small-town garage to big-city dealership. That would take some serious cash. Does Chris have a millionaire relative with one foot in the grave?”

  “Hell, no. His granddaddy built that garage and it’s fed their family for three generations. There ain’t never been any millionaires in Cypriere except what lived at that hell house you’re here to work in.” Tom stopped talking suddenly, his brow wrinkled in concentration.

  “You know,” Tom continued, his voi
ce low, “back when that attorney was causing trouble, I saw Chris coming out from the road to the estate a couple of times. I asked him about it, but he called me a liar. I’m a lot of things, but blind and a liar ain’t two of them.”

  “You think he had some deal with the attorney and that’s how he was going to get the money?”

  Tom shook his head. “I don’t know, but something was going on. Something he didn’t want nobody to know, that was clear.”

  “Does he live close to the estate?”

  “Until a month ago, he lived in a room behind the garage. Bought my fishing cabin from me.” He frowned. “Paid cash, as a matter of fact. Twenty thousand in cash.”

  Brian tried to control his excitement. “Was your cabin in Cypriere?”

  “Sorta. It’s down the bayou, a ways from town. You can only get there by boat. There’s no road at all—just the three cabins stuck out there on the bayou. Great fishing. A man could literally live off the fish alone.”

  “Sounds like something I’ll be looking for soon,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Nothing fancy. Just something for a little weekend fishing and relaxation. I don’t suppose anyone else in that location is interested in selling?”

  Tom rubbed his chin with one hand. “There might be—”

  The bells above the café door jangled and Brian turned to see who had caused Tom to stop speaking. Sheriff Blanchard entered and slid onto a stool next to Brian. Tom’s gaze cut over to the sheriff and his mood changed completely. He stiffened and his expression became closed off.

  “Sheriff,” Tom acknowledged and then looked back at Brian. “You interested in breakfast yet?”

  “Yeah,” Brian said, disappointed that his bout of good information had apparently come to a screeching halt. “I’ll have the special, eggs scrambled.”

  Tom nodded and passed a cup of coffee to Sheriff Blanchard before turning to the grill. Sheriff Blanchard poured packets of sugar in his coffee and stirred. Finally, he took a big sip then looked over at Brian. “Saw you had a bit of trouble at the rental house.”

  Brian feigned ignorance. “What do you mean?”

  “Noticed the tarp on the window when I was making my rounds this morning.”

  “Yeah. Bad storm last night. Bedroom window started to leak a little.”

  Sheriff Blanchard narrowed his eyes. “Leaky window, huh? You don’t have anything to report to me?”

  “I wasn’t aware that old caulking was something the sheriff’s department looked into.”

  Sheriff Blanchard’s expression hardened. “If the problem was only old caulking then you’d be right, although I got the tools to loan you if you’re interested in fixing it. But see, old Ms. Bergeron, who lives next door to the rental, called me this morning and said she heard an alarm going off at the rental house right after the sound of breaking glass.”

  “Why, Sheriff, you sound concerned, especially for someone that didn’t want to believe anything was going on in your town.”

  “What’s going on in this town is you people have stirred up a bunch of bored kids who are making a mess and costing decent people money. Sammy don’t have the money to be replacing windows on his rental just because he had the poor judgment to rent to you.”

  “I’m sure the estate will be happy to pay for any repairs needed to Sammy’s property. You needn’t worry yourself over his potential loss, especially since it’s clear you’re not worried about putting a stop to these hooligans you blame for all the problems in this town. One might begin to question the parenting skills of the good people of Cypriere to have produced such monsters.”

  A blush crept up Sheriff Blanchard’s neck and onto his face. “Now see here. This was a quiet, decent town until that writer woman came here stirring things up. The only trouble this town has ever seen has come from that house, and when people let that relic sink into the bayou where it belongs, things will be right again.”

  “It’s just a house, Sheriff. Houses don’t throw rocks through windows trying to scare young women. You might want to pass around to those ‘kids’ that scare tactics only piss Justine off.”

  Sheriff Blanchard gave him a smug look. “If that’s so, then why did I see her driving out of town just a few minutes ago?”

  “She’s taking a trip to New Orleans, since the weather’s bad. A research trip. Maybe even a trip to the shooting range for practice. But don’t worry, she’ll be back by nightfall.”

  Sheriff Blanchard’s expression grew angry at Brian’s mention of the shooting range. Good, Brian thought. The implication hadn’t been lost on the man. Brian could see the sheriff’s jaw flexing and knew he was struggling with a response.

  Sheriff Blanchard rose from the stool and laid some money on the counter. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. That house is the root of all evil in this town, and the problems won’t stop until you leave it alone. You barge in here and disrespect the beliefs of the people here and you pay the price. There’s nothing I can do about that.”

  Sheriff Blanchard walked out of the café and into the rain, letting the door slam shut behind him. Brian turned back to the counter where Tom had placed his breakfast. “I’m making all kinds of people happy this morning,” Brian said.

  Tom stared out the plate-glass window of the café, his expression serious. “He’s right about one thing, you know.”

  “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

  “About you offending the people here by disrespecting their beliefs.”

  “Maybe if I understood exactly what beliefs I’m disrespecting, I could stop.”

  Tom shook his head. “Most every generation of people in this town for over one hundred years has believed the Borque estate was cursed. People believe no woman can occupy the house again without bringing the evil spirits back. I know the research woman is just here doing her job, same as the writer woman was, but them being here alone is enough to rile up the townsfolk.”

  “What are they afraid of?”

  Tom looked directly at Brian, a tiny hint of fear in his eyes. “According to legend, they’re afraid that those women will unknowingly unlock the gates of hell and that all of Cypriere will be swallowed up in its wake.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Justine dug into her purse with one hand, trying to find her ringing cell phone without taking her eyes off the road. The rain had lessened since she’d gotten on the highway, but it was still the sort of conditions that required attention. Finally, her hand found the cold metal piece and she pulled it out to check the display.

  Her mother.

  The one person in the world she least felt like talking to at the moment, and also the person she was on her way to see. The ironies of life. She didn’t want to deal with her but she needed her, as she had a million other times in her life. Maybe this time her mother would actually come through.

  Brian had seemed mildly surprised when Justine had told him she was seeking information from a voodoo priestess. She couldn’t help but wonder how much more surprised he’d be to find out that woman was her mother and she was locked away in an assisted-living center.

  She tossed the phone on the passenger seat. She’d know what her mother wanted soon enough. The exit for downtown New Orleans was just ahead, so she turned on her blinker and eased her car over to the exit. A million thoughts rolled through her head and none of them good. Dealing with her mother was never a straightforward process. It was always a guessing game to try and figure out how to coax information out of Ava, and then you had to decipher her ramblings into some sort of sense, if there was any.

  Justine pulled into the parking lot of the assisted-living center and parked in a space near the front entry. She took in a huge breath and let it out slowly before exiting the car and entering the center.

  The young receptionist smiled at her as she entered the lobby. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” the young woman said.

  “I’m working on a project out of town. I’m only back for the day. Has she been any trouble?”


  The receptionist waved a hand in dismissal. “Just being her usual self. I know it bothers you, but all of us here are used to it.” The girl stopped talking and frowned. “Although Hilda said she was pitching a fit something fierce yesterday.”

  “About what?”

  “About you. Probably a good thing you got a day off. Maybe seeing you will calm her back down.” She gave Justine an encouraging smile and pressed the buzzer to unlock the secured area.

  “Thanks,” Justine said, and stepped into the hallway. The door shut behind her and the sound of the lock clicking into place echoed in the stark white hall. She walked halfway down the hall and stopped in front of a closed door. Room number Twelve. Originally, Ava had been assigned room Thirteen, but she’d had such a breakdown when she saw the number printed on the door that the staff moved room Twelve’s original resident into Thirteen to make room for her mother.

  Steeling her emotions against the assault that she knew was coming, she opened the door and stepped inside her mother’s room. Ava sat in a rocking chair next to the window, staring outside at the rain. Her silver-and-black hair was long and wiry, giving her the appearance of the witches one read about in fiction. Justine had always thought that was intentional on her part. Her mother liked to have power over other people, even if through fear.

  Even though she was only fifty-six years old, Ava looked old enough to be Justine’s grandmother. Years of medical issues and drug abuse had aged her body. The gray hair had been there as long as Justine could remember, but Ava had never colored it.

  “Mother,” Justine said.

  She didn’t respond at first, and Justine wondered if she was asleep. It was odd to see, but her mother had the ability to sleep completely upright. It had unnerved more than one person in her lifetime. She stepped closer to the rocking chair and her mother slowly turned her head away from the window.

  “I see you finally remembered you had a mother,” Ava said, her voice low and raspy.

  “I told you I would be working out of town,” Justine reminded her. “My cell phone doesn’t get good reception there, especially on days like today.”