by Robin Caroll
“I told you not to panic. I’ll just see if we can pull a print off the bottle. We’ll see what comes up.”
“But…”
“What?”
“What if he’d been watching me before?” She spoke more to herself than to him. “What if he saw me with the paperwork and didn’t know I’d taken it into the house? What if that’s what he was looking for?”
“Tara?”
She jerked her gaze to his.
“What’re you talking about? What paperwork?”
Even in the rising sun’s dim light, he could see her cheeks turning pink. “Uh, just some work papers.”
“For the jazz club?” Now they might be getting somewhere. If she brought home some accounting paperwork…
“No. Personal.”
“But you said work stuff.”
She cocked her head. “Voodoo stuff, if you must know.”
He should’ve guessed. But something about her flaming face hit him funny. “What kind of paperwork?”
“Client details and stuff.” She squared her shoulders and huffed. So much for her being uncomfortable with his line of questioning. “Things you wouldn’t be even slightly interested in.”
“If it pertains to this case, then I’m interested.” He retrieved his flashlight and shone the light around the ground next to the bush.
“Thought you didn’t believe this was a case. You said there was no evidence of any foul play with Tanty or Grandmere.”
He snapped his glance to her. “I’m referring to this case. Here and now.” He looked at the ground around the bushes. Wait a second, was that a footprint in the ground next to the wall? Bending, he shone the light to the area right under the eaves. Sure enough, there was an imprint of what appeared to be a boot in the softer ground. He straightened and faced Tara. “Do you water around here?” The bushes sure didn’t look like she did, but the ground right next to the shed was softer, damp.
“I dump my excess liquid out the window.” She gave a sheepish shrug. “I like to think it makes up for not watering the plants as often as I should. Why?”
He couldn’t swallow back the smile. “Looks like it’s paid off. I found a footprint next to the bush.”
She took a step forward. He grabbed her elbow as gently as possible, remembering how she had pulled away the last time he’d tried to touch her. He softly tugged her back. “I need to photograph it.”
“Oh.”
He passed her the flashlight. “Hold this and stay put. I’ll grab my digital and be right back.”
All but sprinting to his truck, he retrieved his camera and hurried back to Tara. She hadn’t moved an inch, thank goodness. He carefully pushed aside the bushes and aimed the lens. “Can you shine the flashlight over my shoulder, please?”
He felt more than saw or heard her move closer. Her intoxicating perfume filled the air with a fresh spicy smell. The urge to take her in his arms rose. He shook off the thought and focused the camera. Just take the pictures. Gather the evidence and get out.
Click. Click.
He turned the camera and bent, taking pictures at different angles. Five, six more. His finger froze before he pushed it a seventh time. This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. Taking more pictures than necessary, just so he could keep Tara close. Stupid.
Straightening, he studied the print.
“What do you think?”
“Ah…” He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “Looks to be about a size eleven or twelve. Steel-toed.”
“How can you tell?”
He bent and pointed around the toe of the print. “See how this is a bit wider and deeper? Means it was heavier. Most people don’t walk on their toes. But steel toes mean more pressure at the top.”
She nodded and smiled. Was that admiration glistening in her eyes?
He needed to snap out of this crazy thinking. Taking the flashlight, he surveyed the surrounding ground. Not a single other print. “When was the last time you tossed something out this window?”
“Hmm.” She tapped a finger against her chin. “Last night when I finished brewing the heal—”
He hitched a brow when she didn’t finish.
“Last night. I mean, the night before Grandmere woke up. Came out of a coma. Whatever.”
What had she been brewing in her little shed? Something she didn’t want to share with the class, that much was certain. “So, whoever stepped here had to have done so within the past twenty-four hours.”
“I’d think so.”
He made a final notation in his notebook and glanced toward the house. A single light burned in the kitchen. “I’m assuming Jacks and Alyssa were fine.”
“They’re still asleep.” She brushed her hands over her shorts. “I don’t want to wake them. They’re exhausted.”
And Alyssa would probably still give Tara an earful. He couldn’t blame Tara for trying to avoid that. “Well, I’ll file my report and see what the lab can come up with on the bottle and footprint.”
She walked him to his truck. “I appreciate it, Sheriff.”
“You can call me Bubba, you know.” He hadn’t the first clue why those words had jumped out of his mouth. He certainly hadn’t intended to say such a thing.
She smiled. “I think I’d rather call you Sheriff.” She turned and took two steps toward the house before glancing back over her shoulder. “Or René.” She winked before opening the door and sliding inside.
He froze. Her soft chuckle drifted to him on the morning breeze. What was he getting himself into? Lord, give me wisdom here.
Godly Women.
Morning sunlight peeked around the curtain, filling the kitchen with light as Tara rubbed the edge of the business card. She couldn’t stop wondering if Suzie was connected to this whole thing. She wanted to call and ask her, but what would she say? Maybe it was a crazy idea born of no sleep because of the events of the night before. And why on earth had she winked at Bubba, actually winked at him?
Back to Suzie and the business card. Alyssa and Jackson were at the airport picking up CoCo and Luc, so they weren’t around to ask any questions. But how could she broach the subject with Suzie?
She could just call this number for Godly Women and thank them for the meals, yes? Ask to speak to Suzie, since she gave Tara the card? She’d just be extending good southern manners.
Tara headed upstairs to her bedroom, still gripping the card. She picked up the phone and pressed the numbers.
One ring.
Even her sisters couldn’t fault her for this fishing expedition. Just being polite.
Two rings.
Okay, so she still had no clue what she’d say if Suzie actually answered. “Hey, did you ever try to get Tanty Shaw to handle a private female problem for you and then poison her and my grandmother?” just wouldn’t be polite.
Three rings.
What was she doing calling? She had no business contacting Suzie. It probably wasn’t even the same woman from Tanty’s client list.
“Hello.” The female voice came out breathy. “Godly Women.”
Tara’s hand clutched the receiver.
“Hello?” the voice said again.
“Uh. Suzie?”
“Yes, this is Suzie. Who’s this?”
Her greatest hope and biggest nightmare, all rolled into one. “This is Tara LeBlanc.”
Silence.
“Marie LeBlanc’s granddaughter.”
“Oh, yes. We heard the news about Marie. It’s a miracle from God.”
Yeah. Sure. Right. “It’s great news.”
“Is there something specific we can pray for you, Tara?”
Please, no. “Actually, I wanted to thank you for the casserole y’all sent over. It was delicious.” How lame could she sound?
“You’re most welcome. We’ll be bringing more over this evening, as well. I understand your sisters and brothers-in-law are now staying with you?”
News traveled fast in such a small community. “Yes, they’ll all be
here tonight.”
“We’ll make sure to bring two casseroles. I know how men eat.” Suzie’s laugh rang false in Tara’s ear.
This could be perfect. “Will you be delivering them?” Tara held her breath.
“I don’t think so. I believe Evelyn is assigned supper tonight.”
So much for wishful thinking. “Oh. I’d really like to talk to you a bit, if I may.”
All traces of laughter fell from Suzie’s voice. “About what?”
Think fast, Tara. “Um, the church. Grandmere.”
A pregnant pause hung over the line.
Finally Suzie sighed. “I suppose I could visit you at the hospital this afternoon. I’m scheduled to be in the prayer session there from one until three.”
“Perfect. I’ll find you. Y’all will be in the waiting room, yes?”
“Uh, I believe so.”
“I look forward to seeing you then.” Tara replaced the receiver before Suzie could change her mind. And it sure sounded like she wanted to.
But why? It’d been Tara’s experience that if the door to a religious conversation opened, most Christians leaped over the threshold. Sure enough worked that way with CoCo, Alyssa and Grandmere. Yet Suzie certainly didn’t sound excited about sharing the Jesus message with her. Odd.
Tara raced down the stairs and out the door. The workhouse still stood in total disarray. She’d have to clean it up later this afternoon. But not now. She needed to get the healing potion. Today she’d get some of the potion into Tanty. Her heart raced. Today could be the day that Tanty came out of a coma.
She grabbed the small vial, shoved it into her jeans pocket, then bolted to her car. Her game plan was all laid out—slip in and give Tanty the potion, check on Grandmere, then meet with Suzie to try to find out what was going on.
The hospital’s elevator felt stuffy, confined. Tara touched the vial in her pocket to calm herself. She had to get her mind on the healing chant. Focus. Concentrate.
Edging into Tanty’s room, Tara glanced around. Luck was again with her, as no one hovered nearby to observe. She slipped the dropper from the vial and administered the last two drops on Tanty’s tongue. She’d have to make more. Closing her eyes, Tara chanted quietly.
“Aren’t you up and about early?”
Tara jumped from the side of the bed and pivoted. Bubba stood in the doorway, arms crossed but wearing a welcoming smile. She flashed a nervous smile in return. “I just wanted to check on her before seeing Grandmere.”
“I appreciate that. It’s nice of you.” His voice was husky, clogged with emotion.
She pushed the vial deeper into her pocket. “Well, I’d better go.”
His broad shoulders blocked the entire doorway. His gaze caressed her face in a way that made heat rise to her cheeks. He put his strong hand on her shoulder. “I feel I ought to warn you.”
Taking a step back, she quirked a brow. “About?”
“Alyssa’s back here with CoCo.”
EIGHT
There wasn’t supposed to be a complication. Tara stared at the doctor.
“She’s still conscious, but we’re having to keep her on strong medication for the pain, which makes her sleep.”
“I don’t understand. She wasn’t in pain when she came out of the coma yesterday,” Alyssa said.
The doctor nodded. “I know. But something began making her violently ill a few hours after we’d begun testing.”
“Could the tests have made her sick?” Tara just couldn’t grasp how Grandmere had been fine yesterday and now lay comatose again.
“Not likely.” The doctor gave one of those condescending smiles they must teach in medical school. “It could be a residual side effect from whatever made her sick to begin with.”
The person who poisoned her had struck again. Tara shoved down the rage coursing through her veins.
“Can we at least sit with her?” CoCo snuggled under Luc’s arm.
He hesitated a moment. “For a little bit. Just two at a time and only for fifteen minutes. I’ll tell the nurses to adjust the visiting schedule every hour, so you’ll get fifteen minutes.”
Alyssa nudged CoCo. “You and Luc go in. We got to see her yesterday.”
CoCo shot a questioning glance at Tara. “Okay?”
Tara nodded. She really wanted to see Grandmere, but knew CoCo did, too. Besides, she’d go hunt down Suzie and see if her last name was Richard. And she had “news” she could pass on to the little group. Give ’em something to pray about.
Avoiding Alyssa, Tara strode down the hall to the waiting room. Sure enough, eight women sat in chairs pulled into a circle. They all looked up as Tara marched in.
Suzie was on her feet first, despite her pudgy middle. “How’s Marie?”
“Not as well as we’d thought.”
The older woman who’d brought the casserole placed a warm hand on Tara’s forearm. “What’s wrong, hon?”
Tara explained briefly about the pain and what the doctor had told them.
The woman patted Tara’s arm. “Don’t you worry none, hon. We’ll be lifting prayers for her right now.” She eyed the others in the group. “Right, ladies?”
Murmurs of agreement went around the circle. As the ladies joined hands, claustrophobia jabbed at Tara. She motioned Suzie toward the door. “Can we talk outside maybe?”
Suzie followed Tara down the hall and into the elevator. “I shouldn’t be gone too long. We want to really pray for Marie’s complete healing.”
Whatever. “This shouldn’t take too long. I just wanted to touch base with you about a few things.”
The elevator’s dinging prevented Suzie from answering. She trailed Tara across the foyer and out the front doors of the hospital.
Tara chose a secluded bench for them to sit on and began. “I’m sorry, with everything going on, my manners have slipped. I don’t remember your last name.”
Suzie smiled and sat. “Oh, I understand. It’s Richard.”
Heart skipping, Tara struggled to keep her excitement in check. Richard was a common surname in south Louisiana. “That sounds so familiar to me. Maybe Grandmere mentioned it sometime?”
“Could be. My husband is a deacon in the church.”
Ah. Now that was interesting—her husband a deacon and she visiting a voodoo priestess. If she was the same Suzie Richard. “I have a strange question for you.”
Suzie stiffened. “About?”
Now would be the time she’d appreciate a little tact and diplomacy like Luc’s younger sister, Felicia, possessed. Tara swallowed and wet her lips. “I’m sure Grandmere shared with you her old ways.”
Suzie cocked her head.
“The voodoo.”
With wide eyes, Suzie nodded. “Yes, she did share her testimony how God delivered her from such evil.”
Tara resisted the urge to set the poor woman straight. She took a deep breath. “Yes. I’m sure she also shared with you that I believe in the spirit world.”
Suzie hitched her brows. “Well, yes, she did.” She leaned closer to Tara and lowered her voice. “We’re praying for you daily.”
Ignoring that statement, Tara continued, “She probably mentioned I’m still in training in my field. Now under Tanty Shaw’s tutelage.”
Suzie’s face paled rapidly. Ah, this was the Suzie Richard who’d visited Tanty. Now, how best to proceed…
“Uh, I don’t think I knew that.” The poor woman ran a hand over her stomach.
Tara felt a cold chill. Were the spirits trying to tell her something? She needed to pay attention, notice every detail. She took a moment to consider every nuance of Suzie’s every expression, movement, gesture. “Well, I am. I’m sure you’re aware that Tanty was hospitalized recently. She dropped into a coma just like my grandmother.”
“I…I had heard that, yes.” She wrung her hands.
“Well, I went by to feed her cat, and several of Tanty’s client records were out of place.”
Although Tara hadn’t thought it pos
sible, Suzie’s color drained even more. Too late. She’d come this far, she had to take it to home plate. “I found one on a Suzie Richard, dated just last month.”
Suzie’s hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes filled with tears.
Tara’s heart ached. While she’d still get to the bottom of the story, this poor woman couldn’t have had anything to do with harming Tanty or Grandmere.
So why were the spirits still giving her the chills?
“I…I…You can’t tell anybody I went to see Ms. Shaw. Please.” Fearful tears filled her eyes.
Tara shook her head. “I won’t. But it looks odd, doesn’t it? You go to see her for something a month ago, she denies your request, then she lapses into an unexplained coma. To top it off, it’s not like Tanty to have papers misfiled. Yet, there were three misfiled.” She squeezed Suzie’s knee. “Surely you can see how odd it looks, yes?”
Suzie’s shoulders shook with sobs. “Did it s-say why—” she sniffed and hiccuped “—what I saw her for?”
Moment of truth. “No. Just that it was a female issue and that she referred you to a physician.”
Pressing her lips together, Suzie nodded but offered no further explanation.
“Can you tell me what you went to see Tanty for?” Nothing like pushing on.
Fresh sobs racked the woman’s body. She fought to stand. “I c-can’t. My h-husband…well, he’d be f-f-furious.” Suzie looked at Tara with a frightened gaze, pressing her hand to her tummy. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.” She got up quickly, took several steps toward the hospital doors, then stopped and faced Tara. “Please don’t talk about this to anyone. Please.”
“What do you mean there’s no match?” Bubba glared at his deputy over his coffee mug.
Gary Anderson handed the report across the desk. “Just that. We were able to lift prints from the cups taken from the LeBlanc home and from the beer bottle you found on the property. We eliminated Marie LeBlanc’s prints from one of the cups. The FBI’s report on the print from the other cup is a no-match.”
“So we have no idea who was at Mrs. LeBlanc’s the morning she fell into a coma.” Bubba raked a hand through his hair. Could the news be more frustrating? He had nothing to investigate.
