by Robin Caroll
He rested his hands on the Sam Browne belt around his hips and lowered his voice. “I have to do what I think is best, Tara.”
She paused and then nodded. “What is that para-hyde stuff, anyway?”
He motioned her toward the waiting room. “From what the lab techs told me, it’s used as a sedative or hypnotic.”
“What?”
“It was first used back in the late 1800s. However, because its toxicity level is five, other medications have replaced what it originally was used to treat.”
She dropped into one of the plastic chairs. “What are the side effects?”
He sat beside her. “They can range from respiratory problems to…” He gripped the arms of the chair.
“To coma, right?”
At least she didn’t have a snide tone. He nodded.
“How fast does it work?”
“They tell me it’s immediate.”
She sucked in air. “Is it available on the market today?”
“Not readily. From what I’ve been told, it’s been replaced with less-dangerous drugs.” He leaned back. “But keep in mind it wasn’t actually paraldehyde that was found in the cup. It was a chemical trace of it.”
“Which means?”
“It’s something akin to probably a synthetic of the main component of paraldehyde, but not the full drug itself.”
Her brows knitted. “So, it’s sort of a hybrid of the original?”
He nodded again, not sure what else he could say. He, too, had been stunned after his phone conversation with the lab technician.
“Who would be able to do that? Change the chemical makeup, I mean.”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe that’s where we should focus our investigation.”
We. He liked that she chose that word. Had a nice ring to it. Wait! He needed to snap out of such fantasies.
“What about the print on the beer bottle?”
“We’ve sent it to the FBI. It’ll take some time to get their results.”
“In this day and age, you’d think it’d be immediate.”
He chuckled. “Not in Lagniappe. We’re lucky we even have a fax machine and an old computer. Not that it does us much good—we keep getting knocked offline.”
“Don’t tell me the sheriff’s office is still on dial-up.”
“Yep. We don’t have funding to upgrade yet.”
“That stinks.”
“Yeah, it does. But we sent the print express, so hopefully we’ll hear something within a week.”
She smiled at him. His stomach tightened again. What was going on with him?
“Hey, Tara.” A tall man approached, wearing a smile and carrying a cup of coffee bearing the local diner’s logo.
“Why, hello, Jayden. What’re you doing here?” Tara’s entire face lit up as she smiled.
“Heard your grandmother’s improved and wanted to stop by and say hello.” He handed her the cup. “I would’ve brought flowers, but know they don’t allow them in the ICU.”
Bubba cleared his throat, discomfort seeping into his every pore.
Tara glanced at him, then darted her gaze back to the man who stared at Tara as though she was the light of the universe. “Sheriff Theriot, this is my boss, Jayden.”
Bubba shook the man’s hand because Southern manners dictated he do so. But his heart twisted inside. Was this also Tara’s boyfriend? He hadn’t heard anything about Tara being involved with anyone, but as beautiful as she was, it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination that she’d be taken.
No, that couldn’t be right. That had to be the ugly green-eyed monster filling Bubba’s head. Tara had introduced Jayden as her boss, not her boyfriend. And if she had a boyfriend, surely he would’ve been with her through all this ordeal.
For some reason, that made Bubba very glad. And he immediately chastised himself. He had no business in Tara’s personal life.
After a few more polite exchanges, Jayden left. Despite himself, Bubba was glad the man was gone.
Tara took a sip from the cup and fell right back into their conversation. “I don’t think the person who trashed my workhouse is the same one who poisoned Grandmere.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I didn’t get that feeling.”
Voodoo again. His spirits sank. “Oh.” He fought to find a decent response, one that wouldn’t raise her hackles.
A nurse approached. “Ms. LeBlanc? You can go back to see your grandmother now.”
Tara thanked her and stood. “I appreciate you sharing this with me, Sheriff.”
He stood and smiled until he noticed her expression change. He followed her line of vision to the hall.
A woman in scrubs grabbed a chart and headed away. He glanced back to Tara, who was looking intently at the retreating woman. “What’s wrong?”
“That woman…” She kept staring at where the woman had been standing. “I thought I recognized her.”
He touched her shoulder until she looked at him. “You’ve probably seen her around here while visiting your grandmother or my aunt.”
“Maybe.” But her eyes darted back to the hall.
“Well, you should head on back. Maybe your grandmother will be awake.”
Tara jerked her gaze back to him and snorted. “Not likely. I haven’t a clue what pain med they’re giving her, but it sure keeps her zonked out.”
“You don’t want her in pain.”
“No, but I don’t want her to stay in a drug-induced coma, either. If she were awake and coherent, we could just ask her who’d visited her.”
As if he wasn’t praying for Mrs. LeBlanc to be conscious enough to share that information. Who she identified could blow the whole lid off his investigation. “I know. And she will, as soon as they can find why she’s in so much pain.”
“Probably that para-stuff. Does it cause pain?”
“The tech didn’t mention that, but I’ll call him back and ask as soon as I finish visiting Aunt Tanty.”
She grabbed his hand and startled, seeming to feel the same connection he did. Then she looked at him pleadingly. “Please consider having Tanty tested. I know it’s all related. You just have to trust me.” She smiled and then was gone.
Trust her? The woman he’d grown to care about but who cared more about voodoo than Jesus? He needed to trust God. But running the test on Tanty couldn’t hurt.
He walked to the nurses’ station to request the test.
TEN
Did it have to be so unbearably hot?
The afternoon sun beat down on Tara’s car as she drove to the Carlson residence. Yeah, she’d be stepping out of line by showing up at their home, but she needed to talk to Rebekah. The woman’s reaction to what Tara had to say would make it clear whether she was a suspect in what happened to Grandmere and Tanty. It’d certainly make Tara scratch Suzie Richard off the list.
Suzie’s reaction left no doubt in Tara’s mind that she was too timid to do something as outlandish as poison two women. Although connected to both, Suzie had been too fearful of her husband finding out. Did that give her more motive? Tara shook her head. No, every bit of her voodoo training led her to the fact that Suzie hadn’t been involved in Grandmere’s and Tanty’s illnesses.
If only the sheriff would listen to her and do what he should—investigate. But no, he couldn’t do that. Too simple and logical. Stubborn man. If he’d take her seriously, she could tell him about those three client sheets, then he’d have a starting point for the investigation. Instead, he had dismissed her allegations. Well, she’d find the answers, the truth, even if he was too pigheaded to do it himself.
Flipping on the turn signal, Tara moved to turn into the Carlson’s driveway, only to have to slam on her brakes. A white SUV careened from the drive, a man behind the wheel who didn’t look too happy. But he did look familiar. But from where? As he passed, she caught a better look at his face. That man from the pharmaceutical company! What could he be doing at Mayor Carlson’s
?
She turned into the Carlsons’ driveway and parked behind a Mercedes. Nice car. She glanced at the house. Correction, nice spread. Big white columns lined the front veranda. Red brick circular driveway. Ferns and airplane plants in baskets draped between the columns. Very sweet.
Her steps were cautious as she made her way up the concrete stairs. She hadn’t even raised her hand to grasp the knocker when the door swung open. Rebekah Carlson stood there.
Tara stepped back, her heart hammering.
“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Just caught me off guard.” Tara gave a little laugh and mentally berated herself. What? Did she think she lived in some true crime novel now?
“What brings you by?”
Tara noticed she hadn’t been invited inside, as Southern manners usually dictated. Interesting. She shucked off the little voice in her head questioning her ability—her right, even—to do this and forged ahead. “I’m sure you heard about my grandmother and Tanty Shaw.”
Rebekah’s eyes softened. “I did. We’re so sorry and are praying they both have full recoveries.”
Hmm. Maybe. Maybe not. “Yeah. Well, because I’ve been working with Tanty, I’ve noticed some paperwork misfiled in her office. Certain client information, to be specific.” She arched a single brow and waited.
Four seconds lapsed before Rebekah’s eyes widened, and she sucked in a quick breath.
Bingo! Tara nodded. “Yes, one of them was yours. About visiting Tanty regarding your husband’s, uh, condition.”
Horror marched across the woman’s face as she glanced down the driveway. “Why don’t you come in?”
Tara stepped into the foyer. The marble floor hadn’t a single blemish. Crown molding lined the top of the wall to the ceiling.
Rebekah shut the door, but remained standing. “I…I don’t know what to say.” She put her trembling hand against her throat. “Is that information out in the open? I mean, does anyone else know about this?”
“As far as I know, no.”
“But?”
“But someone had been rifling through Tanty’s records and yours was misfiled. I can only assume someone was looking for something in particular. I don’t know who, if anyone, actually saw the notes on you.”
Rebekah shook her head and clasped her hands in front of her. “I was desperate, you understand. My husband wouldn’t see a doctor. I needed help from somewhere.”
“I know. Trust me, I understand. And I’m discreet. I’m in this business, remember?”
“I never went back after someone saw me leaving. It was horrible.” Her gaze darted out the window toward the road.
She was clearly hoping no one saw them talking, yet didn’t invite Tara to sit down or somesuch. Something was odd here. “Did the potion work?”
“Oh, yes. Wonderfully.” Rebekah smiled.
“That’s great. But you didn’t go back?”
The smile froze on her face. “No. That Melvin Dubois saw me leaving and mentioned it to my husband. My husband said it didn’t look good for the mayor’s wife to be seen with a voodoo priestess, that people would talk.” Her voice dropped with each word until she barely whispered.
Melvin Dubois. Another one of the client sheets misfiled. Coincidence? “And that’s what made you stop going?”
“My husband was furious.” She glanced out the window again. “Still is. He has people watching me to make sure I don’t go back.” She swallowed loudly.
Ah, now they were getting somewhere. “Would he have been angry enough to go through the papers in Tanty’s workhouse?”
Rebekah tossed an icy glare at her. “Now if he’d gone rummaging through someone’s things, don’t you think he would’ve taken them and not left them for you to find misfiled?”
Score one for Rebekah Carlson.
Rebekah stood straighter. “Besides, my husband’s the mayor. He doesn’t go around poking through other people’s belongings.”
But would he be desperate enough to take Tanty and Grandmere out of the picture so they couldn’t talk? Maybe he’d hired someone to find the paperwork, and they’d failed.
“I think you’d better leave now.” Rebekah opened the door and backed away.
“Mrs. Carlson, one more thing.”
“What?” Exasperation flashed in her eyes.
“Does your husband still suffer from his, uh, condition?”
Rebekah narrowed her eyes. “That’s none of your business.” She pushed open the door wider. “And I’d advise you not to discuss this with anyone.”
Tara paused on the veranda, facing Rebekah. “Is that a threat, Mrs. Carlson?”
“Oh, no, my dear. That’s just a bit of friendly advice. My husband’s a powerful man, you know.”
Bolting down the stairs and to her car, Tara turned on the ignition and let the air conditioner blast against her face. She sat still, thinking.
Mayor Carlson might be powerful, but he was impotent.
Would that information be enough to cause him to take drastic measures to keep his secret?
She didn’t know, but she sure-as-shootin’ aimed to find out. Soon. Tara glanced at her watch—thirty minutes until her visit with Grandmere. She had time to drive over to City Hall and see what Mayor Carlson had to say. Better reach him before Rebekah did. Well, she’d probably already called him. Tara recalled the mortification on Mrs. Carlson’s face. No, she wouldn’t call him. Maybe she would tell him when he got home, if at all. It wasn’t exactly polite dinner conversation. Oh by the way, honey, I discussed your little problem with Tara LeBlanc this afternoon. Would you please pass the salt?
A car screeched around her in the driveway, yanking Tara from her imagined scenario. Lo and behold, Mr. Mayor himself got out of his little convertible. Tara killed the engine of her car and got out. “Hello, Mr. Carlson.”
His face held the practiced smile of a politician. “Good afternoon. May I help you?”
Her sweaty palms had nothing to do with the relentless heat. “I’d actually dropped by to talk to your wife, but what I had to say also applies to you.”
He stopped at the trunk of his car. “And you are?”
“Tara LeBlanc.”
Recognition lit his eyes. “Marie LeBlanc’s granddaughter? The one doing that voodoo nonsense?”
She was really getting tired of everyone knocking her way of life. “Yes, and yes.”
“What could you possibly have to say that applies to me?”
“Why would a pharmaceutical research team leader be visiting your home?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s my job as mayor to try and bring industry and commerce into the area.”
“By destroying our bayous?”
“Young lady, I believe you’ve outstayed your welcome. Is there anything else?”
His arrogance grated on her nerves. “What about why your wife went to see Tanty Shaw?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
His face turned different shades of red. His brows lowered into a straight line, and he shook like a dead leaf in the breeze. “Get off my property, young lady. Leave now, and never come back.”
Now that was a reaction. “But, Mayor—”
“I said get off my property.” His tone didn’t imply he was in the mood for polite conversation.
Tara rushed to her car, twisted the key, then whipped around the circular driveway to the main road. Her heart pounded.
Innocent or not, Mayor Carlson had just jumped to the top of her suspect list.
“…badgering my wife and me. Me, the mayor.”
Bubba moved the phone back to his ear. Mayor Carlson’s yelling had nearly broken his eardrum. “I understand, sir, and will get right on it.”
“Tonight, Sheriff. I will not tolerate disrespect from such a person.”
Such a person? She’d love that. Oh, well, he had a job to do. “Yes, sir. I’m leaving right now.”
He replaced the phone and shook his head.
T
ara, Tara. Did she even realize the can of worms she’d opened?
He grabbed his radio and shoved it into his belt. Glancing at the clock as he stood, he figured Tara would be at the hospital with her grandmother. She couldn’t answer her cell phone inside, so he might as well drive over. He was torn with mixed emotions—anticipation at seeing her again and dread at the confrontation he would face.
Lord, give me the words.
The interior of the hospital felt cold to his sweat-dampened skin as he made his way up to the fourth floor. Sure enough, upon exiting the elevator, he spied Tara leaning against the wall outside the waiting room. He approached her with his heart in his shoes. “Don’t feel like sitting inside?”
She smiled. “Grandmere’s church group is in there praying. I don’t think I’d be too welcome.”
“You might be surprised.”
“I’d rather not be.” Her smile widened.
He hated having to jump in and ruin the peace between them, but duty called. “Speaking of surprises, I just had one.”
“Really? Do tell.”
“I just received a call from Mayor Carlson.” He paused, giving her the opportunity—no, mentally begging her to apologize and promise she’d stay away from the mayor and his wife.
She said nothing. Just crossed her arms over her chest and jutted out her chin.
“Care to tell me why you accosted him and his wife on their property?”
“I didn’t accost anyone.”
“Then what would you call it?”
“I had a few questions to ask, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” He raked his hand over his hair. “What kind of questions?”
She grinned like she’d just won the Louisiana Lottery. “Didn’t the mayor tell you?”
“No, he didn’t. Why don’t you tell me?”
She chuckled and shook her head. “How can he accuse me of accosting him if he didn’t tell you what I asked?”
“Drop the coy act. Just tell me.”
Her facial muscles stiffened. “It was private.”
“Apparently. Enough that the mayor called me in an outrage. Demanded I order you to stay off his property and away from him and his wife.”
“How convenient.”
This was getting him nowhere. “Look, just tell me what’s going on. Can’t you see I’m trying to help you here?”
