Bayou Paradox (7 page)

Grandmere never kept detailed records like Tanty. Maybe this person didn't know that. Had he been a client? Someone with an ax to grind? No, this didn't look like petty vandalism. This looked like more of a search. On top of Tanty and Grandmere both falling into comas so suspiciously, this felt ominous. Sinister.

Tanty's!

If this was connected to the illness somehow, then it stood to reason that Tanty's shed would be next. Already she'd found things out of order at Tanty's, just not trashed like this. Would the intruder be back?

Tara ran to the kitchen door, snatched her keys from the hook and jumped into her car. Her fingers fumbled getting the key into the ignition. She turned the engine over and tore out of the driveway. Gravel and dirt rose in a cloud over the vehicle as she sped down the road toward Tanty's.

The sky shifted from night to predawn. Purple hues streaked the sky to the east. Tara's heart pounded as she turned into Tanty's driveway.

Lights blazed inside the workhouse.

Slamming on the brakes, Tara jerked the car into park, raced to the workhouse—and then stopped dead in her tracks.

Bubba Theriot opened the door and stepped outside, gun drawn, his glare intense. He stopped advancing as he caught sight of Tara and holstered his firearm. “What're you doing here?”

She popped her hands on her hips. “What're
you
doing here?”

He glanced down. Spook meandered between his legs and meowed. He locked his stare back on Tara. “Feeding the cat. Now your turn—what're you doing here?”

“Uh, well, I, um…” Her throat constricted.

Narrowing his eyes, he took her by the elbow. “I told you to stay away from here. I'll ask one more time—what're you doing here?”

How dare he manhandle her? She jerked free of his grip and glowered. “I just found my shed trashed, and I thought maybe Tanty's had been, as well.”

“When?” He withdrew his ever-present notebook and pencil from his front pocket.

“Not even thirty minutes ago. And I saw him.”

“Who?”

“The guy who did it.”

He sighed. “Who was it?”

“I didn't see his face.”

Bubba's expression fell. “Then how do you kn—”

She let out a huff. “I was in the bayou and heard someone running. He raced right behind me on his way to his boat. I chased, but he was too far ahead of me by the time I caught up. I couldn't make out anything about the boat, either.”

“How does this have anything to do with your place being trashed?”

“As soon as the boat was out of sight, I went back to my shed and found it trashed. Like someone was searching for something.”

“So, you really don't know that the person running through the bayou is the same one who went through your place?”

Could he be any more dense? “Why else would a person be in the bayou at three in the morning?”

“
You
were.”

Touché.
Oh, good-looking or not, the man infuriated her. “I was on my own property. He wasn't.”

“You're sure it was a man?”

She went through as much as she recalled, her toe tapping against the ground.

“What made you think my aunt's place had been rifled through?”

“Well, let's see. Your aunt goes into a coma, followed by my grandmother, and we still haven't a clue why. My grandmother was a voodoo priestess, your aunt is one.” She shrugged. “Stands to reason if my place was searched, someone would search Tanty's. Remember, they didn't fall ill by themselves.”

“And you have proof of this?”

Why wouldn't he just listen to her? “Yes.”

His brows shot into his forehead. “You do? What?”

“I already told you. I felt it.”

“Right. Voodoo. How silly of me to forget.” He closed his notebook sharply.

Tara's irritation rose even further. “I realize you'd rather believe in the religious fantasy than the truth, but there's no need for you to be so rude about it.”

He shook his head. “I'll follow you to your place and check it out. File a report.”

She locked her eyes on his. “Why won't you believe me?”

“Because I deal in law. Rules. Proof. Evidence. Call me crazy, but I need concrete things like that to solve a case.”

“Then how come you have
faith
in Jesus? Don't you have to have faith to be a Christian?” Tara spun on her heel and got back into her car. “Of course you do. But you'll regret you didn't have faith in
me
when I prove I'm right.” She glanced over her shoulder and caught him staring after her. “Yeah, proving you wrong will be sweet.”

She revved the engine. Heading down the winding road home, she spied his headlights in her rearview mirror.

“I think it will be
very
sweet.”

And as much as the man annoyed her, what bothered her more was accepting the fact that she was attracted to him.

T
ara LeBlanc had to be the most frustrating woman on the planet. As he finished up in the work shed, Bubba completed his notes for his report, stuck the digital camera back in the truck's console and stared at her. Studied her. Took notice of her gestures and body language. Some women bit their nails when nervous, but not Tara. Nope, she flipped that long hair of hers over her shoulder when she became agitated. And talked more with her hands.

Right now she spoke with sarcasm lacing each word she forced out. “I would ask you in for a cup of coffee, but I don't want to wake Alyssa and Jackson.”

Something about the way she hesitated caught him off guard. “Have you checked on them since you found this?” He gestured toward the mess.

Her tanned face paled. “I didn't check the house.”

He nodded. “Let's go check it together.”

“I can do it.” She flew to the kitchen door like water raging over a dam. He shook his head and followed. He was running into this woman too much lately. Frankly, it wasn't good for his nervous system. He wasn't sure why, but somehow Tara LeBlanc had worked her way under his skin.

Wait just a minute! She was only CoCo's little sister, Jacks and Luc's sister-in-law, right? Nothing more. So why did his pulse race whenever she got near him? He shook his head again. He must be tired. Really tired.

She glanced into the kitchen. “Looks fine. I'll just tiptoe upstairs and take a quick look-see.”

He felt certain everything was fine in the house, but needed to check. “I'll go look around your shed.”

He made his way to the side of the shed facing the bayou, shining the flashlight over the wall, roof and ground. Even though dawn had nearly broken through the dusk, artificial light would be the only way to detect a clue. If they could spot one. He didn't hold out any expectations of finding anything.

The light reflected off something on the ground behind a wilted hydrangea bush pressed close to the building. Bubba donned a pair of latex gloves and gently pushed the limp leaves aside. A brown bottle lay nestled against the bottom of the bush. He took the bottle and read the label in the flashlight's beam.

Purple Haze beer by Abita Brewing Company.

He set down the flashlight and withdrew an evidence bag from his pocket. He slipped the bottle inside and sealed the envelope just as Tara joined him.

“What's that?” She nodded to the envelope.

“You drink Purple Haze?”

“What? Are you kidding? I don't drink.”

“Really?” That was interesting.

“Really. Why, do I look like a lush?”

“Uh, no.” Great. Open mouth, insert size twelve shoe. He should know better.

“Oh, I see. Because I'm not some religious freak, I must be a drunk.” There she went with the hair flipping. “Well, I'm not. Did that whole drinking gig back in high school. Haven't touched the stuff since.”

Oh, yeah, he remembered. Tara pulled a couple of stunts attributed to underage drinking. He'd been called out to “talk” to her once. She'd been just as enraged then as she was now. How could he have forgotten that?

“Did you find it out here?”

He jerked his attention back to the present. “Yeah. Under your hydrangea. Know anyone around here who drinks Purple Haze?”

“Not that I can think of. Do you think
he
left it here?” She glanced around the area behind her. “Kind of an odd place to drop a beer bottle, don't you think?” She faced him and the shed adjacent to them. A large window stood only inches above the top of her head. Her eyes widened.

“We don't know who it belongs to. Let's not panic.”

She shook her head. “No. Wait. He couldn't have stood out here watching me because we'd just gotten home. I only grabbed my bag and boots before I headed into the bayou. Didn't even turn the lights on inside.”

“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.”