Bayou Paradox (8 page)

“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.”

T
here 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 possible, 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.

“We're sending the feds the print off the beer bottle. Maybe that'll give us a lead.”

“Do the prints from the cup match the ones from the bottle?” He needed a break in this case.

“Not that we can tell.” Anderson shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “But we're not trained in this kind of stuff, Sheriff.”

“I know that.” He let out a long sigh. Snapping at his deputy wouldn't help. Anderson didn't deserve such treatment. Bubba controlled his tone. “Maybe they'll be able to find a match for that print. I wish the parish would give us more funding to have all the computer equipment we needed. Then we wouldn't have to wait so long for results.”

“I sent the prints express, so maybe the results will come quicker.”

“Good thinking.” Bubba tossed the report on the desk. “Anything else in here I should know about?”

“The tox results.”

“The what?” Bubba reached for the papers and thumbed through them.

“You'd asked the lab to run tests on the residue inside the cups. The report came back as inconclusive.”

He didn't bother to ask as his gaze lit on the report in question. Scanning the preliminary results, he stopped at the actual findings.

He glanced at his deputy. “Have we granted approval for this additional testing?”

“You have to authorize that, Sheriff.”

Frustration built behind the acid burning his throat. “Fine. I authorize. Call the lab, fax them, whatever we need to do to get them to figure out what that unidentified component is.”

“Yes, sir.” Anderson spun on his heel and charged from the room. A man with a mission.

Bubba shook his head and stared at the report. Paraldehyde. What was that? He laid the papers on his desk and rubbed the back of his neck. He'd never heard of such a word, and he'd been trained in various street drugs and their scientific names. Whatever-hyde didn't ring any bells.

Unless it was something Tara used in her voodoo stuff. An herb, maybe? Like those swamp plants his aunt was always out digging up?

He needed to find out.

Lifting the receiver, Bubba flipped open his notebook and retrieved Tara's cell phone number. Maybe he'd catch her in a good mood.

“Hello.”

Didn't exactly sound like she was in the best mood. Never the mind, he had a case to work.

“Tara? Sheriff Theriot here.”

“What can I help you with?”

“I need to ask you about the cups I took from your sink,” he said.

“Yes?”

Oh, how could he word this without angering her? She already sounded a bit on the testy side. “Well, the initial lab results have come back.”

“And? Did you find something?”

“They've found traces of coffee, sugar, milk and—”

“Grandmere drinks more of a café au lait than coffee.”

“Yes, well…”

She wasn't going to make this any easier on him.

“Just spit it out, Sheriff. What else?”

“Traces of an unknown chemical.”

He could make out her quick intake of air, even over the bad reception of the cell phone. “I knew it.”

Knew what? “Tara, did you put any herbs or anything in y'alls coffee? Even for medicinal purposes?”
Please say no.

“What?” Indignation filled her voice. “You think I poisoned my grandmother? Are you daft, Sheriff?”

“I didn't mean intentionally. And there's no proof that what they found is what caused her illness.”

“Don't be stupid. I didn't put anything in the coffee—never have. I wasn't even home then. Plus, Grandmere trained me, and we never mixed potions with ordinary substances. Tanty's the same way.”

At the mention of his aunt's name in relation to potions, Bubba's stomach twisted. “I didn't know. I had to ask.”

“Are you having tests run to find out what it is?” Accusation dripped over the connection.

“Of course.” Great, now he'd made her mad. He could just picture her, too, flipping her hair over her shoulder, eyes shimmering with flames. A spicy one, for sure, she could be as hot as the cayenne pepper that liberally laced most Cajun dishes.

“Good. Glad to hear you're at least following up.”

He let the dig slide. He'd just insulted her in an offhand, unintentional manner. “I just wanted to check with you.”

“Well, you have.”

Although her tone was bitter, and slightly rude, he remembered she was hurting. And he didn't want to get off the phone with her yet, no matter how illogical his budding attraction was. “We found a print on the cup, as well as one on the beer bottle.”

“And?”

Just as snappy as ever. “We've ruled out one set of prints as they're your grandmother's.”

“It is her house, you know.”

He chose to let that one slide, too. “A different one popped up on the cup. We sent it to the FBI to run through their database. No results matched.”

“Wait a minute. The FBI's database couldn't find a match?”

“No.” He waited for the tirade to come. Even braced himself by pressing his back deep into the chair.

A long pause and then, “So whoever visited Grandmere and poisoned her doesn't have a criminal record.”