French Quarter Fatale, page 15
“Used to own?”
“He had a heart attack a couple of years back. Lorraine claims his health problems forced him to sell the business, but unofficial word is that he double-crossed the wrong men and ended up going bankrupt. Somehow Lorraine took over the business but according to Dad, it’s been rough.”
The comment wasn’t lost on Keenan. Had Lorraine seen a way to make a quick payday?
“Let’s take a walk out back,” Josette said. “That’s where they cook the crawfish. It’s a real hands-on job.”
She introduced Keenan to several other patrons on the way out. Fortunately, the restaurant was too noisy to get into conversations beyond hello and a mention of concern for her mother from those who’d caught the morning news or heard it on the grapevine.
The scene behind the restaurant was almost as lively as it had been inside. Several propane burners fired huge pots filled with crawfish, corn, red potatoes and spices so strong they burned Keenan’s nostrils. A half dozen or so men handled the cooking chores. A dozen or so more stood around gabbing.
A few yards away, out of the path of the smoke, several foursomes of guys sat at folding card tables playing bourré. Keenan had learned the basics of the card game at college, though he’d never played well.
Other men stood around, talking and nursing beers. A cluster of women sat on chairs under a tree drinking iced tea and chatting.
One of the ladies walked over to join Josette. They hugged and Josette looked pleased to run into her.
“This is Noelle,” Josette said, “a friend since kindergarten. And the only friend from Alligator Cove who visited me in New York.”
“Every time you talked Isadora into sending me a plane ticket,” Noelle said. “We had a blast, going to the theater and thriving on the Big Apple excitement. Always thought I might end up there, but here I am teaching high school on the bayou.”
Noelle turned her gaze to Keenan and then turned back to Josette. “Who’s your friend?” she asked.
Keenan introduced himself.
“Here for Mardi Gras?” Noelle asked.
“No, a friend’s wedding,” he said. “Both of us are, or rather were. The wedding was last night.”
Noelle turned back to Josette. “I’m really glad you showed up here today. I heard the news this morning and I couldn’t decide if I should call you or not. You must be terribly upset.”
Josette told her the body that had been pulled from the bayou was not her mother. “Feel free to share that bit of information with everyone. I’m starting to feel like I’m just fodder for the show’s publicity.”
“I will. Once your mother hears the crazy rumors about her being dead, I’m sure she’ll get in touch with you or Antoine to assure you she’s fine.”
“I hope you’re right about that. Every time my phone rings, I pray it’s her.”
“A lot of people around here, including the police, don’t understand how your mother can disappear for months at a time and not get in touch with her family. I say those people have never had a mob of paparazzi in their face every time they step out the door. That would make me bonkers.”
“Me, too,” Josette agreed, “but at times Mother seems to thrive on the attention.”
“I know your dad and mom are separated, but they always seem totally into each other when I’ve seen them together.”
“When was the last time you saw them together?” Josette asked.
“A couple of weeks before she disappeared. Hubby and I ran into them at a neighborhood bar in Lafayette one night. They were laughing and dancing together like lovers. We didn’t intrude.”
“No papparazzi?” Keenan questioned.
“No. I don’t think anyone recognized her. She was wearing a wig and no makeup, and I’m certain no one expected to see a celebrity of her stature there.”
“Have you shared that information with the police?” Keenan asked her.
“I went to the local police as soon as I heard Isadora was missing and they sent Detective Hyde out to talk to me. He didn’t seem to think it was important at the time, but he questioned me again in detail ten days ago. Frankly, I was pleasantly surprised he was still searching for Isadora.”
So, Isadora had been here to visit her ex two weeks before she’d disappeared. That was news to Keenan and evidently to Josette, as well. Another kink in the frayed rope that held the mystery together.
Keenan knew anytime someone went missing for as long as Isadora had, the odds for their safe return were going down fast. For now, Keenan’s top priority for every breath he took would be keeping Josette safe. He walked over to get a better view of the cooking and to give Josette a chance to visit with her friend.
As he walked away, his phone rang. Dwayne Evans. Something new must have turned up. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be bad.
* * *
AFTER CHATTING WITH Noelle for a few more minutes, Josette was about to go look for Keenan when she noticed Lorraine’s son Daniel had joined a group of guys near where the cooking was going on.
She walked over and stopped at his elbow. “Happy Mardi Gras, Daniel.”
He jerked to attention and turned to face her. “Well, look who’s graced us with her company.” Sarcasm dripped from his words. “You’re pretty much the last person I expected to see out here today.”
“Really? My dad does still live here.”
“Does he? I thought he might have moved on by now.”
“You and my dad have always been great friends and working buddies. What’s the problem?”
“You can thank Isadora and his blind loyalty to her for most of Antoine’s problems. If she asked him to harness a team of alligators for her, he’d give it a shot.”
Josette shook her head. “That’s not fair. My parents didn’t make it as a couple, but they’ve remained friends. That’s more than you can say for a lot of divorced people.”
Daniel’s eyebrows arched. “Friends? Face it, Josette. Your mother has strung Antoine along for years. She drops in once or twice a year, plays him for a fool and then walks out on him again. You know that better than anyone. Unfortunately, my mom’s not smart enough to stay clear of the repercussions.”
Josette couldn’t totally deny any of that, but Daniel had never turned on Antoine before. He’d worked on the ship with Antoine since he was barely big enough to help cast a net.
According to her dad, Daniel knew as much about the shrimping business as anyone who fished the bayou.
Excluding Antoine, of course.
“I’d really like to know what happened between you and my father,” Josette said.
Daniel shrugged his broad shoulders. “It’s not much of a mystery. He up and decided to sell the Lady Isadora to some stranger without giving me a chance at it.”
“Did you tell him you were interested? Did you ask if you could work some kind of deal with him?”
“More than asked. I pleaded with him to sell me the boat. I just needed time to arrange a loan. He refused to give me any kind of break and we both know he could afford it.”
Time. That was the one thing her dad didn’t have. He needed the cash in hand by today. Maintaining a pretense, she told Daniel, “That doesn’t sound like my dad. Maybe it was about more than money.”
“I don’t doubt that. He’s in this big rush to clear out of Alligator Cove now. We all figure Isadora is behind that, just another of her stunts to keep Antoine from marrying my mother. Mom’s too good for him, anyway.”
“I hardly think Isadora has anything to do with it. Dad hasn’t even heard from her in over a year.”
“That you know of,” Daniel scoffed.
The comment piqued Josette’s interest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shook off the question. “Suffice to say there’s plenty of folks around here who think she may have met with more than she can handle this time. Not that I ever had any reason to wish your mother trouble, but folks around here know how she’s treated Antoine. They figure if she’s dead, she had it coming to her.”
The words felt like a spear puncturing Josette’s heart. True, Isadora didn’t have any close friends in Alligator Cove, but as far as Josette knew she didn’t have any enemies, either.
Except for Lorraine, and her dislike stemmed from jealousy.
“My mother is not dead,” Josette insisted, for her benefit as much as Daniel’s. “And as for Dad selling his boat so fast, I’m sure he has his reasons.” Reasons she’d never reveal.
“I’m not blaming you, Josette. You’re just another pawn in your mother’s game. In the meantime, you’d best just head back to Nashville before you get dragged into the kind of trouble a lady like you can’t handle.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
“Take it any way you want.” He shoved his hands deep in his jean’s pockets, then turned and walked away.
Chapter Seventeen
Keenan may not know much about the bayou, but when he met up with Josette and they finally sat down to eat, he managed to put away a few pounds of crawfish in less time than it took Josette to finish her beer.
When he finished and used half a roll of paper towels to clean his hands, they rolled their shells in the newspaper the waitress had brought them.
“Have you ever been on a legitimate swamp tour?” Josette asked.
“You mean other than the one I got a brief glimpse of behind your dad’s place or the one I saw from the car every time I drove I-10 toward New Orleans out of Baton Rouge?”
“The view from a car doesn’t count, nor does the sloshy area you can reach by foot behind Dad’s inlet.”
“Then I guess the answer to your question would be no.” He eyed her suspiciously. “Why do I fear you’re about to change that?”
She grinned. “You’re getting to know me.”
“These shoes aren’t made for sloshing,” he said as he held out a foot to the side of their table.
“You won’t get too wet unless you fall out of the pirogue,” Josette assured him.
“No guarantees there,” he said, “but I’m game if you’re brave enough to take your chances with me.” He threw several bills on the table to cover their meals and a gratuity and stood, eager to get on with it. He knew Josette wasn’t taking him on a sightseeing tour. There had to be a reason she was intent on getting on the bayou. “Are we going anywhere special?”
She cast a glance at the partiers within earshot, said nothing but gestured for him to follow. “We’ll walk down to the nicer, more expensive cabins. That’s where Lorraine keeps the wealthier guest pirogues. The rich prefer an upscale experience.”
“Alligators included, I assume.”
“Yes, but don’t worry. I’ll be certain you don’t become gator bait.”
“Can I get that in writing?”
“Sure. A waste of effort, though. You wouldn’t be around to sue me if I didn’t follow through. On the bright side, alligators are usually not aggressive unless you get too close to their babies, or they confuse you with food.”
“Not particularly comforting. The giant mosquitoes out here think I’m rather tasty.” He swatted one buzzing around his ear.
She took his hand as they started on a gravel path that snaked along a narrow inlet.
“Care to tell me now where we’re headed?” he asked her. “Are we by any chance looking for kidnappers?”
She raised her brows as she looked at him. “Ya got me.” She ducked under a low-hanging moss-laden bough. “You have to admit this would be the perfect place to hold a hostage. And since that hostage is my mother...”
“I’m right beside you.” No way he’d leave her to investigate alone. Despite the alligators.
She stopped beside a cluster of cypress trees partially hiding several pirogues. Quickly she unlatched the combination lock of one of the small, flat-bottomed boats.
“How did you know the combination?” Keenan asked. “Or does Lorraine never change it?”
“She changes it monthly, but she has a pattern that apparently, she hasn’t changed in years. Daniel and I used to sneak down here, get in a pirogue and play like we were pirates.”
“Did you spend much time with him when you came to Alligator Cove?”
She nodded. “Right here on the bayou. He wasn’t afraid of anything, so I had to pretend I wasn’t, either.”
“Is Daniel’s dad still in the picture?”
“I’m not sure he ever was. I’ve never heard Daniel or anyone else mention him.”
Josette casually leaned over and brushed a spider off her right sleeve. “Let’s head out to some of the more rugged cabins.”
“Are there fewer creatures crawling inside them?” he asked as he sidestepped the spider that was the size of a half dollar.
“You know, some people like a challenge,” she teased him.
“Take my word for it. I’m a wimp.”
“Right. A wimp who fights terrorists.”
Keenan helped her lift the lightweight boat and carry it the few feet back to the muddy bank of the water. A couple of bullfrogs croaked loudly at the disturbance to their environment.
Two turtles sunning on a huge rock jumped into the water. No sign of snakes or gators, but something that looked like a huge rat with protruding orange teeth stared at them from the opposite bank.
“You grow your mice big down here.”
“That’s a nutria,” Josette said, “sometimes called coypu or swamp rat by the locals.”
“Not your normal rodent.”
“They’re not as bad as they look,” Josette said. “Biggest problem with them is they do a lot of gnawing damage to the bank.”
“Don’t do a lot for beautifying the scenery, either,” Keenan said.
There were two oars and one long, metal pole tucked inside the pirogue. Keenan helped Josette into the boat and climbed in after her, taking a seat and picking up an oar.
“Just hold on to the oar for now,” Josette said. “I’ll demonstrate the art of poling a pirogue down the bayou.”
“Gotta love a woman who knows her way around a pole,” he teased.
She threw back her shoulders in a proud stance. “I’m not without skills.”
“So, I’m learning.”
She kept standing and used the pole to push and guide them through a shallow spit of brownish water choked with algae.
After a few minutes of watching Josette’s gorgeous, nimble body adopt a swaying rhythm, Keenan decided he should do more than just watch and lust after Josette.
“Let me try my hand at that,” Keenan said.
“Sure.” She traded places with him.
He took over the task until they reached slightly more navigable water.
“You catch on fast,” Josette said.
“That’s just so we can get out of this boat sooner.”
He took his seat and exchanged the pole for an oar. She took the other and with two oars in sync, they moved faster. A crane stepped into the water, lifting one leg gracefully as he searched for his dinner.
Keenan looked up as they passed beneath the overhanging limbs of a cypress tree. He sucked in his breath as he spotted a long, black snake dangling from the bottom branch.
“Don’t worry,” Josette assured him. “That one’s safe. The one swimming along the bank to your left isn’t.”
He turned and caught sight of a large cottonmouth moccasin a few feet from his oar. That one he knew could be deadly.
He was fast coming to the conclusion that this was not a good idea for a city boy like himself. But he’d tough it out for Josette’s sake. And maybe her instincts would prove right.
The bayou split off again and she pointed to the shallower choice. That’s when he spotted the snout of an alligator coming toward them. Another followed close behind. The gator swam right past them and kept going. Keenan managed to breathe again and wondered why anyone ever did this for fun.
“Adventurous or not, I can’t imagine anyone pays to stay in that dilapidated pile of rust and warped wood, with gators for bodyguards,” Keenan said, pointing to a ramshackle cabin that stood on stilts along the shore.
“They don’t,” she assured him. “I didn’t know that one was still standing. Daniel and I only dared to explore that place once and that was only because of that makeshift bridge to the cabin.”
“How old were you then?”
“Twelve. I was visiting Dad that summer and wanted to prove to Daniel I hadn’t become a spoiled city brat.”
“And did you?”
“Until he picked up a machete that was in the back of the cabin and started making up a story about a swamp monster who chopped people up. Then, worst of all, one of those giant flying cockroaches that are so infamous in the New Orleans area smacked me in the face and then fell into my hair. I think they heard my squealing all the way back to the French Quarter.”
Keenan studied the decaying structure, imagining what creatures other than cockroaches might be slithering around inside it.
“Wait,” Josette said, grabbing his arm. “I may have been wrong. Someone might be inside the cabin now.”
“I don’t see any movement,” Keenan countered, his instincts on high alert.
“Maybe not, but there’s a pirogue tied to that skinny cypress tree. It’s got the crab shack’s logo painted on it.”
What would somebody be doing in a barely standing cabin? Could Josette be right? Could it be the kidnapper? If it was, she was far from safe, and he cursed his stupidity in allowing her to venture out here. Even worse, he realized, they could have stumbled onto the drug cartel.
“We should turn back and alert Hyde,” he told her, but she was already leading the pirogue to shore. He knew nothing would stop her and now he was all that stood between her and potential danger.
* * *
