Until the day he died, Eugene Sr. had never once recanted the story of what he had found in that camp. Three nights after the full moon, he’d gone out to check on the brothers. And boy, did he find ‘em. They’d been torn to shreds by someone . . . or somethin’.

  The carnage inside and outside of the cottage looked like a scene of slaughter straight from a Hollywood low-budget movie—a movie that depended heavily on blood and gore to draw an audience. No animal or man could have done that to a body. ‘It was the rougarou,’ he said, and on his death bed, Eugene Sr. stayed true to his testimony.

  The Trahan case was never solved. Nobody was ever arrested and tried for the murders.

  When months turned into years, the town divided itself into two warring schools of thought: The rougarou believers rehearsed the tale while sittin’ on front porches, drinkin’ sweet tea on hot summer days. The disbelievin’ folks, who invaded Grubby’s Bar after work and on Saturday nights, shook their heads and slapped their knees in laughin’ scorn that the town sheriff was blamin’ an old Cajun superstition for the murders he couldn’t solve.

  The old Trahan place lay within spittin’ distance of a warehouse Eugene was ‘bout to investigate.

  He was gonna have to find a pile of courage down in his soul to take care of this problem. He wasn’t ‘bout to sit on his thumbs and let some drug lord terrorize and turn his town into Black Tar City. Not on his watch. Not even if his fear of the rougarou was still alive and well, causin’ goose bumps to raise up and down on his arms, ‘spite of his warm jacket.

  Sheriff Lloyd decided he’d stalled long ‘nough. He got back in his car and finished the bumpy drive down to the end of the road.

  When he reached the warehouse, he saw a man, skinny as a rail, relaxin’ in an old, broken lawn chair. The man’s Saints cap was pushed forward on his head to cover his eyes, and even though the day had a definite chill in the air, all he wore was a clean, white short-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of jeans. His feet were bare. His dress and wiry, relaxed body led the sheriff to believe this was a younger man, maybe in his thirties.

  “Good afternoon. Can y’all tell me where I might find Mr. Elmo Astle?” asked the sheriff when he reached talkin’ distance.

  The question brought the hat offa the man’s face, and Eugene realized the man was older’n he first thought. Other’n the arm movin’ the hat, not a muscle flexed, nor did the man’s posture change.

  “Who wants t’know?” retorted the man, squintin’ his hard, mean eyes up at Eugene.

  The man was definitely a lot older’n thirty. By decades. Sheriff Lloyd wanted to roll his eyes at the question. Patrol Car? Hello. Uniform? Hello again. Even a moron could tell who was askin’. A’right then. He’d play ‘long.

  “I’m Sheriff Lloyd.”

  “I’m Astle. You gotta reason for comin’ onto my property without no invitation?”

  “Well, I guess you could say an investigation is my invitation onto your property, Mr. Astle. Would you mind if I took a look inside of that there warehouse?”

  “Not without a warrant. Now get outta here ‘fore I let the dogs out to play with ya.”

  Elmo whistled through his teeth and, faster’n lightnin’, two huge German Shepherds came tearin’ ‘round the corner.

  “Ruby! Bruno! Stay!” The two shepherds skidded to a stop beside Elmo’s chair.

  “Sit!” Elmo commanded. The two dogs sat.

  Eugene couldn’t help but take a step back from the huge teeth bared in his direction. He knew he was showin’ a sign of weakness, but dang, those were some big dogs and sharp teeth.

  “Guess we’ll have to do this the hard way, Mr. Astle. That’s too bad. Don’t get too relaxed, ‘cuz I’ll be back real soon with that warrant.”

  “I always do things the hard way. The hard way for everybody but me.” Elmo’s chuckle sounded like bones grindin’ together. He spat on the ground.

  “‘Them dogs don’t have licenses on those collars,” the sheriff pointed out just to get under Elmo’s skin. “Get that done ‘fore I bring back my warrant, or I’ll fine y’all.”

  Sheriff Lloyd forced himself to turn and walk away from the dogs and back to his patrol car without a backward glance, hangin’ on to the slim hope Astle wouldn’t dare sic his beasts on an officer of the law. Somehow, he didn’t think Elmo Astle lost a single wink of sleep worryin’ ‘bout the law. Sweat was runnin’ freely down Eugene Lloyd’s back.

  Elmo sat in his chair with his dogs flankin’ him like stone statues while the sheriff drove off. Elmo didn’t make a move.

  “That’s one cold, soulless old devil,” Eugene mumbled to himself. His next step was to convince a judge to issue a warrant to search the warehouse for a drug operation. A warrant based on the word of two trespassin’ teenagers and a half-blind old woman.

  Elmo watched the dust settle after the car disappeared from his view. Slowly he pulled his phone outta his t-shirt pocket.

  “Cooter, get Moe, and y’all go down to the library just ‘fore closin’ time. And I don’t mean to check out some books.”

  He hung up without waitin’ for an answer. It was ‘bout time things started swingin’ in his favor. He wasn’t gonna wait for Pinker to take action. Elmo wasn’t a patient man and he was tired of waitin’. I’m gonna enjoy this. And then he smiled.

  44

  Shhh! Quiet in the Library

  Boy, if y’all don’t get yourself outta my kitchen and find somethin’ to keep you busy, I’m gonna find somethin’ that’ll keep you busy! Y’all get those leaves raked?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said bouncin’ a Superball off the wall while Mamere was cannin’ her vegetables.

  “Over at Miz Johnson’s too?”

  “Yes, ma’am, colonel ma’am!” Dang. That just slipped over my tongue and outta my mouth ‘fore I could stop myself.

  Mamere paused. “What did y’all say to me? Did my ears hear a note of disrespect comin’ from you?” She had on her hot pad gloves while holdin’ a jar of cooked tomatoes in midair above the boilin’ cannin’ pot. Her eyes were borin’ holes through my skull and right out the back of my head.

  “Never, Mamere. ‘Yes ma’am, the coolest ma’am!’ That’s what I said. It means I would never sass somebody as cool as my grandmere.” I thought fast. This time I quit bouncin’ my Superball.

  Thank goodness her right ear (the ear she was havin’ trouble hearin’ from) was on my side. I wasn’t sure she was convinced, ‘cuz she didn’t take her stink-eye stare offa me as she lowered the hot jar to cool on the counter ‘side the stove.

  “Well, find a place to park your be-hind or get out of my way. I just might fall over those big feet and hit my head and die down on this here kitchen floor if y’all don’t get on out and leave me in peace. Go on outside. Call Chilly or that cute little Bell girl and get outta my hair!”

  “Can I go to the library with Chilly and Shondra? We’ll run all the way and not stop to talk to nobody. We’ll be home ‘fore dark.”

  I had to negotiate, ‘case she ‘membered we wasn’t supposed to go anywhere without Pinkie or ‘nother adult.

  “If y’all stick together and go straight there and straight back ‘fore dark, I suppose it’s a’right. But take that mobile phone in case y’all get in trouble.”

  “Yes ma’am!” I hollered, slammin’ the door on the way out. I’d already dialed Chilly by the time my feet hit the dyin’ grass. Thank goodness the bayou finally got itself a cell tower.

  “Boudreaux residence. This is Mary Jovinne Boudreaux speakin’,” answered the voice on the other end.

  “Jovie, let me talk to Chilly. Right now!”

  “Who may I say is callin’?” she asked, knowin’ full well who was callin’.

  Her new manners were born when the Boudreaux’s got caller ID on their new phone (replacin’ the one Mr. Bubba had ripped offa the wall).

  “Jovie, don’t make me come over there. I ain’t in no mood to deal with you today. This is urgent, and I need to speak to Chilly now! Y’all hear me? Right this minute.”

  “Welllll, since Shondra Bell, your girlfriend, is a good friend of mine, I might let y’all talk to Chilly. Let me see if he’s available. Chilly? Chilly! It’s Tee on the phone, and he says it’s urgent. Y’all wanna talk to him, or should I hang up?” Jovie asked slow as humanly possible, just to be irritatin’, I’m sure.

  “Don’t you dare unless y’all enjoyed that broken arm, ‘cuz I’d love to break it again!” I heard Chilly threatin’ in the background.

  I heard a struggle for control of the phone. Geez, why does everythin’ have to be an issue with Jovie? I shook my head in sympathy for poor Chilly. He had to live with that little peeshwank ever’ day of his natural born life.

  “What’s up, Tee? Somethin’ else happen?”

  “Nah, but Mamere kicked me outta her kitchen while she’s puttin’ up the last of the tomatoes. I thought she was gonna make me go clean the chicken coop, so I bugged out. She said I could go to the library if you and Shondra went with me.”

  “Sure. Ain’t nobody here to stop me. I’ll meet y’all in ‘bout ten minutes. Wait in your yard ‘til ya see me, then we’ll go get Shondra.” Chilly seemed almost giddy; I think he was glad to escape an afternoon with Jovie.

  “Hurry! Batman, over and out!”

  I walked to the edge of my yard to wait for Chilly ‘fore headin’ to the street corner. I called Shondra’s house while I waited. Her Mama said she was babysittin’ for the Lavery’s.

  Wasn’t yet ten minutes, and I heard the Chilly-whistle comin’ from the edge of the woods. I hustled down to the corner.

  “Wow! That’s a new record for gettin’ here. Dude, did y’all jog?”

  Chilly pulled a face. Only thing he hated worse’n joggin’ was runnin’. That’d keep him outta football, much to the chagrin of many coaches, who looked at his build and thought ‘bout the tackles Chilly’s arms would never make.

  “Shondra comin’ with us?” he asked.

  “Nah. She’s babysittin’ those Lavery twins this afternoon. She won’t be comin’ up for air anytime soon,” I answered with disappointment.

  “Let’s hustle! We only got a coupla hours ‘fore the sun goes behind the pines. We don’t wanna take no chances gettin’ caught in the dark without our bodyguard,” Chilly said, sarcastically referrin’ to Pinkie.

  We walked faster’n usual but still slow ‘nough to talk ‘bout Halloween night and all the doin’s that’d be happenin’ over at Slugger’s house. The Dupuis’ knew how to throw a party, and if Slugger was tellin’ even a half-truth, this was gonna be one major fais-do-do.

  Chilly was huffin’ and puffin’ by the time we reached the library. I grabbed the handle of the huge wooden front doors and yanked. Thud. I ‘bout yanked my arm off ‘cuz that door didn’t budge.

  “What’s with this? Why would Emma lock up this early?”

  “No way she’d do that. The Crawfish would be stir-fried pissed,” Chilly answered as he walked over to have a look in the window. I crowded up right behind him.

  “Tee! There’s a big dude—” but Chilly didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, and I didn’t get a chance to peek in the window.

  My already yanked arm was yanked again by a huge, hammy fist. I was swung ‘round to look at one mean, ugly face on a mountain of a man. I could feel Chilly’s hot breath ‘gainst my neck as I was shoved up against him and the rough bricks of the old library wall.

  “Well, well, well, what we got here? Hey, Cooter!” the dude hollered. “This here’s our lucky day. Wait til y’all see what I found hidin’ in the bushes.”

  He grabbed Chilly with his other giant fist and drug us up onto the stoop. Cooter, whoever he was, had unlocked and opened the door to see. Ham Hands shoved us ahead into the library.

  It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dim light after bein’ out in the sunshine. ‘Nother menacin’ lookin’ shape was holdin’ somethin’ down against the long desk where you check out books or get information. Holy buckets! The Cooter dude had ahold of Emma and was pushin’ the side of her face into the wood counter. He had his hand wrapped in her hair and one meaty arm pushin’ down across her back. There were tears rollin’ down her cheek and a bleedin’ cut above her eyebrow.

  “Y’all better start spillin’ your guts, Missy. We didn’t come here for no story time. We need information ‘bout your boyfriend’s recent doin's. My boss ain’t no jolly fella, but I intend to make him real real happy tonight.”

  With her head and shoulders held down, Emma struggled to speak, but with what seemed like all the courage she could muster spat out, “I don’t know anythin’, and even if I did, y’all wouldn’t get a word out of me. If you hurt or kill me, y’all have lost your only source. Then how happy will your stupid boss be?”

  The man lifted her by the hair and slammed her cheek back down on the hard wood desk. The sound made me wanna puke, but I heard Chilly holler through my nausea haze.

  “Get away from her! Leave her alone!” Chilly was strugglin’ and wrestlin’ against our captor’s so hard, the man had to let go of me to get Chilly under control.

  I dropped down to my knees but realized I was free. I got up and ran, trippin’ over my feet to escape out the door. It was my chance to get help. I stumbled toward the door, tryin’ to pull my phone outta my pocket. The men were shoutin’ at me and each other, decidin’ what to do. I hit the big door runnin’ and was outside in a flash, callin’ 911. My hands were shakin’ so hard I thought I might drop the phone, but for once I did somethin’ without fallin’ or fumblin’.

  “Hey, send the sheriff to the library! This is Tee Hopper. There’s men holdin’ Chilly and Emma in there. Hurry! HURRY!”

  I knew my words were babblin’ together, and I heard Miz Myrna Sue tell me to calm down, but most important, I heard her holler to Sheriff Lloyd to get to the library fast fast.

  The big door slammed wide open again, and the man named Cooter who’d been holdin’ Emma came chargin’ out just as a shotgun blast announced its displeasure.

  BAM! The window next to the door erupted in a shower of glass and wood all over the stoop and bushes.

  Cooter fell offa the stoop in fear of the gunshot and did a face plant right smack onto the cement walk, smashin’ his head real hard. I heard shoutin’ and some mean cuss words flyin’ round inside. It sounded like somebody else had joined the party, but the most important sound I heard was the sweet wail of a police siren off in the distance.

  Please dear Lord, bless everybody inside is a’right, and nobody got their head shot off.

  I had to make sure Emma and Chilly were okay, so I ran right past the man on the sidewalk. He was moanin’ and holdin’ his bloody face and strugglin’ mightily to get on his feet. I yanked the door back open to see inside.

  My brain could hardly process the scene goin’ on before my eyes. Old Ham Hands, who’d been holdin’ tight to me and Chilly, was on the ground with Chilly sittin’ square on his back. His thick arms were trapped under his big body. With Chilly on him, he wasn’t goin’ nowhere, but he was sure tryin’. Chilly held a giant copy of the Bible, evidentally used to smack Ham Hands in the head if the man wiggled too much while tryin’ to get the upper hand.

  I couldn’t see anybody bleedin’, but there was a big hole in the window, right through the face of The Cat in the Hat poster. The bottom half of the Cat had torn loose and was snappin’ in the breeze, blowin’ through the broken glass. Emma was comin’ ‘round the desk to stand ‘side none other’n Miz Crawford, who was grippin’ a smokin’ .28 gauge shotgun in her little hands.

  I blinked long and slow, but when I opened my eyes again, she was still there, holdin’ that gun and lookin’ all lean and mean. If she’da been doin’ a gymnastics routine on a balance beam I couldn’ta been more shocked.

  I managed to croak, “Is everybody a’right?”

  Everybody looked a’right, but nobody answered as the heavy library door slammed open again. We heard a scuffle out on the stoop. This time the door stayed wide open as Sheriff Lloyd walked in with his pistol drawn. The Library Committee was gonna have to get a new door after today.

  I could see Deputy Chubby Shank had restrained the bloody-faced Cooter and had him cuffed and ready to be hauled off to jail. Chubby and Cooter looked like two woolly mammoths standin’ there, waitin’ for the sheriff to take care of Ham Hands, who was trapped underneath Bible-totin’ Chilly.

  “Well, Sheriff Lloyd. How nice of y’all to join us,” The Crawfish commented sarcastically as the sheriff hustled in through the door. “We took care of this little problem ourselves while you and Chubby were outside playin’ patty-cake. I was hoping you’d get in here and help us ‘fore the dawn flared in the east.”

  “Y’all a’right? Do I need to call the ambulance?” asked Sheriff Lloyd ignoring the drippin’ sarcasm.

  “No, I think we all are doin’ just fine. Emma has a cut on her forehead and may get a nice black eye, but I think she’ll live.”

  “Hey! I’m gonna need the ambulance if y’all don’t get this peeshwank offa me ‘fore he breaks my back!” hollored Ham Hands from his prone position on the ground. Chilly did a double bounce on the dude’s back just to shut him up.

  “Miz Crawford, we’ll get the cuffs on this fella and get ‘em both back to the station. Once they’re locked up, I’ll need y’all’s statements. If you’d rather, I can come to the house and talk to you there. That might be more comfortable. Miss Emma looks a bit shaken. She might need to lie down for a while.”

  Sheriff Lloyd snapped the cuffs on Ham Hands, but before he could help the fella to his feet, Chilly gave one more big bounce, probably just ‘cuz he could.

  Chilly was grinnin’ that huge smile that made his eyes disappear into his cheeks. Then he gave the dude a little kick before standin’ up. I had to hand it to the Chill-Man, he gets in his licks.

  “Get this kid outta my way! He’s askin’ for trouble if he pokes or kicks me again.”

  Chilly gave everybody the innocent eye and held up his hands, shruggin’ his shoulders and sayin’, “Who me? Don’t know what he’s talkin’ ‘bout.”

 

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