Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 07 - The Swamps of Bayou Teche (23 page)

Invariably, after the two-step comes a waltz.

And the gay music continues until the wee hours of
the morning, or until the beer runs out, or until the local sheriff decides everyone’s had enough.

“That sure looks like fun,” Jack exclaimed, nodding
to the laughing dancers on the floor.

“Give it a shot,” I said, nudging him in the side with
my elbow and indicating the dozen or so ladies sitting
on the first level. “Go ask one of the ladies down
there. That’s what they come for.”

He looked up at me in surprise. “You’re kidding.”

I shook my head. “No, sir. This is a far cry from
Sixth Street in Austin. Go ahead. Give it a try”

“No, no. You go first. I’m too shy.”

The idea appealed to me. It had been months since I
had danced to Cajun music. “Why not?” I drained the
last of my beer, tossed the cup in the trash barrel, and
promptly asked a matronly woman to dance. And she
as promptly accepted.

Her name was Marie, and I figured she was in her
sixties or so, but like every Cajun woman with whom
I’ve danced, she glided across the floor like a feather
as I led her through the Cajun two-step. We sashayed
around the floor, and every time we passed Jack, I
nodded for him to jump in.

“Why not you friend there, he dance?” Marie asked
as we swept by Jack.

“He’s from Austin. You know how those Texas people are. Can’t get up the nerve to get out here” I
grinned at her.

She smiled mischievously, dimples popping into
her pudgy cheeks. “Don’t worry. Me, I get him dance
partner.”

Next time around, she stopped us by the bleachers
and whispered to a woman who could have been her
twin. She pointed up to Jack, and the second woman’s
eyes lit with amusement. She nodded emphatically.

And as we danced away, I saw her speak to Jack,
and then drag him off the bleachers. “That Jean. She
be my sister. My older sister,” Marie added quickly
with a shy grin.

“I can see that,” I replied with a heavy dose of
Southern chivalry.

Marie wanted to dance a second dance, and I accommodated her, but I begged off the third dance. Sweat
rolled down my back, and my shirt clung to my skin.

Jack ignored the heat and sweat. He was hooked.
Between dances, he’d race up to the beer garden, chug
a small beer, and find another willing partner to dance.

He was on his fifth dance when I spotted Laura. If
I hadn’t known she was from Minnesota, I would
have pegged her as pure Creole. She wore black
slacks and a white long-sleeved blouse with ruffles
about her neck.

I waved. When she spotted me, she waved back and
made her way through the crowd. “Still in town,” she
said with a warm smile.

“I told you I wouldn’t leave until we had our
dance”

Her smile grew wider, and she offered me her hand.
“Then let’s don’t waste any time.”

Laura Palmo glided around the floor as if she were
on a cloud, responsive to my slightest lead. We twostepped, attempted the Cajun jig, and waltzed.

I’ve danced since I was a youth, but never with a
partner anymore graceful or responsive that Laura
Palmo. But, with each step, my guilt grew heavier. I
hoped, truly hoped she had logical explanations for
the questions I had for her.

After several dances, she frowned up at me. “Is
something wrong, Tony? You haven’t said a word in
the last few minutes”

Forcing a smile, I shook my head. “No, just thirsty.
How about you? They’ve got your favorite Big Easy
beer at the garden.”

She laughed, a bright tinkling like a China bell.
“Sounds good to me. Let’s go” She slipped her arm
around mine and held on tightly, as I led us through
the jostling crowd.

“I’ll find us a table,” she said. “You get the beer.”

I glanced to the rear of the beer garden in time to
see Walter rise from his table and slip in the night.
“There’s one back there,” I told her, pointing to the
empty table. “Grab it before someone else gets it.”

A few minutes later, I slid in at the table and set her
cup in front of her. She sipped it and smacked her lips.
“The first taste is always the best,” she said, laughing
and pulling out her cigarettes.

“Yeah,” I replied, taking a long drink.

“So,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “How’s
the case going?”

I shrugged and, trying to still the butterflies in my
stomach, replied, “Could be better.” I muttered, “I do
have a few questions.” I grimaced. “Truth is, I’d rather
take a beating than ask, but I’ve got to”

A wariness flickered in her eyes briefly, then vanished. “If you have to ask, then ask away,” she shot
back with a smile.

For a moment, I hesitated, wondering if I was doing
the right thing. Finally, I pulled Eddie’s e-mail from
my pocket and handed it to her. “Read this.”

She hesitated, her eyes fixed on the folded sheet in
my hand. “What is it?”

“A couple comments. You can answer them.” I extended my arm, forcing her to take the e-mail.

She opened it and began reading. Her face grew
hard. When she finished, she looked up at me with
cold eyes. “What do you plan on doing with this? I
paid my time. I’ve been clean for the last eighteen
years since I completed my parole”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Emile leaning
back slightly in his chair. “Why didn’t you tell me you
knew Karen Babin?”

Her eyes glittered coldly. “And admit I had been in
prison. Those are things, Mr. Boudreaux, that people
like me want to forget. I made mistakes, big ones, but
I paid for them. I don’t want to have to do it again.”

I felt a sense of relief. I could understand her perspective. Mine would have probably been the same.

“As far as where I was born. Maple Groves is only a
few miles north of Minneapolis, part of the suburban
area. No one has heard of Maple Groves, but everyone
knows Minneapolis.” With a shrug, she added, “It’s
easier that way than having to explain where Maple
Groves is.” She sipped her beer and leaned back, eyeing me narrowly. “Anything else, Mr. Boudreaux?”
Her tone was noticeably chilly.

“The teeth” I touched my fingers to my teeth. “You
told me you have never had a filling, yet in the
e-mail-”

She laughed, bitterly. “You don’t know much about
women, do you? Female vanity. That’s all. What
woman wants an attractive man to think she has a
mouthful of false teeth? You might not understand the
female psyche, Mr. Boudreaux, but our self-esteem is
just as important to us as life itself. Anything less than
perfection detracts from that self-esteem.”

I nodded to her face. “The scar on your face. That’s
from the wreck that killed Babin?”

Instinctively, her hand went to her face. She drew a
deep breath. “Yes,” she whispered. “We were heading
to Shreveport. There were some clerical positions
open. In prison, we’d been cellmates. I liked her.” She
laughed softly, wryly. “Birds of a feather, I guess.
Anyway, we were on the way to an interview when the
wreck happened. Karen … well, I was lucky. Burned
a little, but that was all.”

Behind me, I heard Emile clear his throat, and by
now, I was convinced she was who she claimed to be,
and I had the feeling Emile felt the same as I. “I talked
to your family in Maple Grove, your sister-in-law. You
should contact your brother. They’ve been searching
for you all these years”

She smiled sadly. “I embarrassed them when I went
to prison. Jimmy wrote me that they didn’t want to
have anything else to do with me” She paused, took a
deep drag from her cigarette, and then through the
smoke drifting between her lips, said, “So, I took my
brother at his word”

With a sense of relief, I leaned forward, laying my
hand on hers. “Sorry for all the questions. I didn’t
mean to stir up the past like that.”

She forced a faint smile. “Forget it. You had a job
to do”

I remembered the DNA test. For a moment, I considered forgetting about it, but then, it would verify
her identity. “One other thing. Would you have any
objection to a DNA test? We can get a sample from
your family.”

Laura stared up at me a moment, her eyes cool, her
lips slightly parted. Then a smile curved them. “Of
course not”

I squeezed her hand and said, “Good. Now, how
about another dance?”

Her large black eyes looked up at me. “I don’t think
so. Not right now. I just want to get some fresh air.”

Quickly, I rose and helped her from her chair.
“Want some company?”

She looked at me curiously. “If you’re not afraid to
be seen with me”

I felt like a heel. “Look, Laura. It’s just part of the
job. That’s all. I hated questioning you, but-”

She laid her hand on my arm. “Forget it.” She
smiled. “I’d enjoy your company”

My heart soared.

As we departed the beer garden, Emile and I locked
eyes. He shrugged. I felt the same way, and to tell the
truth, just a little giddy.

Leaving the lights of the fair grounds behind, we
strolled along the shadowy boardwalk skirting the
swamp. As far as the eye could see back in the pitchblack swamp, tiny green fireflies lit the darkness like
so many blinking lights at Christmas.

From deep in the stand of giant cypress that stood
like dark phantoms in the night came the bellowing of
alligators.

As we strolled into the shadows cast by the ancient
cypress, Laura slipped her arm through mine and laid
her head on my shoulder.

I whispered, “You’ve no idea how relieved I am”

She laughed softly. “I’m glad”

“And don’t worry about the e-mail. No one will
ever know. I promise you”

She hugged my arm. “Thank you.”

“But you should call your brother. They-” A
thought hit me. I glanced down at her. “You called
your brother Jimmy. I thought it was Jeremy.”

The next thing I knew, my head exploded, and the
last thing I felt was the side of my face slamming into
the wooden boardwalk at my feet.

The bouncing of the flat-bottomed jon boat jostled
me back to consciousness. I struggled to move, but my
wrists and ankles were bound.

“Ah, mon ami. You be awake, hey?”

I groaned and kept my eyes shut, but my mind was
racing. I lay on the deck between two seats with my
bound legs draped over the middle seat.

From the movement of the boat, I knew we were
weaving through the trees. I opened my eyes a crack
and made out a dark figure sitting in front of the
small motor.

He chuckled. “Mais no. Just as good you not be
awake. Me, I not want to be awake when the ‘Bator, he
take me”

My blood ran cold. In my mind, I saw the horrific pictures of John Hardy after he had been cut from the
belly of the alligator. Desperately, I flexed my wrists
back and forth, trying to work some slack into the
rope binding my hands behind my back.

Suddenly, a match flared, and as the flame touched
the cigarette between his lips, the light revealed the
thin face of Louie Thiboceaux, the hired man at
Benoit’s Hunting Lodge. And suddenly, all of the puzzling pieces fell together.

Louie Thiboceaux was Thertule Pellerin, Karen
Rouly’s half-brother.

Moments later, I felt the small boat begin to slow.
My heart thudded in my chest. I wanted to scream for
help, but deep down I knew that would be a waste of
energy.

It’s strange how in such a critical time in a person’s
life, he begins to see things with a clarity never before
perceived. Through half-closed eyelids, I peered at the
shadow hunched over the motor. And in that instant of
lucidity, I understood all that had taken place.

Laura Palmo had set me up, and like a moon-eyed
teenager, I fell for it. As soon as I left the bank that first
day, she called the hunting lodge and told her halfbrother I was coming. Thertule Pellerin, or as Benoit
knew him, Louie Thiboceaux, was waiting for me.

And now, the time had come to “pay the fiddler.”

Abruptly, the motor cut off, and the jon boat
quickly glided to a halt. “Mon ami. You be awake?”

I didn’t reply.

Pellerin grunted. “That good. The other one, he
make much noise.” The boat rocked as he rose to his
feet and made his way forward.

My heart was pounding so hard, I knew he could
hear it. I had one chance, one desperate chance. From
the way he had tossed me in the boat, he had left me
only one weapon, my bound feet.

Beyond the boat came the night sounds of the
swamp, mixed with the faint strains of gay music from
the festival floating across the still water.

My throat dry, I watched as the shadow grew closer
and closer. He was going to have to bend over to grab
me and roll me over the gunnel. If I could time my
move just right-

He climbed over the last seat and bent down. He
grunted. “Time you to go, mon a-”

I lashed out with my feet, using them as a pile
driver to knock him backwards.

With a shriek, he jerked upright, windmilling his
arms frantically for balance, but he was too close to
the side of the small craft, and his weight tilted the
small boat just enough to send him toppling into the
dark waters.