Bayou My Love: A Novel (27 page)

~~~~

When
Andre got back in the car, I was ready for a tirade. At first, he remained
motionless, watching the ambulance lights disappear down the gravel road, and
then he turned to me.

“Now,
just so I can continue to improve my communication skills with the public,” he
said, “what part of ‘stay in the car and keep out of trouble’ was unclear?”

“Sorry,”
I said. “I lost it.”

“You
can’t go around taunting people like Broussard.” He sounded just like Jack.

I
balled my fists by my sides. “But he’s behind all of this, and seeing him
standing there—cocky as hell—I snapped.”

“That
may very well be, but you can’t interfere with ongoing investigations. We have
a much higher rate of success when the criminals don’t know we’re onto them.
And it’s safe to say the element of surprise is lost when you call them out in
front of the sheriff.”

I
thought he was messing with me again, but I didn’t want to push my luck. My
mouth had gotten me in enough trouble lately.

“I’m
sorry,” I said. “But he’s just arrogant enough to think he’s still getting away
with it, right? Don’t guys like him keep doing what they’re doing, pushing everybody’s
buttons until they get caught? I mean, he probably wants to get caught, right?”

“I
think you’ve been watching too many cop shows, Miss Parker. How about you let
me handle the bad guys like Broussard, since that’s what the great state of
Louisiana pays me to do.”

I
sighed as he started the car and pulled back onto the highway.

With
the faintest smile, he said, eyes never leaving the road, “You’ve got a mean
right hook, though, I’ll tell you that.”

When
it seemed he’d thoroughly cooled off, I said, “What happened to that guy in the
bar?”

He
shot me a sideways glance. “It seems he took a knife to a gunfight.”

“Did
Remy shoot him?” I shuddered, dreading the answer.

“If
he did, no one’s saying so. Broussard gave us enough of a scuffle inside that I
sent him down to the precinct to think about his error in judgment. Folks said
a stranger came in, and then Broussard and the guy started arguing out back.
Then they heard gunshots and went outside and found him.”

“You
believe that?”

He
shrugged. “I suppose there’s about a four percent chance it happened that way.
That no one saw a thing.” He glanced in the rearview, probably out of habit,
and said, “To read our reports, you’d think the parish was overrun with
drifters with hot tempers and bad aim.”

~~~~

At
the house, Andre was back to his jovial self—mostly. He sat down in the study
with a beer and laid his gun on the coffee table. “I’ll stay down here for the
night.”

“I’m
turning in,” I said. “Got to get up early and get back to the repairs.”

He
propped his feet up on the coffee table. “Go ahead, cher. You ain’t got nothing
to worry about. You get yourself a good night’s rest.”

“Thanks,
Andre.”

The
chances of that were slim under the circumstances, but I nodded and went
upstairs. I was so tired I could hardly keep my eyes open—but as soon as I
closed them, I’d see Remy sneering at me like he wanted to swallow me whole. It
wasn’t entirely bad, knowing that Andre was downstairs with a pistol. I just
hoped he wasn’t a heavy sleeper.

In
the dream, I was painting a dollhouse, gluing shingles to the roof. Vergie was
passing me miniature paintings, telling me they were some my mother had made
especially for the house. We stuck them to the tiny walls next to photos of my
mother and me. I rearranged the furniture as Vergie hummed along with the
record player. Then my father appeared with a sledgehammer and a hard hat,
bashing the house to pieces. When I turned, there was another house, so I
started painting it too. My father laughed, still wearing a crisp Oxford shirt and
pleated pants, a thin layer of sawdust clinging to his skin.
You know what
your problem is
, he said to me, raising the hammer over his head,
All
wind-up, but no follow-through
. He swung the hammer like a five-iron and
smashed the house to bits. I stood, pounding my fists against his chest. He
laughed again, but when I looked up at him, it was Remy. A grin stretched
across his face as the dollhouse splintered in front of me, tiny shingles and
windowpanes scattering across the room. His laughter made the room shake.

Then
there was a burst of orange flame, and my throat closed as the smoke filled my
lungs. The dog howled, and I ran toward the door, but I slammed into a wall
that crackled with flames. Big arms tightened around my shoulders, arms that
must have been pulling me to safety. But then they shoved me against the wall
so the fire burned my skin.

I
snapped awake, gasping as I sat up in the bed. The sheets were damp. My hair
stuck to my forehead. My heart raced. Outside, the barking was louder, right by
the window. I froze, terrified that Remy was in the house, that he had muscled
his way through with a jug of gasoline and a match, bent on doing it right this
time. I strained my ears, listening for footsteps, for anything, then heard the
door open downstairs.

The
feeling drained from my legs as I stood. I grabbed a screwdriver that was lying
on the dresser and crept into the hallway. The floorboards downstairs creaked.
Holding my breath, I eased down the stairs.

At
the bottom, the dog rushed past me, her fur brushing my bare legs. I screamed
without meaning to, then felt a hand on my shoulder as the screwdriver
clattered on the floor.

“Enza,”
Andre said, “it’s OK. It’s me.”

He
put his other hand on my arm, steadying me. “It’s OK,” he repeated. “I just let
the dog in. She was having a fit out there, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

I
shivered, leaning against the wall.

“Easy,
darlin’,” he said, pulling me against his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to
scare you.”

Tears
stung my eyes.

“Shhh,”
he said. He hesitated, then draped his arms around me. “Take it easy. You’re
safe. I’m right here.”

He
led me into the kitchen and sat me down at the table. I held my head in my
hands as he sat next to me and poured some bourbon into a glass.

“Here,”
he said, pushing it toward me. “My grandma used to give me a shot to help me
sleep. Worked like a charm.”

My
hand shook as I sipped.

“You
all right?”

I
nodded. “Just a nightmare. Then I heard a noise down here.”

“Sorry.
That fool dog was barking her head off.” He gestured toward Bella who lay on
her side as if this was a perfectly routine event.

“She
does that.” I didn’t think there was enough alcohol in the whole state to get
me back to sleep, but it was worth a try. At the very least, it might ease my
nerves and stop my blood from pounding in my ears.

When
I could feel my knees again, I stood and walked toward the stairs. “I’m going
to try this one more time,” I said, and Andre stood with me.

“You
got nothing to worry about.” His eyes were steady on mine. “Nobody’s gonna get
through me.”

I
nodded and headed upstairs. “Hey, Andre,” I said, and he stepped into the
doorway. “Thank you.”

“You’re
welcome,” he said, and watched from the bottom of the stairs until I closed the
bedroom door.

Chapter
21

Sunlight
streamed through the windows. Cinching my robe over my pajamas, I trudged down
the stairs, concerned only with finding coffee.

Andre
sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper.

He’d
already made coffee. I pulled a mug from the cabinet and poured myself a cup.

“You
get some sleep?” he asked.

I
sat down across from him. “More than I thought I would. It was easier knowing
you were here.”

“Glad
I could help.” He dropped the paper and went over to the stove. “I left some
breakfast warming for you.” There was a clatter of silverware as he kept his
back to me, moving like those chefs do on television, dropping salt and bits of
parsley from chin height.

He
slid a plate in front of me—an omelet with sausage and fruit on the side.

“Jeez,”
I said.

He
shrugged. “I got bored waiting for you to wake up. And what sort of public
servant would I be if I didn’t make enough for you too? By the way, Jack’s
already called twice this morning, checking up on you.”

I
paused, mid-bite. “You didn’t tell him about our little ride-along, did you?”

“No,
ma’am, I did not. I would prefer that information stay between you and me.”

That
made two of us. Jack would go through the roof if he knew I’d had another
encounter with Remy.

I
turned back to my omelet, trying to eat like a lady, even though I was
ravenous. It was only then that I heard the chewing sound coming from the
hallway. I leaned back in my chair far enough to see the dog stretched out by
the front door, gnawing on something that looked like a stick.

“What’s
that dog got now?” I muttered.

Andre
shook his head, turning back to the paper. “Don’t know. Probably brought it in
from the yard. I let her out this morning, but she came right back a few
minutes later. Can’t say I blame her. It’s already hotter than hell out there.”

I
wished the heat would hold off a couple of days so I could finish the work
outside without feeling like I was in a greenhouse. But the universe wasn’t up
for cutting me any breaks.

“Anything
in there about the shooting last night?” I asked.

“Nothing
we didn’t know already.”

The
dog sneezed, making me jump. There was a loud crack, followed by a string of
sneezes, and I pushed the plate aside. “What is she into?”

She
wasn’t chewing on a stick at all. I reached down and swiped the thing from her
while she was racked by another series of sneezes. She shot me a disapproving
look as I turned the object over in my hands. It looked like it was made from
something like grapevines—like those decorative woven wreaths. It was stuffed
with straw and corn husks, and was shaped like a snake. My stomach turned just
looking at it. I didn’t know what it meant, but there was one person who would.

“Looks
like my plans for the day have changed,” I said.

Andre
lowered the paper and reached for his coffee. “What is that thing?”

“You
feel like taking a drive into town?”

His
eyes narrowed. “What for?”

“Errands?”

“I’m
afraid you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Promise
you won’t make fun of me.”

He
frowned, picking at the vines and leaves. “I would never.”

“I
need to go see the voodoo priestess.”

He
shook his head a bit, like he had water in his ear. “You what?”

“You
heard me. She’s the only one who can tell me what this means.”

“What
it means is that fool dog went out and found the grossest thing she could to
try and eat. There’s nothing mystical about it. It could have come from a mile
away.”

“Or
it could have been right outside the door, like every other freaky cursed thing
that showed up here.”

“What
other freaky cursed things?”

“Jack
didn’t tell you?” I shook my head. “Of course he didn’t. Because he thinks it’s
not real.”

He
glanced up at the ceiling, muttering something I couldn’t make out. But that
didn’t matter—the look on his face told me everything he was thinking.

“But
I still need a ride into town.”

“You’re
wasting your time,” he said. “Those people are just looking to separate
tourists from their money.”

“This
lady’s different. She told me about all the other stuff, and she’ll know what
this is too.”

He
laid the snake on the table and sighed. “I get the feeling I’m taking you
whether I want to or not.”

I
smiled my sweetest smile.

“Fine,”
he said with a sigh. “Let me get my gun.”

~~~~

The
door was locked, but I rapped my knuckles against the glass anyway. Duchess’
big orange cat was sitting in the window, his yellow eyes narrowed into slits.
I pressed my face to the glass and thought I saw the beaded curtain swing.

“I
think you’re out of luck,” Andre said. He had his back to me, scanning the
street. His badge was hidden under his shirt, clipped to his belt, and I got a
glimpse of it every time he crossed his arms over his chest.

“She’s
here,” I said, and knocked until I heard footsteps.

“Cool
your heels,” Duchess said through the door. “If something’s ailing you that
bad, I probably can’t help no way.”

She
pulled the door open and stood blocking it, her hands on her hips. Her hair was
swept back against her head, held there by a bright blue scarf. “Well, if it
isn’t Miss Love Triangle,” she said, her eyebrow arching. “What’s got you so on
fire, child? Can’t you read?” She pointed a long pink fingernail to a sign that
read
Closed for Lunch
.

“This
couldn’t wait, Miss Dauphine,” I said, still out of breath from rushing through
the Quarter. “I need your help. Please.”

“Girl,
you look like you being chased by the devil himself. And what’d you bring the
po-po for?”

Andre
turned, frowning.

“Long
story,” I said. “But he’s off duty. Just gave me a ride is all.” She shot me a
wary look, but I went on. “I just need a minute, please. You have to tell me
what this means.” I yanked the snake out of my bag and held it out for her to
see.

“Ho,
now,” she said, stepping back. “Don’t be waving stuff around when you don’t
know what it is.” She held her hand over her heart and opened the door wide.
“Come on,” she said, peeking around the doorframe, “before anybody sees you and
that thing.”

Andre
paused, looking down the street, and she said, “You too, Mr. Po-po, before
somebody sees you and starts all the tongues around here wagging.”

I
stepped inside, Andre at my heels, and followed Duchess back to the room with
the bookcases. It smelled pungent, like something had died. A large mortar and
pestle sat in the middle of the desk, along with an array of tiny bones.

“I
don’t have much time,” Duchess said, pushing the bowl to the corner of the
desk. “My niece is getting married today, and I’ve got things to get ready for
the ceremony. So how ’bout you give me the abridged version.”

I
held the snake out carefully. “This was in my yard this morning.”

Duchess
took the snake and laid it on her desk. She pulled a magnifying glass from the
drawer and leaned closer to it.

“You
know what snakes do?” she asked.

“Aside
from the obvious?” Andre said.

“Snake
is a gateway,” she said, pulling a twig out of the tightly knit bundle with a
pair of tweezers. “It’s like a bridge between two worlds, or in this case, who
you are and who you want to be.” She paused, picking through the straw inside.
“Somebody was performing a ritual. Snakes are used to seal rituals, to make
them stick.”

“Great,”
I said.

Duchess
clicked her tongue, pulling another twig from the bundle. “It’s mostly swamp
vines, but there’s some devil’s shoestring stuck in here. See this?”

I
studied the green flake between us. Andre rolled his eyes, and I shot him a
look.

“This
is spikenard,” she said. “Keeps you faithful. There’s vetivert reed here too.
And Adam and Eve root.”

“Adam
and Eve?”

“It
comes from an orchid. Not easy to find,” she said. “Binds two lovers for
eternity.”

I
sat back in the chair and frowned.

“Is
this meant for your same mister, or has our triangle become a square?” She
glanced over at Andre, who had pushed his dark aviator shades up into his hair.
His eyebrows shot up.

“No,
ma’am,” I said. “He’s just looking out for me today.”

“Mmm-hmm,”
she said, her eyes drifting over him. She turned back to me and said, “You
better not cross this girl, honey. The whole thing’s soaked in Black Sampson
oil. She’s working some serious mojo on your fella, but this is the dark kind.”

“How
dark?” I glanced at Andre, who stared out into the shop as if he was ignoring
us.

She
peered at me over the rims of her glasses. “The if-I-can’t-have-him-nobody-will
variety.”

I
felt sick.

She
clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Mercy, I do hate love triangles. But
they keep me in business.” With a pair of scissors, she cut through the dried
vines and pulled out a tan cloth. “Bet we’ll find something of your fella’s in
here,” she said as she unrolled it.

Inside
were more herbs and dried flowers—and a watch. I didn’t recognize it, but it
had to be Jack’s.

“Would
she make it herself, or would someone like you have to make it?”

She
raised her eyebrows and said, “Well, it’s stronger if it comes from a priest or
a priestess.”

“You
know who might have made it for her?”

She
glanced at Andre and shook her head. “Lots of folks around here could have.”

I
leaned back in the chair.

“What
you need is some protection,” she said. She opened the bottom drawer of her
desk and dug out a handful of small packets. “I’ll mix up something for you.
This girl don’t have far to go till she gets to the bad place.”

She
paused, her hand in the drawer, and stared at Andre. “But non-believers need to
wait outside. Their energy takes the power out of the gris-gris.”

He
raised one eyebrow, but she didn’t make another move.

“Then
I’ll just be outside,” he said.

When
he was past the beaded curtain, Duchess scooped pinches of herbs from three
different packages and dropped them into a velvet pouch. From a large jar, she
scooped a tablespoon of loamy black soil and dropped it in too.

“What’s
that?” I asked.

“Graveyard
dirt.”

“From
a real graveyard?”

“Well
it ain’t from no country club,” she said. “Reverses bad magic.” She looked at
the bag, then back at me. “Maybe just one more scoop.”

“So
this will keep her away?” My eyes drifted back to the snake, with its hollow
little eye holes that seemed to stare right into me.

“No,”
she said, cinching the bag tight. “This is going to keep her bad mojo away.”
She nodded toward the front room and said, “Probably gonna take Mr. Po-po out
there to keep her away.”

She
stood and leveled her eyes to mine. “I hope that fella’s worth all this
trouble.”

When
I didn’t answer, she said, “Come on out front, and I’ll ring you up.”

~~~~

“A
hundred bucks!” Andre exclaimed. We were speeding over Lake Pontchartrain, the
wind whipping my hair across my face. “Are you nuts?”

“It’s
Miranda. It has to be. For a while I thought it might be Remy, just screwing
with me, but it’s her.”

Andre
turned toward me so I could see my reflection in his shades. “You got any hard
evidence of that?”

I
almost blurted that Miranda had accosted me at the house, but instead I said,
“Just what Duchess said.”

“That
won’t exactly hold up in court. Besides, why would she go to all this trouble?”

“You
heard Duchess. She wants Jack. She’s trying to get him back with voodoo.” It
sounded ridiculous when I said it out loud.

“And
you really believe that?”

“What
do you know about Miranda?”

“She’s
been in some trouble before. Nothing too serious, though. She and Jack used to
go out, but that burned out pretty fast. From what he told me, she didn’t want
to break it off and kept trying to get him back.”

“What
if she’s the one who set fire to the house?” I said. “What if it wasn’t Remy?”

Andre
smirked. “She’s a wildcat, but she’s no murderer. It wouldn’t surprise me if
she’s the one leaving all this voodoo shit in your yard, but she’s not
homicidal. She’s just lovesick.”