Rumble on the Bayou (40 page)

"'That's what Jenny said."

For a moment, a crestfallen look appeared on Joe's face and Dorie had to smile. "Jenny knew before me?" he asked.

"Now don't go pouting on me, Joe," Dorie said. "You know I type like crap. Jenny's been helping me polish up my dissertation since she's a wiz with all those charts and graphs and fancy computer things. I didn't want to tell anyone else until I knew for sure. You understand, don't you?"

Joe smiled. "So that's what you two have been doing all those evenings I had late patrol."

"Guilty as charged," Dorie replied, and the smile begin to vanish from her face. She felt her eyes cloud and turned her gaze out the window, hoping Joe wouldn't clue in on the hurt that lay underneath the excitement of starting her new life.

"Have you called him?" Joe asked, breaking into her thoughts.

She sighed as Joe hit on the one topic she'd been trying to avoid. "Of course I've called."

"So?"

"So what?"

Joe took a deep breath. "So what did he say?"

"He didn't say anything. He wasn't home."

Joe stared at her in surprise. "And he didn't call back?"

She shook her head and avoided his eyes, but it didn't work.

"You did leave a message for him, didn't you?"

"Not exactly," she said, trying to work around the truth.

"What do you mean, not exactly?"

She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "Hell, no, I didn't leave a message. The man has been gone three weeks and aside from two calls to get information for his case files, hasn't even tried to contact me. And don't say I didn't make an effort. I might not have left a message, but this is the technology age. How many people do you think he has on caller ID hailing from Gator Bait, Louisiana?"

Fortunately for her, Joe knew when to throw in the towel. He sighed and shook his head. "Well, then move on, Dorie. You're on to something new with your career. Maybe it's time to change other things too. You've been mooning around this town for too long. Even Maylene has taken to inquiring as to your welfare on a daily basis. That's just not right."

Dorie smiled. Ever since Maylene had been given a special award for bravery by the DEA, she had trailed Dorie and Joe as often as possible, insisting she was destined for a career in law enforcement. "No one has to inquire about me, Joe. I'm fine. Just a little bored. That's not against the law, is it?"

"Not the last time I checked," Richard's voice came from the doorway behind them. They both whirled around and stared. "Of course," he continued, "I know how you small towns operate. It's entirely possible you changed the laws after I left."

"Dick," Joe said and jumped up from his chair to offer his hand. "How the hell are you? What brings you back to town?"

"I'm fine," Richard said. "In fact, I'm better than fine. The case against Roland is solid as a rock. He'll never see the light of day. As for why I'm here…" He cast an apprehensive look at Dorie. "I have some unfinished business to attend to."

Dorie sprang from her seat and glared at him. "Unfinished business! You've got some nerve, Richard Starke, to call what went on between us business. And I have news for you-that business was finished when you never called."

Richard didn't even try to look sorry, and she saw Joe cast a sideways glance in her direction, probably trying to figure out if she was armed.

“
I was busy," Richard said and smiled.

Joe whistled. "Boy, you're never gonna learn."

"Busy? You were busy?" Dorie stared at him, incredulous. "What the hell kept you so involved that you couldn't even pick up the phone and make a call?"

"Being busy is not what kept me from calling" Richard said softly. "Not being prepared is what kept me from calling. That's why it's taken until now for me to come here. I had to make arrangements."

"What arrangements?" she asked, instantly suspicious.

He gave her a broad smile. "Well, for starters, there was my transfer to negotiate with the Gulf Coast division of the DEA. I'll be based out of Lake Charles."

"Really?" Dorie asked, afraid the punch line was coming.

Richard nodded. "After my big Roland capture, they were ecstatic to have me. I didn't tell them about my secret weapon." He gave Dorie a wink.

Dorie stared at him, too shocked to say another word, too scared that the moment was a dream and any minute it would vanish. But when she blinked her eyes, Richard was still there, right in front of her, smiling at her like it would last forever.

"And besides," he continued, "now that you'll be working in Lake Charles part of the time, I figured we could carpool. That is if you're willing to drive around in that foreign piece of shit I have."

Dorie's mouth dropped open in surprise. "How did you know about the teaching job? I just told Joe a few minutes ago."

"A little bird told me," he replied with a smug smile.

Dorie looked over at Joe and they both shook their heads. "Jenny," they said in unison.

"Here I thought she was respecting my need for privacy, and the whole time she's been passing out information behind my back," Dorie said. "You just wait until I get a hold of her."

"Now, don't be mad at Jenny," Richard said. "She was only trying to take care of you, as usual, and I needed information so I could go about finding a place to live-a place for both of us to live."

"You want to live with me?" Dorie asked, trying not to show any excitement. "You mean, like domesticated living?"

"That is the generally accepted form," Richard said, his voice serious.

"Well, I don't know about all that," Dorie said. "There's still some things I have to take care of first. It's not like I can just up and move."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Dorie," Joe exclaimed. "Everything you ever owned has sank in the bayou or blown up on your boat. All you have left will fit in a duffle bag."

"Well, me and my duffle bag still have our standards. And I'm not so sure that domesticated is part of my vocabulary."

Joe snorted and rolled his eyes at Richard, who smiled, and pulled a photo from his shirt pocket. "I was kind of hoping that this would do for living quarters." He handed the photo to Dorie. She reached out and hesitantly took the photo, then stared down at it.

It was a picture of a boat. A really, really big boat. All sparkling white, with three levels and a hot tub, of all things, right there on the deck. "Oh my God," Dorie whispered. "You actually bought this?"

Richard nodded. "The hot tub was the major selling point. I figured we could work out your water submersion issues in a couple of different ways. Strictly for scientific reasons, of course." He grinned at her. "Check out the back," he said and handed her another photo.

Trying to control her shaking hands, she took the photo and read the name printed in bold black letters across the back, Dorie's Pleasure. She looked at Richard and tried to hold back the tears that were welling in her eyes.

"You're not exactly like other women, Dorie," Richard said and ran one hand gently down her cheek. "I figured jewelry wouldn't impress you at all, so it had to be the boat."

"Are you sure?" Dorie asked, her voice shaking. "Are you sure you can be happy here?"

“
I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life." He looked deep into her eyes and gave her a sad smile. "Do you know what happened to me when I got home three weeks ago?"

"What?"

"I was carrying case files into my condo to work on at night and my neighbor across the hall asked if I was moving in. Ten years I've owned that condo, and the guy across the hall from me still didn't know who I was. Hell, everyone in Gator Bait knows what kind of underwear I have."

"Designer brand," Joe threw in. "Because of the finer fabric and all."

Dorie grinned. "Are you trying to tell me you want to move to Gator Bait because we all know about your underwear?"

"No," Richard said and leaned down to brush his lips gently across hers. "I'm trying to tell you that I want to move to Gator Bait because you all
care
about my underwear. Do you know since the day after I left, my D.C. office has been flooded with phone calls from Gator Bait residents? They sent flowers and cards and told my boss and anyone else who would listen how great I was and how it would be a ‘damned shame' if I didn't at least get a raise and an extended vacation out of it."

Dorie laughed. "That sounds like some people I know."

Richard laughed along with her. "Yeah, it was pretty overwhelming. It didn't sound like anyone I'd ever known and at first, I had no idea what to think about it, especially since I wasn't exactly Mr. Popularity around here. Then I realized that all of those people loved you so much that they were willing to do their best for me because of you." Richard grinned and ran one finger down her check. "You've got one hell of a family, Dorie Berenger. You think there's room for one more person in their lives?"

Dorie wiped at the tears that spilled from her eyes and smiled up at the man she loved more than she'd ever thought possible. "I think they can fit in just one more. So it looks like I've got a duffle bag to pack."

Joe whooped and Richard grabbed Dorie and enclosed her in a hug, twirling her around the office. Then Joe broke into the moment and grabbed Dorie up in a hug, crushing her sides with enthusiasm.

I'm sorry to interrupt this," Joe said, "but I'm so damn happy." He put her back on the ground and grabbed Richard's hand, pumping it like he was trying to raise oil from the ground. "I've got to run and tell Jenny. She's gonna have a stroke."

Joe dashed out the door, both Dorie and Richard staring after him in amusement. "You think everyone in Gator Bait can handle both you and Joe blissfully coupled off?"

She smiled up at him. "I think everyone in Gator Bait will be thrilled."

He threw one arm around her shoulders and drew her toward the door. "I am curious about one thing, though," he said, a confused look on his face. "Was that Maylene Thibodeaux I saw on Main Street wearing a deputy's uniform and a feather boa?"

The End

Her luck’s so bad, it’s a crime….

UNLUCKY

by Jana DeLeon

CHAPTER ONE

Exhausted after a long day of work, Mallory Devereaux entered J.T's Bar on Thursday night intending to have a cold beer and a bit of relaxation. Then some misplaced Yankee challenged Father Thomas to a round of pool.

She had barely gotten the door closed behind her when her bayou neighbor, Scooter Duson, grabbed her arm and dragged her into the corner for consultation.

"I've got two hundred on Father Thomas to win this game," he said. "Those Yankees been taunting him most of the evening."

Mallory stared, certain Scooter had lost what was remaining of his rapidly disappearing brain cells. "Father Thomas has never played pool in his life. Why in the world would you put money on him?" She eyed the group of men in the far corner of the bar – mid-forties, beer bellies, cheap haircuts (on what hair was remaining), polyester shirts. They looked more like a bunch of out-of-work plumbers than the stockbroker image she had of the northern U.S. residents. The Yankees. "Those guys are probably hustlers. You know better."

Scooter had the decency to look a bit embarrassed. "I know, but damn, I couldn't just let them get one over on Father T. What kind of Catholic would I be if I didn't come to his defense?"

"The kind with two hundred dollars in his wallet?"

Scooter nodded, her sarcasm lost. "Exactly. That's why I need your help. I know you can turn it to the Father's favor."

She glanced one more time at the men in the corner and smiled. They were Yankees, after all, but did she really want to tackle something like that tonight? The energy she'd have to spend on this kind of project was probably better saved for something more important. And definitely better looking.

"What's in it for me?" she asked, not about to turn on the juice for nothing, especially when Scooter had gotten all the way in this one by himself. "Flirting with ugly guys should be worth something," she continued. "Besides, I'm probably going to have to touch him to ensure bad luck." She shuddered.