Authors: Lynn Emery
Tags: #murder, #murder mystery, #paranormal, #louisiana, #killer, #louisiana author, #louisiana fiction, #louisiana mystery, #louisiana swamp horror ghosts spirits haunting paranormal
They exchanged more goodbyes and walked two
more blocks to the cafe Lagniappe Cafe. Chase teased LaShaun all
the way. Mr. St. Julien’s warmth, and his sister’s down home sense
of humor, had brightened the day. Heads turned when they entered
the cafe, but LaShaun felt the positive waves sent toward them. The
pretty waitress with blonde highlights worked hard not to stare as
she led them to a table. She clearly found Chase attractive, with
his handsome Cajun looks. One man gave him a thumbs up sign.
“You’re pretty popular around town,” the
waitress, Jenny from her name tag, said with a smile. She seemed
not to notice LaShaun. “Everybody is talking about how you arrested
that drug dealer and helped keep a serial killer from getting out
of prison.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Chase replied with a
gracious nod.
LaShaun cleared her throat when the woman
kept gazing wistfully at Chase. “I’ll have a glass of sweet
tea.”
“Uh, yeah. Right.” Jenny reluctantly
acknowledged LaShaun’s presence. “And for you Deputy
Broussard?”
“I’ll have cola, Jenny. Thanks.”
“Sure thing. I’ll be right back to take your
order.” Jenny rushed off as though she couldn’t wait to serve
Chase.
LaShaun gently kicked him under the table and
rolled her eyes. ’I’ll have cola, Jenny’,” she said, her voice
pitched low mimicking him.
“What? I can’t help being popular,” Chase
joked.
“At least this time the town gossip is in
your favor for the election,” LaShaun quipped. She started to say
more, but stopped in surprise.
Neal Montgomery and his sidekick Krystal sat
at a table on the other side of the cafe. He nodded to LaShaun.
Still looking at her, Montgomery dropped money on the table and
headed toward them. He seemed to have forgotten Krystal. She called
out to him, but Montgomery merely lifted a hand in response without
breaking his stride. The young woman shot an angry scowl at his
back, but then followed after a few seconds. They arrived at
LaShaun and Chase’s table at the same time the waitress
returned.
“I’ll come back for your orders in a few,”
Jenny said and left again.
“So you haven’t left town yet,” Chase said as
he stood and shook hands with Montgomery. He nodded to Krystal, who
in turn murmured a soft hello.
“We’re on our way to New Orleans now. I’ll be
back this weekend, but not on business.” Montgomery transferred his
smile from Chase to LaShaun.
Krystal wore an annoyed expression. “We’ll be
back this weekend.”
“Funny. You don’t look like the outdoors
type,” Chase said mildly.
LaShaun’s skin started to tingle like crazy
as Montgomery’s smile widened. He radiated satisfaction. Montgomery
relished being able to spring an unexpected piece of news on
LaShaun. Her vision sharpened as if her surroundings had been
switched to high definition.
“You’re going to be a guest at the Trosclair
Mardi Gras ball,” LaShaun said.
Krystal hissed in shock. Chase looked at
LaShaun with a baffled expression. Yet Montgomery’s smile didn’t
waver, nor did he seem perturbed by LaShaun’s declaration. With her
senses enhanced, LaShaun noticed those around them, town residents,
were paying close attention.
“Quentin throws the best parties. The
Trosclair social events even get talked about in New Orleans
circles. Isn’t that right, Krystal?” Montgomery did not look at her
despite his question.
“Hmm,” Krystal replied.
“Ah, we’ve interrupted your lunch long
enough. Goodbye,” Montgomery said when the waitress approached
again. He started to leave but turned back. “Wait a minute. Why
don’t you two come to the ball? Deputy Broussard could do his
campaign some good making contacts.”
“Quentin Trosclair might have a problem with
us showing up without an invitation,” Chase quipped. “Besides, I’m
pretty sure he’s not one of my supporters.”
“I happen to know Quentin has no horse in
this race.” Montgomery took out his cell phone and tapped the
screen. “Hello, Q. Yes, we’re about to get on the road now. Listen,
I’m here with Deputy Broussard. What about sending an invitation to
the leading candidate for Sheriff of this fine parish?”
Montgomery tapped the phone again. Quentin’s
laughter bounced from the small smart phone’s speaker. “I should
have thought of sending Chase and LaShaun an invitation. Brilliant
idea. I’ll have it delivered to the Sheriff’s station within the
hour!”
“Excellent, Q. See you Saturday.” Montgomery
ended the call and beamed at them. “We’re going to have a wonderful
time. Well, we better get going. Goodbye.”
Krystal merely glared at LaShaun as she swept
past them to follow in Montgomery’s wake. The tall, good looking
attorney attracted admiring glances from the women in the cafe.
Krystal radiated resentment. Montgomery’s charisma would
continually attract women, a power he savored. LaShaun suspected he
used it regularly. His lover had years of misery ahead.
Jenny cleared her throat to get Chase’s
attention. “Sir, your orders?”
Both ordered sandwiches with sides of
coleslaw. They watched the waitress leave again. The other diners
shot glances at them, and the buzz of conversation hummed through
the air. LaShaun could imagine Beau Chene would get an update on
the couple that kept them all talking, the latest episode of the
deputy and the voodoo priestess.
“Humph, that’s a strange development.” Chase
drank from his glass and gazed out of the wide window onto the
street.
“What an understatement. You have my
permission to be rude and send a ‘Hell no” as your RSVP,” LaShaun
retorted. When he didn’t respond, her skin tingled again. “You’re
not seriously planning...”
“I think we should go. Like Montgomery said,
it’s a great chance for me to make nice with the rich and
powerful.” Chase looked at her. “You’re curious about out how those
two got to be friends. Admit it. Here’s your chance to find
out.”
LaShaun gazed at him in fascination. Chase
seemed the same, but different in a way that disturbed her, a lot.
What’s more he was dead on target. She definitely wanted to see
Quentin and Montgomery together to glean a sense of what was going
on.
“So I guess we’re going to the ball.” LaShaun
shivered at the smile Chase gave her in response. She also wanted
desperately to find out what was happening to Chase.
Chapter 9
Saturday morning LaShaun went to visit Miss
Rose again. The elderly woman had been delighted to get her call.
The drive to Mouton Cove was lovely. Even with the cold of winter
holding on for one last bite, Louisiana fought back. Green leaves
mixed in with the bare gray branches of leaves stripped by frosty
winds of early March. Fluffy clouds, light giant cotton balls,
hovered against the blue skies. Yet the bright March sunshine
hadn’t worked on LaShaun’s dark mood. By the time she reached Miss
Rose’s lovely old Creole Cottage, it was barely seven-thirty in the
morning. LaShaun drove down the driveway around to the back of the
house. The older woman waved at her from a window.
Miss Rose opened the kitchen door. “Hello,
sweet daughter. This is a fine morning, eh?”
“Good morning. Yes, the weather is nice.”
LaShaun pulled her jacket closer against the sharp March wind.
“Whew, I’m looking forward to spring though.”
“Warmer weather and a wedding. You have good
reason to look forward to spring.”
LaShaun took off her jacket after she entered
the cozy kitchen. Miss Rose chuckled as she closed the door firmly
against the chill. She slipped on an oven mitt and took a cast iron
skillet from the oven. She placed it on the stove. The smell of
fresh coffee, biscuits, and sausage filled the air. Miss Rose
placed the food on two plates. LaShaun poured two cups of coffee,
and both of them sat down at the table.
“You need something hot in your stomach. You
shouldn’t miss breakfast.”
“Thank you, Miss Rose.” LaShaun didn’t need
to ask how the older woman knew she hadn’t eaten. “I’m sorry for
bothering you at this early hour.”
“Child, I get up at five o’clock every
morning. Old people don’t sleep well. My husband is already up and
gone. He went to his friend’s farm to help him put out hay for his
cows. Fred’s kids have all moved to the city. Young folks don’t
want to live the old ways, eh? Well I don’t blame ‘em. Who wants to
walk through manure all day?” Miss Rose chuckled again. “Ah, but I
miss the old days. My first husband had a ranch.”
“Yes, ma’am,” LaShaun said respectfully. She
knew the story of Miss Rose’s first husband. Loris Mouton had been
a handsome Creole cowboy. In the forties and fifties he’d competed
in rodeos.
Miss Rose sighed. “I’ve been blessed with two
good men, Dieu merci. But you didn’t come out here to listen to my
dusty stories from the past.”
LaShaun smiled at her with affection. “There
is more wisdom in your ramblings than most could hope to have in a
lifetime.”
“So, it’s old woman wisdom you need, eh
child?” Miss Rose lifted a dark eyebrow at LaShaun.
“Counsel from a woman who understands that
there is more to this world than what we see with our eyes,”
LaShaun said, her smile now gone.
Miss Rose drank her coffee in silence for a
few moments as she seemed to ponder LaShaun’s words. “Eat your
breakfast.”
LaShaun had skipped dinner the evening
before, unable to stomach food. She spent most of the night
watching the eerie blue light dance in her woods. Its return
taunted her that prayers had not been enough to banish the demon.
Or maybe her prayers had not been strong enough or pure because of
the things she’d done in her past.
Miss Rose’s maternal attention consoled
LaShaun. Suddenly at ease, LaShaun felt hunger pains for the first
time in hours. The fluffy buttered biscuit melted against LaShaun’s
tongue when she tasted it. Miss Rose nodded approval and nibbled on
at piece of sausage, still thinking. The two women shared the
morning meal as though they were having a normal visit. After a
time Miss Rose stood slowly. She tugged the sweater she wore a bit
closer as she left, slippers shuffling across the tiled floor.
“I’ll be right back, cher,” Miss Rose said
over her shoulder.
True to her word, Miss Rose came back a few
minutes later. She carefully laid a thick book on the table. She
tapped a forefinger on the dark green leather cover with gold
letters. A border of more gold, in the shape of leaves laid end to
end, decorated the book. LaShaun gazed at the book for a second.
She carefully wiped her hands on the cloth napkin before picking it
up.
“Warriors Against Evil: The Battle Rages
Quietly, by Father Leonce Gautier,” LaShaun read aloud. She admired
the workmanship of the book for a few seconds before opening the
pages. “Wow, written in seventeen ninety-nine.”
“He wrote the second edition and published it
in eighteen forty-seven. Father Gautier came to Louisiana in
seventeen eighty-nine. He was twenty-two years old. He went to
Natchitoches first. You know it’s the oldest settlement in
Louisiana. Anyway, he eventually made his way to Vermilion Parish.
He’s not as well known as Father Maigret in the history books, but
those of us who know understand. This is an English version. I
donated the French version, second edition, to Xavier University.
Four of my ten grandchildren attended there you know.”
“You’re right to be proud, too,” LaShaun
said. Afraid Miss Rose would veer off to brag on them, LaShaun
gently prodded her back to the subject at hand. “But the book.”
“Hmm, ah yes. You know me too well, cher. In
a minute I’d be showing you pictures of my beautiful babies.” Miss
Rose laughed, and then turned serious again. “This book talks about
Father Gautier’s encounters with people who did terrible things. He
eventually concluded that some were possessed. Others, while not
possessed, had simply decided that committing evil acts would
benefit them more than following the scriptures.”
“Satan worshippers?” LaShaun flipped to the
first chapter.
“No, not exactly. He spoke of those who had
scorn for Biblical instructions to turn the other cheek, resist the
lure of fleshly desires and so on. They followed Satan by their
deeds, choosing to lie, steal, commit adultery with whoever they
wanted to as often as possible. You name a sin, they committed it.”
Miss Rose wore a grin. “Not that different from today, eh?”
“No difference at all, Miss Rose,” LaShaun
agreed.
“According to Father Gautier, there are those
among us who choose evil. While they live, they prey on the
weak-minded. The worst of these may come back as demons once they
die. Father Gautier calls these weak ones “dupes”. They’re seduced
by the truly evil ones, who tend to be charismatic and
good-looking. Finally there are those who are possessed by demons.
They don’t seek to be taken over, but a strong evil spirit can
seize a chance to become even more powerful. ” Miss Rose leaned
back against her chair. She looked tired, as though speaking of
such wickedness sapped energy from her.
LaShaun refilled Miss Rose’s empty cup with
more coffee. “We can put off this talk for another time. I think
you need rest.”
“No, we talk now. You will tell me why you’re
so afraid for the young man you love.” Miss Rose nodded slowly when
LaShaun put a hand over her mouth. “Tell me, cher.”
Her voice trembling at first, LaShaun began
the story. LaShaun told her about her ancestors first, and how the
loa had been called on to help them again. Every detail documented
in the journals tumbled across LaShaun’s lips. She hadn’t spoken to
anyone of the accounts of family misdeeds that spanned just over
two centuries. Monmon Odette had been her only confidant. Now Miss
Rose filled a void. LaShaun could speak of these things with not
only someone who shared her Creole heritage, but who had “the
gift”. LaShaun finished with the account of her long ago affair
with Quentin Trosclair.