Relentless Pursuit: A Novel (Secrets of Roux River Bayou) (4 page)

Father Gauvin had prayed with them, then left the room to perform the last rites on Chance’s parents. Emily didn’t know much about the traditions of the Catholic Church. But she liked Father Gauvin and found his demeanor comforting. Too bad he wasn’t the priest who would be saying the funeral Mass—assuming there was going to be a funeral Mass. Chance hadn’t really said.

She pictured two caskets side by side and for a split second saw the faces of her own parents and wondered how she could ever survive such grief. “You just want to sit here for a while?”

Chance took her hand in his. “I dread going home. When I left there this morning, I never expected to return as an orphan.”

Chapter 3

Sheriff Jude Prejean wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and looked out his office window at the media set up in front of the Saint Catherine Parish Courthouse across the street. Four dead and ten hospitalized. How bad was it going to get?

A knock at the door caused him to turn just as Deputy Chief Aimee Rivette came into his office, her tan uniform as crisp as her short, bleached hair.

Aimee held his gaze. “Sheriff, the ME’s preliminary exam confirmed that the three DOAs died of potassium cyanide found in Gaudry bottled water. But this was no accidental contamination.” Aimee handed him a photograph. “Notice the shiny spot on the bottom.”

“What is it?”

“A strong, clear adhesive of some kind. And when you look at the bottom of the bottle from the inside”—she handed him another photo—“you can see where a tiny hole was
patched
with it.”

“So someone could have made a hole in the bottom and injected cyanide into the water,” Jude said. “Then resealed the bottom and put it back on the shelf.”

“Exactly. Who thinks to inspect the bottom of a bottle—especially when the expiration date is stamped at the top? The ME noticed the victims emitted a faint smell of bitter almonds, which is a dead giveaway for cyanide. Toxicology will need to confirm it. The DOAs’ faces were bluish in color, suggesting they were oxygen deprived, which is totally consistent with potassium cyanide poisoning. We have to assume that the bottled water was intentionally poisoned. Which throws up a red flag about the food bar, too.”

“So this is even worse than we originally thought.” Jude swore under his breath and felt his hands turn to fists. “We’re sure the Gaudry water was purchased from Marcotte’s Market?”

“Leo Marcotte confirmed that the stamp on the bottles was theirs. And that Gaudry water was on the list of groceries delivered yesterday to the DOAs.”

“Are we questioning the delivery person?”

“Castille and Doucet are in the process of locating him. He’s sixteen—and the owner’s great-nephew.”

Jude blew out a breath. “We’re not waiting for health officials. We need to close down Marcotte’s until we get to the bottom of this.”

“Leo Marcotte already closed voluntarily. He assures us we have his full cooperation, including a list of every employee, past and present, from the last five years.”

“Good. Call Chief Norman immediately, and have him meet me on the courthouse steps. The public needs to know that cyanide was also found in Gaudry bottled water—and that the bottles had been tampered with.”

Aimee made the call and put her phone on her belt clip. “Done.”

“All right, walk with me.” Jude led the way across the detective bureau and down the hallway. “Let’s work with local health officials and make sure all Gaudry bottled water is pulled off the shelves in Les Barbes. We need to make sure Gaudry’s home office in New Orleans is informed of the problem. They’ll probably want to contact state officials and issue a recall.”

“All right.”

“Let’s concentrate our efforts on interviewing each employee of Marcotte’s, and the people involved in warehousing or transporting the food items used on the food bar—and Gaudry bottled water. We might need to get the state police involved in that. And get security tapes of the food bar at Marcotte’s, starting with last night’s cleanup crew.”

“I’m on it,” Aimee said.

“Did Chief Norman request manpower from other police departments?”

Aimee nodded. “Absolutely. We’ve got whatever manpower we need at our disposal. We should be able to contain the panic, but I doubt we can prevent it once the public is informed that Gaudry bottled water was poisoned. They won’t know what’s safe to eat or drink.”

“People are going to have to be proactive!
We
can’t do everything!” Jude paused and softened his tone. “The minute we announce the problem is coming from Marcotte’s, whoever’s doing this could strike somewhere else. We can’t assume we’ve contained the problem.”

“What are you going to tell the media?”

“The truth. We’re going to need every man, woman, and child to be vigilant if we’re going to prevent more casualties. People need to inspect all bottles, cartons, and packaging carefully for any sign of tampering.”

“I have to believe there will be panic.”

“That’s why we have to remain calm and reassuring.”

Jude stopped at the elevator and pushed the down button. A second later the door opened, and Gil Marcel stepped out, his face grim.

“What is it?” Jude said.

“Another couple was found dead in their home after drinking Gaudry bottled water. That’s six dead—five adults from bottled water and the little boy from the food bar.”

Jude sighed, shaking his head. “This thing is escalating.”

Jude followed Aimee into the elevator and pushed the G button. Was the person or persons behind this despicable act going to drill into plastic milk cartons? Or those little juice boxes kids love? Were more children going to die? He blinked away the terrible thought. He couldn’t let that happen.

Chapter 4

The bells of Saint Catherine Catholic Church rang three times as Zoe looked across the dining room at Zoe B’s, noting that the empty tables far outnumbered those occupied. Normally on Saturdays, this place bustled all day long, the waiting area filled with people eager to be seated. She wondered whether Margot and Josh had mustered the courage to tell their other children that Domi wasn’t coming home. And whether Emily was able to comfort Chance after the tragic deaths of both his parents.

Zoe walked over to a bare wooden table and unfolded a navy and gold fleur-de-lis–print tablecloth that coordinated perfectly with the striped curtains on the window at the front of the eatery. She spread the tablecloth evenly across the table, smoothing out the wrinkles. Little had changed in the fifteen years since she had opened Zoe B’s, other than the size of the dining room, the addition of laminated wood-plank flooring, and the always-for-sale oil paintings by local artists. The same French country furnishings gave it the cozy ambiance customers loved and she never grew tired of.

She heard familiar voices and glanced over at the table by the window where Hebert Lanoux, Father Sam Fournier, and Tex Campbell were engrossed in a game of checkers.

Zoe smiled despite her melancholy mood. Those three old guys were good for each other, perhaps because they were nothing alike and brought very different life experiences to the mix. Hebert had been a grocer. Father Sam, a priest. Tex, an oilman. Hebert generally saw things one way and didn’t budge in his opinion. Father Sam tried to keep an open mind and looked for the best in people, trying not to judge their motives. And Tex was the objective voice, always able to see multiple sides of an issue and not afraid to call it as he saw it.

The aroma of Pierce’s seafood gumbo made its way to her senses. She wondered whether he should have bothered making it.

“Boss, what are you doing?” Head waitress Savannah Surette pulled up next to Zoe, pushing a cart filled with salt and pepper shakers, silverware wrapped in cloth napkins, and clear bud vases, each holding a fresh yellow daisy. “Let me do that.”

“It feels good to be busy. It’s dead around here.”

“Because everyone’s scared to death,” Savannah said. “Ever since the press conference, there’s been a run on frozen, canned, and packaged foods—macaroni and cheese, spaghetti and pastas, and whatnot. I heard stores are rationing.”

“They are,” Zoe said sheepishly. “I went down to Rouses and bought all the boxed macaroni and cheese and snack crackers I was allowed for my kids. They were almost completely sold out of frozen foods. There was a vegan behind me in line who was pretty upset. She said the organic grocery store had sold out of everything she could eat.”

Savannah set a vase in the middle of the table. “So what does a person do if she doesn’t eat meat, eggs, or dairy, and fresh produce safety is questionable?”

“I told her Pierce could make up some vegetarian ‘takeout’ for her, that we aren’t using a single item from Marcotte’s Market, that we buy our food in bulk from wholesale suppliers.” Zoe made a sweeping motion across the empty tables. “But people aren’t exactly flocking in here.”

Savannah tightened her ponytail, her blue eyes wide. “To be perfectly honest,
I
wouldn’t eat out in Les Barbes right now.”

“I’d eat
here
,” Zoe said. “Lots of tourists have come a long way to enjoy their vacation. If we can reassure them that it’s safe to eat at Zoe B’s, it might keep them from leaving town.”

“Who’s going to come to Sunday brunch tomorrow, after someone put poison in Marcotte’s food bar?” Savannah said. “The authorities are telling people to stay away from food bars and smorgasbords until they know more.”

“So we’ll skip brunch this week. But Pierce can prepare our usual breakfast entrees. I think I’ll go make a sign and hang it on the front door so people know we’re using ingredients from wholesale suppliers, not grocery stores.”

“I hope it works.” Savannah arched her eyebrows. “I heard that the CDC might be called in. And the FBI and Homeland Security. And that they might close down all the restaurants in Les Barbes.”

“
What
?” Zoe lowered her voice. “Could they really do that? Closing us down in the peak season would ruin us. We do over fifty percent of our business between Memorial Day and Labor Day.”

Savannah shrugged. “It was probably a rumor.”

“Dey can do what dey want”— Hebert looked up from the checkerboard set between him and Father Sam—“if dey suspect terrorists.”

“Terrorists?” Savannah slapped her hand over her mouth and glanced at three other customers who were staring at her. She walked over to the old men’s table and spoke in just above a whisper. “No one said anything about terrorists.”

Hebert glanced up at Savannah, his mousy gray curls unruly, his yellow cotton shirt in need of ironing. “Dey won’t say it. But dat’s what dey’re tinking.”

Zoe walked over to the table and stood next to Savannah. “They’re paid to think the worst,” she said softly, “but
we
don’t have to. This is probably the work of some nutcase.”

“
Mes amis
,” Hebert said, “dey haven’t ruled out terrorists. Dat’s a fact.”

Zoe’s heart sank. She hadn’t allowed her thoughts to consider that awful possibility. “I suppose it’s terrorism, regardless of whether it’s the vicious act of an individual or an organized group. But I don’t see terrorists like al-Qaeda targeting a small community like this. They would likely do something in New Orleans or Baton Rouge where they could get the maximum amount of casualties.”

Hebert pursed his lips, his faded gray eyes intense. “Guess we’ll see.”

“We’re certainly an easy mark, y’all,” Savannah said. “Maybe that’s the whole point. They want us to know they can strike wherever they want, even in smaller towns.”

“Aw, come on now.” Tex’s silver eyebrows came together. “What’s the point o’ gettin’ our bellies in a wad with speculation? We just need to stay up on the news and do what the authorities tell us.”

Hebert scratched the sandpaper on his chin. “I guess if dey close Zoe B’s, I could eat SpaghettiOs and baked beans.”

“There’s been a run on all canned goods,” Savannah said. “I doubt you could even find any.”

“There’s no way I’m letting that happen.” Zoe moved her gaze around the table. “Even
if
we’re forced to close—which I don’t think is going to happen—I’ll cook for you in my own kitchen. I’ll make sure you fellas have nutritious take-out food you can microwave.”

“Aw, you take such good care of us.” Tex hooked his thumbs on his red suspenders and looked up at her, his smile as wide as the Rio Grande, his sunburned head reflecting the light from the window.

Father Sam linked his bony fingers together on the table, his relief magnified in his thick lenses. “Honestly, I don’t know if I’d even
remember
to eat, if I didn’t have all of you to share it with. I don’t have much of an appetite, what with all the meds I’m on.”

Zoe squeezed the priest’s shoulder. “We’re family. We’re in this together—whatever happens.”

Zoe felt fear tighten the muscles in her neck. How long would it take the authorities to arrest whoever was behind this? How much contaminated food was still out there, ready to claim more victims? She thought of Margot and Josh Corbin. It didn’t really matter to them whether the food was poisoned by one cruel person or a group of misguided terrorists. Their son was dead.