Bayou Paradox Read Free

life.”
    He gripped the pencil so hard it was a wonder the instrument didn’t snap in two. Just let it go. “Why’d you come here?”
    â€œI’ve been training under Tanty.”
    Right. He remembered now. Mrs. LeBlanc, Tara’s grandmother, had just recently accepted Jesus into her heart. He’d heard she joined CoCo’s church a couple of months ago. Too bad his aunt had stepped in as a replacement role model for the youngest LeBlanc. “What time did you arrive?”
    â€œAbout nine or so.”
    â€œDid you notice anything out of place?”
    She popped her knuckles. Ah, a sign of distress. “She’d left a burner on in the workhouse. The roots had dried up and burned.”
    â€œThat’s unusual?” He avoided his aunt’s shed like the plague. Creeped him out.
    â€œFor Tanty it is. And there were some loose papers in her file cabinet. Not like her at all. She’s very fanatical about her workstation being kept in pristine condition.” She glanced around the living room. “Like she is about her house.”
    A memory pressed forward in his mind: Him, as a teen, rushing into the house to tell Aunt Tanty about making first string in football. He’d forgotten all about his dirty cleats. But not his aunt. Oh, but no. She’d hollered at him to take those “muddy clodhoppers” to the back porch. But she’d listened and commented on his accomplishment with excitement—while he swept and mopped her wooden floors.
    â€œWhen I didn’t find her in the workhouse, I came here to look for her.”
    He’d almost let memory lane distract him from doing his job. Maybe he should have Anderson take over. No. He owed it to Aunt Tanty to find out what happened. “Do you have a key?”
    â€œI do, but didn’t have to use it. The kitchen door was open.”
    Like most people in Lagniappe, his aunt often left doors unlocked. “You didn’t move anything in the house, did you?”
    â€œNo, except I pushed open the bedroom door. Oh, and I used the phone in her bedroom to call your office.” She shook her head. “I didn’t even think to use my cell.”
    He glanced over the room. No sign of a struggle, no forced entry. He breathed a sigh, glad he wouldn’t have to answer to the mayor on this call.
    â€œSomeone did this to her, you know.”
    He jerked his attention back to Tara. “What?”
    â€œShe didn’t just fall down. Someone set out to hurt her.”
    â€œWhy do you say that?”
    She met his stare head-on. “I can feel the spirits here.”
    Great. The spirits. Such reliable eye-witnesses.
    Lord, please give me strength.

TWO
    â€œG randmere, Grandmere. Where are you?” Tara let the kitchen screen door slam closed.
    â€œComing, child.”
    Grandmere shuffled into the kitchen and grasped the back of a chair. “What’s put a bee in your bonnet?”
    â€œIt’s Tanty Shaw. She’s been taken to the hospital.”
    â€œOh, mercy me!” Grandmere’s long hair stuck out at odd angles from her head. The belt on her robe hung slack. “What happened, ma chère? ”
    Tara shook her head. “I found her unconscious in her bedroom.”
    â€œWhat’d the doctor say?”
    â€œThey took her to the hospital. The sheriff was headed there when he left her house.”
    â€œThe sheriff? That poor boy.” Grandmere shook her head.
    Poor boy? Funny, he didn’t impress Tara as someone who needed sympathy. He’d been strong and dutiful. And rather strong and handsome, too, although she wouldn’t admit that little fact. She’d known the sheriff since she was a toddler and never thought him handsome. Why now? Tara shook her head and answered her grandmother. “I called 9-1-1, and he came. Showed up right after the ambulance left with Tanty.”
    â€œDid he say anything? Was anything