Louisiana Stalker Read Free Page B

than the other, but both beautiful. He assumed the older woman—in her thirties—was Capucine Devereaux, since she seemed to be dressed in the more expensive finery. The other woman was not yet thirty.
    â€œMrs. Devereaux,” the maître d’ said, bowing slightly at the waist, “your guest has arrived.”
    â€œThank you, André.”
    André looked at Clint.
    â€œMr. Adams, Mrs. Devereaux.”
    â€œMa’am,” Clint said, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
    â€œPlease, Mr. Adams,” Capucine Devereaux said, “take a seat.”
    But Clint, whose hat was in his hands at this point, did not sit. Instead, he looked at the younger woman.
    â€œAh,” Mrs. Devereaux said, “I see we have a man with manners. Mr. Adams, please meet my assistant, Jeannie Bartlett.”
    â€œMiss Bartlett.”
    â€œMr. Adams.”
    â€œAnd now will you sit?” Mrs. Devereaux asked.
    â€œHappy to.”
    â€œYour waiter will be Pierre,” André said. “I will send him right over.”
    â€œSend him with brandy, please, André.”
    â€œYes, madame.”
    André withdrew and Mrs. Devereaux looked across the table at Clint. The other woman, Jeannie, kept her eyes down.
    â€œI am very glad you decided to accept my invitation, Mr. Adams,” Mrs. Devereaux said, “especially since you have no idea who I am.”
    â€œI asked around, Mrs. Devereaux.”
    â€œAnd you learned something that made you come?”
    â€œI did,” he said. “I learned that this is one of the best restaurants in Baton Rouge.”
    â€œIndeed,” she said, “as far as I am concerned, it is the best, although my husband prefers the local fare to French.”
    â€œI thought this was local.”
    â€œThis is a French restaurant,” she informed him, “but not a Cajun restaurant.”
    â€œAh.”
    â€œAlthough if you’d prefer something Cajun, I’m sure the chef could handle it for you.”
    â€œNo, that’s fine,” he said.
    Mrs. Devereaux was a redhead, with pale skin and just the requisite dusting of freckles being a redhead required. She wore a jade green gown that was low cut, revealing an impressive expanse of pale cleavage.
    Jeannie Bartlett had dark hair, with pale skin and very large brown eyes—when he could see them. She was slender, and very pretty. One or both of them smelled very sweet.
    â€œI’m sure you are wondering why I invited you—a perfect stranger—to have supper with me.”
    â€œThat’s one of the things I’m wondering about,” he said.
    â€œWould you mind if we got to all your questions after supper?” she asked.
    â€œI happen to be very hungry,” he said, “so no, I don’t mind, at all.”

SIX
    They drank brandy before supper, and wine with it. Clint’s preference was beer, but he knew good liquor and wine when he tasted it. Mrs. Devereaux was ordering the best.
    She did, however, allow Clint to order supper for himself, and he found a steak dish on the menu. He chose steak au poivre—steak seasoned with black pepper and adorned with a brandy and cream sauce. The meat was cooked to perfection, although he might have preferred it without the sauce. He did, however, enjoy all the accompanying vegetables.
    Mrs. Devereaux explained throughout dinner that her husband was in the shipping business, and made good use of the Mississippi River, shipping items from Louisiana to Minnesota, and points in between. Also, the Devereaux family had a long history in Louisiana, had a home in Baton Rouge, a home in New Orleans, and a plantation on the bayou.
    â€œI do a lot of charity work,” she went on, “and Jeannie is invaluable to me in keeping everything running smoothly. Are you enjoying your supper?”
    â€œVery much.”
    Both women had ordered seafood. Jeannie was eating filet of sole Veronique, while Mrs.