Chapter 1
Gerard Guidry ordered a beer, burger and fries at the Crawdad Hole Bar and Grill and settled back, ready to relax and celebrate the grand opening of the Bayou Brotherhood Protectors.
Once the waitress returned with a round of mugs full of foaming beer, the men of his new team all lifted their glasses.
“To new beginnings,” Landry Laurent said.
Sinclaire “Sin” Sevier held up a hand. “No, no, no. What the hell kind of toast is that? We need something stronger, more masculine—”
“And kickass?” Their waitress, Danielle French, propped her tray on one hip and her fist on the other. “How about, To inflated egos, muscle-bound, spitting, farting and beer-drinking men who’ve taken Bayou Mambaloa by storm?”
Gerard laughed. “That’s closer to the truth.”
“No, it needs to be something grand and memorable,” Sin said.
“What Danni said was memorable.” Lucas LaBlanc lifted his mug. “Here! Here!”
The others joined him, shouting at the tops of their lungs.
Sin’s lips curled in disdain. “I’m in with a bunch of ingrates who wouldn’t know pomp and circumstance if it bit them in the butt.”
“We can’t toast anyway until Remy gets here,” Beaux Boyette noted. “He’s our leader. He needs to be the one to bless this motley crew.”
The others nodded and drank their beer.
Rafael “Romeo” Romero set his mug on the table and wiped the foam from his mouth. “So, who do you think will get the first assignment?”
“Remy and Gerard had the first assignment before the rest of us got here,” Valentin Vachon reminded them.
“True,” Beaux said. “Now that the building is cleaned out and we’re all settled in either the boarding house or other accommodations, we need to work to earn the pay we’re getting from Hank Patterson at our higher headquarters in Montana.”
“It’s only a matter of time,” Gerard said. “Hank’s got connections. I’m sure he was waiting for us to settle things here before he opened the floodgates.”
Romeo clapped his hands together and rubbed them eagerly. “I hope I’m assigned to guard a rich heiress. Be nice to live the high life after digging foxholes in the sandbox.”
Jacques Jardine snorted. “Won’t that put a crimp in your efforts to woo the pretty gift shop owner?”
“I’m not wooing anyone,” Romeo said.
“You spend a lot of time in that gift shop,” Jacques said.
Romeo frowned. “She has interesting things to look at.”
Jacques laughed. “I’ll bet.”
“I’m not wooing her,” Romeo insisted.
Xavier Xander leaned forward, his eyebrows arching. “Then you won’t mind if I go after the gorgeous Gisele?”
Romeo’s eyes narrowed, and his lips pressed into a straight line. Finally, he shrugged. “She has a mind of her own.”
“Fair game,” Xavier said with a grin.
“I’d go for protecting a rich tycoon on his yacht in the Mediterranean.” Valentin brought them back to their wish lists. “Been a while since I’ve been on a marine mission.”
“I wouldn’t mind being a bodyguard to a wealthy financial advisor,” Beaux said. “I could use some good tips to increase the value of my investment portfolio.”
Gerard lifted his beer. “I’ll take anything I can get. I don’t like sitting around twiddling my thumbs.” As he lifted his mug to his lips, his cell phone vibrated on the table in front of him.
Romeo leaned over and grinned. “It’s Remy. Maybe he’s got something for you…?”
Gerard lifted the cell phone and received the call.
Before he could say hello, Remy jumped in with, “Gerard, I have an assignment for you.”
Gerard glanced up at the men all staring at him. “Great. I’m ready. What do I have to do?” His mind sped ahead of Remy with thoughts of guarding an heiress, a politician or a celebrity.
“I need you to find out who killed Bernie Bellamy’s goose.”
Gerard frowned. “I’m sorry. Did you say...” he covered his mouth and whispered into the phone, “goose?”
“I did,” Remy said.
“Uh. Okay. I guess,” Gerard said, not exactly sure how he could be of assistance, never having been around farm animals. “When do I start?”
“No time like the present,” Remy said.
“Gotcha.” Gerard sat in stunned silence as Remy gave him the address of Bellamy Acres.
“Your client is Bernie Bellamy. Good luck. I know you’ll do the Bayou Brotherhood proud.”
“Yes, sir.” Gerard ended the call and pushed back from the table.
“Did you get your first assignment?” Beau asked.
Gerard nodded and slipped his cell phone in his pocket. “I’m to investigate a murder.”
Romeo grinned. “I swear I heard you say goose. Is your first solo client a goose?”
Gerard frowned. “Yes, and no. My client is a Bernie Bellamy. I’m to investigate the murder of her goose.”
The men at the table burst out laughing.
“Oh, this is going to be rich.” Sin rubbed his hands together. “Do we get to come along and watch the master sleuth at work as he discovers the identity of the killer?”
Gerard shook his head. “No way. Stay and drink your beer.”
“You look worried,” Romeo said. “Afraid you’ll be chasing a wild goose?” He chuckled. “No, wait. The goose is dead. Not much chasing there.”
Gerard ignored the hecklers and left the Crawdad Hole, climbed onto his motorcycle and keyed in the address of Bellamy Acres.
The directions sent him driving through the small town of Bayou Mambaloa and southeast along the edge of the bayou. Eventually, he came to the turn off the highway and stopped at a gate with an arched sign with the words BELLAMY ACRES carved out of sheet metal.
He rolled across the cattle guard and followed the gravel road to a white, two-story farmhouse with a wraparound porch. A large, spotted hound dog lifted his head, assessed Gerard and laid back down to sleep.
Two trucks were parked in front of the house.
One was a one-ton, white work truck with mud splattered up to its axles.
The other was a vintage truck with shiny green paint and black wheel fenders.
The rear of the old truck had been retrofitted with handy produce bins and shelves labeled for jellies, preserves, pickles and honey.
BELLAMY ACRES had been stenciled across the doors of the vintage truck, but the produce bins and marked shelves were empty.
A tall, slender woman stepped out of the house onto the front porch, shading her eyes with her hand. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“I’m looking for Mr. Bellamy,” Gerard said.
She stiffened. “He’s not here.”
Undaunted, Gerard walked to the base of the porch steps. “Remy Montagne sent me to talk to him. Could you tell me where I can find him?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Head back the way you came and turn at the Bayou Mambaloa Cemetery Road. You’ll find him there.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Gerard started to turn.
“Wait.” The woman descended the steps. “He’s there, but you won’t be talking to him.”
“Why?” Gerard asked. “Is he busy?”
She shook her head. “No. He’s dead.”
Gerard frowned. “I don’t understand. Remy said I was to come to Bellamy Acres and ask for Bernie Bellamy.”
Her lips twitched.
Gerard sighed. “Let me guess...you’re Bernie Bellamy.”
She nodded and held out her hand. “Bernadette Bellamy. I go by Bernie.”
Gerard shook her hand and gave her a twisted grin. “Gerard Guidry. Pleasure to meet you.” His frown returned. “My apologies if my asking for Mr. Bellamy was upsetting. My condolences. How long has your father been gone?”
“Not my father. My husband.” She stared down at their joined hands. “He’s been gone three years.”
Gerard quickly released his grip on her long, slender fingers. “I’m sorry... I assumed... Hell. You look too young to be a widow.”
A shadow crossed over her gray eyes. Bernie shrugged.
“We don’t always get a choice of when we die.
” She walked past him to her work truck.
“If Remy sent you, I assume it’s to help me figure out who killed Gertrude.
” She leaned over the tailgate and nodded to the contents contained in the bed.
“I found her this morning on my front porch. Her neck had been broken.”
Gerard stared at the white goose covered in mud. “Any footprints leading up to the porch?”
Bernie shook her head, her long blond ponytail swinging softly behind her.
The woman wasn’t exactly beautiful, but she wasn’t hard to look at.
Taller than most women, she could look him in the eye without having to tilt her head back too much.
She had a wholesome, girl-next-door appeal some men would find attractive.
Not Gerard. He went for seasoned women who didn’t expect commitment.
She walked back to stand below the porch. “I found Gertie here.” She patted the porch while inspecting the ground below. “It was raining so hard last night that any footprints would’ve been washed away.”
“Were any other animals harmed?” he asked. “Any missing?”
“I checked all the animals around the barn and at the stock pond where Gertrude normally spends the night. Gandolf was there, floating around like nothing was amiss.”
“Gandolf?”
“Gertrude’s mate.” She glanced over his shoulder at the road leading into the farm. “I can show you where she usually stayed. I’ve walked all around the pond and found no feathers indicating a struggle.”
“I’d like to check it out,” Gerard said.
Bernie nodded and tipped her chin toward the road.
“I’m expecting a truckload of farm workers soon to help pick watermelons and other produce.
We can look around until they arrive, then I’ll have to cut loose to help with the harvest. Anything you can do to find out who might’ve been on the farm last night will help. ”
Gerard followed Bernie to the barn, wondering how a Marine Force Recon operative who’d never been around animals other than observing Military Working Dogs from a distance could help find a goose killer.
This being his first solo assignment with Bayou Brotherhood Protectors, he couldn’t fail the team.
No matter how ridiculous the task seemed.