Chapter Two #3
Was she having second thoughts about her plan? He hoped she was going to the chief of police instead of to a house to hunt for a stolen book and a stone-cold killer.
He got up and took the bacon out of the skillet and then fried two eggs and made toast. Once he was finished with breakfast, he cleaned up the kitchen and then decided to take his pirogue out to do a little gator gazing.
Even though he had no intention of hunting today, he went into the bedroom and pulled his shoulder holster and revolver out of the top drawer of his dresser. He never went out in the swamp without his firearm. Armed with his gun and his cell phone, he got into the shallow boat and took off.
It was beautiful at this time of the morning. The sky was an intense blue overhead, and the sun reflected in the water. Birds sang from the tops of the trees, and fish jumped as if to taunt him.
Using his push pole, he left the shore and then used a paddle to gently glide across the water.
The air smelled of the many plants and trees, and he drew in deep breaths of the fresh air tinged with the faint odor of decay.
He’d grown accustomed to the latter smell since it was always present in the swamp.
In the distance he saw a large gator sunning on top of a fallen log while a smaller gator swam in the water with only his eyes showing his presence. He knew they wouldn’t bother him as long as he didn’t bother them.
Four years ago, he’d arrived in the Dark Waters swamp a broken man with little will to live. He’d had no fear of anything, including the big gators that lived so close to his shanty. That was when he’d decided to become a gator-hunter…a foolish job for a man with no fear.
Lately he had no desire to catch one of the big beasts. He much preferred the peacefulness of fishing or just sightseeing in the swamp that still held so many of nature’s mysteries for him to discover. He’d learned to seek peace wherever he could.
So why the hell had he agreed to help Monique with her crazy scheme?
Deep down in his bones, he knew why. It was the yawning grief that had darkened her beautiful eyes. Despite her attractive floral scent, the smell of deep grief clung to her.
He knew that kind of grief. It was an old friend of his and one that he wouldn’t wish on anyone. If he could help her alleviate some of her grief, it would be worth it. The only thing that had helped him was time, but obviously she wasn’t in the mood to wait any longer.
At two twenty the next day, Jacque left his shanty and took off walking down the narrow path to Monique’s place. He knew where most of the people in the swamp lived. He’d made it his business to know when he first moved here.
It was another warm summer day. As he walked, something scurried in the bushes at the side of the path, but he didn’t see what kind of little animal it was. The swamp was home to so many small creatures.
He was still hoping he’d get to her shanty and she’d tell him she’d changed her mind and was taking the new list of suspects to Daniel.
But just in case she hadn’t, he wore his gun.
He’d keep it on each time they went to one of the houses in town.
If she was really going through with her scheme, then he intended to do everything in his power to make sure she stayed safe.
Hopefully, after visiting one or two homes, she would realize the futility and potential danger she was entertaining and she would stop.
He finally arrived at her shanty and went up the bridge that led to the front door. Once there, he knocked, and she answered almost immediately.
“Hi, Jacque, come on in,” she said with one of her wide-open smiles.
She looked very pretty in a long red-and-white-striped skirt and a crisp, tailored white blouse.
Red beads hung around her neck and matched the earrings in her ears.
“I just need to grab my purse and take care of a few things, then I’ll be ready to go.
Feel free to have a seat.” She gestured toward the navy sofa with bright yellow throw pillows.
As she disappeared into what he assumed was her bedroom, he looked around the shanty. Along with the sofa, there was a matching chair, a potbellied stove in one corner and a small bookcase against one wall.
There were pops of yellow everywhere. A small arrangement of navy and yellow artificial flowers set on one of the shelves. Pictures of yellow flowers hung on the walls. It all made the space feel cheerful and bright.
He was only seated for a couple of minutes before she returned to the room, this time with a red purse with a long strap over her shoulder. “Ready?” she asked. Her features radiated with sudden surprise. “Wait…you cut your hair.”
“I didn’t cut it, but the barber did yesterday.” He stood.
She openly studied him for a long moment. “It looks quite nice,” she replied. “Now, are we ready to go?”
“Are you really sure you want to do this?” he asked.
Her chin went up a notch. “Positive. All we need to figure out now is am I driving or are you?”
“I’ll drive. You can navigate.” At least that way he’d be in control if they needed to get away from someplace fast.
“Then let’s go.” She followed him out the door, pausing a moment to lock it before heading down the bridge.
He took the lead, walking on the path that would take them to where his car was parked just outside the swamp’s entrance.
Despite all the other scents that the swamp brought, he could still smell her attractive floral fragrance. He wasn’t sure why it appealed to him so much.
It didn’t take them long to break through the junglelike growth and into the area where people who lived in the swamp parked their cars.
He led her to his, a silver convertible Mustang. There were still nights when the silence of his life grew too heavy and deep. On some of those nights, he put the top down on his car, turned up the music and just drove.
“Nice ride,” she said as he opened the passenger door.
“Thanks,” he replied. “I like it.”
“I’ve arranged the visits by areas of town,” she said once they were both settled in his car.
“All you need to do is point me in the right direction,” he replied as he started the engine.
“Head to Main Street, then take a left,” she said. “The first stop on my list is the mayor’s house.”
“It’s early in the day. He’ll still be in his office at City Hall.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, dreading this whole thing.
“It doesn’t matter if he’s home or not. I’m hoping his wife will be there and will let us in.” He felt her gaze on him. “Thank you, Jacque, for your help.”
He flashed her a quick glance. “I’m helping you, but I still don’t approve of any of this.”
“I can tell that by the frown you’re wearing,” she replied. He looked back at the road as she continued, “You do realize you might need to look a little more pleasant when you talk with people about your need for books.”
“I’ll do the best I can,” he replied.
“Maybe you could start by practicing with me,” she added.
He couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him. It startled him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually laughed out loud.
“Oh, that’s so much better,” she said with obvious delight.
He frowned once again. It was at that moment Jacque realized she was shaking up the insular, private life he’d built for himself. Monique Santori was potentially the real danger to him in this situation.