Fever Moon (12 page)

“Where’s that fool Adele at?” Clifton spoke while he was still thirty yards away, but it was time enough for Raymond to take in the man’s stunning physique. He was possibly six-six or -seven with shoulders as wide as a door frame. His black hair, matted and filthy, grew to his waist. Though it was a warm day, he wore a dark green jacket with long sleeves, the pockets bulging.

“You deaf?” Clifton demanded when he was ten yards away. “Where’s my sister at?”

“She’s very ill. I took her to a
traiteur.”
Raymond didn’t want to tell him Adele was in jail.

Clifton walked out of the water and onto the path, a giant. Raymond was tall, but he looked up into Clifton’s face.

“What’s wrong with Adele? And why’re you comin’ to tell me? The law don’t normally bring news of sickness.” The planes of his face shifted forming a scowl. “Why’re you here, Deputy Thibodeaux?”

As if sensing the change in their master’s mood, three large dogs, including the one-eared mastiff, slipped out of the woods. None made a sound, but their exposed teeth told of their displeasure.

Raymond kept his attention on the man. “Henri Bastion was killed two nights ago on Section Line Road. Adele was found at the body. She said she killed him.”

Clifton didn’t move, not even to register a flicker of surprise. “Ain’t no business of mine.”

“Adele is your sister.”

He shook his head. “Nothin’ I can do. Adele grievin’ her babies. She’s not right.”

“She claims she’s possessed by the
loup-garou”
The swamp around him was so still that he heard a falling leaf touch the water. It was a place of magic as well as danger.

“Folks believe what they will.” If Clifton found such a thing ludicrous, he didn’t show it.

“She has a high fever. I believe she’s hallucinating.”

At last Clifton sighed. “Her babies died from the fever. She took it hard. Wouldn’t let no one help her. Buried them herself where no one would ever disturb them. Them and Rosa. She took Rosa’s body when the church wouldn’t have it.”

Clifton had moved upwind of him and Raymond had to work not to show a reaction to the stench. “Are you sure it was fever that killed her babies?”

For a moment Clifton merely regarded him, reading the levels of his question. “First week of October, Adele sent word to me to bring some herbs and things. The babies was sick. They was dyin’. I saw them myself, me. There was nothin’ to be done. Not even Madame could help.”

“Was Adele sick then?”

Clifton scratched at his head. “She wasn’t sick. She was wild. She runnin’ all around, cryin’ and beggin’ for her boys to get well. She ask Bernadette for help, but no one could change what happened. After the boys died, she put them in the swamp where she put Rosa’s body after she took it.” He looked back at the dogs and they sat down instantly. “It hurt Adele fierce that Rosa wasn’t in the church cemetery.”

“Mr. Hebert, would you mind coming into town and talking with me?”

“I don’t have no bidness in town, no.”

The dogs stood and moved three steps closer. The hair along their backs was standing on end.

“I’ll bring you back here.” Raymond felt water oozing through his leather boots, the only thing worth having that the army had given him. The heat was stifling, the odor of the fetid water mingled too strongly with Clifton’s unwashed scent.

Clifton shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?” Raymond knew arguing would get him nowhere. He’d have to shoot the man to subdue him.

“I stay in the swamps, unless bidness calls me out.”

Raymond had never heard of Clifton Hebert being in trouble with the law, but then Raymond had lost two years overseas when anything could have happened, and he hadn’t thought to check with the sheriff. Joe, for his part, couldn’t put two and two together if his fingers were held up for him.

“Is there a place we can sit down and talk?”

Clifton pointed to the ground. “Sit.” He eased to a knee.

Raymond squatted. “Look, I’m trying to help your sister. I don’t think she did this.”

“Henri Bastion was a righteous bastard. If someone kilt him, they did a good thing.”

“Someone surely killed him, and I don’t think it was your sister. Is Bodine Matthews working with you?”

Clifton shook his head. “Bodine gone. Bernadette hired herself over to the Bastion plantation, puttin’ on airs, her. She wash out Marguerite Bastion’s silk panties and think she’s good enough to wear ’em. She got so high falutin’, Bodine couldn’t take no more of her.”

“Do you know where Mr. Matthews might be?” Raymond saw him as a possible suspect.

“Me, I can’t help you.” Clifton started to turn and walk off.

Raymond thought about asking Clifton about his midnight deliveries of liquor. The bottles were untaxed by the state. Instead, he chose a different tact. “Are there any wolves left in the swamps?”

The question stopped Clifton. He turned slowly back. “Most been trapped.”

“I thought I heard one last night.” Raymond shrugged. “Could’ve been imagination, but I thought I heard it clearly.” He picked up a stick and drew out a rough sketch of the crime scene in a patch of dry sand. “Henri was here, and Adele was here. Henri was savaged by some type of animal. A wolf or”—he pointed at the three dogs—“something like that.”

Clifton walked close enough to look down at the drawing in the dirt. “When Adele got pregnant, I tell her I take care of Bastion for her. She never said, but I think he forced Adele. I think those
bébés
were his.” He waited until he had Raymond’s eye. “I meant it, when I tole her I’d take care of Bastion, yes. He would be gone in the swamps now if she’d say one word, but she never would say.”

“You had a grudge against Henri Bastion?” If Henri was the father of the twins, as Clifton suspected, it might give Adele motive to kill him. Especially if she had been raped.

For the first time Clifton smiled, revealing startling white teeth. Beneath the dirt, Raymond saw what would have been a handsome man.

“Name one man that didn’t,” Clifton said. “Henri cheat his mama outta her last crust of bread. He had a lot to answer for.”

“Adele worked for him. There’s talk that she was in love with him.”

The smile disappeared. “Talk ain’t worth nothin’. Adele had no use for Henri. Ask her.”

“She’s too sick to talk.” Raymond rose slowly to his feet, aware that the dogs watched him with eagerness.

“If she gets better, she’ll tell you. If she doesn’t …” He shrugged. “Makes no difference then.” He stood and stepped back into the water and the dogs vanished into the underbrush.

“Clifton, don’t you care what happens to Adele?”

He kept walking. “I learnt long time ago, it don’t do no good to care what happens to anyone. Can’t change what’s got to be.” He was waist deep and moving away. “Don’t come back here, lawman, ‘less you hirin’ me for a huntin’ trip.”

T
HANK you, Claudia.” Chula took the key from her employee. “I’ll lock up.”

Claudia’s fingers closed over hers, holding for a moment until Chula met her gaze. “Don’t stay up here ‘til the wee hours, Miss Baker. You don’t get four hours sleep a night. I know you don’t believe in evil spirits, but it’s not good to be walking the streets alone at night. There’re plenty of bad men out to do harm. Doesn’t have to be a werewolf.”

Chula gently withdrew her hand and held it palm out. “I swear I’m going home right away. Mother’s about to bust a gasket. She has a ‘gentleman caller’ for me to meet at dinner.”

Claudia Breck’s pale eyes showed interest. “If he’s not right for you,
cher
, send him on to me. There’s not a decent man with two good legs who can stand up to finish a dance.” With her words the humor slipped from her face. “If this war doesn’t end soon, we’ll all go to our graves as spinsters. I want children.”

Chula put her arm around the plump young woman. “Justin Lanoux is coming home.” She’d hesitated about telling Claudia this. “When I took the letter out to his mama, she asked me to stay while she read it.”

“She thought he was dead, didn’t she?”

“She did, but it was news that he was wounded and has been transferred stateside. When he’s released from the California hospital, he’ll come home. For good.” She saw the hope in Claudia’s eyes. She’d been sweet on Justin since she was in fifth grade.

“Is he hurt bad? Did the letter say?”

The letter hadn’t specified Justin’s wounds, which was what had troubled Chula. “I’m not sure. But he’s alive and he’ll be home in a few weeks.”

“Do you think I should call his mother?”

Tapping her lips with a finger, Chula considered. “I’d wait. You don’t want to appear too eager. Mothers are so protective of their sons.” She grinned. “Then again, you have a good job. You’re quite a catch!”

Claudia laughed. “I can’t thank you enough for the job. It’s the best feeling in the world to be able to buy a bit of meat when it’s available, and bread. My mama is proud of me, even if I’m twenty-two and unmarried.”

“You were the most qualified applicant, Claudia. I’m glad you got the job, but I didn’t play favorites. You got it because you deserved it.”

Color touched Claudia’s cheeks. “Some of the people in town have been …”

“Cruel?” Chula lifted a shoulder. “They’re jealous. Times are hard and your paycheck is steady. Some folks think a steady paycheck is a man’s prerogative. A qualified woman should step out of line and make room for a man, even if he can’t read.”

“They say ugly things about us. About you.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Chula locked the cash drawer. “My mama taught me that sticks and stones are dangerous, but words won’t damage any of my bones.” She sighed. The day was finally over. She wasn’t looking forward to the “gentleman caller” as her mother insisted on referring to John LeDeux, but she was ready to get away from the post office. All day long people had come in wanting to talk about Henri Bastion’s death. As the day had faded, the stories have gotten more vivid and exaggerated. Before she’d locked the front door, Chula had heard that Adele was found with Henri’s beating heart in her hand and his liver in her mouth. Ridiculous!

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Baker. Have fun tonight. Take him to the dance hall and dance blisters on your feet.”

“Thank you for the suggestion, Claudia.”

Chula turned off the lights and slipped through the door, re-locking it behind her. She’d walked to work, a half mile down a street lined with quiet homes that had once been immaculately maintained. Now, even the residential neighborhoods were showing the strain of the war. Paint wasn’t to be had, building supplies almost nonexistent. Everything was rationed. The president was urging everyone to sacrifice for the cause, but faith—in the cause and in the president—was wavering. People could sacrifice only so much, and as more and more families lost sons and brothers and husbands … it would take years for such wounds to heal.

Anger heated her cheeks as she walked. Men died for the stupidest of reasons. This great war was about money. Freedom and peace might be the fringe benefits, but it had grown out of greed. The young men who went to war believed in liberty and justice, but the old men who waged these wars had no such illusions. They had greed and a lack of regard for the cannon fodder they sent to their deaths. This war, like others before it, was about lining the pockets of the rich with gold. History had been her major in college, and she’d seen quickly enough that all wars were fought for economic reasons.

She walked up the broad front steps of her mother’s home and stopped in front of the beveled glass door, trying to shake off her anger. She’d agreed to dinner with John LeDeux because it pleased her mother. LeDeux was a professor at Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge. He was doing research in Iberia Parish, and her mother had been wildly excited at the idea of introducing him to Chula. Chula was not so enthused.

She opened the door and stepped into the house feeling a swift hunger pang at the mouthwatering odor of roasting pork. Maizy was the finest cook in southeast Louisiana. Though many things were hard to find, the Baker family had plenty to eat. The swamp could be bountiful if one knew where to look, and Maizy had connections.

Her mother met her at the foot of the stairs. “Chula, Dr. LeDeux will be here in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“Just this once couldn’t you have come home on time?”

It was a familiar complaint of her mother, who admired Chula for having such an important job, but it also fretted her that someone, or something, controlled Chula’s time more than she did.

“I’ll be ready. What is it that Dr. LeDeux teaches?”

“Biology or botany or something along those lines.”

“And how did you meet him?” Chula pulled off one boot and then the other as she walked upstairs.

“I haven’t actually met him. Mary Margaret Castalette gave him my name and number and said I might be helpful in arranging some trips into the swamps. I think Mary Margaret was being clever because she knows I have a connection with Clifton Hebert, the star swamp man.” Mrs. Baker arched her eyebrows. “She is scandalized that Clifton keeps my liquor cabinet stocked.”

Chula’s laughter was appreciative. “I’m sure you take great delight in telling her how much you enjoy your toddy.”

“Of course.”

Picking up her boots, Chula climbed the stairs. “I’ll be dressed and ready when Dr. LeDeux gets here.”

“Wear something pretty. It might surprise you to discover you’ve some feminine impulses under that tough veneer.”

“Oh, la, and maybe I could muster up a swoon while I’m at it.” Laughter floated down the stairs as Chula closed her bedroom door.

She didn’t have time for a bath, but the Baker house, thanks to her paycheck, was equipped with hot running water and indoor plumbing. She used the second-floor bath to quickly wash and change into a dark blue dress with short sleeves and a tucked waist that showed her figure to advantage. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy looking feminine, but her life required her to look efficient. She took her chestnut hair down from the prim bun and shook it free on her shoulders. Touching a bit of liner and mascara to her eyes, she put on lipstick and hurried downstairs just as the doorbell chimed. John LeDeux was a punctual man.