Rumble on the Bayou (13 page)

She gave him a thoughtful look. "Where are you from anyway?"

"Washington D.C. right now, but I've lived all over."

Always big cities, huh?"

"Yeah. There's not enough crime in a small place to make it worth my education and training. I enjoy the thrill of the chase. I like knowing that what I do makes a difference."

"I guess I can understand that. Are you married?"

"No. Haven't found a woman yet who could deal with the job."

"Yeah " She studied him again. "What about Dorie? She shouldn't have any problems with your job."

Richard looked at her in dismay. "What are you talking about?"

Jenny shrugged. "It was just a thought. You have the same profession and all, so I figured if you're any good at your job, you shouldn't be threatened by her. Lots of men are. Maybe the right man for her is one just like her."

Richard rapidly shook his head. "Trust me. I'm not that man. I don't like complications, and Dorie Berenger is about the most complicated woman I've ever met."

Jenny gave him a big smile. "But that's what makes it so exciting. If attraction was easy, it wouldn't be near as much fun."

Richard watched her walk away to the kitchen and frowned. Complication was one thing, but a relationship on any level with Dorie Berenger was a certain impossibility. Hell, she barely tolerated working with him, although she had been fairly polite today. If one considered barely speaking fairly polite.

He took a large sip of his coffee and leaned back in his chair, thinking about Dorie and her personal problem with the baby alligators; Dorie and her mother that no one spoke about. What the hell had happened to her?

***

It was mid-afternoon before Dorie returned to the sheriff's office, but Richard didn't mind. The maps of the bayous alone had kept him busy the entire morning and looking at all the blue swirls on the paper made him instantly aware of how smart it had been to let Dorie in on confidential information. There was no way in hell he would have ever been able to negotiate them alone. Small countries could be hidden in this maze and he probably wouldn't know it.

He looked up at the doorway as she strolled into the sheriff's office wearing a smile, her mood apparently improved from the morning. When he asked about the gators, she told him that the zookeeper friend had room for the babies and had sent someone for them right away. The babies were currently bunking down with Stella over at the boat store awaiting pickup.

"So where did you want to start today?" she asked. "You still want to question the alligator?"

Richard tried to put on a serious face. "No. I don't see any point. Since he was high, he probably wouldn't remember anything anyway."

She smiled. "That's two today, Dick."

Richard tried not to smile, but couldn't help it. He might have learned something new from Dorie after all. And he was sure his mother would appreciate his personality change.

"You say the alligator came from around here, right?" he asked. "Then he could have picked up the backpack anywhere, and not necessarily from where Roland is hiding out."

Dorie narrowed her eyes. "You don't think that guy is still around here, do you? I figured you were only trying to determine where he went next. Surely he's somewhere else making new business contacts in a less dangerous environment."

"I know you'd like to think so, but I seriously doubt it."

"You mean he would still attempt to do a job here after losing that finger? He may as well have taken out an advertisement in the New York Times."

"Roland doesn't appear anywhere he's not doing business. I know you say Gator Bait has never had a drug problem, but I'm telling you, Roland wouldn't be here without a reason."

"That's insane."

"Maybe, but so is crossing the Hebert family, not to mention their contacts in New England. My source told me that the deal is already established. This stuff's not coming from the U.S. We probably have a couple of days at the most to figure out where and when it's coming in."

"And your source is?"

"Confidential and not up for discussion."

For once, Dorie seemed to accept his directive and nodded her head.

He stared closely at her, carefully choosing his next words. "You know he's not making this happen alone."

He saw heat rise in Dorie's face and knew immediately that his comment didn't bother her as much as he thought it would because it had already crossed her mind. Maybe Dorie Berenger wasn't as naive as he thought.

"I know what you're saying," she said. "I got around to that last night after a few beers. But the thing is, I don't think I can help you with this. You're asking me to investigate the people I live with. People who are like my family. I'm too close to the subjects. I can't be objective."

She placed her keys in the desk drawer and dropped into her chair. "Besides, I know you think Roland was setting up shop here, but regardless of your opinion, I know there is absolutely no way that drugs have been moving through this town for over thirty years. No way at all."

Richard nodded. "I agree it's unlikely Roland has always moved his merchandise through Gator Bait. I think you would have caught on. But maybe someone has recently decided to take a cut of the action. Maybe this was the first job, but either way, someone in your town is working with Roland. I guarantee it,"

Dorie blew out a breath, obviously unhappy with the situation, but unable to argue with the logic. "Where do you want to start?"

"At the bar, people talked about camps down here, but it sounded like most are unoccupied. What's the story there?"

"Camps are small cabins, lake houses, whatever you want to call them, along the bayou. They're usually owned by people who don't live in Gator Bait, although several of the residents have some, too. They use them for weekend fishing and an occasional vacation. Other than that, they stay empty."

"How many are we talking about? Can we check them all for possible break-ins? I don't think Roland would have gone far without clamping off that finger. And if he found an empty place to stay, he might still be around."

"There are probably twenty in all. We can check them, but it will take the rest of the day at least, and we can only get to them by boat."

Richard rose from the chair. "Fine by me if it's okay by you."

Before Dorie could answer, the door to the sheriff's office swung open and Joe strolled in. "You getting ready to go out?" he asked Dorie.

"Yeah," she replied. "Dick and I are going to check out all of the camps. See if this Roland made a stop anywhere to take care of that finger."

Joe raised his eyebrows and looked at Richard. "You might want to wear a life-jacket.”

"Why?" Richard asked, confused. "We don't have to swim, do we?" He looked at Dorie.

Joe laughed. "No, you don't have to swim, but most people who ride in a boat with Dorie end up doing it anyway." Joe sat down at his desk and put a sheet of paper in the typewriter. "Suit yourself, but I'd at least change into tennis shoes if I were you. If you want to blend in Gator Bait, you're gonna have to start dressing down."

Dorie gave Richard a critical look and he glanced down at his slacks, button-up shirt and loafers. "You are overdressed," she agreed. "You stand out like a sore thumb, really. If Roland sees us coming, he's going to know what you are from a mile away. Nobody in Gator Bait dresses that way except for weddings and funerals. Well, and church on Sunday."

Richard took another look at his attire and shrugged. "You're probably right. I brought a pair of jeans. I'll go change and meet you at the dock." He walked out of the sheriff's office, the door swinging shut behind him.

Joe waited until the door was completely closed and turned his attention to Dorie. "He thinks this guy's still in town?"

Dorie nodded. "Looks that way. I hate the thought, Joe. If he's hanging around, he must be doing business or at least trying to get business started in Gator Bait."

"Not a fun thing to roll through your mind," Joe agreed. "You got any ideas?"

She stared out the window and across the street. "Not a one. To pass a crime this big by me would take someone a lot smarter than anyone here."

"Or someone close to you who's been overlooked," Joe said quietly.

Dorie took a deep breath, looked at Joe and shook her head. "'That's something I don't even want to think about at the moment. Not until I have to." She strode to the front door and stepped outside, knowing full well Joe could be right and not wanting to admit to him it was something she had already considered.

***

Dorie untied her boat as Richard made his way down to the dock, dressed in stiff jeans and a T-shirt. She took one look at him and grimaced. "Jeesh, Dick. Do you ever loosen up? I bet you iron your underwear."

Richard grinned. "Only my Sunday pair." He looked at the sheriff's boat and back at Dorie. "We aren't taking the big boat?" he asked, his expression that of a disappointed child.

Shaking her head, she tried not to smile. She kind of felt that way about the sheriff's boat, too. "If you want to play in the big boat, we can do that after your bad guy is behind bars. For now, we need the fastest way to cover every camp this afternoon. That's my boat. Some of the shortcuts I use are too narrow for the sheriff's."

She motioned him onboard and he stepped off the dock and into the boat, which rocked a moment as he caught his balance. Once he was seated, she tossed the rope in front of him and shoved the bow with her foot. The boat had already moved about two feet from the dock before she jumped inside, not wavering for even a moment.

Lifting a bench lid behind her, she pulled out a life jacket and tossed it to Richard. "You'll probably want to put that on. Just in case."

Richard gave her a surprised look. "I thought Joe was kidding."

"Joe doesn't have a sense of humor. I'd have thought an investigator of your caliber would have discovered that by now"

Richard looked at the life jacket and back at Dorie. "What about you? You're not wearing one?"

"What, and look like a pansy? No way." She started the engine and thrust the accelerator down. The boat leapt to the top of the water, throwing Richard backward off his bench and into the bottom of the hard aluminum hull. He righted himself and quickly put on the life vest.

Dorie waited until he faced forward again before she smiled.

C
HAPTER SEVEN

Richard clenched the front of the bench and leaned forward to maintain his balance, not wanting another moment like the one at take-off. How embarrassing was that? The woman outright called him a pansy for wearing a life vest, and there he sat wearing a bright orange, buoyant pillow. It was like deer-hunting season on water.

Still, he had to admit the life vest made him feel a little better about his longevity. Dorie cut the boat in and out of the tiny inlets of water, the aluminum sides occasionally brushing against the marsh grass next to the bank. One thing was for sure: Shawn Roland would not get away from Dorie Berenger if this came down to a boat chase. Richard was pretty sure fish couldn't get away from Dorie in a boat chase.

All of a sudden, the boat dropped its speed and he pitched slightly forward, barely managing to hold on to his seat and his dignity. Dorie pointed to the bank on the right of the boat and steered toward a small cabin on stilts just off the bayou.

"We can start here," she said. "This is the Paulie's. They live in Lake Charles and only come here occasionally. Should be empty." She motioned to the dock. "You want to grab that pylon? I'll get the rope. Just pull us up alongside."

Scooting to the right, he reached out for the giant post and pulled them close to the pier as the boat drifted to a stop. Dorie lifted the bench lid again, this time pulling out a large ring of numbered keys.

"You have keys to all these places?" Richard asked. This was an unexpected advantage.

"Sure. It makes things easier. Sometimes owners forget to turn lights off or they leave stuff in the refrigerator that would create a bad scene before they return. They give me a call and I make a stop to fix whatever needs fixing. It gives them peace of mind and me permission to be nosy if I see something out of order."

"Like what?" Richard asked, wondering what could possibly be considered out of order in a place where nothing seemed normal.