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Hattie chuckles. “It don’t matter how far you go. You cannot run away, not from yourself or from home.” She places a cup of coffee in front of me.
I know, I know.
I take a sip of the coffee. “Been busy this morning?” I hate that I sound a tad bit eager.
“Iggy has not been in yet, however, I do suspect he might be here shortly.” She turns to grab some silverware and sets it in front of me. “If that’s who you be asking about.”
Hattie’s creole French has not diminished at all over the years. Unlike mine. I worked hard to get rid of it. Unfortunately, it seems as soon as I crossed the state line, everything about me and my past came roaring back.
“I am not. You just work so hard,” I lie.
“Don’t you be trying to lie to your Tante Hattie. I can read your mind.” She taps a finger to the side of my head.
I swear she can, she always has.
I put the cup down on the saucer. Hattie’s is the only place that still uses a cup and a saucer, the proper setting for tea and coffee, like the old ways. Hattie’s a fanatic about tradition. “Granted, he’s a handsome man, but I’m here to work.”
She levels her gaze at me. “Don’t you find it odd that the two of you are working on these crimes?”
The question surprises me. “Why would I find it odd?”
“Dominique, do not pretend you have not had any déjà vu.”
Oh my God, the dreams, the feelings, the sensations, the whispers. All of it, yes, I have. But they can’t have anything to do with Ignatius…can they?
“You were always superstitious. One thing has nothing to do with the other.” I wave her off.
Hattie tsks me. “Girl, we are the embodiment of superstitious. Do not lie to yourself, because they,” she waves her hand in the air at nothing at all, “have a way of proving their points.”
“Hattie, don’t be ridiculous,” I dismiss her. Again.
This time she makes an mm, mm, mm sound. “I’m gonna hate to say I told you so.”
A nagging feeling tugs at the back of my mind, but right now is not the time to dwell on it. I’ve got a case I’m working on. One that I did want to speak with Ignatius about.
“About the crimes, do you think Ignatius will be coming in? I would like to discuss them with him.”
“Honestly, mon cher, I’m not sure.” She scribbles something on the pad she’s holding. “But you can go to his house.”
I almost choke on the coffee as she heads toward the kitchen. “I cannot go to a man’s house unannounced and uninvited.”
She slaps the swinging door to the kitchen and steps through on an in-swing. As it’s still moving, she comes back out without missing a beat. “Did you not tell him yesterday you wanted to discuss it with him?” She refills my coffee.
“Yes, but-”
“Did he not agree?”
“Yes, but-”
“Then you were invited. Besides, it’s official police business, wouldn’t that be correct?” She arches an eyebrow at me with a gleam in her eye.
“Yes, but-”
She rolls her eyes. “Ignatius lives where the Beauchamp’s have always lived, Dominique. In the bayou, outside the swamps.”
Oh, my God, no.
“Don’t you worry, sha bebe.” She unclips the chain she’s wearing around her neck and leans toward me to place it around mine. “I’ll send Iggy’s favorite with you as a peace offering. The best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
I finger the pendant Hattie placed around my neck. It’s the Evil Eye, a symbol to deflect evil.
“I’m not interested in his heart, or his stomach,” I comment.
“I know, mon cher, it will be for after what it is you are interested in.”
And just like that, the image of Ignatius Beauchamp that had been burned in my mind flares to life. As my eyes had traveled over his lean build, I could almost feel it beneath my palms, each dip of muscle and every curve of his physique. My mouth had watered to taste him. I am absolutely sure he’d taste like a bad decision.
I’m also sure it would taste so good.
