Page 39 of Xavier

“Mr. Martin, you might not have heard the weather reports...” Lissette started, apparently determined to pass on the news of the looming storm.

“One more button and the call goes through,” the man called out from behind the door.

“There’s a hurricane headed for Louisiana,” Xavier picked up where Lissette left off. “We might be ordered to evacuate.”

“They’d have to drag me kickin’ and screamin’. I ain’t leaving. Been here all my life. Ain’t no hurricane gonna scare me out of my home,” Martin yelled. “I got dispatch on the line.”

“We’re leaving.” Lissette bent to set the jar of salve on the porch, straightened, lifted her chin and walked back down the dock to where they’d tied off the skiff.

Xavier followed her, noting how stiff she held herself. Martin hadn’t held any punches, calling Lissette a murderer, accusing her of poisoning the salve and threatening to sic the sheriff on her.

He wanted to say something to make her feel better about her first ugly rejection.

All she’d wanted was to deliver her grandmother’s items and warn the man about the storm. At least Martin wasn’t on the list of people whose reliquaries had been stolen from family tombs.

Lissette didn’t say anything derogatory about Martin’s reaction. She climbed into the boat, checked her grandmother’s list and sat patiently while Xavier got in.

The next shack they came to wasn’t much better than the first.

When Lissette knocked, a voice inside yelled, “Come in, for chrissakes. It’s not as if I can get to the door in the next fifteen minutes to answer it.”

Lissette opened the door and stepped out of the daylight into a darkened interior.

A grizzled old man sat in a lounge chair with a wheelchair positioned beside it. “Madame Gautier?” he asked, shading his eyes from the light spilling through the door.

“No, Mr. Romig, I’m her granddaughter,” Lissette said.

“Ah, Gisele, the good one,” he said. “Come in.”

“Not Gisele,” Lissette corrected. “I’m Lissette.”

Mr. Romig’s brow dipped low. “Lissette? Isn’t she in jail?”

“I was, sir, but I’m out on parole.” She crossed to the chair and laid the food on the TV tray table positioned in front of his lounge chair. “Madame Gautier sent food. She wanted me to ask if your daughter has been by to visit this week.”

“How could you be out of jail so soon after trying to kill Bayou Mambaloa’s finest, Shelby Taylor? You’d think they’d lock you up and throw away the key,” he muttered. “What judge would allow you to run free to kill anyone else you have a mind to?” His eyes widened. “Is that why you’re here? Did you come to kill me? What did I ever do to you?”

Xavier stepped up beside her. “Mr. Romig, Lissette is only here to help Madame Gautier since she sprained her ankle. No one is here to hurt you.”

“It’s okay,” Lissette said as she backed away. “I won’t hurt you or anyone else. I just came to fill in for my grandmother while she’s recovering. Also, if the sheriff’s department hasn’t informed you already, your family tomb was vandalized, and the reliquary inside was stolen.”

“Sounds like just the kind of thing an ex-con would do.” Romig scowled at her. “That reliquary’s been protecting my family since before I can remember. You sure you didn’t take it?”

“No, sir. I didn’t take it,” Lissette said. “I came to warn you to be extra careful until they find the thief and return the reliquary to its rightful place.”

“That reliquary was there to protect me from the likes of you. If you didn’t take it, I’ll bet you had something to do with the theft. What did I ever do to you that would make you wish bad juju on my family and me? Does my daughter know? Hell, she needs to know. It impacts her as well as my grandchildren. Jesus. Who the hell let you out of jail? We’re all getting along fine. You come back, and everything’s going to hell.” He waved toward the door. “Get out.”

She sighed. “I’m going. But one more thing.”

“Haven’t you done enough?” Romig flung his hands in the air. “Take yourself and your black cloud of doom with you.”

Lissette shot Xavier a grimace. “I’ll let you tell him,” she said softly, then turned and walked out of the cottage.

“You’re with her,” Romig sneered, “which means you’re no better than that trash. Get out!”

“Mr. Romig, Lissette also came to warn you that there’s a hurricane headed our way. The governor is considering a mandatory evacuation. Do you have anyone who can help you get out before it hits?”

“I’ll get myself out, if it comes to that,” Romig said. “I don’t want you or anyone who has anything to do with that woman anywhere near me. She’s trouble. If you’re smart, you’ll get the hell away from her before she ruins your life like she almost ruined Deputy Taylor’s.”