Page 5

However, since her mother’s murder, she hadn’t felt much like dancing.

She ate a light lunch of salad and a handful of cooked shrimp. As she cleaned up the kitchen, her nerves jumped in the pit of her stomach as she thought about meeting with Jacque once again. She’d wished for this, and now that it was actually happening, she only hoped Jacque could help her get the answers and the clarity she sought.

It was close to two when she left her shanty. She wore a light yellow sundress with a bright poppy print. It was cool and comfortable as she walked the trail that would take her to Jacque’s shanty.

Last night when she’d first arrived at his place, she’d heard the sound of men talking and laughing inside. She’d stood in the deep shadows next to his shanty, and it wasn’t long after that when five men had left his place.

A social visit? That certainly didn’t fit with what she knew about Jacque. According to everything she had heard, the man was a loner. She definitely was curious why the other men had been there, but it was really none of her business.

As his shanty came into view, she clutched her notebook, where she’d written everything she knew about the murder, close to her chest. There was something they all were missing in the investigation, and somehow, she needed to figure it out. At the moment she didn’t even have any suspects in mind, but she was hoping with Jacque’s help, she could identify a potential murderer. With this thought in mind, she knocked firmly on his front door.

He opened the door and greeted her rather curtly. “I thought we could sit at the table for this brainstorming session,” he said and gestured her toward the kitchen area.

She noticed he already had a notebook and pen on the table. She also couldn’t help but notice that he looked quite handsome in a pair of jeans and a green-and-black-striped short-sleeved dress shirt. His hair was tied back, and the green in the shirt made the bright color of his eyes more intense.

She hadn’t really looked around his shanty the night before but now she took note of how attractive and spotlessly clean it was. The sofa and chair were a dark gray with a couple of light gray throw pillows. A potbellied stove stood in the corner of the living area with a large green plant spilling its vines and leaves over the top and down the sides. A large bookcase stretched across one wall, filled with books of all kinds. Beneath her feet, there was a large gray area rug with yellow flecks, a nice pop of color. Everything was neat and tidy, a very attractive space.

“Can I get you something to drink?” His question broke through her thoughts as she sank onto a chair at the wooden kitchen table and set her notebook down.

“No, thanks, I’m fine.” She dug into her purse to retrieve a pen, then dropped the purse to the floor next to her chair. There was a back door near where she sat, and in a quick glance, she took in a neatly cleared path that led to a body of water in the near distance.

He sat across from her and looked at her expectantly. Instantly her nerves rose up inside her. “How are you this evening, Mr. LeBlanc?” she asked.

“I’m fine, but we aren’t here to small talk or socialize,” he replied curtly.

She cleared her throat and began. She told him everything she knew about the murder itself and then spoke about the fact that the police had initially fixated on a single suspect.

Pierre Guidry had been her mother’s lover for years. They would break up for months at a time, but they always found their way back to each other. However, at the time of Mystique’s murder, they had been broken up. The authorities had believed Pierre showed up the night of the murder to get back with her. Presumably, Mystique hadn’t wanted to resume a relationship with him, and law enforcement’s theory was that a fight had ensued, ending with Pierre killing her.

Unfortunately, they had no real evidence to prove this theory.

“I know he was finally cleared by Lucien Rousseau who saw Pierre out in the swamp fishing at the time of the murder,” Jacque said.

She nodded. “And since that time the investigation has completely stalled.”

“So what exactly do you want from me?” he asked with a frown.

She could smell his scent in the air. Shaving cream and soap mixed with a woodsy cologne she found quite appealing. “I want you to help me find some suspects. You do realize my mother’s client book was also stolen on the night of the murder,” she added.

“I heard something about that.” He frowned. “If it was my investigation, that would be where most of my energy would be focused. Who would want that book enough to be willing to kill for it?”

“That’s what I’m hoping you could help me figure out,” she replied. “I know Daniel has spoken to a lot of people who were seeing my mother for one reason or another.”

Jacque’s frown deepened, the gesture not taking anything away from his handsomeness. “I don’t believe the killer is anyone from the swamp,” he said. “Nobody who lives here has much to lose if their secrets got out.”

She looked at him in surprise. He was probably right, and this was the exact reason she needed his input. As far as she knew, nobody in law enforcement had thought about ruling out the people from the swamp…people who had so little to lose.

“So the killer is from town.” She opened her notebook and picked up her pen.

“And is probably fairly prominent,” he added. “Who do you know for sure is from town and visited your mother?”

“My mother often went to Lucinda Reese’s home to meet with her. Lucinda is wealthy and extremely well-respected. But there’s no way I believe that she killed my mother.”

“Why not?” His sharp gaze pinned her in place.

“For one thing she’s an older woman. The reason my mother went to her house was because Lucinda was too physically frail to make the trek to Mama’s shanty.”

“Do you know why Lucinda was seeing your mother?”