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Remy leaned close to the old man’s ear. “I’m Remy Montagne, sir.”
“Montagne,” Fontenot said. “The kid that joined the Navy?”
“Yes, sir,” Remy responded.
“Home for long?” the old man asked.
“Yes, sir. I’m staying,” Remy said.
“Good.” The old man pushed his foot against the porch, rocking his chair slightly, ending the conversation.
Remy left the porch, amazed the man remembered that he’d joined the Navy. That had been twenty years ago. He hoped he lived to be that old with all his faculties intact. Smiling, Remy joined Shelby and Gisele.
“You should grab a paper plate and eat,” Gisele said. “The mudbugs will be ready in a minute, and there’s lots of other good food.”
“We will,” Shelby smiled. “I’d like to talk to a few folks before I get food stuck between my teeth.”
Gisele laughed. “Good point. You should start with Dan. He’s the oldest of Fontenot’s grandsons and the most responsible.” She nodded toward a large man with shaggy black hair and a beer gut, standing with the men tending the crawfish boil.
Shelby nodded. “It’s as good a place to start as any other.” She took off toward the large man.
Remy hurried after her.
When Shelby stopped beside the man Gisele had indicated, she smiled at him and hugged his neck.
Remy’s gut clenched. He didn’t like Shelby hugging other men. He’d much prefer she hug him.
Shelby dropped her arms and talked to the man about the weather and the crawfish they were already fishing out of the water.
“Heard you were attacked in the bayou three nights ago,” Dan said with a frown. “Did they catch the guy who did it?”
Shelby shook her head. “No. Were any of your people out on the bayou that night around dusk? Maybe they saw someone out there.”
Dan shook his head. “I wasn’t out there that night. A couple of my cousins might’ve been heading in from a bayou tour or chartered fishing gig.”
“Do you remember who those cousins were?” Shelby asked. “If they saw anything, it might help me find who hit me. I hate to think someone like that is still out in the bayou. One of your people could be hurt next.”
Dan scratched his head for a moment. “Pete Mosier and Ethan Fontenot had charters that day. Talk to them.” He frowned. “You might consider staying out of the bayou at night. It ain’t safe. Especially for females.”
Remy slipped his arm around Shelby. “Thanks for the warning, Dan, but my girl was only doing her job.”
Dan’s frown deepened. “Not everyone in the bayou is nice. Some people just want to be left alone and are willing to do anything to maintain their privacy.”
“The people who attacked me lost their right to privacy when they left me for dead,” Shelby said. “It’s my responsibility to find them and get them out of the bayou and locked up before they target someone else.”
Dan nodded. “Yeah. I get it, but be careful you don’t let them finish the job. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some crawfish to serve up.” Dan pushed past Shelby and Remy to help scoop mud bugs and corn cobs from the stock pot onto a large tarp.
Once they’d gotten all the crawfish and corn cobs out of pot, they gathered the ends of the canvas and carried it to an empty folding table that had been set up next to others full of side dishes.
People grabbed paper plates and loaded food onto them.
Remy and Shelby stood back, observing.
“There’s Pete Mosier,” Shelby said. “The guy with brown hair scooping potato salad onto his plate right now.” She nodded toward another man dipping into an ice chest for a beer. “That’s Ethan. Come on.”
Remy snagged her arm. “Take it slow. If you ask too many questions, these people will uninvite you from their celebration in a heartbeat. However, if you’d like a beer, I’d gladly get one for you.”
“No, thank you, but feel free to help yourself to one,” Shelby said. “I think I’ll get some potato salad.
