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Gerard was heading for the house to find her when Bayou Mambaloa’s Laurel and Hardy ran up to him, breathing hard, their eyes wide as if they’d seen a ghost.
“Bodyguard dude,” the one called Clayton said in a rush. “Where’s your girl?”
“Where’s Bernie?” Willie demanded.
“Why?” Gerard stalled. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s not good. Not good at all,” Clayton said.
“Lost ten years off my life, I did,” Willy exclaimed.
“Slow down,” Gerard said, “and tell me what’s got you so freaked out.”
“It’s only da second dead body I’ve seen,” Willy muttered. “I don’t like it. It ain’t right.”
“What dead body?” Gerard asked.
“The one behind the barn,” Clayton said.
Gerard wanted to check on Bernie, but the two men were so freaked out, he had to see this dead body first. “Show me,” he said.
Clayton and Willy led the way around to the back of the barn. Gerard rested a hand on the pistol tucked into his waistband. He’d be ready if these guys were trying to pull one over on him.
“There,” Clayton stopped and stepped aside, pointing at a body lying on the ground, dressed all in black and wearing a black ski mask. “That’s one of the two guys.” He looked round nervously.
“Question is, where’s da other?” Willy said.
“We told Ms. Bellamy to give us the bag,” Clayton said. “We’d take it off her hands, and they wouldn’t come after her.”
The two men weren’t making sense. Gerard had reached his limit of nonsense and wanted to get back to Bernie. “What bag?”
“Da one we took off da dead guy before we tossed him in with da pigs,” Willy blurted out.
“Willy!” Clayton punched his friend in the arm.
“What?” Willy rubbed his arm. “We didn’t kill him, just disposed of his body and that damned goose.” Willy shrugged. “You killed the goose.”
“Damned thing attacked me. It was pure self-defense.”
Gerard held up a hand. “Let me get this straight. You took a bag off a dead guy, threw him in with the pigs and killed Bernie’s goose?”
“It attacked me,” Clayton insisted.
“What was in the bag?” Gerard asked. Before either man could answer, Gerard’s cell phone rang. The caller ID indicated it was Swede. He answered.
“The New Orleans Mafia is wound up tighter than a top over a bag of missing money to the tune of three-hundred-thousand dollars.”
Gerard glanced at the two men in front of him as he repeated the amount out loud, “Three hundred thousand dollars?”
“Yeah. Three of their men are missing. Chauvin and two others. The entire mob is looking for them with orders to bring back that money no matter how many people they have to kill.”
“We can account for two of the three. There’s still one outstanding.” Gerard was already on the move before he ended the call.
Clayton and Willy hurried to catch up. “What about the dead dude?” Clayton asked.
“Call 911,” Gerard called out over his shoulder.
The band still played. People laughed and danced, oblivious to the danger they could face.
