Danny studied the documentation and handed it back to her. “Okay, so what’s going on here? Why are Federal agents working undercover in Allemand Parish?” He looked from one agent to the other. “And why wasn’t I informed of your operation?”

  “Call off your back-up first,” Agent Howard said. “Then we’ll answer your questions.”

  Danny hesitated a moment, but then reached for his cell. He addressed Wallace with the fake name they had decided upon. “Code four,” he said. No further assistance needed.

  Angie spoke first. “DEA received information about a large operation of drug traffickers receiving shipments in this parish and moving the drugs to New Orleans and beyond. Further investigation led us to believe members of CLPD and a number of high public officials were involved. We didn’t know who these officials were, which is why we didn’t bring you in.”

  “Our office got involved because of the possibility of public officials participating in illegal activities,” Howard said. “This is a joint FBI/DEA operation. For all we knew, you could’ve been one of those public officials.”

  “What about Jim? Did he know about the operation?”

  “Not at first,” Angie said.

  “We cleared him and brought him into our confidence, but he was killed shortly after that,” Howard added. “It’s unlikely he committed suicide, but we suspect our assumption of his innocence may have been wrong.”

  Danny turned to Angie. He could hardly get the words out. “You should be aware of the fact I’m investigating his death as a homicide seeing as how you’re so close to LeBlanc.”

  Angie exchanged a look with Howard before addressing her response to Danny. “I was aware you were investigating on your own. LeBlanc doesn’t like the idea of your investigation for obvious reasons. But that’s all I can reveal at present.”

  “Do you know who killed Jim?” Danny asked through clenched teeth.

  “We have an idea, but no proof. LeBlanc’s involved somehow. I’m certain of his connection, but he’s not the top man,” Angie said. “So who tipped you off about the drug activity?”

  “A caller told me.”

  “You have a name?” Howard asked.

  Danny shook his head. “The tip was from an anonymous male.”

  “So you don’t have any idea of this person’s identity?” Angie’s tone of voice expressed her doubts.

  “I suspect he was T-Boy LaBauve, but he’s no longer around to ask.” Danny eyed Greg Howard and then glanced over his shoulder at Angie. “So you haven’t figured out who else is involved in CLPD or these parish officials?”

  A disgruntled look settled on Agent Howard’s face. “We’re getting closer with those names. We have suspects, of course. The only one we’re sure about is the interim chief, LeBlanc.” He tossed Angie a look of displeasure. “Not even with Angie working her magic. I’d say she’s too close to the situation.”

  She made a huffing noise, but didn’t comment.

  Danny noted an undercurrent of tension between the two Federal agents. Howard gave the impression he didn’t like or approve of the way Angie was handling her part in this operation. He couldn’t say he blamed Howard if this were the reason for the antagonism.

  “What about you? Do you have any names,” Howard asked.

  Danny narrowed his gaze at him. “I’ve come to suspect a few of my deputies are also involved. Are you aware of this?”

  “Recently I uncovered evidence of possible involvement by two of your men.”

  “I’m guessing they’re the same two I suspect—Ronnie Hart and Curtis Tullier?”

  “Affirmative,” he said. “Well, Tullier definitely. We’re not certain of Hart’s involvement yet.”

  “An officer with CLPD recently told me hearsay info, not evidence we can use in court. But he also had no luck identifying any parish officials. According to my informant, the guy he identified keeps a lid on the head man’s name. He refers to him as ‘the boss’ or sometimes as ‘our boss’ when he’s speaking on the phone.”

  “Have you tried tracing the calls?” Howard said with a hint of sarcasm.

  “We’re not so backwoods we haven’t heard of burner phones.”

  “Give us a name of the CLPD suspect,” Howard said.

  “We should be working together on this, but I’d rather not give out his name at present. You’re not being completely honest with me about who you suspect killed Jim.”

  “Our investigation takes precedence over yours,” Howard growled, leaning toward Danny. “We’re under no obligation to reveal everything we know.”

  Angie put her hand on Howard’s shoulder and looked at him as if to say, “Let it go.” He leaned back in the seat.

  Danny wasn’t about to tell the two Federal agents his suspect was also LeBlanc and he didn’t like their accusation about Jim’s involvement. Let them figure it out.

  He glanced back at Angie. “Tell me this. If you aren’t going to bring me in completely, why did y’all decide to tell me at this particular time?”

  “Another DEA operative was recently able to get in with the people transporting the drugs into the bayou from offshore. This last load was delivered to a different location, not Bayou Jean Baptiste. He got to talking to the two men who received the goods. They were pretty hot at you for making all those patrols and messing up their business. One made a threat on your life and also threatened Susan Foret’s.

  “Did your agent recognize either man?”

  “He identified one as Curtis Tullier. The other man he didn’t know.”

  “Which one made the threat on Susan’s life?”

  “Tullier.”

  “Most likely the unidentified man is the CLPD officer.” Danny leaned forward slightly toward Howard. “Give me the name of your suspect for Jim’s murder and I’ll get you the identity of that officer’s name.”

  “Sorry, but I can’t comment on any of the other information we have,” Howard said curtly. “We felt obligated to warn you about the threat on your life and give you the names of your deputies we believe are involved, since you brought up that subject.”

  “We trust you’ll pay us back by not doing anything to mess up this operation,” Angie said with brusqueness equal to Howard’s.

  Forty-eight

  Monday, August 12

  The day had dawned overcast and gray, an ominous reminder of the oncoming storm. No day was a good one for a funeral, but this threatening weather only added to my depression at T-Boy’s service.

  At the cemetery, I watched his family members as they moved one-by-one around the casket to say their last goodbyes, each touching the polished wood coffin tenderly. Most had watery eyes, several heaving audible sobs.

  Marie LaBauve seemed inconsolable. T-Boy must have been a menopause baby, considering the age difference between him and his siblings. Andre, with one arm in a sling and a bandage on his temple, sat beside his wife holding her hand with his free one, a somber expression hardening his Santa Claus-like face.

  The service ended and I started walking back to my car. Death seemed to control every facet of my life these days.

  It was hard enough losing Jim; I couldn’t imagine losing one of my children. Attending another funeral so soon after Jim’s death didn’t do much to heal my raw emotions, but I had felt an obligation to come.

  I had to stop blaming myself for T-Boy’s demise. I didn’t pull the trigger. If the family blamed me in any way, they kept it to themselves.

  Toby Hahn had served as one of the pallbearers. I sure wish I could remember for certain if the number on that key was twelve. He would be the height of duplicity serving in this capacity for someone he was somehow involved in killing, especially a relative.

  I’d been wrong before in a similar situation. Years ago a dear friend, Greg St. Martin, had been shot to death. The men who served as his pallbearers were guilty of murder all right, but not Greg’s.

  Danny’s voice intruded on my thoughts and startled me. He had walked up beside me without me noticing his approach. “I saw you giving Toby suspicious looks. He hasn’t been eliminated yet as a suspect in your attack, but I believe he will be soon.”

  We stopped in front of my car. “I hope you’re right. Are there any other suspects?”

  “Not so far, but we’re still looking into the locker numbers. I should know more by this afternoon.”

  “Toby is such a nice guy. I can’t imagine him being involved in either Jim’s death or the drug smuggling.”

  “You and me, too. I always thought highly of him and until there’s proof otherwise, we need to give him the benefit of the doubt.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t want to alarm you.” He shook his head. “Well, maybe I’m hoping to scare some sense into you. There has been a threat against your life.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Where did you hear that?” I almost choked on the words.

  “I can’t reveal my source right now. But I was told the same people have threatened mine, too.” He gave me a look of parental concern. “The point is you need to be alert and aware of your surroundings at all times. Not like just now when I walked up on you.”

  “Does this mean Jim’s death is connected to the drug smuggling?”

  “It’s beginning to look that way.”

  I didn’t want to ask the question that popped up in my head. Could Jim have been involved with the drug smuggling? No, how could I even think such a thing? He had to have been set up or there was some other reason for his presence at the site of those activities.

  The answering machine light was blinking when I arrived home. A blanket recording from the school board turned out to be the message.

  First day of school had been postponed due to the storm. Of course this meant extra days of class at the end of the year. In a way the postponement was a relief. One less thing to worry about.

  T-Boy’s funeral this morning had left me drained. I didn’t feel like fighting the crowds at the store to buy the extra supplies. There’s probably nothing left on the shelves at this late date. What in the world am I going to do? I can’t seem to make a decision on any action. Are we staying? Are we leaving?

  I simply wanted to curl up under a blanket in my bed and let the world pass me by. My security blanket chair would have to serve the same purpose. I sank into the chair and closed my eyes.

  Jim’s face appeared behind my eyelids. “It’s not like you to give up so soon,” he said.

  I sat up straight. Whoa, I must have dozed off. At any rate, Dream Jim was right. Giving up wasn’t usually in my vocabulary.

  As soon as I hear the next weather advisory, I’ll decide on a course of action as far as the storm is concerned. The most important item on my agenda is to make sure the kids and the cat are safe.

  ~ * ~

  Danny drummed his fingers on the desk as he scanned Ronnie Hart’s personnel records. He had summoned the deputy to his office. The business of interrogating members of law enforcement for wrongdoing was not one any sheriff or police chief would relish.

  Only one deputy whose last name began with H used locker number twelve. Hart had a wife and three kids. Danny hoped either Susan was wrong about the number or else the key fit a lock other than one from a law enforcement locker room.

  He reached for his phone and punched in a number. “He’s on his way…See you in two.”

  A few minutes later, Ken Wallace appeared in the doorway. Danny waved him in. Wallace took a seat in a chair next to Danny’s desk.

  “Before he gets here, there’s something I want to ask you,” Wallace said. “I don’t want to step over the line, but I saw your informants last night. Since one of them is a CLPD officer, I’d like to know if you can give me any info on what went down.”

  Danny silently agreed Wallace should be let in on the deal. He weighed his words carefully. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the conversation, but I will tell you this. She is on the level. There’s nothing for you to worry about…unless you’re involved in the drug trafficking operation.”

  A brief frown wrinkled Wallace’s brow. Then he nodded slowly.

  Danny took his action to mean Wallace understood the situation. “Keep it to yourself.”

  “Definitely.”

  Deputy Hart arrived shortly. A curious yet cautious look crossed his face at the sight of the two officers. “You wanted to see me, Sheriff?”

  “Yeah, come on in,” Danny said.

  The deputy closed the office door behind him per Danny’s instructions. He walked toward the desk with a tentative expression on his face.

  “Have a seat.” Danny nodded toward Wallace. “I believe you know Sergeant Wallace.”

  Hart nodded, indicating he did.

  “Sergeant Wallace has been looking into an incident in which Susan Foret was attacked in her back yard. He has a few questions for you. Sergeant?”

  “Are you familiar with the incident?” Wallace asked.

  His brow wrinkled. “I heard about the incident. Don’t know much about it.”

  “Prior to Mrs. Foret being hit over the head, she sensed a prowler might have been fooling around outside while she was out shopping. Near her patio she discovered a key that appeared to be for a locker. She was then hit over the head and had to be hospitalized. This key disappeared.” He eyed Hart sternly. “She remembered seeing the number twelve on the key.”

  Hart glanced from Wallace to Danny and back again. “So what are you saying? That I’m the one who did this to her because my locker has that number?”

  Wallace shrugged. “We’re checking out deputies and CLPD officers who have number twelve lockers.” He paused and stared at Hart for a while as if to ramp up the tension. “Did you have anything to do with her attack?”

  “No, I did not.” Hart folded his arms and then unfolded them.

  Danny had been sitting back, allowing Wallace to conduct the interview. Bulldog’s going to make a fine police chief.

  “Do you have your locker key with you?” Wallace continued.

  Hart nodded. He reached in his pocket, pulled out two sets of keys, then held up a single key.

  “Is there a piece missing?” Wallace asked.

  “Yeah, a little pendant kind of thing with an H on it. My kids gave the key ring to me for Father’s Day.”

  Wallace revealed the evidence bag with the key ring piece. “Like this?”

  Hart blanched. “Where’d you find it?”

  “Near the patio at the Forets’ house right about where she was attacked,” Wallace said. “Do you know how it got there?”

  He swallowed hard. “I don’t have any idea. My key disappeared for a couple of days and it suddenly reappeared yesterday on top of my locker.”

  “If your key was missing for days, how’d you get into your locker?”

  “I paid to have a duplicate made. Colonel Ardoin can verify my story.”

  Wallace looked at Danny for confirmation.

  “Any order or payment made for all equipment, including locker keys, has to go through Fred.”

  Wallace continued his questioning. “Where were you on the afternoon of August eight? The eighth would have been a Thursday.”

  “I worked extra duty security at Scardina’s Department Store all afternoon. There’s a bunch of people who can verify my story.” His gaze darted to Danny. “Sheriff, you know my name is on the extra duty roster.”

  “Your name is on the list, but it doesn’t mean you actually were there.”

  “I’ll speak to Scardina’s people and check out your alibi.” Wallace narrowed his eyes on Hart’s face. “For your sake I hope it does.”

  “In the meantime,” Danny said. “You’ll be on desk duty.”

  “Yes sir.” Visibly angry, he rose and marched out the door, closing it behind him.

  Danny turned to Wallace. “What’d you think?”

  “I have the feeling he’s telling the truth. Looks like somebody’s trying to set him up. But first, let me verify his alibi. I’ll get back to you.”

  An hour later, Wallace returned to Danny’s office. “Scardina’s security head corroborated Hart’s alibi. Also I verified Toby’s whereabouts on the day of Susan’s attack.”

  “That only leaves one other H. But how did he get Hart’s locker key unless…?”

  “Somebody else got it for him.”

  “Or else Susan’s attacker doesn’t have a last name beginning with H.”

  Forty-nine

  A drizzling rain fell all afternoon, making for a sad ending to a blah day. Dusk usually arrived around eight-thirty, but today it came at five.

  My cell phone chirped. Steven’s name appeared on the display.

  “Hey,” he said. “The forecast called for high winds and heavy rain. I thought maybe you could use some help to tie up Jim’s boat and anything else that needs to be contained.”

  “You’re right. I hadn’t even thought about that. When do you want to come over?”

  “How about first thing tomorrow morning?”

  “Good deal. You’re a sweetheart.”

  “I know,” he said and laughed. “See you in the A.M..”

  As we ended our call, I heard a knock at the back door. Peering out the window, I saw Rachel standing outside. I opened the door and motioned her inside. Her hair shone with a few rain drops that had collected on her way over from her house.

  She brushed a hand over her hair and laughed. “I tried to run in between the drops but it didn’t work well at all.”

  “I’ve attempted the same thing a few times myself and had equal success.” I eyed her with a questioning look. “So what’s up?”

  “Danny might have some news about your attacker. He told me he would come over here to your place when he and Ken Wallace finished up with their interview with this suspect.”

  I sucked in a deep breath. “Do you know who he is?”

  She shook her head. “He wouldn’t tell me. I thought I’d come over and wait with you, if you don’t mind.”

  “No indeed. I welcome the company.” I motioned her into the kitchen. “Would you like coffee? Or how about some tea?”

  “Hot tea would be nice on such a wet day.” She pulled a chair away from the table and sat. “I’ve had too much coffee already today.”