“Are you going to go to Baton Rouge for the storm?” I asked as I placed tea bags in a china tea pot.

  “No, I believe I’m staying. I’m hoping our subdivision won’t flood. But I’ve planned for the possibility anyway. I started putting a few pieces of furniture up on blocks.”

  “Our street is the farthest from the lake, so chances are water won’t come in the house. Steven is coming by tomorrow to help me tie up loose items. I guess we’ll raise the furniture in case.”

  A whistle from the tea kettle on the stove signaled the water was ready. I poured the hot water over the tea bags and retrieved two cups from the cabinet.

  “I gather you’re going to stay,” Rachel said.

  I placed the tea pot and cups on a tray and carried it to the table. “Probably. I keep going back and forth about making a decision.” I gave a long sigh and sank into a chair. “The twins might be scared if the weather gets too bad.”

  “We could always have a hurricane party,” Rachel said.

  I nodded in agreement. “Good idea.” I wanted to ask more questions about Danny’s suspect. “What exactly did Danny tell you about his suspect?”

  “Not much. I had to drag every little bit of information out of him as it was.”

  “But he said this person was a suspect in my case?”

  “Yes, and he and Ken were interviewing someone who uses locker twelve.”

  We drank our tea in silence for a while. Different scenarios ran through my head. I wondered if they were doing the interview at the sheriff’s office or at CLPD headquarters.

  At six, a vehicle drove up in the Marchand’s driveway. A short time later, Danny knocked on the door.

  He looked tired and perhaps even frustrated. I figured he didn’t have good news. I offered him coffee or tea.

  “Actually, I could use a good stiff drink,” he said.

  “All I have is beer and wine.”

  He nodded. “Then, I believe I will have a beer.”

  “You must have really had a bad day,” Rachel said.

  He waved his hand side-to-side. “Some parts good and others not so good.”

  I retrieved a can from the refrigerator and set it in front of him. He popped the top and took a long drink.

  “Our interview didn’t provide us with the person who attacked you. It did tell us who didn’t.”

  “Don’t keep us guessing,” I said. “Who didn’t hit me over the head?”

  “Toby Hahn had the right locker number, but his alibi for the time checked out. So he’s off the hook.”

  “I’m glad the creep wasn’t Toby.”

  “Who did you talk to this afternoon?” Rachel asked.

  “Ronnie Hart,” he said. “The key actually belonged to him.”

  My stomach did a flip. “Oh no. Tell me he wasn’t the one.”

  He looked at me curiously. “I take it you’ve met him.”

  “Well, not him. I met his wife Renee and their three children. You know they moved into the house across the street. I’d hate to see him be arrested.”

  “Don’t worry. We don’t believe he’s the one.”

  I frowned. “But you said it was his key.”

  “He claimed his key went missing. It suddenly reappeared on top his locker and the initial H was gone.”

  “And you believed him,” Rachel asked.

  “He has an ironclad alibi for the afternoon. He worked an extra duty security job at Scardina’s the whole afternoon. Looks like someone set him up.”

  “Do you have any idea who?”

  “Yes, I do,” he said in a non-committal tone.

  “But you’d rather not say.”

  “Right. I don’t want to accuse anyone without having proof. I thought for sure we had our man when Ronnie admitted the H came from his key ring.” He took another long swallow of beer. “At present all of our investigations will have to be pushed to the back burner for a little while due to the storm. We’re likely to get some pretty rough weather.”

  Fifty

  Tuesday, August 13

  Harvey slowly churned in the Gulf. The new path—east north east, taking the storm away from the Louisiana coast—overjoyed me. We weren’t out of the woods, however.

  Due to the storm’s size, Harvey was expected to dump buckets of rain and cause high winds and high tides in Allemand Parish, also in Plaquemines and St. Bernard, the two parishes below New Orleans, within the next few days, even with landfall expected somewhere around the Mississippi-Alabama line, almost two states away.

  There would likely be power outages, which if lengthy, could cause problems for law enforcement personnel. I imagined this was one condition worrying Danny.

  At present the problem for us was the increased forward speed of the storm. Harvey would make landfall sooner than expected. A voluntary evacuation had already been announced for Grand Isle, whose residents were usually the first people to leave when a storm came anywhere near the Louisiana coast. Residents of other low lying areas had also been advised to seek higher ground.

  I still couldn’t decide whether to hunker down with the kids or go to my parents’ house. With the path of the storm changing daily, what Allemand Parish might receive could be nothing more than an average summer thunderstorm.

  My cell phone rang. The number on the display indicated a call from Dad. “Hey, y’all ready for a hurricane party?” I joked.

  Dad laughed. “Not quite, but your mother and I would like you and the kids to come to our house to ride out the storm.

  “I may have even talked Steven into coming here also.”

  “Really? He hasn’t mentioned anything about going to your house.”

  “He might be trying to figure out how to convince you.”

  “Did you give him any pointers?”

  “A few,” he admitted. “Susan, I don’t like the idea of you being alone with the kids. What if your house floods? Or you have wind damage? Besides, you were released from the hospital only a short time ago.”

  “Dad,” I groaned. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine. Steven came by this morning to help me tie up any items that might get blown around outside. Besides, I have no place to leave my cat since Mother is allergic.” My mother simply didn’t like animals so she pretended to be allergic to all pets.

  “Well, if you change your mind, you know where we are. But decide soon or you might not be able to get out.”

  We ended the call and I immediately went in search of Steven.

  Gray clouds raced across the sky. To the south, dark thunderheads heightened the appearance of dusk. The wind had picked up considerably in the last few hours.

  I found Steven as he closed and locked the shed doors. “Dad just called. I understand you might be staying over there during the storm.”

  “Might is the optimum word. I know you don’t want to deal with Mother. I’m not crazy about doing so myself.”

  “I don’t want to, but the kids might feel safer if we did go. Like I told Dad, I couldn’t bring Katy.” I rolled my eyes. “You know…Mother’s allergies. I’m certainly not leaving my cat here alone. You know what happened during Katrina.”

  “Yeah, a lot of people lost their pets because they believed they’d be able to return home in the next day or so.” He cleared his throat. “I could always stay here with you and the kids.”

  “What are Megan’s plans?”

  “She’s going to stay with her sister Janice and her family.”

  “You probably want to be in New Orleans so you’re nearby. Am I right?”

  He nodded. “I do. But I think Dad probably could use a little help.”

  “Then go to stay with our parents. I’ll think about joining you.”

  “How are you fixed for supplies?” he asked. “Do you have enough to last a few days if you stay?”

  “Not really. I kept putting off going shopping because of the thought of hordes of people like me who wait until the last minute rushing around to grab up food and batteries.”

  “So leave with me and go to New Orleans.”

  “Okay, but I still need to buy extra cat food and her other supplies. Mother will just have to be allergic.”

  “I tell you what,” he said. “Let’s get your furniture put up on blocks in case the water comes up, and then I’ll take the twins with me to Dad’s. After you get Katy’s supplies together, meet us there.”

  I reluctantly agreed. The thought of being locked up in the house for days with bored kids and a mother who always had disdain for my choice of a police officer for a husband, and my desire to remain out of the elite group of people Steven and I grew up with, wasn’t my idea of an ideal situation. Mother never minded speaking her mind on those two subjects either.

  Of course the alternative could turn out to be worse. Neither did I relish the idea of me and the kids wading around the house in dirty flood water and climbing into the attic. A tree could fall on the house. Harvey had barely made it up to hurricane strength, but the possibility of the fifty or sixty mile an hour winds we might get here were nothing to scoff at.

  Fifty-one

  Frank’s Market looked as though the store had been invaded by a horde of barbarians. Most shelves were bare, especially in the bottled water and canned goods sections. Empty packaging lay scattered along a few aisles, along with crushed pieces of crackers or cookies; I couldn’t tell which.

  I hurried to the pet food aisle and grabbed a few cans of wet food and the only remaining bag of dry left. Who knew there were so many cat owners in Cypress Lake?

  Rain had been at a drizzle when I arrived at Frank’s, but started coming down a little harder as I rushed back to my car. Naturally I hadn’t bothered with an umbrella on my way in. I did have my trusty baseball cap to cover my stitches.

  A little voice in my head told me to drive by City Hall. Yes, I’m hearing voices now. Really, I must be nuts. I should be going straight home and then heading for New Orleans.

  I happened to glance at Court House Café as I passed. Tracy Kaufman was seated at a booth by the window.

  Without thinking, I turned into the parking lot next to the café. Grabbing my umbrella I exited the car and made a run for the entrance.

  I slipped my dripping umbrella into one of those plastic bags provided for that purpose from the stand by the door. I walked over to Tracy’s booth. “Mind if I join you?”

  Maybe it was my imagination, but she didn’t seem happy to see me. “Of course I don’t mind. Please do. I just got here. Haven’t even been waited on yet.” She moved a package from the table top, placing it next to her on the seat. “What are you up to today?”

  “Probably the same as you,” I said, slipping into the seat. “Shopping for storm supplies.”

  Tracy groaned. “I pray Harvey dies out before he hits land.”

  “Not likely, but the way he’s heading now, we might be lucky to get less of a hit. Predictions for landfall indicate Mobile.”

  A red-haired waitress strolled over and asked for our orders.

  “I’ll have coffee and if you have any sweet rolls left, one of those,” Tracy said.

  “We have a couple left.” The waitress turned to me. “The same?”

  I did need a bit of a sugar boost. What the heck? What difference will a few pounds make? “Yes, I’ll have the same.”

  I eyed the package Tracy had moved off the table. The bag with Scardina’s Department Store logo emblazoned on the outside appeared to contain a shoe box. Tracy had a passion for shoes and owned a closet full.

  “Are those new shoes to add to your collection?”

  She laughed and shook her head. “I wish. This time they’re for Bill. He ruined a pair of sneakers a few weeks ago. Those shoes cost two hundred dollars, a lot more expensive than any of mine, but he insisted I pick up another pair.”

  The idea of venturing out to buy a pair of shoes in the midst of hurricane preparations seemed the height of absurdity, not to mention downright stupid. At least my shopping, although untimely, was for essentials.

  “How on earth did he mess up a pair of sneakers?” This ought to be interesting.

  “He wouldn’t tell me what he had done to ruin them. His shoes were caked with mud. You’d think he’d have better sense than to walk through mud with calf leather shoes, even if they’re supposed to be athletic shoes.”

  Yes, you’d think so. Wait a minute. Calf leather? Had he made those footprints along the bayou? I suppose he’s not the only man in the world who owns a pair, but this couldn’t simply be a coincidence.

  I choked down the sweet roll with a few swallows of coffee. “I need to get back home and relieve Steven from his baby-sitting job.” So I lied.

  Tracy tilted her head slightly. “Oh, is he back in town? I thought he’d gone back to New Orleans.”

  “He did, but he insisted on coming back to help me with storm preparation.”

  She seemed pleased. “You need someone to help with the heavy stuff. Are you going to evacuate?”

  “Depends on the next forecast. Right now it’s a wait and see situation.” Hey, I’m getting pretty good at telling lies. “What about you?”

  “As soon as I drop these off to Bill, I’m leaving for my sister’s house in Monroe, but I need to get a move on. Even with a voluntary evacuation order in place, traffic will be horrific.”

  I nodded. “I need to go too. I wouldn’t want to get stuck going to who knows where if Contraflow is initiated.”

  “With only one way traffic on the interstate, you might end up in North Louisiana with me.”

  I gave a faux look of horror. “Heaven forbid. North Louisiana?”

  We both laughed.

  “Someone once told me New Orleanians are so dumb they think Baton Rouge is in North Louisiana. Of course the person who told me was a Baton Rouge resident,” she said and smiled.

  Tracy’s manner seemed off to me. I just couldn’t put my finger on the problem. Her laughter and joking around appeared like an act.

  “Seriously, if I do evacuate, I’ll head up to my parents’ house. The only problem is my cat. Mother claims to be allergic. Maybe I’ll send the twins to New Orleans and hunker down with Katy.”

  “We usually board our dog at The Pet Place over on Moss Lane. Our veterinarian, Dr. Creighton, runs the facility. You ought to think about taking your cat there.”

  “Thanks, I’ll consider it.”

  “Stay safe whatever you decide.”

  “You too.”

  I left the café and headed for my car. I sat for a while with the engine running.

  Tracy departed soon after and hurried across the street to City Hall Annex to deliver the prized shoes to Bill.

  The words from the note asking Jim to meet suddenly registered in my brain.

  I pulled my cell phone from my purse and punched in Danny’s number. Drat! The call went directly to voice mail. I really didn’t want to leave a message, but the information might speed up a return call from him.

  “I know who left the footprint at Bayou Jean Baptiste—the one made by the expensive shoe. And I know who wrote the note. Call me as soon as you can.”

  Fifty-two

  I drove home in heavy rain with wind gusts increasing in strength. The deluge stopped as soon as I pulled up under the carport. This squall was likely a feeder band spiraling off the body of the storm.

  I reached in my purse and pulled out my cell phone. Information provided me with the number for the veterinarian Dr. Creighton’s boarding facility. I keyed in the number.

  A receptionist answered.

  “This is Susan Foret. Do you have space in your boarding facility for my cat?”

  “I’m so glad you said cat. We’re currently not able to take any more dogs,” she said over a chorus of arfs, yelps, and barks in the background. “We have a few spaces left in the cat condo. How soon can you get here?”

  “In about fifteen minutes…if I don’t have any problem catching her.”

  She chuckled. “Is she current with her shots?”

  “Yes, her regular vet is Dr. Phillips at Southside Veterinary Clinic.”

  “Good, I’ll have them fax over a copy and I’ll save a spot for your kitty. What’s her name?”

  “Katy. K.A.T.Y.”

  “Okay, one spot reserved for Katy Foret.”

  Katy Foret, my third child, was not easy to corral and put in her carrier. After a few minutes struggle, I managed to accomplish the task with the only casualty being my shirt covered in cat hair.

  I had forgotten to ask if I needed to supply her food, but in case I did, the food purchased at Frank’s would come in handy. Maybe I’d donate the bag and cans to an animal shelter if The Pet Place doesn’t require it.

  The receptionist at The Pet Place oohed and aahed over Katy. “She’s beautiful. My cats are all short haired. You must have her groomed every week.”

  “No, once in a while I give her a good brushing, but lately I’ve been falling down on the job.”

  After filing out the obligatory paper work, I handed the clipboard back to the receptionist. She spoke on an intercom requesting an assistant to come up front to bring a cat back for boarding.

  I hated to see Katy being whisked off and put into a cage. Her accommodations may have been referred to as a cat condo, but I’d seen boarding facilities for cats. She would be in a cage. I consoled myself with the thought she’d be safer there than in my house alone.

  I didn’t intend to drive into New Orleans. There was unfinished business I had to take care of in Allemand Parish…storm or not.

  My next stop would be City Hall to visit our illustrious mayor. I assumed he planned on sticking around and keeping his office open. Or perhaps he would don his new calf-leather shoes to go check on operations at the Emergency Preparedness Center.

  The mayor’s office, along with offices for the parish president, his four member council, and rooms for both parish and city council meetings, was in a newer section of the City Hall building known as the Annex. By newer I mean this part was added about nine years after the rest of the complex had been built, which would make it around nineteen seventy-six or so.