Several years ago I had seen Miriam Baum briefly at a social function and had viewed her photo in the newspaper a number of times after several different charitable events. She was a stunning woman. Come to think of it, her long dark hair and turquoise jewelry she wore for each photo could easily depict her Native American heritage.

  “I’d like to find out more about Miriam and Celina’s sister Willow. Maybe gain some insight into why Celina was out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Are you going to the funeral?” Rachel asked.

  “I plan to go.”

  “Then I’ll introduce you if I do. I might attend. ‘Might’ being the operative word. You can ride with me then.”

  I frowned. “Why would you not go?”

  “I don’t know how many bad memories will be drummed up by seeing Miriam at her home.”

  Bringing up bad memories by visiting certain people or places happened to me a lot. I understood her reasoning. “I assume Danny knows Miriam from the investigation of her husband’s murder. Will he be going?”

  She nodded. “I know he’ll want to go to the post funeral gathering. Brad will be there and most likely other deputies and police officers.”

  “Who knows? They might pick up important clues to Celina’s killer.” A thought occurred to me. “Isn’t her home the big antebellum house with the columns?”

  Rachel smiled. “And maybe you can glean some interesting tidbits for the novel you’re working on now. Doesn’t your story have something to do with a plantation home?”

  “Yes, coincidently, it does.” I tried to look innocent. Maybe I was being disrespectful of Celina and her family by having a second motive for attending the funeral, but my interest in this whole case was taking on a life of its own.

  ~ * ~

  Dusk settled on the bayou near a spot where Alex Narcisse sat hidden among the trees. For the sixth day since he arrived, he’d been trying to find his way out of this swamp. He had finished eating the crackers he’d found in the dead woman’s backpack, but even rationing the water he only had a few swallows left. His hunger pangs returned.

  He needed money to survive since the person he was to meet never arrived at that drop-off site. Could the dead woman have been his contact? He dismissed that idea. According to his instructions, he was to meet a man and give him the package he had carried with him from the island.

  His thoughts went back to that night. When the gunshot rang out, his fellow passengers ran toward the second boat. Most made it onto the vessel as her crew, startled by the gunshot, tried to make a fast escape. Others did not make it aboard and those few jumped into the water swimming after the boat in desperation. No doubt those people were all dead by now.

  He should have attempted to climb aboard that boat. His situation might have been better if he had. Swatting mosquitoes and watching out for snakes and alligators wasn’t his idea of the freedom he’d been promised. Now that he knew what the package contained, he realized his life would have been simpler if he had thrown the package in the water. He’d have to bury it now.

  ~ * ~

  Back home from the cemetery, Claire Gallagher maneuvered her wheelchair up to the door of her safe room. She leaned forward and punched in the combination on the hanging pad. Pausing a moment before she went inside, her thoughts strayed back to her first love.

  Andre, a handsome diver who worked for her father back then, had charmed his way into her life when she was fifteen. He was the love of her life. She loved him even more than Walt. Andre was dead, the same as Walt and Gary. Nothing would bring them back, but finding those emeralds, especially the other cross, would ease the pain.

  Shaking off her recollections, Claire moved her chair into the room, closing the door behind her. Her gaze moved over the glass-paneled showcases filed with valuable artifacts from other shipwrecks discovered by her and Walt. Gallagher Salvage had been the front operation. Amazingly they had been able to smuggle all these into the country by disguising the artifacts as tourist items—souvenirs from their travels.

  She moved her chair to one particular showcase and unlocked the panel. Retrieving a plain wooden box from the shelf, she carefully opened the lid and removed a small bag. She untied the drawstring and pulled out her most treasured object, an ornate emerald cross with gold filigree on the end of each arm. She squeezed her eyes shut as she clutched the jeweled relic.

  Months before he died in a diving accident, Andre had given the cross to her in secret, along with a seventeenth century journal he bought from an old man in Jamaica. Andre never revealed from which shipwreck he had recovered the cross, but the journal told the story.

  All those other shipwrecks they had previously located weren’t the right ones. According to the journal, there was a mate to the cross on one vessel in the fleet, a ship that has proved to be quite elusive. She had begun to wonder if perhaps the journal was a forgery—a ruse to throw them off the trail.

  Nine

  Saturday, July25

  Our Lady of Lourdes Chapel in the hamlet of Foretville was packed with mourners for Celina’s funeral service, mostly people who volunteered or worked at the food pantry, various members of the town council, and Foretville’s police force of two officers.

  I had expected a Mass at St. Paul’s Church, a much larger facility in Cypress Lake. In a way I’m glad the funeral wasn’t held there. Too many memories of Jim’s funeral were housed in that church.

  Holding a funeral at such a tiny church did surprise me. This old wooden chapel had been originally built around eighteen hundred and rebuilt some sixty years later after a fire partially destroyed the building. Every so often the congregation talked about putting in air conditioning units, but with such a small congregation the expense wasn’t an option. They decided on ceiling fans.

  There were several women who appeared to be of Hispanic origin seated two rows ahead of me and Rachel. I remembered seeing them a few times at the pantry. Periodically the women glanced around anxiously. Were they worried about their immigration status? I shook off my question about these women, and scolded myself for possible racial profiling.

  The packed building made breathing difficult due to the stifling heat. Even the priest sounded breathless as he spoke. Mercifully the service only lasted thirty minutes. Rachel and I left the church as quickly as possible and headed to Miriam’s home for the post funeral reception.

  “Did you happen to notice when Danny left the church?” A worried look crossed Rachel’s face.

  “I saw him sitting close to the front with Brad and some other deputies, but I didn’t see him leave.”

  I figured she must be thinking about the possibility of him working with the sheriff’s office again. She kept her gaze ahead for the remainder of the drive.

  The Baum property looked like the setting for a movie about the Civil War. A long winding driveway edged by towering moss-draped oaks led to a huge plantation home, Greek columns and all. Viewing this antebellum home and its surrounds left me in awe.

  Completing the scene, a man dressed as a butler answered the door. “Please come in,” our greeter said.

  I discovered later that the “butler” was part of a crew hired by Miriam to cater the reception.

  With Rachel lagging behind me, I followed him inside. Considering all the antebellum light fixtures and furniture in the entryway, I half expected to see a woman in a hoop-skirted dress descending the curved staircase in the center hall.

  The butler led us to a large room furnished in a contemporary style that ended my visions of the Civil War era. A big impressionist painting in what I consider to be Southwest colors hung on the wall over the fireplace. Several other smaller pieces were displayed around the larger one. The bright hues of the group captured my attention.

  I turned to comment to Rachel, but she seemed to have disappeared. Then I caught sight of her speaking to Margaret De Silva, Cypress Lake’s first woman mayor, newly elected like a number of other parish and city officials.

  I returned my focus to the paintings.

  “Beautiful, aren’t they?” Willow, Celina’s sister, stood next to me.

  “I love the colors. They’re hypnotic.” I continued to study the art work.

  “Everyone who sees those paintings can’t stop looking at them,” she said, her own eyes trained on the scene. “Todd Hunter, a Navaho from Santa Fe is the artist.”

  “You and Celina were born near Santa Fe?”

  “Yes, in a town a few miles west of there. I don’t remember anything about the place. I was eighteen months old when Celina and I were adopted. You’re Susan Foret, I believe.”

  I smiled. “Yes, I knew your sister from the food pantry. She was dedicated to helping every person who needed assistance. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Willow averted her gaze for a short moment. “Sometimes she may have been a little too dedicated.”

  “How so?”

  Her reply was interrupted by Miriam, who walked up to us accompanied by Sheriff Brad Theriot.

  Miriam was close to the same height as Brad, who stood six feet tall. Her exquisite face with high cheek bones, her slim figure, along with her regal carriage would put any high fashion model to shame. Hard to believe she’s in her sixties.

  I greeted her by extending my hand. “I know you’ve heard this more times than you can count, but I’m so sorry for your loss. Words are inadequate at a time like this.”

  Her lips moved in what might pass for a smile and she took my hand. “Thank you. The difference is that I know you’re sincere. You understand what it means to lose a loved one. I believe you knew Celina.”

  “I knew her from the food pantry, although not very well. We spoke a few times.” I had to bite my lip to keep from blurting out the ultimate question. What was Celina doing out there in the middle of the night? The question still gnawed at me. Maybe I’m paranoid, but Miriam seemed to sense my unasked question.

  Her dark eyes watered. “Excuse me. I need to visit with other guests.” She walked away toward two couples and stopped to converse with them.

  I forced myself not to start crying, but my eyes still teared up. Losing my husband was difficult, but the death of a child must be even harder.

  Brad placed his hand on my arm and said in a low voice, “Any death of a loved one is difficult, especially when he or she dies violently.”

  I smiled at him, and then turned to Willow. “It was nice to meet you. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

  At that moment, a slim, but athletic-looking man with dark hair appeared in the doorway. He scanned the room and seemed to settle his gaze on Willow. She uttered a low gasp.

  “Is something wrong?” A stupid question…obviously there was. I suspected he and/or his presence here was a problem.

  “No, no, nothing is wrong.” Despite her denial, Willow made a quick retreat out the French doors leading to the patio.

  Brad and I exchanged a glance. He shrugged. “Ex-boyfriend, maybe?”

  When I checked the doorway, the man had disappeared. Rachel came into the room a few moments later and walked over to us.

  “Are you ready to leave?” she asked.

  I wasn’t, but I knew Rachel felt uncomfortable here. So I acquiesced. I wanted to know the identity of that man and why Willow had such a strange reaction to him. And also I didn’t get to hear the reason Willow thought Celina might be a little too dedicated in her work.

  “I’ll walk you ladies out to your car,” Brad said.

  As soon as we arrived at Rachel’s car, I asked my question. “Who was that guy that Willow wasn’t so happy to see? I got the impression you were familiar with him.” I tried to sound nonchalant, but I’m not a good poker player. From the expression on Brad’s face, I should have folded my hand.

  At least he answered. “His name is Kenny Verrett. He’s a professional diver who used to work for Gallagher Salvage.”

  “Interesting. You said used to work for Gallagher? What’s he do now?”

  “I don’t happen to have his resume on hand so I don’t know what he does for a living now.”

  He provided me with info but I should have known there’d be repercussions. Brad shot me that look…the one Jim or Danny used to give me when they suspected I was about to jump into the middle of their investigation. The difference was Brad’s ‘look’ didn’t seem to be out of concern for my safety.

  “What?”

  “Don’t get involved in this case.”

  “I’m not getting involved.” Not really.

  He tried to look stern. “A time or two Jim told me he had to go on alert whenever you found something ‘interesting.’ He knew he needed to be prepared for trouble.”

  “I don’t believe Jim told you any such thing,” I huffed. “Danny more than likely jokingly told you something similar when he was giving you advice after you were elected sheriff.”

  His mouth moved into a tiny grin. “Well, maybe Danny did warn me about your penchant for investigating on your own.” His expression turned serious. “There could be life-threatening consequences if you stick your nose into this case. We suspect some dangerous individuals are involved.”

  I arched a brow. My first thought…aren’t those kinds of people always dangerous?

  “Okay?” He stared at me, waiting for my promise to stay clear of their investigation.

  I raised my hands in front of me in a defensive manner. “Okay, I’ll try to control my curiosity.”

  Feeling completely reprimanded, I opened the passenger-side car door and slipped into the seat. Rachel remained speaking to Brad. She must be asking him about Danny’s sudden exit from the services.

  Finally, she came around the front of the car and got into the driver’s seat. A few moments passed before she started the engine.

  “Did Brad know why Danny left?” I had gotten the impression from his body language that he told her no.

  “He either knew what was going on and wouldn’t tell me because he’d be revealing sensitive information. Or else he really didn’t know.”

  I heaved a sigh. “Probably he knew but didn’t tell you because he figured you would tell me.”

  “Maybe so. I’ll have to keep after Danny until he tells me.”

  My reputation has preceded me. But I resented someone like Brad, ten years my junior, forbidding me to get involved. I know I’m being childish. However, everyone has the right to act like a spoiled brat at least once in a while.

  Rachel and I remained silent the rest of the drive home. Steven’s car was parked in my driveway, meaning the children were back from Gulf Shores, so I had to go back to being an adult. That didn’t mean I had to curtail my curiosity.

  Ten

  Matthew and Caroline ran to me with cries of “Mom, Mom!” as soon as I walked through the door. They both talked at the same time, describing the “ocean,” aka the Gulf of Mexico, collecting seashells, and all the other exciting details of a vacation at the beach, including a group of dolphins they spotted one morning. I wouldn’t have minded seeing those playful creatures myself.

  “My goodness, y’all have such wonderful tans. I’m jealous. Now I’ll have to go to a tanning salon.”

  “No, no, Mom!” Matthew shouted. He talks extra loud when he’s excited. “You should have come with us, and then you would have a natural tan.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. His enthusiasm lifted my spirits.

  “Hey,” Steven said. “I’m starving. What’s for lunch?”

  Megan punched him lightly on his arm. “Really? You sound like a kid. After the huge breakfast you ate, you can’t possibly be hungry.”

  Steven grinned. “I’m just a big kid.”

  My brother seemed a lot more lighthearted than he had been in many years, even if he sounded a little corny. I was glad he found someone special like Megan to spend his life with.

  I didn’t feel much like eating, but the kids probably were hungry. “Why don’t we order pizza?”

  “Aah, one of my favorite foods,” Steven said.

  “Mine too,” Matthew agreed.

  Caroline smiled. “Pepperoni, of course.”

  Fifteen minutes after Steven called in the order, the pizza delivery guy arrived. We all sat together at the dining room table. This informal meal seemed like a holiday feast to me. Even though we were missing Jim, the little group assembled here was my family. Plus I actually ate two slices of pizza. I didn’t think I could eat anything after such a depressing day.

  After we finished eating, I walked into the family room with Steven. Megan insisted on clearing the table.

  “So how was the funeral?” Steven asked.

  I shrugged. “How is any funeral?”

  He looked a bit sheepish. “Stupid question, but I thought you appeared to be more upset than you would normally be about a person you didn’t know well.”

  “You might feel the same way if you had been the one to discover her body.”

  He widened his eyes. “Geez, not again. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to ruin your vacation.”

  Steven eyed me with suspicion. “I hope this doesn’t mean you’re considering an investigation of your own.”

  I averted my gaze for a short moment. “I haven’t decided yet.” Not exactly true.

  He exhaled and shook his head. “Why would you want to get involved after everything that’s happened to you in the past?”

  “Old habits die hard,” I said, trying to sound matter-of-fact.

  Megan came out of the kitchen and walked over to me and Steven. “All the silverware is washed and in the dish rack. Paper plates and cups in the garbage.”

  “Thanks so much for doing that. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem,” she said. “You looked as if you could have used a break.”

  I widened my eyes. “You two are the ones who should need a break after dealing with two eight year olds.”

  She smiled. “They were active, but nothing we couldn’t handle. It was fun.”

  “They were well behaved,” Steven said. “Anything we asked them to do or not do, they always complied…after the third time we told them.” He grinned. “No, seriously, we didn’t have any problems with them. Maybe if you had come with us you wouldn’t have…” His voice trailed off.