Read Online A Crying Shame by William W. Johnstone - Free Book Online

parish road.Very well,” she agreed.Then you think they will return?”
    Yes, I do. I believe—and I don’t mean to alarm you, just tell you the truth, as I see it—they have singled you out for mating purposes.” She shuddered beside him.And I believe they realize—sense, somehow—that I am a threat to them. More than that, a challenge. So, yes, I think they will return.”
    She nodded.I thought it best to tell Sheriff Saucier I knew you were arriving today.”
    Yes, he is not an unintelligent man.” He wondered what else she had told Mike. Wondered just how much she knew of her brother’s work. He had a feeling she knew very little.
    Well,”—Linda sighed—Paul said you were honest—for a mercenary—and that you were trustworthy.She glanced at him.I have to admit, you don’t look like a mercenary. At least not my concept of a professional fighting man.”
    You’ve seen too many movies about mercs, Miss Breaux. There is no stereotype mercenary. We come from all walks of life, all sizes, shapes, and religious backgrounds. And each man has his own reasons for becoming a mere. Some men were men of the cloth, doctors, lawyers; some are running from a bad marriage, some from bad debts ... some are just running. Many enjoy the test of combat—the high of it, if you will.”
    How interesting,” she said primly.And it is Ms. Breaux.”
    I think I’ll call you Linda.” He smiled.
    The smile seemed to infuriate her.You. . . ! How insufferably arrogant you are!”
    He laughed, then quickly sobered, recalling that her brother had been dead only hours.I’m sorry,” he said, and she sensed the sincerity in it.I have forgotten my manners. I also forgot about Paul.”
    She turned her gaze to the passing landscape, all green and lush as summer lolled hotly through its dog days, sticky and humid in the bayou country.It’s all right. I have been attempting to put last night and this morning out of my mind. I think it’s best. Mr. Badon. . . ?”
    Jon, please.”
    For the very first time since he had put eyes on the woman beside him, Linda smiled. It was a lovely smile, only adding to her beauty.All right . . . Jon. And I’m Linda. I apologize for being so ...” She laughed, and it was a good hearty laugh, nothing girlish or simpering about its sound; it was a laugh of acceptance that she could not change what had happened in her life; so live with it and work it out.. . . Snooty, I believe is what Alma called me.”
    Alma?”
    Alma Brady. Her husband used to work—If that’s what you want to call what he did—for us. His name is ... well, I don’t know what his real name is. Everyone calls him Booger. I guess I am snooty. But the culture shock of moving out of New Orleans to this . . . haven of rednecks and hillbilly music is something to which I still cannot become acclimated. So if that makes me snooty, so be it.”
    Some people, Linda—most, probably—cannot differentiate between sophistication and snobbery. It isn’t your fault; it’s the inadequacy of others. A great many people, unfortunately, reach a certain intellectual level and choose to go no further. They are suspicious of anyone who rises above them, and since they cannot cope mentally, they choose derision instead.”
    Thank you, Professor.” She laughed.Where did you attend school, Jon?”
    I went as far as the ninth grade down in south Louisiana.”
    No . . . I meant college. What university?”
    None.” She was shocked with his answer.But that does not mean a person must stop learning.”
    You must read a lot.”
    I try to read five books a week when I’m not in the field.”
    Languages?”
    Several, en effet.”
    Oh, good! And your accent is quaint.”
    A quick, noncommittal smile from the man.You and this Alma, you have bad blood between you? A quarrel,