Read Online Bonnie by Iris Johansen - Free Book Online

car. She paused after she’d unlocked the trunk to look out at the bayou. “The fog is almost gone. Why couldn’t this have happened a few hours ago? It would have made everything so much easier.”
    “You mean you don’t have a metaphysical reason for the fog, too?” Catherine shook her head. “I’ll shut up. I know this was difficult for you to share, and you don’t need me giving you a hard time.”
    “It doesn’t matter.” She took the notebook out of the trunk and slammed it. “Actually, you took it better than I would have thought.” She glanced at Catherine. “And you’re under a strain that tends to exaggerate every emotion.”
    “And you’re not?”
    “Oh, yes. But it’s buried deep and just waiting to break free. I guarantee that you’ll know it when it does.” She turned toward the house. “Now let’s get this sketch started.”
    *   *   *
    “THAT’S ALL THAT WE CAN do before we haul the truck into the pound,” Detective Pierre Julian said to Joe. His words were spoken with professional courtesy, but the accent was pure Cajun. “Would you like us to do anything else? My captain said we were to cooperate with you in any way we could.”
    “No, you’ve been very thorough.” It was true: Julian had gotten down to business as soon as they had reached the truck. His forensic team had swarmed all over it, but the investigation had still been done with great care. “I couldn’t have asked for a better team in Atlanta. You seem to have a hell of a lot of experience.”
    “You think Atlanta’s the only place that can deal with crime?” Julian asked. “They may call New Orleans the Big Easy, but if we didn’t protect our city, the tourists wouldn’t find us that easy to come and visit.” He paused. “But we’re not used to calls from the CIA. Is this guy supposed to be a terrorist or something?”
    “Or something.”
    Julian shrugged. “Bad news. We’ve got to stop those creeps. I hear Homeland Security thinks they’re just walking over the Mexican border. You want me to take you back to the house?”
    Joe started to nod, then shook his head. “Is there somewhere around here that someone could get his hands on scuba equipment or underwater apparatus?”
    Julian frowned. “Around here?”
    “Maybe on the road from New Orleans to the house I rented. It would have to be fairly close to the house.” Catherine and Gallo had been followed to the house, then Jacobs’s murderer would have had to backtrack a relatively short distance to pick up that wet suit and equipment and get back in time to commit the murder. “Fifteen or twenty minutes?”
    Julian shook his head. “No scuba-rental places. No call for it around here.” He grinned. “No one wants to go into the swamps and swim with the alligators. The tourists want to see them, not play with them.”
    “I can understand that,” Joe said. “Okay, no rental places. What about a place that would need that kind of equipment for maintenance of their facility? Is there a fishing sanctuary or a pelican—”
    Julian snapped his fingers. “An alligator farm. There’s an alligator tourist attraction about fifteen miles back. I guess they’d have to use that kind of scuba stuff every now and then. Is that what you’re looking for?”
    “It could be,” Joe said. “Can we go there and ask some questions?”
    “Sure. Should I send the team back to the city?”
    “No, have them come with us.” He wasn’t optimistic about the chance of getting evidence from the truck, but it might be a different matter at the alligator farm. The bastard would have been in a hurry if he was trying to steal equipment and get back to the house. He was beginning to feel a tingle of hope as he turned toward the sheriff’s car. “What’s the name of this place?”
    “Bubba’s Alligator Farm.”
    “Bubba?”
    Julian shrugged. “The tourists probably like it. They’re always looking for flavor. We give it to them.” He got into the