Read Online Wild Man's Curse (Wilds of the Bayou #1) by Susannah Sandlin - Free Book Online
Authors: Susannah Sandlin
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murderer was afraid of it, maybe, which means he knew what it was and had enough respect for it—or fear—not to touch it.”
Gentry looked back at Ceelie. Smart woman. He hadn’t thought about it, but she was right. It was the only thing to explain that table being undisturbed. All it really meant, though, was that the killer knew the local culture, which didn’t narrow things down much.
Would Lang have been afraid to disturb the table? Could he have committed the awful crime that had taken place here? God forgive him, but Gentry hoped not. He’d rather his brother stay dead and at peace than be alive and capable of such cruelty.
Ceelie caught his gaze and smiled, a sight that jerked his thoughts away from the crime and sent them toward places they didn’t need to go. Then her expression turned thoughtful. “You look familiar, Agent Broussard. Have we met somewhere?”
“Call me Gentry.” Hell no, he would never have forgotten that voice, those eyes. “I don’t think so, but I grew up in Dulac. Maybe you’ve seen me around.”
“Maybe, but I haven’t been back in the parish in a decade.” She kept staring and it made him twitchy. “It’ll come to me. Anyway, don’t guess you knew LeRoy Breaux when you were growing up in Dulac, did you?”
Probably a quarter of the people in Terrebonne Parish were named Breaux; another quarter were Broussards. “No, sorry. Is he important to the case?”
Ceelie shrugged. “He lived with my aunt for a while when I was a kid, and I just wondered what happened to him—not that he’d have killed her. I mean, he was older than her, as near as I can remember. I always thought they were married, since I grew up calling him Nonc LeRoy.”
Gentry hadn’t heard anything about a man in Eva Savoie’s life. “So this LeRoy Breaux lived with your aunt? What happened to him?”
Ceelie walked to the window, blew out the citronella candle, and squeezed the wick between her fingers to make sure it was out. “He ditched Tante Eva when I was a kid. I think it runs in the family; my mom did the same thing to my dad.”
Gentry blinked and gave Jena a helpless look. What did one say to that?
“Is there anything else you wanted to ask us about your aunt?” Jena gave him a you’re-hopeless head shake. “I got here later than Gentry, but if there’s anything else . . .”
Ceelie turned and squared her shoulders. “No, I just needed to hear all that. Thank you.”
She followed them to the door and onto the porch. The air outside was hot and sticky, but unlike the air inside the cabin, at least it was moving.
Gentry turned back, leaving Jena to continue to the truck. “By the way, I know a guy over in Chauvin who rehabs used AC units. We’ve still got at least six weeks of hot weather. Want me to see if he’s got something that would work for you?”
“Thanks, but unless he’s giving them away, I’ll just sweat it out.” Ceelie smiled again, and it looked good on her. Too good. “I’m calling it my swamp diet. Every step’s a sweaty workout.”
Gentry bit his tongue before he could offer up his opinion that there wasn’t a thing on her that needed work. Instead, he slid his sunglasses out of their resting place—hanging by one arm out of his shirt pocket—and stuck them on his face. Better put them on now in case his pupils had dilated with lust or something else humiliating that she didn’t need to see. She was a short-timer, a woman who’d rejected this place he’d loved his whole life. She’d made it clear she was leaving Terrebonne behind as soon as she got Eva’s estate settled. Plus, agents didn’t ogle crime victims.
“You got a card?” Ceelie asked. “You know, in case I have any other questions. Would it be okay to call you? Agent Sinclair gave me her card when you got here.”
Yeah, and if he hadn’t had his head so far up his backside, he’d have done the same. It was standard protocol. He obviously needed sleep. Preferably without the
Gentry looked back at Ceelie. Smart woman. He hadn’t thought about it, but she was right. It was the only thing to explain that table being undisturbed. All it really meant, though, was that the killer knew the local culture, which didn’t narrow things down much.
Would Lang have been afraid to disturb the table? Could he have committed the awful crime that had taken place here? God forgive him, but Gentry hoped not. He’d rather his brother stay dead and at peace than be alive and capable of such cruelty.
Ceelie caught his gaze and smiled, a sight that jerked his thoughts away from the crime and sent them toward places they didn’t need to go. Then her expression turned thoughtful. “You look familiar, Agent Broussard. Have we met somewhere?”
“Call me Gentry.” Hell no, he would never have forgotten that voice, those eyes. “I don’t think so, but I grew up in Dulac. Maybe you’ve seen me around.”
“Maybe, but I haven’t been back in the parish in a decade.” She kept staring and it made him twitchy. “It’ll come to me. Anyway, don’t guess you knew LeRoy Breaux when you were growing up in Dulac, did you?”
Probably a quarter of the people in Terrebonne Parish were named Breaux; another quarter were Broussards. “No, sorry. Is he important to the case?”
Ceelie shrugged. “He lived with my aunt for a while when I was a kid, and I just wondered what happened to him—not that he’d have killed her. I mean, he was older than her, as near as I can remember. I always thought they were married, since I grew up calling him Nonc LeRoy.”
Gentry hadn’t heard anything about a man in Eva Savoie’s life. “So this LeRoy Breaux lived with your aunt? What happened to him?”
Ceelie walked to the window, blew out the citronella candle, and squeezed the wick between her fingers to make sure it was out. “He ditched Tante Eva when I was a kid. I think it runs in the family; my mom did the same thing to my dad.”
Gentry blinked and gave Jena a helpless look. What did one say to that?
“Is there anything else you wanted to ask us about your aunt?” Jena gave him a you’re-hopeless head shake. “I got here later than Gentry, but if there’s anything else . . .”
Ceelie turned and squared her shoulders. “No, I just needed to hear all that. Thank you.”
She followed them to the door and onto the porch. The air outside was hot and sticky, but unlike the air inside the cabin, at least it was moving.
Gentry turned back, leaving Jena to continue to the truck. “By the way, I know a guy over in Chauvin who rehabs used AC units. We’ve still got at least six weeks of hot weather. Want me to see if he’s got something that would work for you?”
“Thanks, but unless he’s giving them away, I’ll just sweat it out.” Ceelie smiled again, and it looked good on her. Too good. “I’m calling it my swamp diet. Every step’s a sweaty workout.”
Gentry bit his tongue before he could offer up his opinion that there wasn’t a thing on her that needed work. Instead, he slid his sunglasses out of their resting place—hanging by one arm out of his shirt pocket—and stuck them on his face. Better put them on now in case his pupils had dilated with lust or something else humiliating that she didn’t need to see. She was a short-timer, a woman who’d rejected this place he’d loved his whole life. She’d made it clear she was leaving Terrebonne behind as soon as she got Eva’s estate settled. Plus, agents didn’t ogle crime victims.
“You got a card?” Ceelie asked. “You know, in case I have any other questions. Would it be okay to call you? Agent Sinclair gave me her card when you got here.”
Yeah, and if he hadn’t had his head so far up his backside, he’d have done the same. It was standard protocol. He obviously needed sleep. Preferably without the
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