A Bad Boy is Good to Find(44)

He dropped Lizzie’s hand and moved a couple of feet along the bank. He crouched down and reached right into the mud. Pulled his hand back with a wriggling thing in it.

“Here.”

Lizzie cringed as he held it out to her, all flailing claws and spikes. He looked at her, waiting for her to take it.

“You got to watch out for the claws. They’ll give you quite a pinch.”

It was a challenge, and she knew it, but she couldn’t bring herself to touch the nasty greenish-brown lobster-y thing.

“May I?” Maisie held out her slim hand.

Con placed the creature gently in it, and Maisie closed her hand around its tail. Beady black eyes surveyed the humans and claws waved.

“The tail meat is delicieux. You can boil ’em in salt water, or just eat ’em raw if you’re really hungry.”

“Raw?” Maisie sounded curious. Lizzie’s stomach curdled. Was Maisie going to snap its head off and eat sushi right there? “I’ll ask the chef to procure some. Perhaps we can eat them for dinner tonight.” She handed it back to Con, casual as if it was a handkerchief she’d borrowed.

“I can procure some right now, if you like.” He said, expressionless, holding the squirming creature. “They’re all around us. Easy to spot if you know what to look for.”

“I think we have bigger fish to fry,” said Maisie softly.

Con swallowed. “Yeah, I guess we do.” He put the crayfish back in its burrow and wiped his hand on his pants. “I guess we do.”





Chapter 16





Con pulled the Jeep up in front of the nice-looking place with the yellow flowers outside and jumped out, palms sweating. He waited for Dino to get his camera going, then climbed the steps to the front door. Lizzie hung back until prompting from Maisie pushed her into the shot too. He had no idea who lived here, but there was one good way to find out.

He knocked.

“Coming.” A woman’s voice. The door opened to reveal a pretty girl with a baby on her hip and a perplexed expression on her face. She glanced behind Con and Lizzie to the camera, and her hand flew to her mouth.

“Oh my gosh, did we win the Powerball?”

“No, no, nothing like that, I’m afraid,” said Con. “Sorry to get your hopes up.” He held his hand out, and she shook it gently as he spoke. “I’m Conroy Beale. I used to live just up the road.” He indicated the direction with a nod. “This is Lizzie, my… fiancée.” Fists clenched, Lizzie looked ready to explode with tension. “We’re visiting the place where I grew up, part of a TV show they’re doing on our wedding.” He pointed to Dino and Maisie.

The baby started fussing.

“I’m Charlene. Pleased to meet you. Um, won’t you come in?” Her expression was turning to one of alarm.

“Oh, that’s okay, we don’t want to impose, but would you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?”

“Um, sure.” She shifted the baby on her hip and pushed her fingertip in its mouth. She had long dark hair and skinny shoulders. The baby was a curly blonde cutie with fat thighs.

“How long have you lived here?” Damn, he sounded like Maisie.

“About five years now. My husband works a shrimp boat down the bayou.”

An irrational flare of hope soared through Con. “What’s your husband’s name?” Danny?

“Luke LeBlanc.” His heart sank. “He won’t be home for a couple of days. He’s lived around here longer than me. I’m from Thibodaux originally.”

Con racked his brain. Luke LeBlanc didn’t ring any bells.

“Do you know what happened to the people who used to live down there?” He cocked his thumb back up the road.

She shook her head and pursed her lips. “Nobody’s lived down there long as I’ve been here. Too wet now, I guess. The whole area’s sinking. Luke says we’ll have to move sooner or later.” The baby let out a cry of distress, and she moved it to her other hip. “You should talk to Mr. Gaudry up the road. He’s been here for ever.”

Con nodded. “Thanks. I remember him. He still shoot squirrels if they get up on his roof?”

She chuckled and bit her lip. “Yup. Shoots pretty much anything. He’s a mean old cuss. Hates kids.” She lifted the baby higher.

“Hasn’t changed then.” Con smiled at her. “Your baby’s very cute.”

“Thanks.”

He managed to get out an awkward goodbye and their entourage backed away to the cars.

Lizzie was white as a sheet. What was she all worked up about? This cozy little homecoming was all her idea. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Are you running a fever or something?”

“No.” she shook her head. Her gelled curls bounced around her shoulders.

“Your lipstick’s smudged. Let me fix it.” He reached into his pocket for a tissue, and wiped a smear off her upper lip. “Joe Gaudry shot our pig.” He glanced at Dino, who still had the camera trained on them. “I told you we had a pig, right?”

“Yes, I think you did.” Her lips tightened.

“Didn’t have it for long.” He pushed the tissue back into his pocket. “My dad won it in a poker game. It was just a baby. Danny and I caught food for it, fenced it in with sticks. It was a smart creature, I tell you.” He tilted his head. “Affectionate too. Kind of a like a pet. Anyway, we had it a couple of months, and it was getting big. It got too strong for our fence, broke out and ran off up the road when no one was around. It got into Joe Gaudry’s garden—he was proud of his peppers—and he shot it.” Lizzie’s moue of distaste gave him grim satisfaction. “My mom cooked it, but I couldn’t eat it.”

Lizzie looked away.

Aw, but sweetheart, I’m just giving you what you want. Did he feel sorry for her right now? Not really. He was working hard to hold himself together and being mean helped. Now he could see why Lizzie was so mean to him all the time.

“What a colorful story,” said Maisie, after a short pause.

“Yeah, that’s why I told it.” He didn’t smile. “I figured you’d want some color.”

Joe Gaudry must be about a million years old, he tried to reassure himself as they pulled up in front of his house. Of course, that wouldn’t necessarily affect his trigger finger. Funny how those old fears came crowding back, even though there was pretty much no way old Joe was going to point a shotgun at him with a camera present.

He half hoped Joe would be out, but the sound of a radio blasting Cajun music put paid to that idea as he stepped out of the Jeep. The old cuss had to have spotted them by now. The dog chained out back was barking up a riot.

Con waited for the cameras—he was getting pretty good at this—and climbed the wooden steps. There were at least ten of them. Old Joe’s house was always the highest for miles around.

Lizzie waited at the bottom.

He rapped on the door, right where “Private Property: Don’t Get Shot!” was painted in neat white letters.