Читать книгу Dead on the Bayou - June Shaw - Страница 8

The next morning I drove around the block to Eve’s house to check on her. The air was still as I rang the doorbell and waited. She didn’t come to the door, so I let myself in. “Eve, it’s me.” Shivers raced around my back while I entered, a carol trying to start in my throat. I knew I feared finding someone again trying to kill her. Singing Christmas carols when I was afraid began when I was a child alone with our older sister and someone shot her, and I didn’t know what else to do while I waited for help. That affliction competed with my dyslexia for which of them often made me feel more like a rabbit that ought to burrow in a hole, although my self-worth was gradually improving.

I didn’t see her immediately but checked the alarm box inside her foyer, my own body’s alarm relaxing a pinch when I found Home glowing in green and then saw her across the way. Dave’s company had installed this system.

Instead of being dressed in a stylish pantsuit or dress, Eve still wore a lavender silk robe over her matching nightgown that was partly visible beneath the robe’s hem. Through the open doorway beyond her den, she didn’t look toward me, not even when I stepped up beside her. She stuck her brush into a can and thrust wide black strokes across those already ruining her canvas and didn’t pay attention to the black splatters on her sleeve and tie of her robe.

“That isn’t a recent lover, I hope.”

“My disposition.” She slashed at her canvas with more furious strokes.

I watched her create no pattern, but getting her annoyance out. “Anything I can do?”

For the first time since I entered her house, she turned to me. “Leave.”

My sister shooting me such an irate word and stare stopped my breath. I released it, knowing her heartbreak came elsewhere. Let me know how I can help almost came from my mouth, but she would probably just shout, so I kept the offer inside and let myself out.

Driving away, I opened my windows and sucked in fresh air, feeling a need for some. Eve would feel better soon, I told myself, my own disposition lifting once I aimed my truck at Bayou Boogie Woogie.

South Louisiana was home to a great number of these slim waterways with irregular borders. Many bayous forked off the Mississippi and split again and dumped their waters that were normally brown but sometimes green into the Gulf of Mexico. The numerous manmade canals were much straighter. All of them made fishermen happy with countless fish of all kinds. I knew where Bayou Boogie Woogie was, although I had never driven so far down the road beside it.

My breaths quickened while I motored, regular houses becoming less apparent, and I knew I was approaching his camp. Dave was the first man I believed I might truly love, although I had married once. Poor self-esteem probably made me agree to that marriage. Now I felt a mutual attraction with Dave, although he never actually said so or acted on romantic feelings during the few times I’d been around him. With Eve experiencing such unhappiness now, I would wait until she perked up before I made her aware of my interest in him. It would be cruel to do otherwise.

My heartbeats thrummed faster during the drive. Rustic unpainted cypress buildings sat up on piling or squatted all along the waterway. A couple of ancient small camps leaned toward the bayou like they were trying to decide whether to or not to slide in and swim. With my truck windows open for the unique swampy smell, I enjoyed the gumbo of scents from algae-tinted water to that of fresh crabs, which made me hungry for some. Occasional shrimp boats moored with their trawl nets raised like butterfly wings emitted the odor of shrimp peelings left out in the sun, not all that pleasant, but combining with the others to create something I could smell nowhere else, and I wanted as much of that scent as I could get.

Fewer buildings sat along this road and fewer still the number of vehicles, mostly trucks, parked around them. These were fishing camps, unlike some of the finer ones in other areas down here, although their owners enjoyed these getaway places just as much. Tall wild lavender irises, white lilies, and purple hyacinths decorated the water’s edges. In the bayou, three small turtles sunbathed on a slim branch. A snake slid through low dry grass into the brown water. Not far past it, a snowy egret searched for food. Farther along, I was thrilled to spot a roseate spoonbill that resembled a flamingo soaring over the water. A large blue heron sat on a wharf and an adolescent boy stood on a different wharf with a fishing pole bending over. I eyed the pole, wanting to know what he would bring in, but then spotted Dave’s truck. Any interest I had in that fish vanished. I pulled behind Dave’s truck on his gravel driveway, swallowed, and got out.

An electric saw whined from about seventy yards beyond, where a man on his wharf sliced through wood. Out in the water behind these camps, an alligator slid along the bayou’s surface, its heavy tail propelling it in a steady rhythm.

“It isn’t a thing of beauty, but I don’t plan to live here.” Dave stood three feet beside me, his surprising nearness making me gasp. “Oh, it’s that bad?” His hot chocolate eyes were bright beneath his slightly longish black hair.

“No, not at all.” I’d hardly glanced at this structure he’d bought and was speaking about him, not any walls, windows, or roof.

“Look through the place before you decide that.”

Right. Check it out instead of you. “I just saw an alligator.” I pointed, and he took steps closer to the bank. We watched it slide farther away from shore.

“I heard there are a lot of others around. We’ll try to stay out of their way and hope they stay out of ours, okay?” he said.

He smiled, and I laughed. I had lived down here long enough to have seen a few gators, although not nearly as many as folks from other places seemed to believe we encountered. Many people lived down here all their lives, and the only gators they saw resided in Audubon Zoo in New Orleans. Most of us southerners still felt a small thrill of excitement and a tingle of fear when we witnessed one. Most of us, except for gator hunters, respected them and would be afraid to encounter one up close.

“You like to fish enough to want a camp?” Lots of people owned camps, but the men’s love for fishing or hunting was normally passed down from fathers, uncles, and grandfathers. Since Dave had only lived in south Louisiana a year or so, his interest in outdoor sports surprised me.

He cupped his hand below my elbow to lead me back up the drive. I tried to ignore the distracting feelings that came from his touch. Dave guided me past the stacks of two-by-fours and plywood in the carport to a door.

“I’ve only been fishing a few times with a friend who had a boat. Since I wasn’t very good at it, I made the fish happy. I thought they wouldn’t mind if I went out around them again.” He stepped closer to me as we walked to the doorway and made me happy, too.

I stopped moving and stared at him. “You’ve only fished a couple of times, and now you want a camp? Do you own a boat?”

With a laugh, he shook his head. “Not even a fishing line yet, but I’m hoping to get both of those soon. First I want a place where I can spend the night and wake up before the sun does since I was told that’s when the fish bite best.”

“Usually, but not always.” I moved away from him so I could pay attention to the structure. After all, that’s why he wanted me here. We had entered a kitchen, an old-fashioned one with a sheet vinyl floor, white freestanding stove, small white refrigerator, and scratched stainless steel sink.

“It sounds like you know a bit about catching fish. Maybe you’ll go fishing with me and give me some tips.” He stood near, his smile reeling me in.

“I’m not the best, but I have caught my share.” Pulling my interest away from romance, I touched the laminate countertop. Its sparkles of gold brought out the antique finish that lent a suggestion of real marble. “This is nice. I don’t see any cracks or chips, but I don’t know what you plan to change.”

“Probably not a whole lot right now. This was someone’s camp, and that’s all I’ll use it for. I’ll just fix up a few things gradually.” He took steps away from me and waved his hand toward the floor and the walls.

“Maybe a fishing line will come first,” I said with a grin, looking forward to going out in a boat with him and teaching him how to cast. My mind then conjured images of him and me working together to make improvements in here. We could change that vinyl floor, add a wharf in back over the water, and see what else we could do with the rest of this place. The more I imagined us as a real couple, the more I felt drawn to him—a place I should not be yet with my sister so fragile. Our other sister had been murdered. Keeping this sister on solid footing remained most important right now.

I hoped more than ever that Eve would come out of that gloomy state soon. I didn’t have much experience with romance, but the vibes I received from Dave’s smiles, nearness, and suggestion made me more assured that he might also be interested in me.

We walked together down a small hall. Feeling his closeness even more, I barely glanced into the two bedrooms, bath, and utility room. In the wider living area, I stopped. “I know most camps aren’t fancy, and I don’t find any real problems here. But how about if I bring Eve over to check it out with us? She might come out of her doldrums or see something I’d miss.”

He agreed, and we walked out the door to the carport.

“So you think this place has potential?” he asked.

“Definitely.”

“Sometimes I’ll want to just come out here to relax and feel the breeze and enjoy the wildlife.”

“That’s an excellent idea.”

“I could do some of the fixing up myself, but I work a lot of hours and could use a few suggestions and help with implementation.”

Ideas flowed through my head for things that might improve this place. But what he wanted to use it for and all-out sprucing clashed in my mind. “A lot of decisions will depend on how much you want to spend on this project.”

“That’s something I haven’t decided on yet.”

“I’ll bring Eve over to get her suggestions.”

He smiled the intense smile that made me decide I had better get away from him. Dave pulled keys from his pocket, unclasped a link on his key ring, and pulled one key off. “Take this. That way you can bring her in even if I need to be at work.”

“I won’t come inside if you aren’t around unless we agree to do some work here. We haven’t agreed to that yet.” As tempting as it was to have a key to a place he owned, I kept my arms against my sides and my hands closed.

He worked up a slow smile. “All right. I’ll be here tomorrow after four. Maybe you can both get here then.”

“I’ll bring her.”

“Good. Now if you give me a minute to lock up, I’ll drive back to town with you.” He hustled back inside.

I didn’t need his truck on the road with mine, but somehow the image of his large midnight blue truck following mine brought comfort. He came out a couple of minutes later and walked to the driveway. Apprehension made me stand in place, feeling like a schoolgirl who wondered if we should kiss each other good-bye.

We shouldn’t, I figured, at least not now.

The whine of an electric saw made me grateful for its distraction. Dave and I glanced toward the source of its sound on the neighboring wharf and then looked at each other. I swallowed when his gaze found my lips.

“I should go.” I made myself turn away, threw myself into my truck, and started the motor.

A mirror let me see he watched, a tight smile on his face with what I felt was a knowing expression. He knew I cared about him. I didn’t want it so obvious.

* * * *

Eve wasn’t excited about checking out the building, even if it meant the man who normally thrilled her would be there. She kept making dark marks on canvas when I got back to town and told her about him wanting us there.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” I said and hoped she would let me.

There was no use trying to get her to work with me now on the remodeling job we already had going for a customer. The job was large, would pay well, and while my shoulder took whatever time it needed to heal, we were having the subcontractors and helpers we often used complete parts of it. The young couple had bought the house because they loved the location and its basic floorplan and didn’t want to start with a new one. They wanted the brick house refinished in stucco to give it a modern feel. That was possible, we’d told them. They’d asked to have the nondescript front door replaced with a wide, attractive entrance. I looked over paperwork and plans we’d agreed on so far and drove off to see how things were coming along.

The number of trucks at their place pleased me. We hadn’t had our summer rains yet, so working conditions had been good. Georgia Andrews walked out of the house with her alligator purse when I drove up.

“Hey, Sunny, I need to go, but come in for a minute and see the front door we chose.”

I exchanged greetings with workers and followed her to what would become her office. House plans, books, and magazines took up most space on the large desk. She grabbed the magazine on top of the others and turned to the pages she had marked. “Look at this.”

“Wow, that is fabulous, Georgia.” I leaned closer to view the outstanding stained-glass double door with rounded tops. Full-length matching sidelites ran up and circled above the doors.

“I chose this one because the curves throughout it remind me of my roses.”

“Lovely.” I knew her plan was to cover much of the front yard with knockout roses she admired so much. “And are you going to use a satin nickel trim instead of black?”

“Absolutely.” She gave me a bright smile. “Now I need to go.”

“I love your choices,” I said, and she waved and rushed out. I closed her magazine and walked outside to see how the men were coming along in the garage.

“This looks like a whole new room,” I told the foreman. “Great job.”

“Yeah, the guy that bought this place loves what we got done in here. I told him don’t put his stuff in here, but he’s been doing it already. He says he feels like he has a brand-new house.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll check it out.”

“Go ahead.”

It was a garage, after all, but at first glance, didn’t look like one. While the foreman and crew continued their work, I looked closer, satisfied that Eve and I had suggested they start in here, something we had done because when we went to their current house, although it was large and in a great neighborhood, the garage was a mess. Theirs had been built for three cars, just like this one, and held their pair of top-dollar cars and his motorcycle and absolutely anything else they could jam in there. Boxes and devices and tools scattered alongside ice chests and buckets and folding chairs that jutted into a walkway. I’d bumped my leg on a barbecue pit that had been shoved right beyond a large box.

The workmanship here pleased me. Eve and I needed this business of ours to survive, so while I was under doctor’s orders not to perform any carpentry work yet myself, I was satisfied that for the time being, my sister and I could work with house plans to help people remodel their homes, and others could do most of the actual labor.

There was no mess in this space. These workers cleaned up after themselves as they worked, which I admired. The beauty of this garage began with something I had suggested that the couple hadn’t known about. Instead of harsh, cold concrete, they had used this durable floor finish that would resist chipping or stains. They could wipe away any spills from the floor that was now mauve. Georgia had chosen the color, which blended beautifully with the cabinets. Light-paneled floor-to-ceiling cabinet doors with slim perpendicular handles covered most walls.

“Great job,” I called to all the workers who thanked me and continued their chores.

At home, I made sketches with ideas that might work in their new home and looked over their existing plans. After a while, my mind shifted to Eve and to Dave. Conflicting emotions wore me out, so I got to sleep earlier than normal.

In the morning, I focused on helping others. I set a large pot on the stove and pulled out ingredients for a seafood gumbo. I sautéed onions, garlic, bell peppers, and celery, added smothered okra from my freezer, a fresh tomato, shrimp, three quarts of water, a pinch of Worcestershire sauce, and salt and pepper. I let that simmer while I put eggs and potatoes to boil and fixed myself a tasty breakfast of cinnamon-laced lost bread with milk. Once I showered and dressed in slacks and casual moccasins, I added a pint of oysters and two pounds of crabmeat to the mixture on the stove, got the rice ready, made the potato salad, adding sweet relish to the mixture, and swiped mascara across my lashes and pale pink lipstick on my lips.

With everything prepared, I drove the meal and two loaves of crusty French bread out to our community center. The building was small and old, but had been donated and lovingly spruced up by volunteers. Now the walls were painted bright white instead of the dull finish they’d had before, and cheerful posters with positive quotes lined the walls. This was a soup kitchen of sorts that had become more of a gumbo kitchen since that’s what most of us contributed and the needy enjoyed. No one sat at any of the long tables yet, but it wouldn’t be long. Ladies in the kitchen took my offerings and set them near pots and bowls of others that emitted the most enticing aromas.

My high school friend Amy Matthews ran the kitchen. “Yum, girl, I smelled that gumbo when you walked in.” Her skin was cappuccino and her clothes vibrant. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

She stepped out of the kitchen with me. “So tell me about your love life with that guy.” Her big eyes widened.

“I just met Dave a handful of times at the coffee shop downtown.”

“Yes, and…?”

“I’ve told him how I felt about not hurting my sister. He won’t try to advance our relationship until I’m ready.”

“Sunny, you deserve a good relationship with a man.”

I sighed. “I know. I want to be ready. But I wanted Eve to find somebody else—she always has before—and you know….”

She learned farther back. “I do know—your sister who died. You won’t cause this one anguish.”

“Not if I can help it.” I gave her a hug around the neck and trotted out of the building.

In the afternoon, I showed up at Eve’s house, afraid I would need to convince her to get out of her nightgown and dress in regular clothes. She surprised me. I pressed the doorbell once, and she opened the door and came out. My identical twin wore light makeup, no frown, and a pale blue knit dress.

“Let’s go,” she said.

Not getting any conversation from her, I drove to what would become Dave’s fishing camp. I told her I’d seen an alligator in the bayou, but she didn’t look for one. She showed little reaction when I pointed out an eagle that swooped low to the water. They were fairly rare here, but did build nests along some bayous. Reaching Dave’s camp, I was pleased to see his truck pulling into his drive ahead of us.

“Thank you for coming,” he told Eve, who gave him a tight smile. “Since y’all are guests, I’ll let you in through the nicer entrance.” He unlocked the front door and stepped aside for us to go in first. “The place doesn’t look like much, and it doesn’t need to for me to use it for relaxing. But I will want to fix it up some and hope you and Sunny might help.”

Eve mumbled something and didn’t try to get close to him, which was so unlike her.

Maybe if I took myself out of their space a couple of minutes, she would perk up. “Dave, you might want to show Eve around. I’ll just check out some things over here.” I scuttled from the living area, and he guided her toward the hall.

I stepped into the utility room. It was small with only enough space for the old white washer and dryer that must have come with the place and might or might not work and the water heater. A large black garbage bag that looked almost full leaned against it.

Plastic and heat don’t mix well together, I would tell Dave after he and Eve finished their tour. In the meantime, I grabbed the top of the bag to pull it away from the heater. The thing didn’t budge. I opened the top to remove some of what must have been chunks of wood or maybe plaster, judging from the wide shape at its bottom.

“Jingle bells,” I bellowed, spewing more lyrics.

“Sunny, what’s wrong?” Eve ran in ahead of Dave, knowing my unwilling song stemmed from fright.

My arms quivered and mouth dried as all three of us stared at the slumped body in the trash bag. Even though blood matted her hair, it was easy to see this was Eve’s neighbor Mrs. Wilburn. The odd twist of her neck assured us she was dead.