Murder by Rougarou

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Murder by Rougarou - book excerpt

Chapter One

Jean Francois felt the rod recoil, thrust his arm forward, and propelled the lure into the blue waters of Lake Palourde. The lure settled next to the sunken cypress log under the moss-laden limbs of the century old live oaks. Little did he know this would be the last cast of his life.

He began retrieving the lure in measured hurky-jerky increments, about six inches at a time. A large-mouth bass struck the lure before it reached the end of the log. Jean yanked hard, setting the treble hook in the big fish's mouth. The bass lunged toward the fallen tree, seeking the safety it had provided for most of its life. Jean fought hard to gain the upper hand, alternating pulling hard on the rod and then taking up the slack in the line. He was so engrossed in fighting the huge trophy that he was unaware of the fish boat that pulled up right next to his. After a few minutes, he hauled the fish aboard and admired its wide girth.

“Nice fish.”

Jean whirled in the boat, surprised at the sound of the voice so close to him. A broad smile crossed his face.

“Fancy meeting you here.” He held up the prized trophy. “What do ya think of this?”

“A lot bigger than the ones I've been catching.” Came the reply.

Jean laughed. “Maybe you're not using the right bait.”

“Must be.” The responder grinned. “Or not holding my mouth right when I do.”

Jean turned away from the other boat and began to extract the barbed hook from the fish's mouth. As soon as it was free, Jean felt a stinging barb in his own shoulder. He instinctively grabbed at the source of the pain, but couldn't reach it with his free hand. He stumbled in the boat, beginning to feel groggy. He looked through foggy eyes and realized he had dropped his prize trophy into the blue water. The last thing Jean Francois saw in his mortal life was the big bass flash his tail and retreat to the safety of the cypress log.

Chapter Two

“Looks like a Rougarou got him.” Willy Marks, the head of the Louisiana Game Wardens in the basin, said.

Hawk Theriot looked down at the body that had washed up on the shores of Lake Palourde at Lake End Park, just north of Morgan City.

“What makes you say that?”

Willy did not appreciate having his judgment questioned even by a federal ranger. He pointed down to what was left of Jean Francois.

“His heart and liver ain't there. Only a Rougarou will kill someone for those and leave the rest of the body.”

Hawk shook his head.

“Did you see any signs indicating the cause of death in the first place?”

The game warden looked around at the other men standing in a circle around the recovered corpse. He shook his head vigorously.

“Body was in way too bad a shape. The turtles and the crabs tore him up pretty bad after the Rougarou got through with him.”

“No gunshots or knife wounds evident?”

Willy continued to shake his head.

“Like I said, the body was in terrible shape.”

“Any ID?”

“We found a driver's license in his wallet. Jean Francois, that's his name.”

Hawk rubbed his chin. “He's in investments, isn't he?”

Willy pointed at a thin man standing next to him.

“Roy knows him. Said he was a stockbroker in town. Has a good business from what he said.”

Hawk glanced at Roy and the fisherman nodded before looking away. “Any family?”

Roy spoke in a squeaky voice. “He's got a wife and three boys. Wife's name is Nora. The boys are Jason, John, and Joseph.”

Hawk chuckled. “Stuck on the J's, huh? I wonder why.”

Willy shuffled his feet and stared at the corpse.

“One thing for sure. He'll never tell you.”

Wade looked up when the sirens from the Medical Examiner's car pierced the lake breeze, announcing Mel Brooklyn. He watched the dapper doctor exit the vehicle and confidently stride to the group of men surrounding the body.

“What do we have here?” asked the mustached man of small stature. His pronounced accent made folks that didn't know him assume he was from Boston.

“Doc, every time I hear you, I visualize clam chowder.”

The diminutive man smiled.

“The difference is I enunciate much more clearly than those fellows, but you're not the first person to tell me that. I've got to go to Massachusetts one day and teach them how to pronounce their words.”

Most of the group of men laughed nervously, not feeling in an upbeat mood.

Hawk shook his hand.

“I'm glad you're here. We've got another body. According to Willy,” he pointed at the game warden. “It has all the markings of a Rougarou.”

The doctor scoffed.

“That would be a first for me. You know I don't believe in mythical creatures. I wouldn't have the faintest idea what the markings of a Rougarou looked like.”

Hawk shook his head.

“Neither would I, but a lot of folks around Morgan City swear they've seen one and they're real.”

The Medical Examiner held up his hand.

“Hawk, you don't want to be spreading rumors. Once they get started, it's hard to rein them in.”

More sirens interrupted the conversation. Both men watched the petite sheriff of St. Mary Parish get out of the patrol car and approach them.

“Morning, Gentlemen.”

Kristi Blocker nodded to the group.

The doctor gave her a hug.

“Kristi, when are you going to wear a uniform? You'd be the pride of south Louisiana in one.”

“I've told you, Doc. They don't feel right on me. Way too loose and they don't fit me right.”

The doctor laughed. “I don't believe we've ever had a sheriff here before that complained his uniform was too loose. Especially after a year or two on the job.”

Kristi glanced at the ranger. “I keep telling that blockhead of a ranger standing next to you I'm not like most sheriffs, but he's too stubborn to listen.”

“Hey, I never said you're not different.” Hawk protested. “I only said you have to try harder to fit the job description.”

Kristi ignored his comment and broke through the circle of men and moved next to the corpse. She stared at the mangled hump of flesh, not flinching or retreating from the gross sight.

“What happened?”

Hawk pointed out over the lake.

“A couple of these guys were fishing, and they found him this morning next to that pier by the highway. They latched on to him, loaded him up and brought him to the park. Then they called Willy. He called me and I called you and Doc. That's the recap in a hundred words or less.”

She scoffed.

“That's more than I usually get out of you.”

Kristi put her hand on the Medical Examiner who was kneeling by the body.

“How'd he die?”

Doc shrugged. “That's a good question, Sheriff. I don't see any obvious signs with all the innards missing. No bullet holes or apparent knife wounds. I can't give you a professional opinion until I get him back to the office under better conditions. I prefer to base my opinions on evidence, not conjecture.”

She removed the hand from his shoulder.

“I'm with you, Doc.”

She turned and took a step before looking back at the Medical Examiner.

“One more thing.”

He moved his gaze from the body to the sheriff.

“Yes?”

“We've got to stop meeting like this. Every time we get together, there's a dead body with us.”

Doc chuckled. “I hope you don't hold it against me. Unfortunately, it comes with both our jobs.”

“Wouldn't dream of blaming you. How long before you get the report?”

The small man rubbed his chin.

“Let's see. There's not a long line at the morgue.”

He laughed at his own joke.

“I should have it out—today's Monday. I should have it by Wednesday.”

The doctor pulled out some gloves and asked a man to retrieve a body bag from the car. He also told him to bring a box of gloves when he returned.

The men, after putting on the gloves, assisted the doctor, putting the remains of Jean Francois in a body bag. They hauled the bag to the vehicle and placed it in the rear. The doctor waved at the men and left in the car, sirens blasting.

Hawk shook his head.

“I guess it's important to him to announce he has a body in his car with those sirens. I don't think Jean cares anymore.”

The crowd of men muddled around for a few minutes then left for the coffee shop, anxious to tell their friends of their unusual morning. Hawk and Kristi remained by the lake, sitting on the same park bench they had been on when Janice Carter took several shots at them.

Kristi gazed at the serene waters of Lake Palourde.

“Brings back memories, doesn't it?”

Hawk nodded. “It does, but not very good ones in some cases.”

She giggled. “Are you saying not every memory of us together is one you wouldn't miss?”

“Nope. It was memorable, just not good.” Hawk dodged the direct question.

“What did you learn about the victim?”

“Stockbroker—married—three boys—name is Jean Francois.”

Kristi laughed. “You don't believe in overusing adjectives, do you?”

He looked up and down her body.

“Only when I'm describing you.”

“I'd have to know which ones you use before I know if that's a compliment or not. Which ones do you use when you're with the guys?”

“What makes you think I'm talking about you when I’m with other guys?”

She laughed out loud.

“'Cause there's only two significant things in your life—me and your deer. Though I'm not sure I've got them in the right order.”

Hawk protested. “That's not true.”

“What else do you spend your disposable income on?”

“Just because I don't spend money on other things doesn't mean they aren't significant.”

Kristi put her hand on his arm.

“Trust me. If a man doesn't spend money on something, it doesn't mean crap to him. Boys spend money on their toys and the bigger the boy, the more he spends.”

“Remind me not to show you my checkbook.”

“You don't have to. I've already looked. Your deer are ahead. I've got to figure out a way to catch up with your precious babies.”

“There's a lot more of them than there is of you. I have to spend more on them.”

She shook her head.

“Since you say we're both at the top of your list, even it out. Say, fifty percent for me and fifty percent on them. I'm not jealous. I'm willing to share. Besides, I'm a lot cuter than they are.”

Hawk smiled. “I don't know. Have you seen that new little piebald fawn? She's gorgeous.”

The smile evaporated from Kristi's face.

“You're comparing me with a deer?”

She yanked her pen out of her pocket and threw it at him.

He picked up the pen after it bounced off his shoulder.

“Hey. Don't be wasting government equipment. I may have to report you to the mayor.” He paused. “And it's an assault on a federal law enforcement officer.”

She glared at him.

“If you compare me to one of those four-legged creatures again, you won't have to worry about me assaulting your body anymore.”

“That's not fair.”

She smiled coyly. “Nobody said women had to play fair. We get to play by our own rules.”

“Are these rules written down somewhere?”

“Nope. Then we wouldn't get to change them when we wanted.”

Hawk handed the pen back to her. His countenance stiffened.

“We need to inform Mrs. Francois that she's now a widow. I really don't like this part of the job.”

Chapter Three

Hawk and Kristi pulled into the driveway of the two-story brick home after dropping her patrol car off at the sheriff's office. Posh homes lined the street behind the hospital. Kristi led the way to the marble glassed front door. Taking a deep breath, she rang the doorbell. A trim brunette opened the door and peered outside. Dark circles under her eyes told the story of her last day with her husband missing.

“It's Jean, isn't it?”

Tears stream down her face.

Before Kristi could answer, the woman's body trembled and her knees buckled. Nora Francois's eyes rolled in the back of her head and she collapsed in the middle of the doorway.

“Oh, my God.” Kristi yelled even though Hawk was standing right behind her.

Hawk pushed by and knelt beside the fallen lady, checking her pulse. Finding it steady, he lifted her and took her inside the large house. Looking around, he found a leather sofa in the adorned living area and gently placed the unconscious woman on the seat. Kristi disappeared briefly and came back with a damp wash cloth. She knelt down by Nora and softly wiped her forehead and cheeks.

She glanced back at Hawk.

“Do you want me to call the paramedics?”

Hawk looked over her shoulder.

“I think she's coming around. Let's give her a few minutes.”

Kristi turned her focus back to the lady on the sofa in the gray pantsuit.

“I suppose you're right.”

Nora stirred, pushing herself up on her elbows. Kristi put her hand on the lady's shoulder, gently restraining her.

“Stay down for a little while. Don't get up yet.”

She continued to wipe Nora's face until the lady's eyes cleared.

Still lying on the sofa, Jean Francois's widow whispered.

“You're here about Jean, aren't you?”

Kristi nodded. “I'm sorry. We found him this morning by the park.”

“Is he—? Is he—?” Nora couldn't finish the question.

“We found his body.” Kristi cupped Nora's hand in hers. “Do you want me to call someone?”

Nora jerked up.

“My boys. Have you told the boys yet?”

Kristi continued to hold the stricken woman's hand.

“We thought we'd come by here first. Are they in school?”

Nora lay back on the cushion.

“Jason and John are at the high school. Joseph is in junior high. I have to go tell them.”

The sheriff squeezed her hand.

“I don't think you're ready to do that. I'll tell you what. Why don't you let Hawk call the schools? He can explain what happened and let the counselors tell the boys about their father.”

Nora tried to rise again.

“I need to. I'm their mother.”

“We need to get someone to come stay with you. We'll make arrangements to have your boys brought here. You'll get to spend as much time with them as you need.”

Nora nodded and settled back on the sofa. “Was it an accident?”

“We don't know anything until Wednesday at the earliest.”

The woman barely opened her eyes.

“Will you call my sister?”

Chapter Four

Watching Kristi across her desk, Hawk took a sip of the thick hot liquid that resembled tar more than coffee.

He curled his lips.

“When was this made?”

Kristi shrugged. “With all of the activity this morning, I don't think anybody's had time to get any.”

Hawk grinned.

“I've tried ice coffee before, but I've never tried inedible coffee.”

Kristi looked up from the papers in front of her.

“Welcome to parish government at its finest.”

“When do we get to talk to Nora again?” Hawk asked.

“Don't know. She was pretty shook up. Her sister will call me when she thinks Nora's ready.”

“In the meantime?”

Kristi shoved the paperwork away from her.

“I thought we could go by Jean's office. Maybe one of the folks over there knows if there was anybody mad enough to kill him.”

Chapter Five

Jean Francois's office sat right next to Hawk's favorite Chinese buffet. The stucco building portrayed all the trappings of a professional office, replete with colorful flowers and fragrant shrubs adorning the entrance. The parking lot was spacious and tidy. Only two cars occupied the dozen parking spaces. A wreath hung on the front door.

Hawk tried the door and was mildly surprised to find it unlocked. When they entered the reception area, a blonde in her mid-twenties with mascara streaming down her face greeted them.

“Sorry. We're not open today.”

Kristi reached for her badge and displayed it to the grieving young lady.

“I'm Kristi Blocker with the Sheriff's office and this is Hawk Theriot with the federal Ranger Services. We'd like to talk to you, please.”

“I'm sorry. I should have known with the guns and all.”

The young lady nodded toward the revolvers strapped to the officer's hips.

“But you weren't wearing any uniforms and I'm not thinking clear right now. I'm Cheryl.”

“No need to apologize. I can only imagine. Do you have a few minutes?”

The blonde wiped her face on an already blackened tissue.

“Is this about Jean?”

Kristi nodded.

“Can we go to the conference room?”

She pointed down the hall.

“Sure.”

“Hold on. Let me lock the door so we won't be disturbed. I thought I'd locked it before, but I guess I forgot to when I went out to my car.”

Hawk and Kristi watched the slightly overweight lady lock the door and followed her down the hallway. Inside they saw a dark cherry table surrounded by six ornate chairs.

Kristi gazed around the room.

Somebody spent some money in here. There's nothing in this room that's cheap. I guess he wanted to impress his clients and with this room it probably worked.

She commented out loud. “Nice furniture and art.”

Cheryl replied. “Thanks. Ya'll have a seat.”

She disappeared for a moment and returned holding a box of tissues. She pulled one out of the box and dabbed the corners of her eyes.

Kristi glanced at Hawk, who nodded, and turned her attention to the crying lady in the mascara-stained white blouse.

“When did you hear about Jean?”

A tear ran down Cheryl's cheek.

“We've gotten so many phone calls this morning, you wouldn't believe. The thing is though, nobody can tell us exactly what happened.”

She grabbed another tissue.

Hawk heard the phone ring at the front desk.

“Do you want me to get that for you?”

Cheryl shook her head.

“Alicia will get it. I told her to let everybody know the money in their account is safe and we'll get back to them. What do ya'll want? Can you tell me what really happened?”

Kristi nodded. “

“Fishermen found Mr. Francois's body in Lake Palourde this morning. We're not sure of the circumstances surrounding his death.”

“Was it an accident?”

“We don't know.”

“I'm Cheryl. Sorry, I already told you that. Cheryl Thomas. I'm Mr. Francois's assistant.”

She tried the stem the flow of mascara running down her face.

Kristi leaned forward.

“Are you in charge?”

Cheryl shrugged. “I guess so. I haven't had much time to think about it.”

“What will happen to the clients' accounts?”

The blonde shook her head.

“I haven't gotten that far yet. I have a Series 7, but Mr. Francois had the Series 24 license. That's what's needed to run an OSJ.”

Hawk cocked his head. “OSJ?”

Cheryl nodded. “Office of Supervisory Jurisdiction. It's what people would call a branch office in other industries.”

“So this is a branch? Where's the main office?”

“Florida. They're what's called the Introducing Broker and we have to run our tickets through them.”

Kristi looked at her notes. “You said you were a Series 7, and he was a Series 24. What's the difference?”

Cheryl dabbed again.

“Jean had a 7 also. He had to have that to get the Series 24. He had a bunch of others that let him take orders for commodities and futures and to set up an Investment Advisory firm. My 7 lets me take orders from clients, but a 24is required to supervise the office.”

“Were any of his clients upset with him?”

She hesitated before answering.

“I don't know if I should answer that. We're supposed to keep our relationships with our clients confidential.”

Hawk spoke. “Cheryl, Mr. Francois doesn't have any clients. He's no longer with us.”

Kristi glared at him and he sat back in his chair. She turned her attention to Cheryl.

“What he was so crudely trying to say is that Mr. Francois is no longer bound to the confidentiality agreement. We need to know if any of Jean's former clients were upset enough to cause him harm?”

Cheryl nodded silently.

“Why? What can you tell us?”

“Mr. Francois had some elder clients in high-risk investments. A lot of them lost most of their investments in the latest market downturn. They were threatening to call the SEC.”

“Did they?”

“I don't know. Mr. Francois didn't tell me if they did. Can I ask you a question?”

“Absolutely.”

“Since you're asking me these kinds of questions, does that mean he was murdered? That it wasn't an accident?”

Kristi shook her head.

“We won't know for sure until Wednesday.”

“Most of the folks that called us told us it was an accident.”

“How so?”

“A lot of them are saying a Rougarou killed him. They said they've seen pictures of the body and it looked like a Rougarou attack.”

Hawk leaned back forward.

“Cheryl, I doubt if any of the people you talked to have ever seen the remains of someone killed by a Rougarou. There were only five or six guys that saw the corpse before Doc put it in a body bag.”

Cheryl leapt out of her chair and raced out of the room, loudly sobbing until she slammed the door to her office. The sobs continued inside the office.

Kristi rose from her chair and glared at Hawk.

“Are you satisfied? Can't you ask a simple question without pissing off everybody within earshot?”

Hawk stammered. “What—what did I say? I only told her the truth.”

Kristi pushed her long black hair back with both hands and rested her chin in one hand on the conference table.

She sneered, “MEN.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Kristi yelled even louder.

“Ya'll have about as much tact as a grizzly bear over a carcass. Didn't they teach you anything in Ranger school? Something really complicated like how not to piss off potential witnesses?”

“I was only trying—”

Kristi threw her hands up in the air.

“Don't say another word. If you do, you won't be able to find a ladder tall enough to get you out that hole you keep digging.”

Hawk looked confused.

“I know how to talk to people.”

“Only if you're talking about your precious whitetail deer or football. That's not knowing how to talk with real people, especially women.”

“I know how to talk to you.”

“And therein lies the problem.”

“Huh?”

“You know how to talk to me. You don't have a scintilla of a clue how to talk with me. There's a huge difference.”

Hawk shook his head.

“What's the difference or do I dare ask?”

“My point exactly. Do you think you can sit here quietly and not make anybody else mad while I try to calm Cheryl down?”

“I—”

“Never mind. Just don't talk to anyone until I get back.” She paused. “Maybe that'll work.”

Kristi stomped out of the room and left Hawk alone staring at the upscale art on the walls. He strummed his fingers and looked at his watch. He repeated this process repeatedly for the next hour and twenty minutes.

Finally, Kristi retrieved him from his exile, motioning for him to follow her outside. She didn't say a word while they got in his truck. Hawk backed out of the parking lot and turned the pickup toward the Sheriff's office. He diverted his attention from the highway and glanced at the attractive young sheriff.