Free Bayou Justice by Robin Caroll Page A

the whole lot of you out in the street, Luc?”
    He swallowed, knowing how awful it sounded. “Yes, he did.”
    The sheriff leaned over the railing to spit tobacco into the oleanders lining the porch. “Sure seems like a strong motive for murder.”
    Heat shot through Luc’s body, and it had nothing to do with the sun beating down. “Are you accusing me of killing my own grandfather?”
    Bubba’s eyes squinted under the roof of the porch. “I’m not accusing anyone of anything, yet. A threat of that kind is a strong motive for murder. Wouldn’t you agree?” He spit over the rail again.
    Luc clenched and unclenched his fists. “It sounds bad, sure I can see that. But I had nothing to do with Grandfather’s death.”
    â€œYou were near that part of the bayou yesterday. On the LeBlanc property.”
    â€œI already explained that.” Could his friend really believe he was guilty—that he’d shoot his own grandfather?
    â€œDo you own a twelve-gauge shotgun?”
    The question came out rapid-fire, startling Luc. “I’m not sure. Grandfather was big into hunting, but you already know that. I have no idea what guns he kept here.”
    â€œYet he lived in the casino penthouse.”
    Luc met Bubba’s stare. “In which he couldn’t legally have firearms.”
    â€œUh-huh.” The sheriff didn’t break eye contact. “So, Beau stashed all his shotguns here, at the house you live in?”
    â€œAs far as I know.” Luc hated grinding out his answers from between clenched teeth, but he couldn’t make his jaw relax.
    â€œCan you see if you can find a twelve-gauge?”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI can get a warrant to search, Luc.” The sheriff’s eyes hardened.
    â€œWhy don’t you just ask me what’s stuck in your craw?”
    The lawman spit again, wiped his mouth with his hand and scrutinized Luc.
    â€œWe go way back, you and me. You know I won’t lie to you, Bubba.”
    The sheriff studied him for a moment longer. “The autopsy report shows a shell from a twelve-gauge killed Beau.”
    â€œWhat about the LeBlancs?” his mother interjected.
    Luc snorted, but Bubba spoke calmly to her. “I can’t see Marie LeBlanc hoisting a shotgun at Beau’s back and shooting him.” He scratched his red head. “Of course, CoCo or Tara would be strong enough.”
    â€œI don’t think either of the girls could do that.” Luc pushed off the chair and headed to the door. “I talked to CoCo today. She said that poacher activity has increased in the area of Grisson Landing recently. Could a poacher have shot Grandfather?”
    â€œPlease, Luc. She’s just trying to distract you,” his mother chided.
    He tossed her a look of warning. She staggered to her feet and went into the house. Luc turned his attention back to his friend. “Is it possible, Bubba?”
    â€œCould be. I’ll check it out.” The sheriff spit tobacco juice off the porch. “Now, about Beau’s guns…”
    Obviously, the man wasn’t going to let this go. “Let’s go see if there’s a shotgun in his cabinet.”
    Bubba followed him down the hall. Luc opened the door to Beau’s study—the one room nobody but his grandfather used. “His gun cabinet is in here.” He led the way to the closet and yanked open the door.
    The sheriff stared at the row of shotguns in the cabinet. “These all Beau’s?”
    â€œFar as I know.”
    â€œMind if I take a better look?”
    â€œBe my guest.”
    With his ruddy hands, Bubba carefully opened the doors. Automatically, a light blinked on inside the top. “Wow, high class.”
    â€œWould you expect any less from Beau?” Luc leaned against his grandfather’s desk.
    Bubba squatted in front of the guns. “No, I guess not. Look at this dust layer.”
    â€œWe