Free Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 07 - The Swamps of Bayou Teche by Kent Conwell

crooked grin. “Where do I start? How
about with the ex-wife, Janelle Bourgeois. He dump
her years ago. Last I hear, she be waitin’ tables up in
Mowata”
    “Mowata? That’s back west of Branch, isn’t it?” I
asked, trying to place the small Louisiana hamlets.
    “That be right. North of Rayne. You know the saying, north of Rayne is Branch, and if that ain’t wet
enough for you, west of Branch is Mowata.”
    We all laughed. I glanced at Jack who wore a puzzled expression.
    I jotted Janelle Bourgeois’ name on a 3” x 5” card.
“You know what restaurant?”

    “Naw. There be only one cafe in Mowata. That be
about the only thing in Mowata,” he added with a
grin.
    “What do you know about her? Anything?”
    He laughed. “Me, I knows that one all my life. We
was enfants, children down to Maida.” He shook his
head and chuckled. “She always be having the temper, moyen, mean temper, even in the school with the
sisters.”
    “Sisters?”
    “Oui. The nuns.”
    I nodded. “Anyone else?”
    Deslatte chewed on his bottom lip. “Let’s see.
There’s the gambler, Jimmy Blue, there in Maida at
the Louisianne Casino. And then there’s the ones who
lost all their money when his first bank went under.”
    “When was that?”
    He arched an eyebrow. “Let’s see. That be fifteen,
maybe twenty years ago. Big scandal up in Opelousas”
    “Scandal? You mean the bank going bust?”
    “That, and before. His first partner, let’s see-” He
scratched his bald head. “Rabin, that was his name.
Duclize Babin. He shoot hisself in the head, they say.
Then a few years later, Babin’s wife, she be convicted
of embezzling money from the bank. She go to state
prison. And then, not long after, the bank, it fold up.”
He shook his head regretfully. “I know that woman all
her life. Go figure. You know?”
    I nodded thoughtfully. “What was her given name?”

    Without hesitation, Deslatte replied. “It be Karen.
Karen Babin.”
    “She must be out of prison by now.”
    Juju tapped Deslatte on the shoulder and whispered
in his ear. The rotund man grunted. “Juju, he say
Babin’s wife killed in car wreck. Burned to crisp.”
    Marcel sneered. “That a lot to burn. She big woman,
maybe two hundred pounds, I say. Look like beer keg.
Every time I see her up in Opelousas, her blond hair is
tied up on top of her head” He made the shape of a
bouffant over his head. He snorted. “Bet that woman
don’t have no hair like that in prison.”
    “Oui!” Juju sneered. “When her crazy brother, that
Thertule, he hear she be dead, he run off into the
swamps. Ain’t nobody seen him since. He crazy. I always figured she be crazy too, her.”
    Deslatte laughed. “At least half crazy. Thertule, he
be a Pellerin, her half brother.”
    Juju grew serious. “They say the cauchemar, she
done makes Thertule a loup garou”
    I wanted to laugh, but from the earnest concern on
Juju’s face, I knew he was deadly serious. I would get
nowhere tromping on another’s beliefs, regardless
how outrageous. Behind me I heard Jack cough.
    Deslatte grinned crookedly. “Me, I don’t know
about that, but it don’t bother me none if the man be
dead. I don’t do it because that one, he ain’t worth it.”
    “What’s with him and Jimmy Blue at the casino.
Gambling?”

    The smile vanished from Deslatte’s plump face. “I
hear that” His voice grew soft, almost conspiratorial.
“I don’t know for sure, but me, I hear that them two,
they sometimes have business deals.” He shrugged
and held his hands out to his side. “That I hear. Me, I
don’t know nothing for certain.”
    Marcel’s shout interrupted us. “Look there. There
be a big one”
    Floating just below the surface of the calm water
thirty feet out was another alligator, his eyes and tip of
his snout barely breaking the calm water.
    I guessed this one was about eight feet, judging by
the distance from the eyes to the snout, which was