Free Louisiana Stalker by J. R. Roberts

town. He was always behind his desk when Clint walked in.
    â€œWell,” LeBlanc said, “don’t tell me I’m becoming your favorite person in Baton Rouge.”
    â€œHardly,” Clint said, “but you are my favorite source for information.”
    â€œWell, pour yourself some coffee and take a seat.”
    Clint poured some coffee, saw that LeBlanc already had a cup, so he just sat down across from the man.
    â€œWhat’s on your mind?”
    â€œBayou Teche.”
    â€œDon’t tell me you want to go there,” the lawman said.
    â€œI don’t want to,” Clint said, “but I may have to. How far away is it?”
    â€œWell, it’s probably about fifty miles from here to Bayou Teche, but what town do you want to go to?”
    â€œNew Iberia.”
    â€œAh,” LeBlanc said, “Iberia Parish is more like ninety miles away.”
    Clint frowned and sipped his coffee. That was not good.
    â€œWhat do you know about a man named Jacques Pivot?” he asked.
    Now it was LeBlanc’s turn to frown. “Does this have to do with Mrs. Devereaux’s problem?” he asked.
    â€œIt might.”
    â€œJacques Pivot is her husband’s biggest rival,” LeBlanc said. “I would say they’re the two richest men in Baton Rouge.”
    â€œBut Pivot doesn’t come to Baton Rouge.”
    â€œStill, he conducts his business from a Baton Rouge address, even though he lives in Bayou Teche just outside of New Iberia. Ah, I see. You’re thinking of going to see him?”
    â€œOnly if I have to.”
    â€œHe doesn’t see many people,” LeBlanc said.
    â€œI’ll deal with that when the time comes,” Clint said. “That is, if I decide to go and try to see him.”
    â€œWhen will you make up your mind?” the lawman asked.
    â€œNot sure,” Clint said. He wanted to tell LeBlanc as little as possible about Cappy’s business. He put his coffee cup down on the sheriff’s desk and stood up. “I still need some more information before I make up my mind.”
    â€œWell,” LeBlanc said, “come on back if you think I can help further.”
    â€œAppreciate that,” Clint said, and left.

TWENTY-TWO
    Clint decided to find out from Cappy what she knew about Jacques Pivot, but he’d do it the next day. No point in going back to her place so soon. Maybe it would pay to stop in at a local newspaper and read some old issues about both Devereaux and Pivot. It might tell him who was the good guy and who was the bad guy in that relationship.
    Clint found his way to the offices of
The Baton Rouge Advocate
,
discovered that they also archived old copies of
The New Orleans Times-Picayune
, as well as
The Daily Iberian
from New Iberia.
    He settled down in their morgue to leaf through old issues of the newspapers, spent hours going back several years until he thought he had an idea what kind of men Simon Devereaux and Jacques Pivot were.
    He left the newspaper after finding a water closet in the building where he could wash the newspaper ink off his hand. He stopped at a small café to have supper alone and think about what he’d learned that day.
    Luckily, the café he stopped in was not French and he was able to get himself a good ol’ steak and potatoes meal. He washed it down with beer, then had a slice of apple pie and some coffee for dessert.
    From the accounts he had read in the newspapers of the business dealings of both Simon Devereaux and Jacques Pivot, he’d discovered that both men were ruthless in their practices. Their selfishness also came across on the page. And then, in the end, their rivalry stood out. At one time or another, each had been known as the wealthiest man in Louisiana. But who held that distinction at the moment he didn’t know.
    With a full belly, Clint headed back to his hotel.
    Â â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢Â 
    Keller left the saloon an hour after