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scandal came to light just before the polls. The
media could have a hay day with it, even if there
was nothing to it.
Cork nodded grimly. That he understood!
 It might also be quite the romantic story, said
Remy with a grin.  You know as well as I do that
the right story can also work wonders. After all, my
great grandmother would have been a Creole. That
would have been an unusual alliance back then. The
stuff fairy tales are made of...or can be made of.
 True, agreed Senator Durbin.  It does have
possibilities. Just the same, I d rather not take the
chance. Would you let me know if you find
anything?
 Why not? Asked Remy with a smile.  I ll keep
this card with me, just in case. She looked at Cork.
 Not that I expect to find anything now, though.
Cork and Remy saw the Senator and his
bodyguard off at the docks, a third man sending the
mudbug sloshing down the waterway.
 Come on, you two...breakfast is ready, yelled
Pierre from the doorway.
 Looks like neither of us have to cook, said
Remy, sprinting for the cabin.  But I ll still beat you
to the table.
In the Pirogue, Senator Durbin leaned over and
muttered to his bodyguard.  I want you to keep an
eye on those two. Let me know if they find
anything.
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The man in the sunglasses just nodded, his
mission understood. He d get on it right away.
The boat waiting for them to enter the waterway
took them all by surprise, but the camera clicking
away filled the Senator with fury. Trying to control
his rage, his slipped his camera face on and smiled
at the reporter.
A wide grin lit up the girl s face.  Bring me
closer, Augustus, she instructed. Augustus grunted
and brought the skiff in beside the Senators
mudbug.  What brings you to the bayou, Sir? She
asked eagerly, her green eyes sparkling in the
morning light.
 How did you know I was here?
 I saw you getting into the pirogue this morning,
and I couldn t believe my eyes, she gushed,
flipping her long dark hair behind her.  I ve been
waiting for an opportunity to get a job at the paper
in New Orleans...I live here of course...but I want to
work on the paper...and I just happened to see you!
So I grabbed my camera, got Augustus out of
bed...and here we are! I m so excited! Can you tell
me about your visit?
Senator Durbin s eyes narrowed as he took in
her youth and obvious inexperience.  Well, young
lady, I grew up in the bayou and sometimes I just
like to make a nostalgic visit...privately, of course.
He watched her face fall and knew he had scored a
conscious point. He was no fool though. His visit
would still come out because she wouldn t be able
to contain her excitement and curiosity at having an
exclusive on one of his movements.
He shot Daniel a sideways glance. Daniel turned
slightly red. It was his job to see that they were
unobserved...he had screwed up. Still, there was
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nothing about this girl to suggest a highly skilled
reporter; small wonder he had missed her.
In any case, he launched into his explanation,
already created, about a nostalgic visit to the bayou
and his old stomping grounds. An early morning
return if you will, on the spur of the moment, to his
roots.
The girl held out the recorder, her eyes shining
with excitement, her fingers trembling slightly as
she listened.
The two men with him turned off the mudbug
and settled down for a thirty minute dissertation on
the beauties of one of America s disappearing
waterways and the Senators growing concern for
the commerce along it and the animals beneath it.
It was a good cover.
Remy dusted off the last book and put it back on
the fireplace, then stood back to survey the room.
She and Cork had spent all afternoon putting the
hut back into order.
Pierre had eaten lunch with them and then gone
off somewhere, promising to be back by dark, so
they had decided to clean up the mess their intruder
had made a few days ago. Something about the
snake statue kept bothering Remy, but it remained
elusive just along the edge of her consciousness,
refusing to be recognized. She wandered outside to
the garden and stood looking at once again.
 If the sun hits it, she muttered to herself,
 where will it shine? She stood beside the statue
and looked into the shadowy foliage. Then she
walked forward, trying to stay in a straight line,
guessing where the sun s rays might hit. There was
an opening in the wispy hanging moss and nothing
solid in front of her that might indicate a hollow tree
trunk or anything like that. There was however, a
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huge rounded tree about fifty yards ahead...off the
path.
Nervously she glanced behind her. Cork was in
the basement cleaning up the mess down there and
shoring up the old tunnel. She glanced down at Old
Joe who stood beside her, his tongue lolling out of
his mouth. In spite of his fierce appearance, he
acted like a puppy at times, and she reached down
and patted his head. She supposed she should go
ask Cork to come with her, but she could see the
tree from the path, and there was surely nothing to
bother her in this short distance. Besides, she really
wanted to find this mysterious treasure on her own,
and she didn t intend to get into trouble. She could
do this just fine without Oscar the swamp grouch!
Searching the ground carefully to look for
quicksand, Remy stepped through the underbrush
and moved aside the hanging moss to pick her way
towards the tree. She was about halfway there
when Old Joe froze, the hair on the back of his neck
standing up, and a growl coming from low in his
throat. Remy stopped and peered ahead of her,
trying to see what the dog might be growling at.
Her knees trembled when a low mournful howl laced
the air, and she realized it was Old Joe. What in the
world was the matter with the dog?
Her heart beat rapidly when he began pawing at
the underbrush and digging dirt out behind him.
Remy knelt beside him.  What s the matter,
boy? What have you found? She grabbed some of
the grasses and brush and pulled it out, tossing it
behind her. When the first sign of the weathered
concrete cross appeared, her heart raced and she
began tearing at the brush, trying to clear it off. Old
Joe dug furiously while Remy cleared the brush
away enough to read the inscription on the
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darkened stone. Rheims Renquist. That was all it
said! It had no birth nor death date, or any of the
usual platitudes people put on headstones. There
were two snakes engraved on the stone, one on
each end of the name and Remy peered closely,
excited and dismayed at the same time. Was her
great grandmother buried out here?
 Remyyyyyy! The whisper was so soft that
Remy strained to listen, wondering if the spooky
atmosphere of the grave was making her hear
things. Frowning, she put her hand on Old Joe s
neck.  Stop, boy...stop digging! If she is buried
here, you don t want to dig her up!
 Maybe he smells bones, drawled a lazy voice
behind her, and Remy whirled to see Quantraine
standing there, watching them. Remy grimaced as
he chuckled at his own morbid humor and came up
beside the dog, who ignored him.
 How did you get here? Demanded Remy. She
didn t quite trust the nosy detective and thought
him rather sleazy. So far, he hadn t done anything
to change that image.  And what do you want?
 Same way I got here last time, only I didn t get
the canine reception I did before, he replied,
watching Old Joe avidly.  Looks like he might be
onto something.
 Oh my gosh, squeaked Remy, when Old Joe
snuffled into the shallow opening he had made near [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]