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

floor.
    “Let me,” I said, kneeling to gather the half dozen
or so envelopes. Scooping them up, I handed them to
her. I noticed the return address on the top envelope
was from Antigua. “Here you are”
    She smiled shyly, a blush on her cheeks. “Thank
you. Now, let me get that number. Like I said, he called
from the Bahamas with this number where I could
reach him.” She jotted it down and handed it to me.

    “That was after the hunting trip.”
    “Yes. It was a spring turkey hunt. A special hunt,
John said.” She smiled warmly.
    “I should have come a little earlier,” I replied, with
a smile of my own. “I do a little hunting myself.”
    She arched an eyebrow.
    I continued, “I’m not much of a hunter, probably not
as good a one as your boss. But I enjoy being outdoors”
    Laura Palmo laughed softly. “To be honest, neither
is Mr. Hardy. It had been so long since he’d been
hunting, he had to go out and buy new clothes, waterproof boots and all.”
    “Thanks for making me feel better,” I replied.
“Now, can you tell me the name of the hunting camp
near Morgan City? I’ll drive down and see what I come
up with. Maybe I can get enough to satisfy his mother.”
    “I hope so,” she replied. “It’s Benoit’s Hunting
Lodge down in Terrechoisie Parish. Can’t miss it. A
big sign this side of Morgan City shows the way” She
smiled sadly. “But I hate to see you make the trip for
nothing. That’s all it will be, a waste of time.”
    “Have you talked to him since he called?”
    She smiled warmly. “No. He instructed me to call
only in an emergency”
    I believed her. From what I had learned from Laura
Palmo, I could see no reason for Mrs. Hardy to worry.
    She continued, “But I can understand Josepphine
did retain the services of your company and you must
fulfill the contract for payment. Money, she make the world go around,” she added with an affected Cajun
lilt and a charming smile.

    I grinned at her sheepishly. “Sounds kind of cold
when you put it like that. The money, I mean.”
    She laughed, a warm, throaty chuckle.
    I nodded. “Thanks for the information.” I hesitated. “By the way. How long have you worked here for John
Hardy?”
    Her eyes opened wide in mock surprise. She
pressed one hand to the base of her throat, and a
wildly exaggerated Southern-belle drawl, said, “Why,
is little old me under suspicion, Mr. Boudreaux?”
    “Of course not” I laughed. “And call me Tony.”
    “All right, Tony. I’m Laura. I’ve been here nine
years. Mr. Hardy hired me in ‘96 into the secretarial
pool. Then four years ago, I became Mr. Hardy’s and
Mr. Gate’s personal secretary.”
    “You’re not from around here though.”
    She hesitated for only a fleeting moment, just as
fleeting as the tiny frown that knit an eyebrow.
    I continued, “You don’t have the accent of the natives.”
    Laughing, she nodded. “You’re right. From up
north. Minneapolis. Grew tired of the cold and ended
up here. And I don’t plan on ever going back, despite
the hurricanes that come through every once in a
while,” she added.
    I glanced around, then lowered my voice, “You’ve
known Mrs. Hardy for four years, you say?” She nod ded, and I continued, “Well, something’s been puzzling me about her.”

    Laura, with an arch of an eyebrow, replied wryly,
“Josepphine puzzles a lot of people.” She slapped her
fingers to her lips. “I didn’t say that,” she whispered,
her eyes laughing.
    “And I didn’t hear it.”
    “So, what about her?”
    I blurted out, “Why are there two p’s in her name?”
    She studied me a moment, then rolled her eyes.
“That’s just her. You know this town is named after
one of their ancestors” I nodded, and she continued,
“From what I heard, over forty years ago, she decided
that since she was not a common person, her name
should not be spelled as such. So-” She arched her
eyebrows as if to say, “that’s