Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 13 - The Diamonds of Ghost Bayou Read Online Free Page B

was showering.
    As usual in Louisiana, by midmorning the sun had burned
away the clean freshness of dawn, and steam was beginning to
rise from the soaked gumbo soil.
    I watched the yapping pup as I made my way to the Mako,
several times scanning the dark swamp water for alligators. Mr.
Jay was in dog heaven: all the birds he could chase, and all the
room to chase them in.
    When I stepped onto the dock, I glanced into the swamp where I thought I had seen a man the day before. The only
movement was the Spanish moss waving idly in the faint breeze.

    Unzipping the boat cover, I climbed over the gunwale, plopped
down behind the wheel, and stared at the gauges. For twenty
minutes, I sat in the captain’s seat, staring, unseeing, at the gauges,
going back over the events of the last couple of days. The only
obvious conclusion I could draw at the time was that there must
be diamonds somewhere on the premises and somebody wanted
them.
    I had two leads: the two jokers running from the house, and the
yellow Stratos, the same color boat that Jack had spotted. I guessed
it had to be moored along the river somewhere, and I decided to
see if I could run it down. Just then, Diane stepped out onto the
porch and waved. She wore a white blouse and matching shorts.
I waved back. “I’ll fix some lunch,” she shouted. “Ten minutes.”
    Though the early-morning nip was gone, the air flowing through
the open windows kept us cool as we sat in the living area
munching on tuna fish sandwiches, chips, and soft drinks. The
TV was on the local news. Outside, Mr. Jay continued barking.
    I reached for my Dr Pepper. “What time do you want to go
back to the hospital?”
    She was sitting on the couch with her tanned legs folded under her. “Maybe later this afternoon. Jack needs rest, not visitors, don’t you think?” She looked at me innocently.
    Outside, Mr. Jay was still yapping.
    “Oh, yeah, yeah.” My mind raced. I had no intention of spending the afternoon with Diane in this large, empty house. Yet, I
had promised Jack I’d look after her. “Tell you what,” I said.
“Why don’t we take a leisurely trip up the river today? Give you
a chance to see your neighbors. We can take our cells in case
the hospital calls.”
    She clapped her hands like a schoolgirl. “That sounds wonderful. Should I make us something to eat?”
    “No,” I hastily replied. “We won’t be gone that long. We’ll
just see what’s up there and then get back early so we can spend
time with Jack this evening.”

    Mr. Jay’s yap turned into a startled yelp.
    By the time we reached the front door, he was sitting on top
of the stairs looking back at the bayou where a five-foot alligator stood motionless on the shore, staring up at the trembling
pup.
    “Oh, dear,” Diane exclaimed, hurrying to the shaking dog.
“Look at his little tail. That horrid creature bit him.”
    I suppressed a grin. The pup was lucky. All Mr. Alligator had
done was chomp down on the tail, but it was so tiny-a stub,
really-and the pup had managed to jerk it loose, peeling away
some skin. He was lucky it hadn’t ended up a lot stubbier.
    I opened the door as she brought the pup inside and headed
for the bathroom. “He’ll be okay,” I said above his whining and
her cooing voice. But, I told myself, he’ll never venture down
those stairs again.
    Swamps and forests are misleading. From a distance, their cool
shadows promise an inviting respite from the hot sun. In reality,
they are usually hot and oppressive because the thick canopy of
cypress and water oak holds in the heat and humidity. The air
is suffocating.
    Only the uncharted waterways crisscrossing the swamp offered a modicum of relief, and then only because of the forward
movement of the watercraft.
    When I helped Diane into the boat, I heard Mr. Jay barking from
inside the house. “I opened the door for him to come out, but he
didn’t want to.”
    “Can’t blame the little