Plunder: A Faye Longchamp Mystery #7 (Faye Longchamp Series) Read Online Free Page B

panting, and Faye could see that her scarf was damp where it crossed her forehead.
Amande’s grandmother’s angry face did not soften.
“Grandmère,” Amande said as she leaned down to kiss the weatherbeaten cheek, “I think he thought you were his grandmother. You’re wearing the same color scarf.” She tucked the fuchsia chiffon behind the old lady’s ear. “Faye, this is my grandmother, Miranda Landreneau.”
Faye didn’t even bother to butt in and say, “No, Dauphine isn’t his grandmother. She’s his babysitter.” She was too busy watching Amande charm a crabby old woman.
She was pretty sure that the girl was right. Both Miranda and Dauphine dressed like they’d fallen into a gypsy’s washbasket. Michael only knew one woman whose clothes flowed behind her like a wet watercolor painting, and he associated that woman with cookies and kisses and unconditional love. Looking up to find Miranda’s timeworn scowl, instead of Dauphine’s soft smile, must have turned his tiny world upside down.
Faye nuzzled the back of Michael’s neck, trying to get him to stop squalling. No dice. Then Miranda reached out an arthritic hand and touched the child on his shoulder. Her touch was neither loving nor violent, but it silenced the child. Instantly.
Faye stifled the urge to draw her son to her breast and take two steps back. She could tell by Dauphine’s reaction that the babysitter was not amused, but she was intimidated. Faye herself was hard to intimidate, but she found herself wanting to leave Miranda’s presence. Immediately.
“It’s very nice to meet you. You have a lovely granddaughter. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to—”
Amande, standing behind her grandmother, had embarked on violent headshaking. She was also mouthing the word “No,” repeatedly. It did not take a genius to see that she didn’t want her grandmother to know about their plans to go arrowhead hunting. Faye had no intention of taking the girl anywhere without her grandmother’s permission, but she followed Amande’s lead.
“—um…I’d like to talk to her about archaeological sites in the area. Actually, I think both of you may be able to help us.”
Joe had joined them, and she could tell he was wondering just how these two people could be any help to them at all. She raised an eyebrow in his direction that signaled, I’ll tell you later. Then she nodded at Miranda and Amande and said, “Right now, though, we should really get back to our cabin. You two have a good—”
Amande interrupted Faye, and the girl’s bad manners caused Miranda’s disapproving black eyes to swivel in her direction.
“But I wanted to show you my silver coins. And all those arrowheads. Can you come now…please?”

Chapter Four
Faye counted heads. Miranda, Amande, Michael, Joe, Dauphine…counting Faye, there were six people crowded into the houseboat’s tiny dining room. The dinette table was built to seat two.
Michael sat on Joe’s lap. Amande was perched on a stool in the corner, blowing into a cup to cool her tea. The others crowded around as Miranda handed teacups out. Faye felt the need to watch the old woman’s every move, though she couldn’t have said why.
Perhaps it was because she’d had experience of her own with Dauphine’s voodoo chants and potions and powders, but some primitive part of her believed Miranda could slip something into her tea that would silence Faye as effectively as Miranda’s withered hand on Michael’s shoulder had silenced him. She noticed that Dauphine was watching their hostess just as intently.
Then Miranda pulled a (thankfully) clean dishrag out of a kitchen drawer and laid it on the counter beside a bowl of sugar and the bottle of rum. “I shall make the boy a sugar tit. He’ll be happy, and we can talk.”
Her shriveled but competent hands twisted the dishrag into a point. Dipping it first into her tea cup and then into the sugar bowl, Miranda was already poised to drizzle rum over the twisted rag