Rumble on the Bayou Read Online Free Page A
Author: Jana DeLeon
don't have any taste buds left anyway.
Jenny scrambled eggs in a bowl and dumped them onto the grill. "You been working this morning?" she asked.
"Yeah," Joe managed. "Just a bit." Then curiosity got the better of him, and he found his voice. "Why do you ask?" Jenny had never asked about his job before, and it struck him as a bit odd.
Jenny blushed a little, or maybe it was just the heat from the grill, and said, "It's just that you're wearing dress clothes. There's not a wedding or a funeral, and everyone knows you don't go to church anymore, so I figured if you were there this morning, it was because of work."
Joe glanced down a moment and shook his head. He'd completely forgotten he was dressed up. The tie had immediately come off after exiting the church and was stuffed in his pants pocket, but that still left him with tan Dockers and a white button-up shirt. Not his normal dress, for sure.
"Is Dorie coming in, too?" she asked.
"No," he replied, trying to sound natural. "She went fishing as soon as we were done with business. It being Sunday and all."
Jenny nodded and stirred the eggs around on the grill. Everyone in Gator Bait knew Dorie fished on Sunday. Everyone also knew she absolutely never caught a fish. But the townspeople respected her request for solitude and played along with the fishing game. No one called Dorie in for work on Sunday unless there was no other choice.
Jenny slid the plate of food in front of Joe. "Anything else?"
He looked down at the plate of steamy food, complete with the icky grits. "No," he said and tried a smile. "I think I'm good."
"Okay," Jenny said, and moved to the far end of the counter where she started restocking catsup bottles, obviously readying herself for the after-church lunch rush.
Fifteen minutes later, Joe was halfway through all he wanted to eat, when the bells above the cafe door jangled.
The sound of low talking at the front of the cafe just reached him, but the words weren't clear. He was busy stirring the grits in a small circle, trying to make it look like he'd eaten some of them, when he heard a man right behind him say, "I'm looking for the sheriff."
It wasn't a voice Joe knew, and he turned around in his seat to see the man it had come from.
He didn't like what he saw.
The man pulled a badge from his suit coat pocket and flipped it open. "My name is Richard Starke. I'm with the DEA out of Washington, D.C. Do you know where I can find the sheriff?"
Disgusted, Joe blew out a breath. This had been quicker than expected. "I'm Joe Miller. Deputy Miller. I guess you're here about the print"
Richard gave Joe a look up and down. "Yes" He cocked his head to one side and studied Joe's face. "You don't seem surprised"
Joe returned the look. High-dollar suit, alligator shoes, two hundred-dollar pen, perfect hair. Damn, he thought, remembering Dorie's comment about big-city pricks, that woman is always right. This guy looks like a walking hard-on.
"Actually," Joe said when he finished his assessment of the other man. "My boss was expecting you. Just maybe not this soon."
Richard raised his eyebrows. "Your boss was expecting me, specifically?"
He gave Richard another quick look. "Yeah, pretty much."
"I'm intrigued," Richard said and gave him a polite smile. "So can I meet this boss of yours, the sheriff, I presume?"
Joe shook his head. "Nope. Sheriff's on medical leave. Deputy Berenger is in charge during his absence. That's who was expecting you."
Richard began to tap his foot, clearly impatient. "Great. So where exactly is this Deputy Berenger, or does he have a medical malady also?"
Joe slouched back in his stool, unimpressed with the man in front of him and already irritated by his attitude. Working with him may be inevitable, but there was no need to make it easy. "Well, you see the problem is that Sunday is Deputy Berenger's day off, and no one disturbs the
Jenny scrambled eggs in a bowl and dumped them onto the grill. "You been working this morning?" she asked.
"Yeah," Joe managed. "Just a bit." Then curiosity got the better of him, and he found his voice. "Why do you ask?" Jenny had never asked about his job before, and it struck him as a bit odd.
Jenny blushed a little, or maybe it was just the heat from the grill, and said, "It's just that you're wearing dress clothes. There's not a wedding or a funeral, and everyone knows you don't go to church anymore, so I figured if you were there this morning, it was because of work."
Joe glanced down a moment and shook his head. He'd completely forgotten he was dressed up. The tie had immediately come off after exiting the church and was stuffed in his pants pocket, but that still left him with tan Dockers and a white button-up shirt. Not his normal dress, for sure.
"Is Dorie coming in, too?" she asked.
"No," he replied, trying to sound natural. "She went fishing as soon as we were done with business. It being Sunday and all."
Jenny nodded and stirred the eggs around on the grill. Everyone in Gator Bait knew Dorie fished on Sunday. Everyone also knew she absolutely never caught a fish. But the townspeople respected her request for solitude and played along with the fishing game. No one called Dorie in for work on Sunday unless there was no other choice.
Jenny slid the plate of food in front of Joe. "Anything else?"
He looked down at the plate of steamy food, complete with the icky grits. "No," he said and tried a smile. "I think I'm good."
"Okay," Jenny said, and moved to the far end of the counter where she started restocking catsup bottles, obviously readying herself for the after-church lunch rush.
Fifteen minutes later, Joe was halfway through all he wanted to eat, when the bells above the cafe door jangled.
The sound of low talking at the front of the cafe just reached him, but the words weren't clear. He was busy stirring the grits in a small circle, trying to make it look like he'd eaten some of them, when he heard a man right behind him say, "I'm looking for the sheriff."
It wasn't a voice Joe knew, and he turned around in his seat to see the man it had come from.
He didn't like what he saw.
The man pulled a badge from his suit coat pocket and flipped it open. "My name is Richard Starke. I'm with the DEA out of Washington, D.C. Do you know where I can find the sheriff?"
Disgusted, Joe blew out a breath. This had been quicker than expected. "I'm Joe Miller. Deputy Miller. I guess you're here about the print"
Richard gave Joe a look up and down. "Yes" He cocked his head to one side and studied Joe's face. "You don't seem surprised"
Joe returned the look. High-dollar suit, alligator shoes, two hundred-dollar pen, perfect hair. Damn, he thought, remembering Dorie's comment about big-city pricks, that woman is always right. This guy looks like a walking hard-on.
"Actually," Joe said when he finished his assessment of the other man. "My boss was expecting you. Just maybe not this soon."
Richard raised his eyebrows. "Your boss was expecting me, specifically?"
He gave Richard another quick look. "Yeah, pretty much."
"I'm intrigued," Richard said and gave him a polite smile. "So can I meet this boss of yours, the sheriff, I presume?"
Joe shook his head. "Nope. Sheriff's on medical leave. Deputy Berenger is in charge during his absence. That's who was expecting you."
Richard began to tap his foot, clearly impatient. "Great. So where exactly is this Deputy Berenger, or does he have a medical malady also?"
Joe slouched back in his stool, unimpressed with the man in front of him and already irritated by his attitude. Working with him may be inevitable, but there was no need to make it easy. "Well, you see the problem is that Sunday is Deputy Berenger's day off, and no one disturbs the
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