Rumble on the Bayou Read Online Free Page B
Author: Jana DeLeon
deputy on Sunday. It's a general rule."
"And what does the deputy do on Sunday that can't be disturbed?" Richard's voice began to take on an aggravated tone.
"Fish."
"Fish?" Richard's voice raised a notch or two. "You're telling me you want a federal law enforcement officer to wait until Monday to conduct business because the person in charge is fishing?" He stared at Joe as if he'd lost his mind.
Joe shook his head in dismay, the conversation he had ready for Jenny long forgotten. He threw some bills on the counter and nodded to the cafe owner, who stood next to the grill, an anxious look on her face. "Okay. I'll take you, but don't say I didn't warn you.”
***
Dorie stepped out onto the deck of the large cruiser she called home and cast her fishing line into the bayou. She was going to relax this afternoon even if it harelipped the Pope. The weekend's events had been far more than the norm for Gator Bait and she was ready to wash it all from her mind-if only for a couple of hours. Tomorrow morning she'd make a phone call or two, but she didn't really expect to find out much of anything. Basically, that left her with the ole sit-and-wait, something that tended to grate on her nerves.
She draped her beach towel over the lawn chair beside her and reached for the tanning lotion on the small table next to it. Carefully setting her bra straps to the right location, she began applying the lotion to her arms and shoulders. Her tan looked very nice for so early in the year, she observed as she worked the lotion into her skin and noticed how it complemented the pink nail polish.
Moving down to her legs, she rolled up the denim shorts as high as they would go and doused the exposed skin with lotion. Dorie didn't believe in bathing suits. What was the point of spending all that money? She wasn't going swimming and undergarments worked just the same. Besides, since she went without a bra most days anyway, tanning was almost the only time the thin lacy fabric got a workout.
And everyone in Gator Bait knew not to bother her on a Sunday. It only took one interruption from Joe for him to decide that talking to Dorie while she tanned was far too uncomfortable to merit the conversation. Nothing in Gator Bait could be that big of an emergency. So that left the creatures of the bayou as her only audience, and she was fairly sure the fish didn't care. In fact, the company of alligators and fish was more preferable to her because they never offered any advice on how to live her life.
Finished with the lotion, she stretched out on the lounge chair and put on her sunglasses. The weather was perfect. Nice warm sun and a gentle breeze blowing off the gulf. Definitely sleeping weather. Aligning her limbs so that none shaded the other, she closed her eyes.
She must have been dreaming, because it took a while to realize the noise she imagined in her head was very real. She rose slightly from her chair and saw Joe about to dock at her boat. And he didn't look happy.
Now what?
***
As Joe guided the boat down the bayou, Richard studied the terrain. This was going to be a pain in the ass. There were probably a zillion bayous and cuts and inlets in which to hide and move down here. And from the odor wafting up off the water, he was fairly sure he wanted to finish up this assignment as quickly as possible. Of course, he'd felt that way for eight years, and he still wasn't much closer to catching Shawn Roland than he had been when he first started with the agency.
Roland excelled at his job.
He looked across the bow and realized they were approaching an old dilapidated cabin cruiser. There was hardly any paint at all left on the hull and PVC pipes ran from the boat onto land, letting him know this baby hadn't left the dock in a long time. Joe cut his speed as they approached the floating disaster, and Richard put one hand over his eyes to shade from the sun. He could barely make
"And what does the deputy do on Sunday that can't be disturbed?" Richard's voice began to take on an aggravated tone.
"Fish."
"Fish?" Richard's voice raised a notch or two. "You're telling me you want a federal law enforcement officer to wait until Monday to conduct business because the person in charge is fishing?" He stared at Joe as if he'd lost his mind.
Joe shook his head in dismay, the conversation he had ready for Jenny long forgotten. He threw some bills on the counter and nodded to the cafe owner, who stood next to the grill, an anxious look on her face. "Okay. I'll take you, but don't say I didn't warn you.”
***
Dorie stepped out onto the deck of the large cruiser she called home and cast her fishing line into the bayou. She was going to relax this afternoon even if it harelipped the Pope. The weekend's events had been far more than the norm for Gator Bait and she was ready to wash it all from her mind-if only for a couple of hours. Tomorrow morning she'd make a phone call or two, but she didn't really expect to find out much of anything. Basically, that left her with the ole sit-and-wait, something that tended to grate on her nerves.
She draped her beach towel over the lawn chair beside her and reached for the tanning lotion on the small table next to it. Carefully setting her bra straps to the right location, she began applying the lotion to her arms and shoulders. Her tan looked very nice for so early in the year, she observed as she worked the lotion into her skin and noticed how it complemented the pink nail polish.
Moving down to her legs, she rolled up the denim shorts as high as they would go and doused the exposed skin with lotion. Dorie didn't believe in bathing suits. What was the point of spending all that money? She wasn't going swimming and undergarments worked just the same. Besides, since she went without a bra most days anyway, tanning was almost the only time the thin lacy fabric got a workout.
And everyone in Gator Bait knew not to bother her on a Sunday. It only took one interruption from Joe for him to decide that talking to Dorie while she tanned was far too uncomfortable to merit the conversation. Nothing in Gator Bait could be that big of an emergency. So that left the creatures of the bayou as her only audience, and she was fairly sure the fish didn't care. In fact, the company of alligators and fish was more preferable to her because they never offered any advice on how to live her life.
Finished with the lotion, she stretched out on the lounge chair and put on her sunglasses. The weather was perfect. Nice warm sun and a gentle breeze blowing off the gulf. Definitely sleeping weather. Aligning her limbs so that none shaded the other, she closed her eyes.
She must have been dreaming, because it took a while to realize the noise she imagined in her head was very real. She rose slightly from her chair and saw Joe about to dock at her boat. And he didn't look happy.
Now what?
***
As Joe guided the boat down the bayou, Richard studied the terrain. This was going to be a pain in the ass. There were probably a zillion bayous and cuts and inlets in which to hide and move down here. And from the odor wafting up off the water, he was fairly sure he wanted to finish up this assignment as quickly as possible. Of course, he'd felt that way for eight years, and he still wasn't much closer to catching Shawn Roland than he had been when he first started with the agency.
Roland excelled at his job.
He looked across the bow and realized they were approaching an old dilapidated cabin cruiser. There was hardly any paint at all left on the hull and PVC pipes ran from the boat onto land, letting him know this baby hadn't left the dock in a long time. Joe cut his speed as they approached the floating disaster, and Richard put one hand over his eyes to shade from the sun. He could barely make
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