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cheek.
"You know, I think all beloved pets go to Heaven," Raif
said. "Cyclops is romping with Sunbeam again."
Larkin sighed. She knew her friend was trying to lighten
the mood. "I wish Chris would hurry up and get here. It's bad
enough to have to wait for Ray."
He squeezed Larkin's hand. "She's doing her job. You
know she's thorough."
They did not have to wait much longer for Chris to get in,
but she looked tired when she walked through the door. Her
short dishwater-blonde hair looked damp as the humidity was
high, and her soft brown eyes drooped. She asked simply, "Did
Ray tell you?"
Larkin replied, "Only that Robert and his—companion—
are dead."
Chris nodded. "They were apparently engaging in a sex act.
That's all I can say except an FBI team will be here tomorrow
afternoon. Thank God!" She put a hand to her forehead. "At
least Lawrence Dantzler is heading the team. I'm sure that fact
will ease Ray's mind a bit. I know how much he hates working
with the feds, but at least he and Lawrence have become
friends since the Latrice Descartes case."
Chris finally sat down on Raif's lap. She sighed, "I'm so
tired," as she laid her head on her husband's shoulder.
Raif kissed her on the head. "Go to bed, baby. I'll sit with
Larkin until Ray gets home. And don't worry. I called Lindsay
and Dupree. Go rest. You'll be up early."
Chris stood and took Raif's hand. "Come tuck me in." Raif
escorted his wife upstairs to the room they always used at
Larkin and Ray's restored antebellum home, leaving Larkin
alone to pray.
♥♥♥
    Around one o'clock, Ray stopped at the guardhouse at the
entrance to the exclusive subdivision where the LaFontaines
maintained their home in Louisiana. He displayed his badge
and announced, "Police Chief Raiford Reynolds from Eau
Boueuse. I need to see Mrs. LaFontaine."
    "Has something happened to the Senator, sir?" asked the
guard with genuine concern.
"I must see Mrs. LaFontaine," Ray insisted.
"Yes, sir. I understand. Your reluctance to answer says
enough." The guard opened the gate. "I'll buzz the house for
you, sir. Someone should be up when you get there. Do you
know which house it is?"
"Yes, I've been here before. Thank you."
As the first large raindrops fell in the approaching storm,
Deanna LaFontaine waited wrapped in a rose-colored satin
bathrobe on her front porch when Ray got out of his car.
Deanna had always been attractive, but she looked worn. Her
shoulder-length, light-brown hair hung limp in the humid night
air and her hazel eyes looked tired. Her thin, five-foot-eight
frame stooped. "What's happened to Robert, Ray?" she
demanded as Ray reached the porch.
"May we go inside and sit down?" Ray asked
sympathetically.
"Just tell me. Is he dead?"
"Yes, Deanna. He was murdered."
Deanna nodded her understanding. She indicated the porch
chairs at the right side of the door on the white stone porch.
"Let's talk out here. I don't want the kids to wake up and
hear this tonight. I'll tell them tomorrow. You do understand,
don't you, Ray?"
"Of course, I do." Ray and Deanna sat down in the wicker
chairs.
Deanna jumped back to her feet. "Would you like some
coffee, Ray? I can make some quickly. I need some, so, please,
join me."
"That would be nice. Thanks."
Deanna disappeared into the house for about ten minutes
while Ray waited. The white five-thousand-square-foot stone
house that loomed behind him was a Raiford Gautier original
design. Ray remembered when Raif had come to his office in
complete shock at being asked by Robert to design his house.
Ray was lost in thought when Deanna returned with two
large mugs. "Just sugar if I remember correctly," she said. "It's
been a while."
Ray took the mug and sipped the hot coffee. "Perfect.
Thank you."
Deanna sat down. "I knew it had to be bad if you drove all
this way to deliver the news yourself. Was he alone?"
Ray hesitated.
"Oh, come on, Ray. How young was this one? Did she kill
him? I know all about Robert's little indiscretions." Her