Chapter 25:

Unlikeliest of Friends

Trixie awoke feeling refreshed and reinvigorated. Sure, her hand hurt, and her back ached from yesterday's day of gator hunting. But today, Detective Belden was going to nab a criminal, and tomorrow, she was going home! Who cared about a few aches and pains? Trixie was on cloud nine!

"We'll have to remember to collect our piles of thirteen objects before we leave," she told Honey as the pair made their beds. "Wait until Bobby hears that those gator teeth helped protect us from a Rougarou! He's going to love them, Honey!" Miss Belden had missed the little imp –her big brother and Moms too.

Miss Wheeler giggled. She was also in a chipper mood at the thought of going home. "I wonder if Brian would like the chicken's claw from our doorknob," Honey teased. "I've been thinking about it, and I probably should have picked him up some little trinket when Mart and I were at Gator Gardens, Trixie. Do you think it's rude not to take Brian a gift?"

Trixie harrumphed as she started dressing. Tomorrow, she'd be wearing her best school outfit on the plane. When Daddy talked to Moms last, the young lady's mother said temperatures had been in the low sixties in Sleepyside – and boy, did that ever sound good! "I think that gnarly old chicken's foot would be ideal for Brian," Miss Belden told her friend. "It's bound to lash out at the big stick-in-the-mud for not coming on this trip with us, Honey."

But as Honey finished buttoning her sleeveless white blouse and slipped her new gator-tooth necklace over her head with a faraway smile, Trixie gulped, deciding that maybe the claw had already worked its magic. It was sending Mart to deliver its sharp message to their oldest sibling.

"I think the thing to do is run back to the park after visiting Aunt Izzy's today," Honey decided. "Mrs. Robert extended the Bob-Whites an open pass, Trixie. I can pick up one of those silly snow globe paperweights for Brian while you glide across the gator pond. The zip line really is a lot of fun."

Trixie liked the idea and threw her suitcase on her bed to get a jump on packing. "If we don't turn up anything at Miss LeBlanc's that proves that she and Mrs. Robert are cutting people's alligator lines, it'll give us a chance to search the gator farm for clues, too, Honey," she said.

Fetching her own bag, Miss Wheeler sighed futilely. "I know I've said this before, Trixie," she said. "But I certainly hope you're wrong about Mrs. Robert. I'm more inclined to think we're dealing with some unknown alligator poacher from another parish. The LeBlanc and their neighbors may be a bit quirky, but I've grown very fond of them over the past week. Why even the Forets turned out to be wonderful people. I can't really see any of the LeBlancs or their neighbors behind the crime. I honestly think you're grasping at straws."

Honey was right, and Trixie knew it. Ms. Camille had told the girls that her husband thought the poacher was coming up to Bayou Chevrette from St. Mary's Parish, which made perfect sense. Only if that were the case, how on earth were the young sleuths expected to figure out the criminal's identity? They couldn't exactly track down the no-good at night while he or she was in the act – or even travel to Saint Mary's to do so in broad daylight.

Trixie was frustrated, to say the least. But it wasn't her nature to give up. So until the determined detective had eliminated every last local suspect, the hunt was on. Maybe sweet Mrs. Robert wasn't their bad guy. But maybe she was. And if so, the dear woman needed to be stopped.

"Sometimes, Honey, you're just too kind-hearted," Trixie said. Then, as she went to get Spartan to pack him in her bag, Miss Belden noticed the time. "Gleeps, Honey. We were expected to be in the kitchen five minutes ago. Papa wants to get off to an early start, and Aunt Liz is returning to work at the Dinky Pinky today. We'd better let a fire under it." Setting the wooden horse atop the stack of soft tees and tanks in her suitcase, Trixie left the bag lying open on the bed and headed for the ladder. The girls would have to finish packing later.

At breakfast, Miss Wheeler was preparing to set a plate of blueberry-studded flapjacks in front of Dan when a pesky horsefly kicked the young lady in the shoulder blade. As Honey jerked and cried out in pain, the young man's breakfast slid to the shelter house floor.

"Oh, Dan, I'm so sorry," the red-faced girl apologized, scurrying to clean up the mess. "I forgot to spray down with insect repellent before leaving the cottage this morning, and the bugs just won't stop bugging me! There are plenty more pancakes in the kitchen. I'll go get you another stack."

Mr. Mangan laughed as he bent to help the flustered girl. "I tell you what," he said. "How about, while you do that, I run to your cabin and get your bug spray? Mr. Maypenny swears if there's rain on the horizon, the flies are going to bite. We wouldn't want those bugs to keep on bugging you." It was a beautiful morning, but as the New Yorkers had learned, Louisiana's weather could turn on a dime.

Honey could have hugged the young man. "You're such a doll!" she chimed. "I left the bottle sitting on the dresser in our loft."

When Dan returned with bug spray in hand, Trixie thought the boy looked sheepish. He had an uncomfortable look on his face, and he kept glancing over at Hallie. Handing Honey the bottle of Bug-Off, the dark-haired boy then sat down in front of his fresh plate of cornmeal hotcakes.

Trixie and Honey had also taken their seats. But before digging into her yummy meal, Miss Wheeler asked to be excused so she could apply the repellent away from the food.

Dan took this opportunity to slide over a seat so that he was sitting next to Trixie. "When I was up in your loft, I couldn't help noticing the carved horse in your bag," the young man revealed, cutting to the chase. "I mean, I wasn't going through your stuff," he added awkwardly. The thing was just lying there for all to see. But where'd you get it, Trix?"

Trixie winced and put down her fork. "Nice, isn't it?" she said nonchalantly, without making eye contact. "Can you believe it fell out of the trash when Honey and I were emptying it the other day? The horse looks just Spartan, so I kept it. I find it hard to believe someone threw a beautiful carving like that away. The craftsman is very skilled."

Mr. Mangan cocked his head, wondering if he'd heard right. "Do you really think they've got some talent?" he asked.

The curly-haired girl smiled. "Tons of it," she returned. "Honey wishes we could figure out who made it. She'd like them to carve her a horse that looks like Strawberry."

As Miss Wheeler returned, Dan retook his original seat, and tied into his meal.

Later, before heading off to the boathouse, Dan was telling Trixie and Honey that he'd never had better pancakes when Hallie loped up. Having heard everything her cousin had said about the wooden horse, the Idaho girl had hardly touched her own breakfast. The New York Miss Belden suspected the young lady had finally realized how much she'd truly hurt the stoic boy. Hallie asked if she could speak to Dan for a "sec".

Leaving the dark-haired pair to talk, Trixie and her best friend went back to clearing the table. But that didn't mean Trixie didn't listen in on her cousin's conversation…

"Ya know, Dan," Hallie began, swinging her long raven hair over one shoulder. "Next time I'm in Sleepyside, we should go ridin' again. It was awful fun doublin' up with you on Spartan. Ya think we could talk Regan into lettin' us go bareback like last time?"

Dan uncomfortably looked down at the toes of his boots and then gave Trixie a fleeting glance. "I don't know, Hallie," he returned. "You're right. It sure was fun. But I'm kind of interested in someone else these days. I wouldn't want to give them the wrong idea. You know?"

As Hallie nodded, Trixie smirked -oblivious at first. That would teach Miss Flip-Flop to look a gift horse in the mouth. But then the Sleepyside girl turned red and rushed off to the kitchen. There would be no wrong ideas that morning.

"I do hope we don't get lost on our way to Aunt Izzy's," Honey fretted as she and her best friend started in on the mountain of dirty breakfast dishes piled by the sink. Aunt Liz had left to get cleaned up for work, and Aunt Renee was off taking care of some business for Papa.

"Oh, stop your worrying," Trixie replied, reaching for the scrubber net. "Hallie said there's only one way in and out, Hon. All we have to do is stick to the road. Besides, she drew us a map with all kinds of crazy landmarks."

Miss Wheeler wasn't comforted and was going for a fresh dishtowel when the girls heard a loud commotion that sounded like it was coming from the boathouse. "Oh, dear, I wonder what's wrong now?" Honey said. Mr. LeBlanc and his anglers had yet to leave.

"There's only one way to find out," Trixie returned, leaving the silverware in the sink to soak. "Last one there is a rotten egg!"

But Honey begged off. "You go on ahead. I'll finish the dishes," she said. "The sooner we're done, the sooner we can go to Aunt Izzy's, Trixie."

Trixie hesitated. "Are you sure you don't mind?" she asked, feeling guilty about leaving her friend with the work.

Honey smiled. "I'd rather have dishpan hands than broken eardrums from listening to Papa's bellowing," she replied honestly.

And Trixie laughed. She and Honey were different in so many ways – so many good ways.

Sliding to a stop in the wet gravel by the bait shack, Trixie was shocked to find the shed's door splintered and dangling by its hinges. Something had ransacked the small building and devoured a good portion of the hunters' bait meat! Miss Belden was greeted with a horrible mess!

"That's right, Clete," Uncle Sam was saying into his cell phone as he paced out front. "A bear. We're assuming it happened sometime last night. There's no sign of the critter now. But it got into our deep freezer earlier this week."

A few yards off, Uncle Zach was on his own phone. "Yeah, yeah," he told the person he was speaking with. "Sam's on the phone with the Lieutenant as we speak. But Pa insisted that I call, Maurice."

Inside the shack, Trixie could hear Mr. LeBlanc Senior barking orders. Jim and Dan were attempting to repair the door under the fuming man's direction. And Max and Mart were dividing what was left of the decomposing chicken and beef between the crew's buckets. Meanwhile, Hallie, Cap, and Beau had gone to finish loading the boats under Ben's overseeing eye.

"It figures that furry beast would like our bait the best!" Trixie heard her brother tell his captain as she slipped past Jim and Dan to survey the crime scene.

Only Papa LeBlanc put a quick stop to Trixie's investigation. Tossing the young lady a couple of empty buckets, he instructed the stymied girl to run to the freezer to fetch some bait meat. Uncles Zach and Sam had moved Papa's "ice box" into the boathouse. "Hopefully, the stuff will thaw out enough to get us through the day," he told the young lady with a grumble.

After filling the plastic totes up to the rim with rock-hard poultry parts and beef discards, Trixie was on her way back to the tool shed when Beau caught up with her.

"Here, let me take those," he said, grabbing the heavy buckets from the struggling girl. "You've got no business carrying them with your hand like that, Goldilocks. You should have told Pops to get someone else to do it."

Trixie smiled and thanked the burly boy. She'd been meaning to talk to him but had been putting it off. "About what happened in the kitchen the other day…" she began awkwardly.

Beau stopped the young lady before she went any further. "No need to go on, Goldie," he said. "I got your message. I was out of place."

"Maybe a little," Trixie admitted with a giggle. "But I shouldn't have been leading you on, Beau. Somehow, I got it into my thick skull that you like girls who play hard to get. I thought maybe if I threw myself at you, you'd lose interest."

Beau chuckled. "Until you came along, I didn't know there was such a thing, Goldie," he confessed. "I was wondering why you'd been acting so hot and cold."

Trixie sighed; at least the Cajun Casanova hadn't called her wishy-washy. "Yeah, well, I'm sorry about that," she said.

Beau was quiet for a moment, then admitted that he was sorry too. "I think it's safe to say I didn't lose interest," he added in his own defense, giving the young lady a wink. "You're one of a kind, Goldilocks. So don't be surprised if you find me standing on your doorstep someday. They got alligators up there in New York where you live?"

Trixie laughed. "Only in the sewers," she teased.

The Louisiana boy laughed, too. "Sounds like fun," he countered.

But then Miss Belden grew serious. "Beau," she said. "How do you feel about Hallie? She's crazy about you, you know."

The young man paused in mid-step and looked uncomfortable. "Sugar-Pops is a good kid," he began slowly. "And I like her a lot, Goldie. But I get the feeling she's in a hurry to get somewhere I'm not ready to go. When the time comes, I want to be sure I'm with the right girl. I've seen too many guys rush in only to regret it down the line.

Who knows? Maybe someday, I'll wake up and decide your cousin is the one for me. But until then, I just want to have fun and explore my options. I've got my future to consider, Goldilocks. I don't want to blow it."

Trixie gulped. She hadn't been giving Beau enough credit. Still, the young lady couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for Hallie. "I guess sometimes the heart doesn't get what the heart wants," she mused aloud.

And Beau looked sad as he glanced in Miss Belden's blue eyes. "You've got that right, Goldie," he said.

Later that day, after Trixie and Honey had prepared Sunday's bait buckets, the two detectives thoroughly searched the tool shed. The determined girls were hoping to discover not only what had broken in but also something that might lead them to the person who'd been disrupting Bayou Chevrette's alligator season.

The claw marks on the door indicated that the intruder wasn't human. However, it was unclear whether the animal had been a bear, as Hallie's uncles believed. The young ladies found no tufts of hair, and the recent rains had washed away all footprints—if there'd been any to begin with.

So, at another dead-end, Trixie and Honey started off for Miss Izabella's house, hoping they'd have better luck there.

The bike ride was disconcerting—even for Trixie. Deep murky water and wooded swampland flanked both sides of the road, and Miss Belden wasn't sure how the gravel throughway even existed. It was almost as if the young ladies were peddling on a magic land bridge. The feeling was claustrophobic and admittedly a tad frightening, as there was no way to go but forward or back, and in places, the passage was nearly washed out.

It was also proving to be a long ride, and adding to the tenseness, every time something went dah-loop in the water or a hidden creature stirred the vegetation, Honey would peddle faster. It got to the point where Trixie was having difficulty keeping up with her longer-legged friend. She was finally forced to ask Honey to slow down.

"Gleeps, Hon, this isn't a race," the sweating girl panted. "Hold up a sec. I want to check the map. We've got to be getting close. See that abandoned Model T over there? Hallie says it was once owned by a moonshiner. Aunt Lizzy is said to live in his camp. Rumor is, the cabin is haunted by his ghost."

Honey shivered. She suddenly wasn't in such a hurry to reach their destination. "Honestly, Trixie, why don't we just turn back?" she declared, coming to a stop. "The only thing we're going to find is more creepy crawlers in a place like this. Going to the alligator park would be much more fun."

Trixie climbed off her bike. "Honey Wheeler, shame on you," she said, kicking down her kickstand. "We didn't come here for fun. We came to help Papa LeBlanc. Now pipe down and follow me. We'll have to hoof from here. There's a small clearing ahead. And if I'm not mistaken, that's Mrs. Robert's car parked up in front of us."

"Oh, Trixie, you're so right!" Honey gasped. "I didn't notice the car. It blends right in with the overgrowth."

Miss Belden nodded. "Let's hope we do, too," she whispered back. "I find it pretty suspicious that Mrs. Robert is visiting Miss Izabella. I don't want the ladies to see us."

Hunching low, Trixie and Honey then skirted the edge of the road until they spotted the house – if it could be called a house. The old shack, which rose from a crumbling cinder-block foundation, was as rotted and rusty as the vast collection of junk surrounding it. Hallie had warned Trixie that her Aunt Izzy was a packrat and not much into maintenance. But Miss Belden hadn't been expecting this. One thing was for sure, the home certainly wasn't made out of anything as inviting as gingerbread.

"Holy cow, Honey!" she hissed. "We'll never find anything in all this mess but snakes and spiders."

Miss Wheeler rolled her eyes. "Isn't that what I was just saying?" she returned softly. "Really, Trixie, can we go now?"

But then girls heard female laughter coming from the rear of the home, and Miss Belden began creeping that way. Locating a good hiding place behind the propane tank, she motioned for her more timid friend to join her.

As Honey did, she emitted a gasp of surprise. On a brick patio with weeds sprouting from it sat three older women in faded webbed lawn chairs. Miss Wheeler quickly recognized two of the women. One was Mrs. Robert, and the other was Aunt Izzy. But the third lady, smoking a cigarette and wearing bright pink lipstick, took her a moment longer to identify. "Who's that?" she asked Trixie.

"Take a guess," Miss Belden returned with a smirk. "Don't those blackberry eyes and huge clodhoppers look kind of familiar?"

It was all Honey could do to keep from laughing. "Why, it's got to be Hallie's grandmother, Ms. Nadine!" she said. "But what's she doing here, Trixie? Isn't she supposed to live in Florida?"

"That's what people keep telling us," Trixie replied under her breath. "I'm willing to bet the former Mrs. LeBlanc is here to help her friends make a shambles out of Papa's hunting season, Honey. I think we've finally tracked down our smoking bear."

Miss Wheeler was about to agree when the three ladies again laughed gaily. "They seem to be having quite a party," she observed with amusement. Ms. Nadine was drinking a salt-ringed margarita while Aunt Izzy swigged a bottle of beer. Sweet Mrs. Robert had opted for what looked like tea, and she'd take a little sip every now and then.

"I'm guessing the ladies have some interesting musical entertainment planned for later, too," Trixie returned, noting the tom-tom drum sitting on the patio table. "It must have been Ms. Nadine I heard playing the other night, Honey. Didn't Aunt Liz tell us Hallie's grandmother is a Native American shaman of some kind?"

Honey mouthed a letter "o". "I'd forgotten all about that!" she admitted. "Do you think Ms. Nadine was calling on the spirits of swamps?"

"Could be," Trixie admitted, scratching at a new bug bite. "But enough talk. Let's listen. Maybe we'll learn something."

Little did the sneaky sleuths know, but they were about to learn more than they'd ever believe. In fact, Trixie made Honey pinch her to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

As Miss Izzy got up to fetch another beer out of an ice-filled galvanized tub, Mrs. Robert reached for her thermos.

"It's been a long time since we've had a good giggle and gab," Hallie's Aunt told Nadine.

"Far too long," Mrs. Roberts chimed, topping off her tea. "We must get together more often, dear."

Trixie and Honey stared at one another. Giggle and gab? This was getting creepy. It was almost as if the girls were spying on disturbingly twisted versions of their and Hallie's older selves.

"Yes, yes, I do agree," the former Mrs. LeBlanc said. But next time, let's do it under more pleasant circumstances. I'm getting much too old for this kind of thing, you know. "

"I'm just glad you were able to get here so quickly," Della replied, her eyes doubling underneath her glasses. "Renee was in a terrible state. Why there was nothing Elizabeth and I could do to calm her down, Nadine."

"Save dopin' her up on ginger tea like the rest of the parish," Aunt Izzy scoffed. "Honestly, Del, there isn't another blossom of chamomile to be found in these parts. And may I add, I'm gettin' mighty tired of pickin' it."

Mrs. Roberts harrumphed, "You know as well as I do that my tea is perfectly harmless, Izabella. All it does is help one relax so God can work his miracles. Renee's been a nervous wreck what with the way Lucas feels about Harold. And I must say, in her shoes, I'd be worried about my husband, too. I seem to recall brewing you a cup or two when your professor friend went missing."

Aunt Izzy grumbled. "If Nadine hadn't gone off and deserted us, I wouldn't have needed that awful stuff, Della. If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times. That tea of yours tastes like horse p…"

"Now, girls," Nadine interrupted, patting an offended Mrs. Robert's hand. "Must we bicker? I didn't desert you, Izzy. I'm never more than a phone call away, and I'm here now, aren't I? The important thing is that we have things under control. The last time Renee saw her father in this state, she was eighteen and ran away to join the Peace Corps."

"That's where she met that nice Belden boy, isn't it?" Mrs. Robert said, tugging the hem of her dress over her knees as the sun disappeared behind a heavy cloud. "Count your blessings that she didn't end up with Bernard, Nadine. Poor little Josette had no idea what she was getting herself into when she married that man. And by then, it was too late."

Izzy snorted, nearly drawing her bubbly brew up her nose. "I wouldn't call Bernie a man," she scoffed. "But I do agree Josette deserves better, Del. We all know the only reason she hasn't divorced Bernie is because they have a son together. You can't take a boy like that away from the swamp or his father. He's got the blood of the wolf in him, he does."

Honey grabbed Trixie's arm and the girls shared a silent exchange. Had the two startled sleuths accidentally discovered why girls were so attracted to Beau? Had Bernie been under the spell of the Rougarou when his son had been conceived?

Ms. Nadine took a thoughtful lick of the salt from her glass. "No, you certainly can't," she said, leaving the young ladies' questions hanging. "But perhaps when the boy is old enough to be on his own, Josette will leave Bernie and settle down with Officer Hebert. This is just between us, but Lizzie thinks Joe's been seeing him."

That's when Aunt Izabella burped, and Trixie had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing out loud. Papa and his sister were a lot alike. "I don't know how much better it'd be for Josie," Hallie's aunt replied. "Not with Clete's sister being one of them. Camille's bound to make that woman's life miserable – especially since Bernie's her puppet. We wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for Camille."

Mrs. Robert fluffed her hair as the rising humidity was making it droop. "Now, Izzy," she said. "We don't know for sure that Bernard's the one who tipped Shelly off that Lucas planned to be out that night. Besides, haven't you been telling us this is all due to your brother having angered the swamp spirits? Make up your mind, dear. You're so wishy-washy at times."

As Honey quietly giggled, Trixie bristled and gave her a sharp elbow.

The curly-haired woman with the gold-capped tooth bristled too but for other reasons. "Of course, this is Lucas's fault," she grumbled. "His, and all the other gator hunters in these parts fault, that is. I tried to tell 'em Deloris was just a warning. But did those hard-headed fools listen? No. And that's why we've got a blasted hurricane headed this way. I just meant Camille should have known better than to get mixed up in the boy's game of tag, Della."

Nadine snorted and kicked off her flip-flops. "Izabella LeBlanc, have you had too much to drink? Must I remind you it's not just a boys' game? You forget Shelly and Max have been playing, too. At least Maxine doesn't plan to bring a new brood of them into this world. When Benny tagged her? That put an end to that."

Mrs. Roberts sighed and took a sip of tea. "Such a shame, too," she said. "And all because of a silly feud that never would have started if Jean-Paul Benoit hadn't broken lent seven years in a row. I think it's far time the hard feelings came to an end."

The Sleepyside girls were having trouble making heads or tails out of the ladies' conversation. But what they'd been able to follow was alarming and incredibly unbelievable. Trixie wished the wacky women would hurry up and mention something about cutting alligator lines. She and Honey were ready to be on their way.

"You'll get no argument from me there, Del," she heard Papa's sister remark. "If I were those Foret boys, I'd be shakin' in my boots. I'm concerned Lucas may try somethin' with the storm comin'. He told me he's plannin' to stay at the resort and ride out the hurricane – but there was a crafty grin on that fox's face when he said it. I offered to let him camp out here since I'll be goin' to Boca Raton with you, Nadine. But Luke flat out refused."

"Yes, well, as long as he doesn't plan on coming with us, I don't care what that stubborn old fool does," Hallie's grandmother scoffed after taking a drag on her cigarette. "I'm tired of babysitting that man. Forty years was more than enough. Why, when Zach told me he'd wanted to get his father into the Shady Rest? I told that boy over my dead body!"

"Oh, Nadine, you don't mean that," Mrs. Robert replied, cooling herself with a paper fan she'd pulled from her purse. "You can't tell me you don't miss Lucas. Besides, what's the man to do? He can't keep staying in that leaky cottage with the tree on its roof. With the Hurricane coming, it's much too dangerous. Besides, there's not enough meat in the freezer nor chickens in the hen house to see him through if we just leave him here. Why Lord have mercy, there's no telling what he might do. A man in his condition has no control or recollection of his actions."

That's when Nadine waved Mrs. Roberts off. "Oh, Della, if worse comes to worse, Lucas will just flee to the swamp and make do like all of the other animals do. You and Izzy are just a pair of worry warts."

As Miss Izabella unexpectedly rose from her chair and went into the house, Trixie and Honey had to crouch lower to avoid being seen. When the stout woman returned, she was carrying a box of cheese-flavored snack crackers. "Anyone feel like some munchies?" Miss Izzy asked her tipsy companions.

Taking a handful of the pillow-like crackers, Papa's sister then passed the box to Della, saying, "Maurice told me I was frettin' for nuthin' too, Nadine. He said if Lucas refuses to evacuate, he'll just arrest him and lock him up someplace safe. Maurice is such a wonderful man."

This time, Honey giggled right out loud, but it was covered up by Mrs. Robert's giggle and the former Mrs. LeBlanc's chuckle.

"Oh, my yes, simply the most wonderfully wonderful," Mrs. Roberts teased, crunching on a cracker.

Nadine reached for the snack box. "Only the most wonderful in the whole world," she agreed, cracking a grin.

Aunt Izzy blushed and told her friends to hush up. But neither lady did.

"You really should tell the sheriff how you feel about him, Iz," Hallie's grandmother said. "Everybody knows you've been Maurice's best girl since high school. Don't you think it's about time you admit it? One of these days, it is going to be too late."

Mrs. Robert concurred. We aren't getting any younger, dear," she said. "If you're not careful, Maurice will go off with another bird watcher, Izzy. Camille's in your group, and she does wear sinfully short short-shorts for a woman her age. I'm sure the Sheriff must have noticed, Izabella. All the men do -even my Robert."

Miss Izzy gulped down the last of her beer and added the bottle to the growing collection at her feet. "But Del, I can't," the older woman nearly whined. "What if I do, and he runs the other way? Maurice hasn't told me how he feels."

Miss LeBlanc's final confession was much too much for Honey, and she had to cover her mouth with both hands to keep from making a sound. Trixie, meanwhile, was ready to strangle her amused friend. And Miss Belden might have if the former Mrs. LeBlanc hadn't saved the day by asking Izzy if Sheriff Theriot had had any luck catching the gator poacher.

As Trixie and Honey listened up, Miss Izzy replied, "No." "Burns my tochus too," the heated woman added, brushing orange crumbs from her crinkly camp shirt. "The only thing worse than a blasted gator hunter is a gator poacher, if you ask me."

Mrs. Robert nodded and took a sip of tea. "Indeed so, Izzy," she said. "It breaks a mother's heart to think of her helpless little babies stolen from the bayou's bosom. At first, Robert thought Lucas might be the one doing it - that was the rumor around town, you know. The poor man is, well…" The polite woman stopped and made a twirling motion with her finger at the side of her head.

That's when Aunt Izzy snorted. "Bonkers," Papa's sister finished unapologetically for her friend. "It's no secret Luke's a few sandwiches shy of a picnic, Del. Folks have been sayin' he's a Rougarou too, don't forget."

Nadine rolled her eyes. "And we all know how ridiculous that idea is, don't we girls?" she chuckled, causing her female companions to giggle and grin.

But as Mother Nature rumbled her own amusement and the spirits of the swamp began sprinkling the ladies with their tears of laughter, the three unlikeliest of friends took their party to the house.