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fact.”
    In the act of reaching for the cord, Liana shook her head. “Would the girl be in shock if it were a man? Would she be rendered mute?”
    “You said there was a lot of blood.”
    “And you forget. Emmeline was not the first. There have been many. If a man was responsible, he would have given himself away.”
    Fargo wasn’t so sure. “What about this Remy?”
    “He has killed, yes. But as I told you, only outsiders. And only in fair fights. He doesn’t murder women and children.”
    “How can you be so sure?”
    “Trust me on this. Remy did not kill Emmeline or any of the others. You should talk to Namo. After she vanished, he refused to eat or sleep but spent every day out in his pirogue, searching.”
    A pirogue, as Fargo knew, was a Cajun canoe with a flat-bottomed hull, ideal for swamp use.
    “Namo says he got a glimpse of the monster. It was late and he was heading home when he saw it, far off. In the dark he could not see it well, but he swears it was the size of a covered wagon.”
    To say Fargo was skeptical was putting it mildly. “Nothing is that big. Not even a grizzly or a buffalo.”
    “Namo swears to it and I believe him. You must realize. We came from Acadia and made this swamp our home. We have lived here many years now, and we know the swamp well. There are things we have seen that no one else has. Things you would not believe were I to tell you.”
    “Ghost and goblins,” Fargo could not resist saying with a grin.
    “Call them what you will. But there are more things on this earth than many of us ever dream.”
    Fargo would rather not insult her but it would be a cold day in hell before he let himself become that gullible.
    Liana took a candle from behind the bar and lit the wick in the flame of the last lit lamp, then blew out the lamp. Holding the candle on high, she came over and took his hand. “Thank you for being so patient. I will try to make the wait worth your while.”
    “I can hardly wait.”
    “Might I ask why you wanted to know about Namo Heuse?”
    “He’s the one who sent for me. But he didn’t write why.”
    “Surely you can guess. He must want your help in finding the creature that killed poor Emmeline.” Liana glanced at him. “Who knows? Maybe you will discover that monsters and goblins are more real than you think.”

4
    The bedroom was every bit as comfortable as she claimed.
    The bed was twice the size of most and layered in thick quilts and blankets. Embroidered pillows were propped against a mahogany headboard. Overhead was a flowered canopy with pink fringe. A plush rug covered the floor, and a dresser and a table and chair were in opposite corners.
    Liana patted the top quilt. “This is my escape from the world. On Sundays I don’t get up until past noon.”
    “Too bad tomorrow isn’t Sunday,” Fargo said.
    “Few men ever see this room. Usually I indulge my dalliances elsewhere. You should be flattered.”
    Fargo moved up behind her and put his arm around her waist. “You said something about needing to relax.”
    Twisting her head, Liana smiled seductively. “What do you have in mind? You and your naughty thoughts.”
    “This,” Fargo said, grinding his member against her buttocks. Right away he grew hard again. Cupping a breast, he kissed her. Liana melted into him. For the longest while their mouths and their tongues were entwined.
    It was Liana who broke for breath. “Mmmm. You are a wonderful kisser. Magnifique .”
    “You’re not bad yourself.” Fargo turned her so she was facing him. He kissed her neck, her throat, her ear. He sucked on the lobe and she shivered. He rimmed the ear with the tip of his tongue and she uttered a low groan.
    “I am sensitive there.”
    Fargo took her hand and placed it on his manhood. “I’m sensitive here.”
    “I take the hint.” Liana commenced rubbing and cupping.
    Fargo could always tell women who made love a lot from women who were new to lovemaking by how they fondled him. The new ones