Cajun Magic 01 - Voodoo on the Bayou Read Online Free PDF Page A

driven-by-her-hormones teenager prone to mooning over attractive guys. Pushing loose tendrils of hair back from her damp forehead, she scanned the dock, looking for Mr. Joe Thibodeaux—hopefully a much older gentleman with less sex appeal than his nephew.
    Darkness had cloaked the landscape and the water was even murkier and more menacing now than in the daylight. A boardwalk ran approximately fifty yards to either side of the bait shop with short piers jutting out at thirty-foot intervals to allow boats to pull alongside for refueling or overnight docking.
    Lights dotted every other pier, providing a safe port for returning fisherman. At the end of the long boardwalk stood a grizzled old man in baggy tan shorts and a tattered T-shirt. He was deep in conversation with another equally aged man sitting in a fishing boat.
    Anxious to get settled in the cottage, Elaine focused on her goal, not the water. Thank goodness she couldn’t see through the boards to the swamp below.
    You can do it, one step at a time. Don’t look at the water to your right or left, just look to the next board in front of you . Thus schooling herself, she marched the length of the dock, slowing as she approached the men. She hung back far enough not to interrupt their conversation, but close enough for them to see her, and for her to overhear their words.
    “I don’t know what done it, Joe,” said the man in the boat. “But, I tell you there musta been twenty or so fish floatin’ belly-up.”
    “Now, Bernie, you sure you didn’t see any sign of city folks in their flashy boats?” Joe scratched his scraggly whiskers. He lowered his hand to pat the faded picture of a leaping fish displayed across his shirt. “Sometimes they fish all day just for the sake of catching. Then they dump all those dead fish before they leave.”
    Bernie shook his head. “I thought about that, but not a one of ‘em showed signs of having swallowed a hook. That’s when I found this.” He reached under the seat in front of him and pulled out a small alligator not much bigger than a baseball bat. Its body was already beginning to bloat and a milky film had formed over its eyes.
    Elaine’s heart sped up and she stepped forward. “May I see that?”
    Two startled heads turned in her direction.
    She inhaled the scent of decaying fish. Despite the rotting stench, she could barely contain her excitement. She held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Elaine Smith. Are you Mr. Joe Thibodeaux?”
    “That’s me.” Joe took her hand. “You that doctor from Tulane who called about the house for rent?”
    “I’m the one,” she responded with a smile.
    Joe frowned. “I thought you’d be older.”
    “Sorry to disappoint you. Is that going to make a difference?”
    “No. Your money spends the same.”
    Bernie tossed the dead alligator onto the wooden dock and climbed out of the boat. “What’s a pretty lady want with a dead ‘gator?”
    “I’m a scientist. I came to study the effects of pollution on the creatures that live in the swamp.” She pushed her glasses up her nose and squatted next to the alligator on the wooden planks. “Where did you find it?”
    “He found it in the swamp about five miles from here,” Joe said.
    Bernie frowned and stepped between Joe and Elaine, shooting a hard look over his shoulder at Joe. “I got a tongue. I can speak for myself.” He faced her and pulled his fishing hat from his head, displaying oily, white “hat hair” and a gap-toothed smile. “Like Joe said, I found that ‘gator and some dead fish in a lagoon about five miles from here. Durn shame, too. Used to be my favorite fishin’ hole.”
    Blood pounded through her veins. She put her hand on Bernie’s arm. “Would you take me there?”
    His face flushed red and he twisted the hat in his gnarled hands. “Now, I’d like nuttin’ more dan to take you dere, but my wife, Lola, would skint me alive if she found out I took a pretty young tang out to de swamp. She’d skint me