Wild Man's Curse (Wilds of the Bayou #1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

in Houma anymore. Her “hello” was more than a little hesitant.
    The caller, speaking in the heavy accent that sent an unexpected wave of homesickness across Ceelie’s chest, identified himself as a deputy with the Terrebonne Parish Sheriff’s Office. “We been tryin’ to reach Celestine Savoie, formerly of Houma.”
    Ceelie had shaken off her full first name along with the bayou mud, and the sound of it pulled her into a time warp. “I don’t go by Celestine anymore, but I guess that’s me.”
    “I got some news about one of your family members, Ms. Savoie, and I’m afraid it’s bad.”
    Ceelie shifted the phone to her left hand and rubbed her temple with her right. “Sorry, but you must have the wrong person after all. I don’t have any family left in Houma.”
    The deputy paused, and the rustle of papers sounded through the phone. “We have you down as being the great-niece of Eva Savoie, who lived out on Whiskey Bayou south of Montegut. Is that correct?”
    Tante Eva. The name brought back a rush of memories, good and bad, but mostly good. Ceelie had spent a lot of time with her great-aunt as a kid. “What do you mean lived ?”
    Past tense.
    Twenty minutes later, after a long series of questions and answers with the deputy, Ceelie’s mind spun with horrifying facts and half-remembered snatches of detail from visiting Whiskey Bayou throughout her childhood and early teens. He’d finally convinced her that she was, indeed, the old woman’s next of kin, although only after confirming the death dates of every other possible relative Ceelie could remember.
    “Other than the real old-timers, not many folks round here knew Miss Eva or knew anything about her other than some, uh, unusual stories.” The deputy sounded as if he found the whole conversation more awkward than Ceelie, which might not be possible.
    “You must not have been in the parish that long, or you’d know the unusual stories weren’t that far off base.” Ceelie’s voice held dry humor. “Anytime a boy came near me in school, the mean girls would tell him to be careful because I’d hex him the same way my Tante Eva the voodoo queen taught me. I knew she was a practitioner.”
    Throw the bones, ma petite fille . Let them tell you what’s to come. The bones, they never lie.
    The deputy cleared his throat and rustled more papers, pulling Ceelie out of her memories. He clearly had no answer for voodoo confessions. “You’ll need to contact Carreux Funeral Home up in Houma; once the autopsy is concluded, that’s where she’ll be taken. The parish can help with burial costs if you’re unable to afford them.”
    God, what did a funeral cost these days? “What happens with her cabin?”
    “I’m not really qualified to talk about that, Ms. Savoie. As her next of kin, you should be able to claim any possible inheritance, but you’ll need to talk to a succession attorney or the probate office.”
    Right. Because Ceelie was loaded with cash for lawyers as well as funerals and travel.
    She did have enough for a bus ticket, but . . . Wait. “Inheritance? I can’t imagine Eva had anything of value other than the cabin itself.”
    In fact, the deputy had told her the biggest mystery surrounding her great-aunt’s murder was what the killer could possibly have wanted. No one could figure it out. “Wouldn’t the killer have stolen anything worth stealing?”
    “Not really.” The deputy waited half a heartbeat before continuing. “He seemed to be looking for something specific. There was a small amount of cash left in the cabin.”
    Earlier, the man had said there were no clues as to the murderer’s identity. “You say ‘he’—that means you do have some information about who the killer might be?”
    “Ah . . .” The deputy’s voice grew muffled as he spoke to someone in the background, then returned. “We can fill you in when you get here. As for what your aunt had, I couldn’t really tell you that. There’s the cabin