Deja Voodoo (A Cajun Magic Novel) (Entangled Suspense) by Elle James Page A

dinner at Mom’s house.”

Chapter Five
    Ed stepped into the marina shop just before five o’clock in the evening, hoping to catch Joe Thibodeaux before he called it a day.
    A white-haired man stood behind the counter, digging through a box of what looked like junk.
    “Mr. Thibodeaux?” he called out.
    “Ain’t no mister here,” the older man grumbled, and jerked his hand out of the box, a hook buried in his thumb. “Name’s Joe.”
    “Joe.” Ed closed the distance. “Need help getting that out?”
    “Got it.” Joe jerked the hook out and stuck the bleeding thumb into his mouth. “What can I do for ya?”
    “I need a fishing guide.”
    “ Mais now, maybe I can help you out.” Joe studied him. “What kind of fish are you hopin’ to catch?”
    Thinking back to his encounter with Theo Ledet, he answered, “Largemouth bass.”
    “Been bitin’ pretty good back in Bayou Black.” Joe rubbed his thumb on his jeans. “Wanna go with a group or solo?”
    Being in a group would advertise his inexperience. “Solo.”
    Joe set the box on the floor and straightened. “When you figurin’ on going out?”
    Ben had said something about the locals knowing the optimal times to fish, and Joe was supposed to be one of the best guides around. “I understand you’re the expert in these parts. What time is good for you?”
    “Anytime’s a good time for me. But if you wanna catch largemouth bass, the water levels will be right in the early morning or late at night. Gotcha some spinners or buzz bait?”
    He had no idea what the man was talking about, but didn’t want to let on. “Not yet. I have my pole but hoped to get bait here.” He glanced around the dingy interior of the marina. Racks of every kind of lure, hook, line, and bait stretched before him in a daunting array. “You’ve been fishing these bayous, Joe, I trust your knowledge. What works for you?” With a quick glance at the older man, he let go of the breath he’d been holding throughout the whole bait question.
    Joe led him down the aisle and picked out several spinners and buzz bait combinations. At least, that’s what he assumed they were. “These oughta work. And if you plan on catching flathead catfish while we’re out, you’ll want some of these.” He pulled a plastic container from the glass-front refrigerator on the side wall, opened it, and grabbed a couple of balls of something nasty-looking.
    The stench nearly knocked him to his knees. Eyes watering, he pulled his shirt up over his nose. “What the hell is that?”
    “Best stink bait in south Louisiana.” Joe’s leaned his nose over the container and sniffed. “My own recipe. Stinks like hell. Just the way catfish like it.”
    A recipe Ed had no intention of ever using. “I’ll stick to bass for now, thank you.”
    Joe shrugged. “Missing out on some good catfishing. Mozelle Reneau has a mighty fine recipe for fried catfish and okra. Might even get her to fix up a mess, if you get a hankerin’ while you’re here.”
    “Thanks, but I’m just here to fish.” He didn’t think he could ever eat catfish again, knowing what these people used for bait. “Bass fishing, if it’s all the same to you.”
    Joe sealed the lid on the stink bait container and placed it back in the refrigerator. “So when do you want to head out?”
    “How early is early morning?”
    “We’d leave at five. Gotta be here by four forty-five to stow your gear.”
    He was really wishing he’d been volunteered for any other job but this one about now. “Then I guess I’ll see you at four forty-five tomorrow morning.”
    When he walked out of the marina with his purchases, Joe strolled out with him, locking the door behind him. “Speaking of fried catfish…” The marina owner tipped his nose into the air.
    Ed did the same, and the scent of fried fish made his stomach turn over. Yuck.
    “That would be my dinner callin’ me,” Joe said.
    A four-door Ford Fusion pulled up to a house two doors down