beignets.”
Aimee laughed. “Is that why you spend half your paycheck on Krispy Kremes?”
Gil tore off a piece of beignet and stuffed it into his smile, powdered sugar falling on his chin. “These are too messy for the squad car. I’d eat them every day if I could. Justine makes them on holidays, but that’s about it.”
“Judging by that roll hanging over your belt,” Jude said, “she’s doing you a favor.”
Gil wiped his mouth with the napkin. “We only go around once, Sheriff. Gotta grab a little gusto.”
“Oh, I see. You grab the gusto”—Jude winked at Aimee—“so Justine can grab those love handles.”
“Aw, come on.” Gil tried to look hurt, but his smiling eyes betrayed him. “I passed my physical agility test in spades. Surely you called this meeting for some reason, other than to harass me about my doughnut addiction?”
“Actually I did. I wanted to commend you two for the way you handled the investigation of illegal dumping. You got the local stations behind us and raised awareness. Thanks to your efforts we’re finally going to get the support we need to get this parish cleaned up. That’s no small feat.”
“I was just the mouthpiece.” Aimee’s twinkling blue eyes drew attention away from her dark roots, which seemed to beg for a touch-up. “It was Gil who rattled the chains out there and kept the pressure on.”
“Don’t forget it took the whole team to rummage through the garbage and figure out who’s doing the dumping,” Gil said. “Prosecuting those responsible and naming names will make people think twice before trashing the parish.”
Jude took a sip of coffee. “Mayor Blanchard is so encouraged by the progress that he called a meeting with the other mayors in Saint Catherine Parish. He wants us to show them what we did here. The governor got wind of it and is really impressed. I wouldn’t be surprised if all the parishes end up following our lead.”
Aimee smiled. “Makes all that hard work seem worthwhile.”
Gil took another bite of beignet. “I never considered that what we did would catch on.”
“I’m proud of the job you did,” Jude said. “I’m going to recommend you both for a Distinguished Service award and wouldn’t be surprised if—” His phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen. Why was Stone Castille calling his cell phone so early? “Excuse me. I’d better take this … Sheriff Prejean.”
“We’ve got a problem,” Stone said.
“I’m holding a breakfast meeting with Aimee and Gil. Can’t it wait?”
“No, sir. I’m looking at a dead body. And y’all need to see this one before I call it in. I don’t think you’ll want the media all over it.”
“Where are you?”
“At the old Vincent farm—just down the bayou from Langley Manor.”
“Nobody’s lived out there in years.”
“Nobody’s living here now. Trust me, sir. Y’all need to see this.”
Jude sighed. “We’ll be right there.”
Jude drove his squad car across a rickety wooden bridge and turned left at the faded mailbox marked Vincent onto a gravel road. He glanced in his rearview mirror at the cloud of white dust and the blazing red ball that hung in the eastern sky. He passed by a row of cypress trees draped with Spanish moss and spotted the stained roof of the dilapidated farmhouse about fifty yards ahead.
He slowed and pulled up behind Stone Castille’s squad car. He got out and stretched his lower back. The dawn air was warm and heavy and smelled like wet earth.
Half a minute later Aimee and Gil pulled in behind him, and the three of them trudged through the weeds toward the house.
Stone waved and met them half way. “That was quick. This way. Get ready for a jolt. You’re not going to believe who it is.”
Jude followed Stone through the high weeds toward a row of massive trees on the edge of the sugarcane fields. There it was.
Jude stopped, sickened at the sight of a Caucasian male, noose around his neck, hanging from a live oak. And
Aimee laughed. “Is that why you spend half your paycheck on Krispy Kremes?”
Gil tore off a piece of beignet and stuffed it into his smile, powdered sugar falling on his chin. “These are too messy for the squad car. I’d eat them every day if I could. Justine makes them on holidays, but that’s about it.”
“Judging by that roll hanging over your belt,” Jude said, “she’s doing you a favor.”
Gil wiped his mouth with the napkin. “We only go around once, Sheriff. Gotta grab a little gusto.”
“Oh, I see. You grab the gusto”—Jude winked at Aimee—“so Justine can grab those love handles.”
“Aw, come on.” Gil tried to look hurt, but his smiling eyes betrayed him. “I passed my physical agility test in spades. Surely you called this meeting for some reason, other than to harass me about my doughnut addiction?”
“Actually I did. I wanted to commend you two for the way you handled the investigation of illegal dumping. You got the local stations behind us and raised awareness. Thanks to your efforts we’re finally going to get the support we need to get this parish cleaned up. That’s no small feat.”
“I was just the mouthpiece.” Aimee’s twinkling blue eyes drew attention away from her dark roots, which seemed to beg for a touch-up. “It was Gil who rattled the chains out there and kept the pressure on.”
“Don’t forget it took the whole team to rummage through the garbage and figure out who’s doing the dumping,” Gil said. “Prosecuting those responsible and naming names will make people think twice before trashing the parish.”
Jude took a sip of coffee. “Mayor Blanchard is so encouraged by the progress that he called a meeting with the other mayors in Saint Catherine Parish. He wants us to show them what we did here. The governor got wind of it and is really impressed. I wouldn’t be surprised if all the parishes end up following our lead.”
Aimee smiled. “Makes all that hard work seem worthwhile.”
Gil took another bite of beignet. “I never considered that what we did would catch on.”
“I’m proud of the job you did,” Jude said. “I’m going to recommend you both for a Distinguished Service award and wouldn’t be surprised if—” His phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen. Why was Stone Castille calling his cell phone so early? “Excuse me. I’d better take this … Sheriff Prejean.”
“We’ve got a problem,” Stone said.
“I’m holding a breakfast meeting with Aimee and Gil. Can’t it wait?”
“No, sir. I’m looking at a dead body. And y’all need to see this one before I call it in. I don’t think you’ll want the media all over it.”
“Where are you?”
“At the old Vincent farm—just down the bayou from Langley Manor.”
“Nobody’s lived out there in years.”
“Nobody’s living here now. Trust me, sir. Y’all need to see this.”
Jude sighed. “We’ll be right there.”
Jude drove his squad car across a rickety wooden bridge and turned left at the faded mailbox marked Vincent onto a gravel road. He glanced in his rearview mirror at the cloud of white dust and the blazing red ball that hung in the eastern sky. He passed by a row of cypress trees draped with Spanish moss and spotted the stained roof of the dilapidated farmhouse about fifty yards ahead.
He slowed and pulled up behind Stone Castille’s squad car. He got out and stretched his lower back. The dawn air was warm and heavy and smelled like wet earth.
Half a minute later Aimee and Gil pulled in behind him, and the three of them trudged through the weeds toward the house.
Stone waved and met them half way. “That was quick. This way. Get ready for a jolt. You’re not going to believe who it is.”
Jude followed Stone through the high weeds toward a row of massive trees on the edge of the sugarcane fields. There it was.
Jude stopped, sickened at the sight of a Caucasian male, noose around his neck, hanging from a live oak. And
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