Episode 9

“Hello, Quentin,” Savannah said, her voice dripping with ice.

“Miz Savannah.” Quentin dipped his head like an old southern gentleman. “Nice seeing you. Hope you’re having a lovely day.”

“Yeah right,” Savannah muttered so low only LaShaun heard her. Then in a normal voice said, “Why thank you, and the same to you.”

LaShaun turned to face Savannah, her back to Quentin. She grinned. “Speaking of being phony.”

“He’s a snake, but then he’s just your type,” Savannah said low even as she continued to smile.

LaShaun’s grin faded and she glanced at Quentin over her shoulder then back at Savannah. “Not anymore.”

“Then watch your back,” Savannah said quietly. She waved goodbye and went into her shop.

“Looking good. As always,” Quentin said, his gaze sliding down her body then back up to her face.

LaShaun faced him then walked closer to the Lexus. She noticed the gold band on the ring finger of his left hand. “Congratulations on your recent marriage.”

“How did you— ” “ Quentin chuckled. “I forgot. You’re the mysterious, supernatural LaShaun Rousselle. You know all.” His voice dropped to a melodramatic deep tone. Then he grinned at her.

In spite of the danger in that perfect rich boy smile LaShaun laughed with him. “Yeah, that could be it.”

“Or maybe you’ve just been keeping up with news about me. Because you care?” Quentin leaned a bit out of the window toward her.

“You still have a rich fantasy life I see,” LaShaun retorted and glanced away from his intent gaze.

“Always when I see you,” Quentin replied. He pursed his lips then relaxed against the seat back. “How’s Miss Odette? Better I hope.”

“Well as can be expected. Thanks.”

LaShaun realized they were the center of attention. Mr. Thibodeaux, the owner of an upholstery shop, moved a broom around on the sidewalk. His attention was on LaShaun and Quentin. Several other shop owners seemed to have discovered outdoor tasks that needed doing as well. Cars slowed, tongues wagged and eyebrows were raised.

“Hop in and let me take you for a ride,” Quentin said as he patted the soft leather passenger seat beside him.

“I can think of a whole list of reasons why that’s a bad idea.” LaShaun said. “You may have noticed we’re being watched. Your wife probably knows we’re talking already.”

“Our marriage is built on trust,” Quentin said. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Then she’s not too bright, or else she’s from out of town,” LaShaun said with a laugh.

“Both. Meredith is a sweet girl from a fine old family with deep roots in Vicksburg, Mississippi.” Quentin nodded.

“Well hush my mouth,” LaShaun quipped and put a hand over her heart like a southern belle. “Surely they have CNN in Vicksburg.”

“True, and they also read the financial reports.” Quentin nodded.

The Trosclair name and wealth still counted for a lot, especially with the old southern families. Besides, she knew very well that Quentin had enough bad boy charm to melt the polar ice caps. With all his assets LaShaun knew more than a few old southern families would be happy to believe in his innocence.

“Now don’t tell me you’re afraid of what people might think,” Quentin goaded.

“Like my reputation could get much worse around here,” LaShaun replied with sharp laugh.

“Exactly. So you don’t have anything to lose. Surely you’re not scared of me.” Quentin raised one dark eyebrow at her.

“Please.”

He put his sunglasses back on. “Then enter my chariot, dear lady.”

He got out of the Lexus, went around the front of the SUV and opened the passenger door. The old tug to have a wild adventure, to shock and to do what others would be too timid to try pushed her on. LaShaun accepted his very public challenge after only a moment of hesitation. She got in. Quentin leaned across her and fastened her seatbelt before LaShaun could stop him. His cologne, a blend of spice with citrus hit her. Then he walked around the SUV again wearing a smile. He got behind the wheel and shut the door.

“Now let’s go someplace a bit more private,” he said. The window to his left slid up as he pressed the controls. Soft pop music came from the speakers in the Lexus.

“Kinda late to be worried about being seen, don’t you think?” LaShaun looked around them. The Lexus seemed to glide over the road surface. Al eyes were on them as they cruised slowly down the length of Main Street.

“I don’t give a damn about them.” Quentin did not look at the townspeople as he drove.

“Spoken like a true Trosclair,” LaShaun said softly. “Mr. Claude would be proud.”

“My illustrious grandfather was never proud of me a day in his miserable life,” Quentin replied with a laugh.

“You’d better not say that around too many folks. That’s what Deputy Broussard would call motive.” LaShaun looked at him with interest.

“I’m not worried. Are you?” Quentin continued to watch the road ahead, a smirk on his handsome face. “I understand Broussard has made you his special project, a way for him to get elected sheriff.”

“Humph,” was LaShaun’s only reply.

Ten minutes later they had driven to a small café outside of town limits. Set on Bayou Rouge, it was filled with tourist soaking up the Louisiana ambiance. They were seated on the terrace with a view over the water moments later. The waitress took their orders for coffee and left.

“So you still enjoy great Colombian brew. Expensive tastes, as always.” Quentin looked at her over the top of his sunglasses.

“You think you know me so well, don’t you?” LaShaun waved a hand dismissing his assumption.

“A few years have passed, true. But, yes. I think I still know you.” Quentin pushed the sunglasses up on his nose. “You’re still ready to take on the world to get what you want.”

“But what I want has changed. A lot.” LaShaun took off her sunglasses long enough to look at him hard. Then she put them back on.

“We’ll see.”

He sat back when the waitress returned with their order. The young woman put two large colorful mugs on the table along with a small pitcher of cream. With a flashing smile and brief, “Enjoy” she was gone. LaShaun sipped the rich brew and waited. Quentin took his time pouring cream into his cup then slowly stirring the coffee. He tasted the hot liquid, added one packet of sugar then looked out over the water.

“Not much has changed around here. Aside from a few more tourist traps, more luxury homes I mean. But the people? The same.” Quentin shrugged.

“And what about you?”

“I’m older and wiser,” he quipped, and then laughed at his own joke.

“Just as arrogant, maybe more so since you beat a murder charge,” LaShaun replied with a grunt.

“See? You haven’t changed. Still bold as brass. Not many folks would have the balls to talk to me the way you do.” Quentin breathed deeply as he gazed at LaShaun across the round wrought iron table between them. “I always liked that about you.”

“Hmm.” LaShaun drank more coffee.

Quentin smiled and shook his head. “Yeah, that’s my LaShaun. I don’t impress you, not the least bit.”

“So you subjected me to public outrage and scrutiny to tell me that. How sweet.” LaShaun heaved a sigh to imply she was bored.

Quentin laughed out loud. “I missed you, girl and that’s the truth.”

“I’m not gonna lie and say it was mutual.”

“I didn’t expect you would,” Quentin shot back still smiling. Then he grew serious. “Is Lance Broussard bothering you? Just let me know and I’ll take care of it.”

“Like you have any pull with police. He’d like to lock you butt up right along with me.” LaShaun pointed a finger at Quentin’s aristocratic nose.

“Sheriff Triche may be retiring, but he’s still in charge.”

“You have Sheriff Triche in your pocket?” LaShaun gave him a skeptical frown.

“Not exactly. Triche has a soft spot for my grandmother. The poor woman has been through so much you know. Besides, Triche may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he’s a by the book guy. Broussard doesn’t have anything on you but vague suspicions.”

LaShaun started to drink more coffee but his words made her freeze. “How would you know?”

“Just rumors about him relying on improved forensic tests these days.” Quentin waved away that detail. “Doesn’t matter because he still has nothing.”

LaShaun thought back to the days after Claude Trosclair’s body had been found. The powerful man had been reduced to a stiff corpse floating face down in the swamp. Not the kind of dignified exit he would have preferred she was sure. Three weeks later they’d examined Quentin’s car. The Louisiana State Police lab had found hairs from Claude. But Quentin’s top criminal lawyer had poked holes in the case. The local DA dropped the charges because the evidence was so weak.

“Well, he has hope. The DA avoided the problem of double jeopardy with us both. Once Triche is out of office Broussard will have a free hand.”

Quentin snorted. “If he’s elected. He has a formidable opponent in Chad Gautreaux.”

“Don’t know him,” LaShaun replied.

“He’s a sharp young kid from Lake Charles. He’s got a lot more brains than Broussard, that’s for damn sure. He has a criminal justice degree.”

“So you’re chummy with this young deputy?” LaShaun began to get a clear picture. When Quentin gave her a smirk that sealed it.

“Like I said, don’t worry,” Quentin waved at the passing waitress. “Bring us refills, honey.”

“Yes, sir. Would y’all like to try our special muffin today? It’s sweet potato with pecans.”

“Not for me, but thanks,” LaShaun said quickly.

“Protecting that fine figure, huh?” Quentin eyed her then turned back to the waitress. “Give me two of those to go, and half a dozen banana nut muffins in a separate bag.”

“Yes, sir.” The waitress scurried off.

“Take Miz Odette a treat. You both love banana nut muffins. Yes, I remembered.” Quentin studied LaShaun intently and tapped a rhythm on the tabletop with his fingertips.

“The answer is no.” LaShaun leaned back and crossed her legs.

“I haven’t asked the question yet,” Quentin protested with the hint of smile tugging at his thin mouth.

“Yes, you have. You’ve been asking it since you invited me to take a ride,” she tossed back at him.

“And you said yes,” he pointed out.

She started to respond then closed her mouth. Because he was right. Here she sat firmly getting herself into trouble just being here. No doubt Deputy Broussard was salivating at the prospect to arresting them together. Although she wanted to toss back a smart aleck answer she couldn’t. With a confident smirk that LaShaun wanted to slap from his good-looking face, Quentin paid the bill. He played up the chivalry act, springing up to hold her chair. He gaily waved to the waitress and other staff as they left the café. They drove back to town in silence. Quentin hummed along with a U2 tune coming from the speakers.

“Unforgettable Fire is the name of that song. Reminds me of you,” Quentin said. He glanced at LaShaun.

As the Lexus pulled up to where her SUV was parked LaShaun heaved a dramatic sigh. “Well, this has been interesting, Quentin. Thanks for the ride and the muffins. This is our last goodbye.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Quentin did not smile from behind the sunglasses.

“Oh, I’m very sure. My curiosity is satisfied. I’m done.”

LaShaun opened the door and got out. She waved goodbye to him with a smile that held no amusement or good vibes. As she walked away from the Lexus her skin tingled with excitement at the lure of something forbidden. Her affair with Quentin had been an adrenaline rush times ten. He’d satisfied her need for breaking all the rules. Like an addict she’d never be completely free of the craving. But she had to kick that habit once and for all. Fast. Here. Now.

Quentin lowered the power window on the driver’s side. He flashed a wicked grin at her as he drove past. He called out, “Then you’d better ask your cousin Rita why you’ll be seeing more of me.”

“What?” LaShaun spun around with a gasp, but the Lexus picked up speed moving away from her. Quentin waved a hand before closing the car window and gunning the engine.