“Dove’s blood? Where would I get dove’s blood?” Sylvie laughed then. “That’s not why I need a voodoo practitioner.”
“It’s not?” Tante Lulu said hesitantly.
“No. I need to have a voodoo curse removed.”
“Uh-oh.”
A pregnant silence followed.
“Tante Lulu?”
“I’m here, but I don’t like messin’ with no evil spirits, child. No, I don’t.”
“I suppose I could go over to the French Quarter in New Orleans. There are a couple of shops that claim to be run by voodoo priestesses.”
Tante Lulu made a tsk-ing sound. “Those quacks! They’re crooked enough to make ol’ Marie Laveau turn over in her grave, I reckon. Let me think on this a minute.” After a brief pause, she continued. “Let me ask you a question. Would this be between you and me? Private-like?”
“Absolutely.”
Tante Lulu sighed in resignation. “Meet me at Mildred’s Gun Shop on Highway 90 tonight at nine.”
Oh, Lordy!
“Dress in black.”
Oh, my God!
“It would help if you brought one of your chickens. Or two.”
Sylvie couldn’t help asking, “Why?”
“The ritual sacrifice.”
“Oh, my!” was her first thought, inadvertently spoken aloud. The second was, “Luc is going to kill us.”
“Guar-an-teed!”
Luc was sitting at the conference table in his Houma law office. Also attending the meeting were his personal attorney; Clovis Dupree; Clovis’s two partners; René three of his shrimp fishermen friends; Claudia; and five Cypress Oil attorneys from Dallas, Baton Rouge, and Washington, D.C., including Joe VanZandt.
There was also Dixie Breaux, Sylvie’s grandmother, a longtime federal lobbyist for various oil companies, including Cypress. She was a neatly coifed, white-haired lady who had to be at least seventy years old, despite her tight-skinned, perfectly toned complexion. The navy suit and white pearls she wore had probably cost as much as most people’s cars.
They’d been going at it for over two hours, Luc realized as he looked down at his watch. Nine
P.M.
By now everyone’s cards were on the table.
Cypress Oil contended they were pretty much going to whip his ass.
He contended the shrimp fishermen were pretty much going to whip their asses.
Needless to say, they were at a stalemate. Time to pull out his trump card.
“Gentlemen…and ladies,” he said, nodding to Dixie and Claudia, “unless we come to some settlement within the next half hour, I’m going to have to call a press conference.”
“Why? To give a running account of your love-
potion activities?” VanZandt sneered. “There are some men who need a boost in that department and some who don’t.”
All the Cypress people smirked at his not-so-veiled innuendo that Luc needed a boost in sexual energy.
He gritted his teeth and snapped, “Get a life, VanZandt.” To the others, he continued. “I think the press would be interested in knowing that there’s new research on the effect of oil pollutants, like the ones being discharged into the freshwater supply by Cypress Oil.”
“Oh, please, you’re going to start that cancer scare again,” Dixie said in her ultra-refined voice that implied she was better than the rest of mankind…or at least a nobody Cajun lawyer. “People just don’t buy it, Mr. LeDeux, or they are willing to take the risks. Oil feeds the local economy here. So, give up that argument.”
“Well, actually, I think cancer is serious business, but that’s not what I’m alluding to. No, actually, I’m talking about the fact that oil pollutants cause sperm counts to go down in fish.” He tapped his pen on the table for dramatic effect, then added, “I wonder if that means oil pollutants affect human male virility as well.”
He saw awareness bloom in Dixie’s intelligent eyes. She would know immediately what the public would do with this kind of threat. Close down Cypress Oil, that’s what.
VanZandt jumped to his feet. “You have no proof of that.”
“Don’t I?”
The other four Cypress lawyers chimed in as well:
“Do you have chemical data to back up that claim?”
“If the public isn’t scared by all the cancer propaganda, what makes you think this sperm-count business will matter one iota?”
“Who’s your research company?”
“You’re not using Sylvie Fontaine for your researcher, are you? Is that the connection between you two?”
“Wait a minute,” Dixie Breaux said. The authority in her voice caused everyone, including Luc, to defer to her. “No one is bringing my granddaughter into this discussion. Mr. LeDeux, if you have research material you’d like to show us, I think it would behoove Cypress Oil to listen.”
Thus chastened, the Cypress lackeys all sat down.
“Oh, and did I mention one other thing?” Luc tapped his head with a forefinger as if he were forgetful. “There is the issue of this Cypress Oil document.” With that, he passed a dozen copies of the papers Tee-John had pilfered around the table.
There were several subtle gasps as the lawyers began to read.
Just then, the phone in the outer office rang. “Would you excuse me for a moment?” Luc said.
It was perfect timing, really, Luc thought as he closed the conference room door, and picked up the telephone.
“Luc, is your meeting over yet?” Remy asked in a decidedly worried voice.
“Just about.”
“And?”
“Nothing settled, but looking good.”
“Uh, we have a wee bit of a problem.”
“Involving?”
“Sylvie and Tante Lulu.”
He inhaled too fast and went into a choking fit. When he regained his composure, he inquired, “Together?”
“Yep.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Can you meet me at Mildred’s Gun Shop, ASAP?”
“Mildred’s Gun Shop!” he shouted into the phone. “Remy, what’s going on?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Let’s just say this. Do the words voodoo, live chickens, a love potion, and two dingbat females riding a Harley mean anything to you?”
Luc pulled his jeep in front of Sylvie’s house and turned off the ignition. The motor, of course, continued to rumble till it came to a sputtering halt.
He hadn’t spoken since he’d hauled her and Tante Lulu out of a voodoo ritual ceremony in the swamp behind Mildred’s Gun Shop. Remy, who couldn’t stop laughing, had driven their aunt home, and René had been only too glad to take possession of the motorcycle.
Sitting in the passenger seat of the decrepit vehicle, Sylvie attempted to soothe his ruffled temper. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit?”
“Overreacting? Overreacting?” Both of his hands were clenched on the steering wheel, and his teeth were gritted. “Screaming at you might be overreacting, though I was sorely tempted. Putting you over my knee and paddling that heart-shaped butt of yours might be overreacting, though the thought is appealing. Stopping you from actually
drinking that chicken blood during the voodoo ritual might have been overreacting, but it would have served you right.” He turned and stared at her. “Babe, you haven’t seen overreacting
…yet
.”
Should she try to explain to Luc? Or was it a losing battle in his present mood?
“Listen, Luc, you and I might snicker over voodoo and pretend that it’s all just hocus-pocus, but we both know it can’t be dismissed so easily. Strange, unexplainable things happen when voodoo is involved.” She took a deep breath and tried to lighten his mood. “Luckily, they’d already finished the ritual to remove the curse before you got there. So, no more worries in that regard.”
He stared at her as if she’d flipped her lid. Maybe she had. “How could you?” he asked finally.
“How could I not?” she answered stubbornly. “I needed to have that voodoo curse removed, and that’s what I did.”
“With dead chickens?”
She shrugged. “Whatever it takes.”
“Why did you involve Tante Lulu?”
She ducked her face guiltily at that. “She was the only person I could think of who might know a voodoo person. Besides, you told me not to call you.”
“What kind of half-assed logic is that? I’m trying to protect you, Sylvie, and you’re making it damn hard. First, you release me from jail when I don’t want to be released. Then, you drag my aunt into some harebrained scheme that could endanger you both.”
She bristled. “You are the most ungrateful bastard! I’ve taken care of myself for most of my life, and somehow I’ve survived, harebrained as you seem to think I am.”
“Sylvie, I was in the middle of a meeting with the Cypress Oil lawyers when Remy called me. I do not need any more problems now.”
“Oh, really. And who else was at this meeting?”
He was surprised at her question, but detailed all the parties involved. “Why do you want to know?”
She was unable to keep the hurt from her voice. “Whv wasn’t I there, Luc?”
“Huh?”
“You heard me. You’ve gone to great lengths to get me to help you with the water and soil samples. I agreed to send the samples to a chemist friend of mine who specializes in oil pollutants. You made me promise to testify in court, if necessary.”
“And?”
“And now you exclude me, you jerk.”
“Don’t you turn this on me, Sylv. Why couldn’t you just stay put for a few days and let me handle things?”
“S-stay put?” she sputtered. “You mean, like a good little girl? You mean, like I’ve behaved all my life? You mean, like other people are more competent to do the job than me? Ooooh, I’d like to give you ‘stay put.’”
Luc’s eyes went wide at the vehemence of her response. “I just want you to be safe.”
She was so angry she was shaking. Jumping out of his Jeep, she stomped up to her house. At the last minute, she turned and told him, “All my life, I’ve done what’s safe. And I’ve been miserable. I thought you were different, Luc.” Her voice broke before she repeated, “I thought you were different.”
She had to give Luc credit. He did come after her, pleading, “Sylvie, be reasonable,” but she’d already slammed and locked the door in his face.
A week went by without Sylvie seeing or hearing from Luc, and her temper had cooled.
She wasn’t even upset with him for breaking off communication because she assumed he was either in the process of preparing for a court battle with Cypress Oil, or in the process of negotiating a pre-trial settlement. Besides, she had enough on her plate to worry about without being involved in the shrimpers’ fight. And despite her protests to the contrary, it was really rather sweet of Luc to be so protective of her.
The only niggling doubt in her mind regarded the love potion. Had it worn off yet? Did Luc still harbor feelings for her now? Did he want her anymore?
She’d gone in to work at Terrebonne Pharmaceuticals several days this week, although her relations with Charles were strained, to say the least. He’d demanded all her data on JBX, which she’d declined to turn over, for now. Further he’d insisted that she continue working on the love-potion enterprise, which she’d also declined to do. Sylvie needed some time to mull over the new insights she’d gained about her project; so, she’d buried herself in old birth-control and hormone-replacement work, which was always ongoing.
When she pulled up at a red light near the courthouse on her way home, she noticed Tee-John pushing a red bicycle with a flat rear tire along the sidewalk. He wore huge, baggy shorts and an oversized T-shirt, and on his feet, the pricey ath
letic shoes, the kind that cost several hundred dollars thanks to some celeb sports person’s endorsement.
Rolling down her window, she called out, “Hey, Tee-John, need a lift?”
He looked over at her sedan skeptically, then nodded. They should be able to fit the bike in the trunk and secure the lid with some bungee ropes.
That done, and with Tee-John belted in the passenger seat, she asked, “So what happened?”
“Stupid bike keeps losin’ air. Guess I need a new tire.”
“Where were you going?” She turned off on a side street that would take her to the outskirts of town and Valcour LeDeux’s house.
“I went to Luc’s place, but he wasn’t there. His secretary said he went to lunch with Claudia.”
Sylvie’s heart lurched with that ol’ blasted jealousy, but she immediately quelled it. Luc and Claudia had a business relationship…nothing more. She remembered how Claudia and Remy had looked at each other. She’d never intercepted similar looks between Claudia and Luc.
“Is everything okay with your dad? I mean, about your running away?”
“He chased me around the backyard with a switch a few times, but he couldn’t catch me. Mom slapped me around a bit, though. Says I embarrassed her with her friends.” He shrugged. “I’m grounded for a month.”
“Grounded?” Sylvie inquired with a lifted brow. “You don’t look grounded to me.”
He grinned at her. “Dad’s busy with lawyers all this week. And my mother went to Dallas, shoppin’. Neither one of ’em really cares.”
“Oh, Tee-John, I’m sure that’s not true.” She was turning up the winding half-circle drive to the mansion belonging to Valcour LeDeux. “Your father and mother love you very much.”
“Hah! He’s not even my real father,” the boy blurted out, then ducked his head sheepishly.
“Tee-John! What a thing to say!”
“Well, it’s true. Every time my dad and mom have a fight, he brings it up. Says my mom’s a tramp, and there ain’t never gonna be any weddin’ till she proves he’s my father. And she says he’s a two-timin’ bastard, and she ain’t never agreein’ to any DNA tests till he marries up with her.”
“Tee-John, you must have misunderstood.”
“Nah, I understand lots more than folks think I do. Fer instance, my dad has lots of girlfriends, and I think Mom’s been sleepin’ with the pool guy.”
Sylvie was appalled…that parents would fight like that within hearing range of a child, that Tee-John had to live with those kinds of paternity questions, that Valcour and Jolie had such low morals that they slept around the way they did.
“But you look just like…” Sylvie started to say, then stopped herself when a most uncomfortable thought occurred to her. Tee-John looked just like the other LeDeux brothers, she had been about to remark.