Page 43 of Gerard

“Gotcha. I’ll be right back.” The woman spun, and her long black hair, encased in a hairnet, bobbed as she hurried toward a coffee pot behind the counter.

Gerard had been to the diner on several occasions and had seen Mimi each time, usually through the order window, as she did most of the cooking and left waiting tables to others.

She couldn’t be any older than Gerard and was pretty, even when wearing one of those weird chef’s hats and a hairnet. He’d heard she’d been a high-powered chef in New Orleans at one point and had given it all up to move to Bayou Mambaloa and take over her aunt’s diner, her aunt being the original Tante Mimi.

Rumor had it that the second iteration of Mimi’s had suffered a big breakup with a restaurant owner and had tucked her tail and run.

As far as Gerard was concerned, it was New Orleans’ loss and Bayou Mambaloa’s gain. Everything Mimi prepared was amazing, even simple scrambled eggs and toast.

The diner door opened. Deputy Taylor and Sheriff Bergeron entered and came straight to their table.

Mimi showed up a moment later, carrying a tray with a pot of coffee and four mugs. She set the mugs in front of each of her guests, poured the coffee and left them to talk.

Sheriff Bergeron leaned forward. “Deputy Taylor said you needed to talk to me. Something about your dog?”

Bernie opened her mouth, but her eyes filled with tears, and she turned to Gerard. “Tell him,”

Gerard filled the sheriff in on all that had transpired through the night and what they’d found that morning. He left out the part about making love to his client. That was strictly on a need-to-know basis. Nobody but him and Bernie needed to know about that.

“I’ll get out there after this meeting and look around,” Deputy Taylor said.

“Have you had any more contact with the resort broker?” the sheriff asked.

Bernie shook her head. “Not over the last week. I’ve had a few real estate agents leave messages, wanting to know if I was willing to sell the property. I don’t respond.”

“Can you send me the numbers for them?” Sheriff Bergeron asked.

“Sorry,” Bernie grimaced. “I deleted them.”

Gerard pushed back from the table. “I’ll be right back. I need to report to my boss. He’ll want to know what’s going on.” He touched Bernie’s arm. “Will you be okay?”

She nodded.

He stepped out the front door of the diner and called Remy.

Remy answered on the first ring. “Gerard, give me a situation report. Shelby said there was another attack at the farm. Something about a dog?”

Gerard told him what had happened. “Whoever is doing this is getting more brazen,” he said.

“We need surveillance,” Remy said.

“I was thinking cameras placed strategically would help us identify the culprit,” Gerard suggested. “Maybe a game camera on the pigpen since there wouldn’t be any electricity to tap into. The sooner, the better.”

“I’ll see what I can do to have cameras installed today.”

“Thanks,” Gerard said. “Also, it would be great if the guys could get out there ASAP to help with the cleanup and see if there’s anything to salvage after the sheriff’s department checks it out.”

“I can make that happen,” Remy assured him. “They were due out there at noon anyway. We’ll move up the timeline.”

“Remy, have you heard anything from Swede about the resort wanting to purchase Bellamy Acres? Or about the company trying to broker the deal?”

“Not much more than we already knew,” Remy said. “When I spoke with Swede last night, he was digging into the men working the deal. He hoped to have more information later today.”

“What about the foot? I don’t see how it relates to the attempts to purchase the property unless they hope to scare Bernie into selling.”

“Maybe poisoning her dog is supposed to drive home their death threat,” Remy suggested.

“Nothing makes sense,” Gerard said. “We need to catch whoever is messing with her. Preferably before they follow through on their threat.”

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