Fever Moon Read Online Free Page A

murder, not animal attack.” She had no desire to see this mess. She had mail to deliver.
    “We got someone who confessed to killing him. Says she’s the
loup-garou.”
    Joe wasn’t the kind of man who joked about swamp creatures. They were part of his background, like hers. A dense web of superstition connected the parish. It had come to the land with the Acadians and been mingled with the folklore of the Indian tribes and the Negroes. Such a rumor could start a panic.
    “I wouldn’t be talking any
loup-garou
if I were sheriff.” She lifted an eyebrow. “What with the war taking the boys and men, womenfolk don’t need another reason to be afraid.”
    Joe nodded. “Can’t help what Adele Hebert claims, though. She says she killed him. Looks like she tracked him through the woods while he was walking, jumped out, and tried to eat his liver.”
    Chula put a hand on the sheriff’s chest. “I’d stop that talk right here. I know Adele. Her brother is Clifton, the trapper. She’s no more the
loup-garou
than I am, and if you say that to the wrong person, it’ll be all over the parish in half a day and you’ll see what real trouble is.”
    He drew back and she saw she’d offended him. There were times, though, when Joe Como acted like the brains God gave him were insufficient. Chula Baker knew she was viewed as uppity and overly educated. She’d spent time in Lafayette and Shreveport, cities without respect for the values of the rural parishes. She’d gone to a teachers college where she’d discovered a love of learning and acquired the skills necessary to pass the postal department’s civil service test—an accomplishment that several men had failed. She’d learned to speak her mind from her mama, who at sixty-two was still feared for her sharp tongue and ability to cut a man in half and leave him bleeding in the dirt.
    “I thank you for your concern, Miss Chula.” Joe slid back from her.
    “I’m not tryin’ to run your business, Joe. I’m trying to keep a wild rumor from turning into some kind of vigilante lynch mob.” Her softer tone was more acceptable. “People are tired of doin’ without. Most every family has buried a son or brother or father. We’ve carved a living from land that would’ve killed a lesser people. These swamps’ve done their worst to us, but we didn’t leave. A tall tale about a werewolf on the loose could be the final straw here.”
    The sheriff took off his hat and wiped his forehead on the long sleeve of his tan shirt. When he looked at her some of the resentment was gone from his brown eyes. “You make a point,
cher.”
    “What does Doc Fletcher say?” While she’d stood in the road trying to talk some sense into Joe, the sun had climbed over the top of the trees. The morning was still chill, but it would be warm and sunny by afternoon. One of the most effective tools in vaporizing foolish ghost stories was a good strong sun.
    “Doc was over to a convention in Baton Rouge last night. He’ll examine the body when he gets back to the area.”
    She patted Joe’s arm. “Just tell folks you’re waiting to get Doc’s professional opinion. Tell ’em it’s a puzzle, but don’t let on like it’s anything supernatural.”
    She felt him begin to tense under her hand. She was stepping across that invisible line again. “I’d best tend to my business and let you handle yours.” She smiled innocently and was relieved to see him return it. “Come by for some whiskey. Clifton brought Mama a new bottle last week. She’d welcome your company for a drink.” She winked at him. “On the sly, of course.”
    “You got your mama’s bitter tongue,
cher
, but you got your daddy’s Irish blarney.” His brows drew down. “Good thing, too, or I’d have to predict spinsterhood.”
    She laughed out loud, a sound that bounced off the wall of trees that defined the edge of the mud road. “There are worse things, Joe. Believe it or not, there are worse things.”
    Her gaze