Chapter 8 Lies and Red-Herrings

It had been three months since the Houma Sheriff's Department had buried Deputy Pat Clement. The townspeople spoke highly of the deputy and "what a shame it was that such a nice young man had choked to death on a sandwich." Sheriff Renee wasn't a fool. He hadn't let all the facts leak out to the Houma Chronicle about the voodoo doll or even about the call that had taken them out to Devil's Bayou. He didn't believe in voodoo or its curses. He would find Pat's killer and see that he got his day in court.

So far, the investigation had gone nowhere. There had not been many leads and lots of gossip. Small towns had a way of getting information spread faster than any newspaper. It seems that Pat had gone to his local watering hole, 'The Crawfish Shack", gotten somewhat drunk and talked a blue Hurricane about the incident out at Devil's Bayou. A lot of the people in town were superstitious and it didn't take long for the rumors of Gris Gris (a curse) on the Sheriff and Pat to get back to Renee. The word was out that the Sheriff would be next.

"Deputy Pierre, would you come in here for a moment." Sheriff Renee called through his door to the front desk.

"Yes sir, I'll be right there. What can I do for you, sir?" Deputy Pierre came to the door of Sheriff Renee's office.

"Come on in. I need to ask you something. Take a seat. You were Pat's best friend. Did you know anything about him having an affair with a Houma native woman?"

"I...I...knew he had seen a woman that was married but wasn't sure who she was." Deputy Pierre replied.

"I got a letter today from someone telling me that Pat had been running around with a married native woman from up around Ouiski Bayou. The letter wasn't signed. Do you know anything about this?"

"No, No sir...only what I told you. I knew he had a woman stay at his place a few times and he had mentioned that she was married, but I never met her."

Sheriff Renee knew that most the Houmas tribesmen were a peaceful lot but one could never tell when it came to stealing a man's wife. Had Pat's girlfriend's husband found out and killed him? And if that was the case, what about all the other voodoo symbolism left at the scene of the crime? What did that mean? Sheriff Renee mulled all this over in his mind.

"Okay, that'll be all ,Deputy. If you find out anything, let me know. I think I'll take a drive up there today and snoop around a little. I won't be back today. If you need me just radio me."

"Okay, sir. I will." Deputy Pierre replied.

The drive to Ouiski Bayou wasn't a long one but it gave Renee time to think. He remembered hearing the old men in town talk about the Houmas Native Americans. After all, Houma was named after the natives that had settled here. The city of Houma had taken its name from a village called Chufuhuma or 'Red House' from the Houmas tribe. The tribe had gotten its start further north, near Baton Rouge (red sticks). The natives had used red sticks to mark their territory boundary markers thus when the French explorers trekked through Louisiana they found the name appropriate for the tribe. During the Colonial struggles the Houma tribes had relocated to Terrebonne Parish and ultimately migrated into the bayous much like the Acadians. The Houmas had lived harsh life fishing, trapping and living off the land. Even today in 1943 most of them still spoke pure French with only a few speaking the Cajun French of the Acadians.

It wasn't hard to locate the home of Mr. Raul Courteaux once he got to Ouiski Bayou. Most the people in these parts all knew each other. It was fortunate that Renee had towed his skiff since the Courteaux home was only accessible by boat.

This bayou house didn't look much different than the hundreds of others Renee had seen in these back swamps. It was built up on piers to keep the swamp water from flooding the house when the storms and hurricanes came with steps up to the front porch. Alligator hides and other game animal skins were stretched out and nailed to the side of an old sagging shed. Various traps and fishing nets hung from the rafters under the house. Two or three old dogs lazed in the grassless yard. The front yard had a huge cast iron pot in the center of the yard boiling what smelt like sugar cane.

Sheriff Renee yelled, "Anyone home?" then again in French, "est a la maison tous?"
A short dark figure appeared in the open doorway. It was a black haired man about five feet four inches with hair hanging loose down his back. He was holding a rifle pointed right at Renee and behind the short man stood a round faced dark haired woman. "Shah(go away), who are you? Yo are trespassing on my land," the short man called.

"Don' shoot, my name is Sheriff Renee Herbert. I'm sheriff of Houma in Terrebonne Parish. I just want to ask you some questions." Sheriff Renee backed up a step and held his hands up so the man could see he meant no harm.

"What kind of question yo need to axe me?" The man replied in broken English.

"There was a murder down in Houma about three months ago. Can you tell me where you might have been three months ago?"

"Are yo accusing me of a killin'?"

"No, I'm just trying to get some information."

"I tink dat prutty easy to answer. My wife can tell yo I were laid up with an infection from steppin' on a gator hook while I were out fishin'. I almost died. Laid up for about a month. Had to go to town to the doctor and everthang 'fore I git well."

"Okay Mr. Courteaux, I think that is all I need to ask you. Merci, thank you, for answering my questions. I'll be in touch with you if I have more." Sheriff Renee backed off the property and got into his skiff. On the way back to the road he thought "Well, I can check with the doctor to verify his story but I believe I've been sent out on a 'Red-herring'. Someone is having an awful lot of fun sending me out on these wild goose chases."

Later that afternoon Renee arrived back in Houma and drove home. He was tired. This thing with Pat's murder had weighed heavy on his mind the past three months and he wasn't any closer to solving the crime. Oh, he had followed every lead that he had but it seems like they all led to dead ends. He got a glass of lemonade out of the fridge and sat down on the veranda.

"Miss Maybelle, where is my wife?" Renee asked as their maid passed the open double glass doors leading out to the veranda.

"I don' know, sir. She left early dis morning all dressed up in her party dress." Maybelle replied.

"Okay, maybe she told me and I wasn't listening. I'm sure she'll call or be home soon. Thank you."

Renee sat out on the veranda until long past dark watching the bugs collide into the lights at the corner of the three foot brick wall that surrounded the veranda. "Where the hell is that woman." He said aloud. "Why hasn't she called me?" At midnight Renee looked down at his watch and then heard her car pulling up in the gravel driveway. Soon he heard the key in the front door and heard her stumbling into the foyer.

"Shhhhh got to be quiet." Evangeline whispered drunkenly to herself as she tiptoed through the large foyer.

"Where the HELL have you been?" Renee waited at the foot of the stairs.

"I...I...I've been OUT, if you really must know." Evangeline slurred.

Her clothes and hair were disheveled and Renee noticed the top button on the back of her dress was not fastened. "Who have you been out with?" Renee's voice beginning to rise.

"My friend Sally and I went to Baton Rouge and went shopping today." Evangeline said as she tried to push through Renee to get up the stairs.

"Shopping...shopping...there's no way you have been shopping all day and look the mess you are in!" Renee grabbed Evies hands as she pushed toward him.

"Well! You can believe whatever you want! I'm going to bed! Let me go!" Evie yelled and then began crying crocodile tears.

"I'm going to let you go. Evie, you know I don't believe in abusing any woman...but, I swear you had better not do this to me again." Renee said in a calmer voice.

"Or what? Oh, I'm so afraid. You're not going to tell me who, where, or when I can go out!" Evie spat out the words. "I'm going to bed...get out of my way."
Renee moved aside and Evie huffed drunkenly up the stairs swaying from side to side.

Renee balled his fists and hit the sides of his thighs. He had never been this angry at Evie before. He would sleep in the downstairs guest room tonight and tomorrow they would talk again when she was sober.