This short tale combines my love for a good ghost story and my desire to see cheaters get their due. Wasn't sure if it was loving wives or erotic horror, but it's more quirky than scary.
I've tried to tie in some local color into the conversations, but I'm not from this part of the country so, who knows... As always, any fictitious sex in this fictitious story is between fictitious consenting adults.
"Normal is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly." Charles Addams
It was almost midnight at a hairpin turn on a remote section of highway 57 in south Louisiana. The full moon pierced the leafless trees of late November, illuminating the grizzly scene. A lonely breeze was blowing, making the humid night air seem much colder than the fifty-degree temperature. Somewhere in the distance a great horned owl's screech pierced the night.
At that moment the incessant flashing of eight emergency vehicles at the site of the crash was giving first year Sherriff's Deputy Ewell Guillory quite a headache. The combination of two firetrucks, one search and rescue truck, two ambulances and three police cruisers seemed to be a bit overkill for a one car accident on this desolate area of Highway 57 just south of Dulac, Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana.
To the untrained eye, it appeared to be a classic case of a driver going too fast down an old country road known for hairpin turns and plenty of wildlife crossing back and forth in search of food in the bayou. But as a rookie Deputy Guillory, didn't know what he didn't know. He was about to get an education.
A final lone unmarked police cruiser pulled up to the crash site. There were no sirens blaring and no lights flashing as Terrebonne Parish Sheriff Landry Broussard exited his vehicle like a man headed to an appointment with his dentist. He knew what was waiting for him. He'd been here before and wasn't particularly happy to be back.
Wanting to make a good impression on the chief and overestimating his boss's patience for newbies, he strode confidently up to the sheriff. "Looks like a case of some idiot taking the curb too fast sheriff. Lost control and ended up in the swamp."
Broussard barely broke stride while speaking, "Who the fuck are you?" There were over 300 personnel in the department and the sheriff knew many, but not all his people.
"I'm sorry sir, I'm Deputy Guillory, I've only been with the department about six months."
Broussard continued walking, "Well Ti-Guillory, shut the fuck up, keep your eyes and ears open. Maybe you'll learn something, so you won't be a complete embarrassment to the department."
"Yes sir!"
The sheriff stopped at the edge of the road where the embankment met the pavement and looked down. Directly below him, overturned, lay what looked to be the charred remains of a late model Ford F-150. Landry pulled a Dunbarton Tobacco & Trust Stillwell Star Bayou No. 32, from his pocket, clipped the end and lit it with his torch cigar lighter. He causally blew a couple of smoke rings and then called down to the team below.
"Sha Jacquelin is that you down there?"
"Dammit Sheriff Broussard, of course it is me! Who else would work for you for such shit wages and always do an amazing job? And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Jackie, you Cajun hick!"
Landry loved two things about detective Jacky Fontenot. First, she was right, she always did great work. And secondly, she was one of his twelve nieces, who, truth be told, was his favorite. He could always rib her, and she'd just give it right back.
"Well Mon Amour, what do your keen instincts tell you?"
"Give me five more minutes sheriff, and I'll climb out of this cocodrie infested mud pit and give you a full briefing."
Sheriff Landry relaxed and waited patiently for Jackie to complete her first look at the mess below. He noticed a very nervous Deputy Guillory standing close by, having shut the fuck up, but also wanting to make a good impression on his boss.
"Relax Ewell, I remember you now. I used to run with your uncle Roch back in the day. Glad to see somebody from his family trying to amount to something." The deputy smiled and nodded but wisely continued to shut the fuck up.
Thirty-year-old Sheriff's Detective Jacquelin Fontenot finally ascended from the wreck. Had she not been covered head to toe in a combination of sweat and swamp mud, she would have been quiet striking. Her long dark hard was pulled up in a tight ponytail when fell neatly from the back of her TSD ball cap and her chocolate brown eyes were gleaming as she grinned broadly. It was clear she wanted to declare her findings and show her uncle she knew a thing or two. He never gave her the chance. She pulled off her filthy coveralls and began to speak when Broussard interrupted.
"Let me guess Cher. Assuming the remains are not too burned you have discovered two people, one man and one woman. Dead less than six hours. Both are in some state of undress, suggesting a sexual liaison. If you found any ID on them, they are not man and wife but the woman, is... sorry, was, married. How am I doing so far?"
"Not bad Bon rien, by all means, please continue!"
"The skid marks on the road indicate the truck was not moving at a high rate of speed and missed the turn but was pushed or forced off the road from where it was parked about forty yards back up the highway. The angle of the rubber left on the pavement suggests some attempt from the driver to apply the brakes and turn away, but he was unsuccessful."
He paused for a moment, enjoying his cigar and his detective's growing ire. Landry looked at her inquisitively, but she refused to give him the pleasure of a retort. He then continued.
