Tante Lulu calling someone wacky was like the alligator calling the water snake wet. But they were eccentric. And not just in their often unpredictable behavior. Like, right now, J.B. wore his old Special Forces camouflage fatigues; the only thing missing was an ammunition belt and rifle. Maddie wore an orange jumpsuit that either had a former life with an airplane mechanic or a prisoner. Probably a prisoner. They had both served time on occasions when their participation in peaceful protests had become not-so-peaceful. J.B. had been a well-decorated soldier, then came home to emerge as a soldier for domestic causes.
“Holy crawfish! Where do those two shop? Goodwill or Army Surplus?” Tante Lulu whispered to him.
But he had no time to comment on that or warn his great aunt to be nice. Not that she would ever deliberately hurt anyone… unless she perceived them to be a threat to her family. She did have a tendency to be blunt, though.
“Hey, Joe Bob. Hey, Maddie. Whatchya doin’ here?” Tante Lulu asked as they walked toward them.
Yep, blunt-is-us. He groaned inwardly but smiled. “J.B. Maddie. Good to see you again so soon.” Whatchya doin’ here?
They didn’t smile back.
Uh-oh! The serious expressions on their faces gave René pause. Something was up.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Now, René, don’t be gettin’ mad till you’ve heard us out,” Maddie urged.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on high alert. “Why would I get mad at you?” The last time he’d lost his temper with them was two years ago when they’d used their shrimp boat as a battering ram against a hundred thousand dollar sport fishing boat out on the Gulf. The sport fishermen’s crime: they’d been hauling up near-extinct species of native fish as bycatch, which meant they just tossed them back into the water, dead. It had taken all of his brother Luc’s legal expertise to extricate J.B. and Maddie from that mess.
“You got a lot of work done since we were here last week,” J.B. remarked, ignoring both his wife’s and René’s words. The idiot was obviously making polite conversation to cover the fact that he was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
I wonder why. “Forget the casual bullshit. What’s going on?” René insisted.
“Remember how you said one time that what we need out here in the bayou is some celebrity to get behind our cause? Like Dan Rather or Diane Sawyer? TV reporters or somethin’ who would spend a week or two here where they could see firsthand how the bayou is bein’ destroyed. Put us on the news or make a documentary exposing the corruption.” It was Maddie who put forth that fervent reminder. And, man oh man, he hated it when people quoted back to him stuff he didn’t recall saying.
“Yeah,” he said hesitantly. “So, did you bring Dan and Diane out here? Ha, ha, ha! Like that would ever happen!”
“Well, actually…” J.B. began.
René went stiff.
Tante Lulu whooped, “Hot diggity damn!”
It was then that René noticed how J.B. and Maddie kept casting surreptitious glances toward the plane.
“What’s this all about? What’s in the plane?”
“Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat! They musta brought Dan Rather here,” his great aunt said, slapping her knee with glee. “Great idea! I allus wanted to meet Dan Rather. Do ya think he’d give me an autograph?”
“It’s not Dan Rather,” Maddie said, her face flushing in the oddest way. Odd because nothing embarrassed Maddie. Nothing.
This must be really bad. “Spit it out, guys. If it’s not Dan Rather”—he couldn’t believe he actually said that—”then who is it?”
“Oh, mon dieu! It mus’ be Diane Sawyer then. I allus wanted her autograph, too. Betcha she could introduce me to Richard Simmons.”
“What you be wantin’ with that flake Richard Simmons?” J.B. asked.
Tante Lulu slapped J.B.’s upper arm. “Bite yer tongue, boy. He’s a hottie.”
“Are you nuts?” Maddie said.
“No more’n you,” Tante Lulu shot back.
“Unbelievable!” René said, putting his face in his hands. After counting to ten, he turned on J.B. “Is there a human being on that plane?”
J.B. nodded.