Diana Anderson - Entering Southern Country 01 - Famous in a Small Town by Diana Anderson

I’m sure I would remember you.”
    He looked at her a few seconds, and then shook his head, and said, “Nope! What is it you need, Miss?”
    She looked at his name tag pinned to the shirt of his uniform. “Deputy Ledet?”
    “At your service.” He nodded. “Now, how can I help you, ma’am?”
    She giggled, but inside she fumed. “Ma’am? I’m far from being that old.” She studied him and then said, “Ledet, is that French?”
    “Yes’m.”
    “You’ve got a bit of an accent.”
    “I’m from Houma, Louisiana. Now, you’ve never told me what you needed. I’ve got some work I need to tend to.”
    She smiled. “Of course. I just love your accent. Anyway, I was looking for the sheriff. Is he in?”
    “He should be along shortly, if you want to wait.”
    Another deputy, who wore a headset, entered and walked over to a desk across the room.
    She needed to find the ladies’ room. She sighed. “I’ll wait.” She glanced around the room. “Where’s the ladies’ room?”
    He pointed toward the hallway. “Go straight down that hallway there, and it’s at the end on the right.”
    As she sashayed away, she glanced over her shoulder, smiled, and gave him a finger wave. She eyed each door as she made her way down the hall.
    She returned several minutes later to find the lobby empty. She sat down in a chair near a window and crossed her legs. She wiggled her foot and looked around the room. After five minutes, she stood up, walked over to the hallway, and looked down the length of it. She glanced around behind her and then took off down the hallway for Cal’s office. She reached for the door handle and tried to open it.
    Locked! “Crap!” Her shoulders slumped. She tried each door up and down the hallway. All were locked. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Who keeps the sheriff’s Department locked up tighter than Dick’s hatband? You’d think there was something in here to steal or … something.” She thought a moment while her teeth worked on her bottom lip.
    She turned on her heel and left the building. She climbed in her car, squealed the tires as she backed out, and left rubber when she drove away.
    She arrived home ten minutes later and parked the car in the driveway. She took note that Ted wasn’t home yet.
    She exited her car, looked around, and spotted Salvador by the sprinkler system. She took off around the house and came up behind him. She grabbed his arm and spun him around to face her. She shoved him backwards. He lost his balance and landed on his backside.
    “What are you doing?” he asked as he stared up at her.
    She hiked up her skirt and sat astride him.
     

28
     
     
    The noon temperature had hit the hundred degree mark. Not a breeze was blowing. The heat index felt like one hundred and ten in the woods. Sweat ran down Cal’s back, and his shirt was drenched. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his hand and then placed his hands on his hips. The M.E. and his assistants lifted the body out of the shallow grave and placed it into the body bag.
    Every inch of the area had been sifted through. The hand that the Gentry boys had talked about had been recovered.
    He didn’t recognize the victim and neither had any of the deputies. All they could hope for were dental records, fingerprints, or someone to come forward about a missing person. All the M.E. could tell him was the victim was male, approximately five foot, ten inches, black hair, and brown eyes, possibly Hispanic, and had been dead for at least three days.
    Justin stepped up beside Cal. “Don’t make any sense. First a bloodbath in the Neals’ home, and now this poor guy got his brains blown out.” He shook his head.
    The M.E. and his crew headed back toward the road with the body bag. Hendrix and Porter followed them with the bagged evidence.
    “You think this murder and the Neals’ are connected?” Justin asked.
    “I’d bet on it. We need to keep a lid on this for now though.”
    “What