Relentless Pursuit: A Novel (Secrets of Roux River Bayou) by Kathy Herman

the owner and felt comfortable recommending Zoe B’s, even with the cyanide scare.”
    “How do you know Adele?” The woman arched her eyebrows.
    “I don’t really know her,” Sax said. “But she seemed pretty sure I would like the food here. I’m here on business. I live in New Orleans.”
    “I’m a bit partial, since I own the place, but if you like authentic Cajun food, you’ll like ours. My husband is the head chef, and his gumbo has won the Copper Ladle award three years running.”
    “Then you must be Zoe Broussard?” Sax took the business card out of his pocket and held it up. “Mrs. Woodmore gave me your card.”
    Zoe smiled. “I’m not surprised. Adele’s our biggest fan. I assure you we will do everything we can to live up to her recommendation.”
    “By the way, I’m Sax Henry.” He held out his hand, and she shook it, a familiar quizzical look on her face. “Sax is a nickname. I play the saxophone with a jazz band called the Smooth Blues.”
    “Then it fits perfectly,” Zoe said. “I admire people who are musically inclined. I don’t have that talent but love listening to it. I’d better let you read the menu. Also, each of the oil paintings you see on the walls was done by a local artist and is for sale.”
    “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
    Zoe walked away, and Sax moved his gaze around Zoe B’s. What a quaint place—hanging plants, wood-plank flooring, one brick wall to complement the dark gold painted walls and blue-and-gold tablecloths. French country furnishings. Some of the accessories looked as if they might be antiques. Were those genuine D’Arceau Limoges collector plates on the corner cupboard? His second wife had loved them and had the credit card receipts to prove it. At least she’d found a way to fill the emptiness of their failed marriage.
    He decided not to let his mind go there. Why wallow in what he couldn’t change? Sax opened the menu and saw the house special was crawfish étouffée. Always his favorite. He reviewed the list of what came with it and closed his menu just as a twentysomething woman, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, appeared at the table.
    “My name’s Savannah. I’ll be serving you this evening. What can I get you to drink?”
    “Iced tea. I’m ready to order.”
    Savannah held up her pad and pencil. “What did you decide on?”
    “I’ll have the crawfish étouffée, extra spicy. Cobb salad, house dressing on the side. Cornbread. And a cup of seafood gumbo.”
    “Would you like your salad and gumbo at the same time?” Savannah took his menu.
    “Sure. That’s fine.”
    “Thank you, sir. I’ll be back shortly.”
    Sax looked around the room, never quite sure what to do with his hands when he was waiting for an order. The three older gentlemen at the table by the window lowered their voices, which piqued his curiosity. He played with the saltshaker and eavesdropped on their conversation.
    “I’m telling you, dey aren’t going to tell us everyting dey know,” said an elderly man with unruly gray curls and a thick Cajun accent. “Dis could be a terrorist attack. Why would dey tell us? People would panic fuh shore, and den we be in a real mess.”
    A bald man swatted the air. “Hebert, my friend, you’re always lookin’ at the negative side. That’s not helpful. The authorities are gonna tell us what we need to know to stay safe.”
    “You so sure about dat, Tex?” Hebert leaned forward on his elbows. “Last I heard, dey don’t have a clue who’s doing dis. Dat means dey can’t take terrorism off da table.”
    “Gentlemen,” said a white-haired man in a black-and-white cleric shirt, “we have to trust someone. Right now, that’s the authorities—and God.”
    “Father Sam’s got a point,” Tex said. “Have a little faith. And let’s trust the authorities to fill us in as we go.”
    “Trust is not my strong suit.” Hebert scratched the stubble on his chin. “Don’t tink dere’s much chance I’m going