“I know that now, Miss Pauline,” Saria said. “That’s why I said I appreciated the intervention. Later, when my temper cooled, I sorted it out and realized it was done because you all cared. I left an apology at each house a few weeks later.”

Drake glanced down at the note expecting to see a childish, angry scrawl. He was shocked that the note was done in calligraphy. He looked up and met Pauline’s eyes.

“Do you see why I kept it? That note was such a work of art. She gave us all a baby to take care of because we had too much time on our hands and she didn’t need our concern. She said to pour our lonely feelings out to the new baby.” Pauline ped herself another cup of coffee and took a beignet. “Of course it was a baby alligator, but so clever to think of it.”

“And what did you do for an apology?” Drake asked, more fascinated than ever. Clearly there was quite a lot to learn of Saria and he wanted to know everything.

“I baked them a rare Cajun bread, a recipe that’s been in ma famille for years. I wrapped each loaf up with a beautiful tissue paper my mom had kept for years in case something important came up and I snuck into their houses and left it on their tables. That was much easier than putting the alligators in the bathrooms.”

Pauline beamed at her. It was obvious they had great affection for one another. Drake could understand why. Pauline had no children and Saria had no parents. Naturally they would gravitate toward one another.

“You have to remember, I had a lot of time on my hands to do anything I wanted, so the subjects that interested me, like cookin’ and art and photography, I spent a great deal of time on. Things I didn’ like . . .” She trailed off with a rueful shrug.

“Saria has hunted alligators during the season by herself. Most of the men won’t do that,” Pauline added a little slyly.

Drake knew the woman was baiting him. She had thrown that out to test his reaction. He forced down the first explosive reaction and took a quieting sip of coffee. “Why? Do you have a death wish?”