She looked sad and shook her head. "I'm sorry. It's right on the tip of my tongue and I just can't remember it. You get old, everything goes to hell. There's one!" She raced to a potted plant beneath the window and cut loose with the Raid. Clouds of gas fogged up around her and I walked over to the door, leaned out, and took deep breaths. When she was finished with the Raid I went back to the chair. Everything smelled of kerosene and chemicals.

I said, "These bugs are something, aren't they?"

She nodded smugly. "They'll run you out of house and home, let me tell you."

I heard the crunch of a car pulling off the road. Not in her yard, but farther away. I went back to the door. The white Mustang was sitting across the street by the strawberry stand. I said, "Ms. Guidry, has someone else approached you about this?"

She shook her head. "Unh-unh."

"A few months ago."

She got the thoughtful look again. "You know, I think a fella did come here." She made a face like she'd bit into something sour. "I didn't like his looks. I won't deal with anybody I don't like the way they look. No, siree. You can tell by a person's looks, and I didn't like that fella, at all. I ran 'm off."

I looked back out the door. "Is that the man?"

Martha Guidry came over next to me and squinted out through the screen. "Well, my goodness. That's him. That's the little peckerwood, right over there!"

Martha Guidry charged through the screen door with her can of Raid as if she'd seen the world's largest bug. She screamed, "Here, you! What are you doin' over there?!"

I said, "Oh, God."

She lurched down the steps and ran toward the highway, and I was wondering if maybe I should tackle her before she became roadkill. Then the Mustang fishtailed out onto the highway and roared back toward Ville Platte, and Martha Guidry pulled up short, shaking her fist at him. I said, "Martha, do you remember his name?"

Martha Guidry stalked back up the steps, breathing hard and blinking behind the thick glasses. I was hoping I wouldn't have to dial 911. "Jerry. Jeffrey. Somegoddamnthing like that."

"Aha."

"That rotten sneak. Why do you think he was out here?"

"I don't know," I said. "But I'm going to find out."

She took a deep breath, shook herself, then said, "God damn, but I feel like a drink! You're not the kind of fool to let a lady drink alone, are you?"

"No, ma'am, I'm not."

She threw open the door and gestured inside with the Raid. "Then get yer ass in there and let's booze."

Chapter 6

A t twenty minutes after six that evening I checked into a motel in Ville Platte and phoned Lucille Chenier at her office in Baton Rouge . I only had to wait eight or nine minutes for her to come on the line. She said, "Yes?""Guess who?" Martha had been generous with the Old Crow.