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Monique shook her head. “No.”

“Does Lucinda have sons…or maybe some grandsons who would do her bidding?” he asked.

“She has two sons, but they don’t live here in town,” Monique replied. “I’m still not convinced she had anything to do with this. Maybe we just need to make a list of all the prominent men in town because I truly believe my mother was killed by a man.” Pain once again stabbed through her as she thought of her beautiful mother’s throat slashed. It had been such a heinous killing.

Jacque picked up his pen. “Then let’s start with the mayor. Do you know if he was seeing your mother?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think anybody knows for sure who was seeing her.” She wrote down Ralph Dupree. The mayor of Dark Waters would certainly have a lot to lose if an embarrassing or political bombshell of some kind came out.

For the next hour, they threw out names of potential suspects. By the time they finished, she had fourteen names written in her notebook.

“This is a good starting place,” she said.

“Do you now intend to take the list to Daniel?” he asked. He leaned back in his chair, appearing to command the space around him, a strong masculine energy wafting from him.

“No, now I begin to do my own sleuthing,” she replied.

He immediately leaned forward, his green eyes glowing with the intensity of a laser as he focused on her. “What exactly does that mean?”

“I intend to go to each of these men’s homes and snoop around for my mother’s book. If I see it in somebody’s home, then I know that person is the killer,” she replied.

“Are you out of your mind?” he snapped and straightened in his chair. “A reckless stunt like that could get you killed.”

Warmth leaped into her cheeks and she raised her chin defiantly. “Jacque, I can be very sneaky when I need to be.”

His gaze turned skeptical. “And what ruse do you intend to use to get into these houses to snoop around?”

Once again, her cheeks grew warm under his penetrating scrutiny. Lord, but the man had beautiful eyes. She would love to see them lit up by his smile. But so far, he hadn’t offered her even a hint of one, and his eyes remained like hard emeralds.

“I haven’t quite figured that part out yet,” she admitted with a frown. “It might take me a day or two, but I’ll come up with something. Then once I’m inside, I’ll ask to use the restroom, and that’s when I’m hoping to do a little snooping in the bedrooms in search of my mother’s book. I figure her book is either in a bookcase or in somebody’s bedroom drawer.”

“It’s a bad plan,” he said.

“It’s a good plan,” she countered firmly.

“You should take this list to the police and stay out of things.”

“I’m tired of leaving things up to the police.” She shut her notebook and looked back at him once again. “I keep repeating that it’s been almost four months, and now they don’t even have a suspect.” These words had become her mantra, her reminder of time passing with no relief in sight. “I have to do something,” she said fervently.

She leaned toward him as tears pressed hot behind her eyelids. “Don’t you understand? I can’t get past my grief. I’m stuck in it. I don’t eat, and my sleep is disturbed by nightmares of the murder. The only thing that’s going to help me get on with my life is to get her killer under arrest.” She sat back in her chair once again. “Look, Mr. LeBlanc, I really appreciate you helping me with this. I told you I’d pay you for your time, so what do I owe you?”

He stared at her for a long moment and then released a deep sigh. “You might as well call me Jacque, and you don’t owe me anything. Partners don’t pay partners.”

“Partners?” She gazed at him hopefully.

He gave her a curt nod. “I can’t let you do this all alone. If you really intend to do this, then you need some backup.”

“I really intend to do this,” she replied adamantly.

“Then I have a ruse that will get you inside and potentially into whatever room these men keep their books,” he replied.

“And what ruse is that?” she asked curiously. Her heartbeat quickened its rhythm with excitement. This was far better than she had hoped for.

“I’ve been teaching some of the men around here how to read and write. We could go to these houses and ask for donations of books.”

“That would be perfect,” she replied, her excitement growing. “And it’s wonderful that you’re teaching some of the men how to read and write. I know there are many in the swamp who didn’t go to school for one reason or another.”

“These men are motivated and have often been embarrassed by not being about to read something or sign their own name,” he replied.