Leopard 05 - Savage Nature

developin’ scents. What does this have to do with Mahieu—or opium?”
    “Do you, personally, grow your plants?”
    “In the greenhouse only. I experiment with developin’ different hybrids for scents there.”
    “And the gardens in the swamp?”
    “We have workers for that.”
    “Who? Specifically?”
    Charisse frowned. “I don’t know. We have a foreman. I don’t talk to him myself. Armande or my mother handles that. I have enough to do in the laboratory. In any case, I never go out in the swamp. Sometimes I meet Saria at the picnic area and . . .” Her gaze darted to Saria. “And Evangeline meets me there.”
    “But never men.”
    “In the swamp?” Charisse’s horror was genuine. She looked down at her clothes and gave a delicate shudder. “Never.”
    “What about when you allow your leopard out?”
    She flushed a deep red. “She’s never come out. That’s why my mother said I was useless. Armande has a leopard, but mine has never emerged. I tried to tell my mother she was there inside of me, but my mother is embarrassed and humiliated that I can’t shift. She says I’m a disgrace.” Charisse gave a little sniff.
    “Charisse! Focus on what’s important here,” Drake commanded. If she was telling the truth, and her voice held a ring of truth, then she couldn’t possibly be the killer. The serial killer delivered death with the suffocating bite of a leopard. “I can assure you that your mother’s opinion of you isn’t worth shit. Saria, call your brother and get that team out into the Marsh.”
    “Mahieu?” Saria’s voice was steady.
    “The team may just save his life. Get moving.”
    Saria nodded and picked up the phone.
    “Are you goin’ to tell me what all these questions are for? This sounds like an interrogation.”
    “Believe me, Charisse. If I have to interrogate you, I won’t be so fucking gentle,” Drake snapped. “Someone is using your soaps to ship opium out of the country. They also have at least one local connection they supply, but more likely there are more.”
    Charisse sat up straight, her face going pale. “That’s impossible. You’re crazy. Our business is family owned and completely legitimate. I can’t believe you would make such an accusation. Saria! Did you hear him?”
    Saria put down the phone after talking to her brother and turned back to Charisse, leaning one hip against the table. “I heard him. I led his men through the swamp the other night, running to catch up with a boat. The Mercier boat, and they docked at your dock, Charisse. The Tregre brothers had delivered a shipment of soap in the middle of the night.”
    “No. No way.” Charisse shook her head. “The Tregres have worked for our family for a long time. They work out of New Orleans and take the shipment to the docks, where they are inspected carefully. If there were drugs, the dogs would pick up the sce . . .” She trailed off, her face going dead white.
    There was no way she could fake the color of her skin. Her brain was working things out, seeing possibilities and putting the pieces together, but Drake might have to concede he was way off-base looking at Charisse and that would mean that niggling suspicion was growing into a major scare. Because if he was right, Mahieu Boudreaux might already be dead.
    “That’s right, Charisse. You’re the genius with scent, aren’t you,” Drake pressed her. He leaned close and looked her right in the eye, forcing her to lock gazes with him. “Tell us about the scent that inhibits others, even leopards, from tracking by scent.”
    Charisse shook her head, her fingers twisting tightly together until her knuckles were white. “You have it all wrong, Drake. Saria . . .”
    She tried to turn her head, tried to escape the evertightening noose, but Drake refused to let her off the hook. “Damn you, don’t look at Saria. She can’t help you. Did you or did you not, develop something that inhibits the ability to smell, or perhaps deadens every scent gland?” he snapped.
    Charisse drew herself up abruptly, her childlike expression going cool. “I don’t have to stay here and listen to these accusations. I think the next time you talk to me, I’ll have a lawyer present.” She started to rise.
    His low growl of pure menace rumbled through the cabin, stopping her. “Sit down,” he snapped, his eyes going pure gold. “You’re leopard, Charisse. You belong to a lair. I am the leader of that lair and as such, I am the only judge and