Page 12 of Gerard

Bernie nodded. “The panels are heavy-duty. They’ll hold them long enough for the crime scene investigators to do their thing.”

“What if they want to check the contents of their bellies for evidence?”

Bernie hadn’t thought about that. “I’d planned on processing these hogs in a couple of weeks. It wouldn’t hurt too much to send them to the slaughterhouse early.”

“Do you name all your hogs?” Gerard asked.

Bernie shook her head. “Not the ones going to market.” She tipped her head toward the pen. “Penelope is my breeding sow. The big guy in the corner is my breeding boar, Henry.”

Gerard chuckled. “What famous Henry did you name him after?”

“It was a Hollywood toss-up between Henry Winkler and Henry Cavill.” She smiled. “But he proved early on that he’s a king among swine.”

“Henry the VIII,” Gerard concluded.

Bernie nodded and looked back at the field of melons. “With the sheriff on his way, I’m sure they’ll want me to hold off on harvesting my melons and produce. That concerns me more. I have to schedule my pickers well in advance. The crew that was supposed to come today will move on to their next job. I won’t get them back until after everything has rotted in the fields.”

“I might be able to help you with that. I know a handful of guys we could get out here as soon as the sheriff gives you the go-ahead.”

“Good to know. Let’s hope they don’t take days for that to happen.” She mounted the ATV, fired up the engine and gave Gerard a nod. Bernie goosed the throttle, sending the four-wheeler leaping forward. She turned around and headed for the house as sheriff’s vehicles and an ambulance turned onto the road leading to her farm.

Deputy Shelby Taylor was the first to arrive. She waved at Bernie as she drove into the yard and pulled to a stop. When she got out of her service vehicle, she touched a hand to her flat belly. “Bernie, what’s this I hear about you finding a body part in your pigpen?”

Bernie climbed off the four-wheeler, shaking her head. “Just that. We found a foot in the pigpen a few minutes ago.”

Shelby hugged Bernie. “It’s been a while since I’ve been out to the farm. Seems the only time I see you is at the farmer’s market. How’ve you been?”

Bernie shrugged. “Busy.”

“I can only imagine.” Shelby shook her head. “This place was a lot to manage when you and Ray were working it together.”

“I’m doing okay as long as I don’t get hit with major constraints like weather and, now...this.” She stared at the deputy. “Speaking of busy, I was surprised to hear that you are—”

“Pregnant?” Shelby grinned, her hand resting on her still-flat belly. “No more surprised than we were. I’m only about a month along with eight more to go.”

Bernie swallowed her envy, truly happy for her friend. When she’d married Ray, they’d talked of having four kids, starting their brood as soon as the farm started producing a steady income. The income came about the time Ray was diagnosed with ALS. Kids had ceased to be a part of their future. Hell, a future together stopped being a part of their young dreams. “Congratulations, Shelby.”

“Thanks,” the deputy said. “We’re moving up our wedding date to accommodate our unexpected familial addition.”

Sheriff Bergeron joined them while the ambulance crew dropped down from the cab and opened the rear of their truck.

“You won’t need a gurney,” Bernie said. “All we have is a foot.”

The emergency medical technicians pulled on surgical gloves, grabbed a bag for the body part and joined the sheriff and deputy.

“I’d let you drive out to the pen, but it rained last night, and you might bog down in the mud,” she said.

“Won’t hurt us to walk,” Sheriff Bergeron said. “Lead the way.”

Bernie left the ATV in front of the house and led the entourage along the side of the field until they reached the pigpen on the far corner.

Gerard stood patiently guarding the foot. As they approached, he held out his hand. “Deputy Taylor, good to see you.”

“Gerard…” She shook his hand. “Remy said he’d tagged you with this assignment. He thought it would be an easy one when all you had to do was find what or who killed Bernie’s goose.”

Gerard glanced down at the human foot. “I don’t think it’ll be as simple as he anticipated.”

Bernie turned to the sheriff. “I don’t know if you’ve had the chance to meet Sheriff Bergeron since you came to Bayou Mambaloa…?”