shut. She could investigate the sheriff later.
She was relieved when Jarvis said, “We’re finished for now.”
When he had left, Dan turned to her. “Do you want me to stay?”
“Do you think I need you?”
“I think Jarvis is satisfied with your answers.”
They walked back to the kitchen, where Janet was busy washing dishes.
“Frank advised me to get a room in town,” Dan said.
“Oh, he did?” Morgan asked.
“Yes. He said you and Gascon . . . had some issues. And you probably wouldn’t want me hanging around.”
Morgan didn’t know whether to be grateful or upset that Frank had reported their private conversation to a third party. “How much did he say?” she asked.
“Not much.” He cupped his hand over her shoulder and squeezed warmly. “I can see you don’t need me here now. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
She might have insisted that he stay at the plantation. But in truth, she wanted to talk to Andre—in private.
As soon as Dan and the sheriff had cleared out of the kitchen, she turned to Janet. “Where’s Andre?”
“He washed up, then went out,” the housekeeper answered.
“Out where?”
The woman hesitated. “To his garden patch.”
“Which is where?”
Janet sighed. “I guess you’re not going to allow him any more time.”
“For what?”
The woman gave her a stony look,
“Right, you’re not about to tell me. I have to figure it out for myself.”
Janet gave her a small smile. “You’re learning. Come on, I’ll show you where to find him.”
They stepped outside, and, to her surprise, Morgan saw that the sun was already sinking low in the western sky.
Janet paused and looked at the sunset, then quickened her pace as she led the way across the back lawn. When they reached the swamp area, Morgan felt her throat close. She’d gotten into serious trouble out there. Coming back so soon hadn’t been in her plans. When Janet glanced back at her, she firmed her jaw and followed.
The housekeeper gestured toward a patch of wild roses. “Back there.” Then she stepped around Morgan and started back to the house.
Morgan watched her leave before walking slowly toward the brambles. As she approached the screen of thorny greenery, she caught a familiar scent—the scent that she had associated with Andre.
Through the rose canes, she saw him dressed in jeans and a dark tee shirt, down on his knees, weeding a patch of low plants that had curly leaves tinged with red. He was totally focused on his work. The sight of him going about his normal routine made her heart squeeze painfully. As she stepped closer, he stopped moving, obviously aware that he was being watched.
“It’s a little difficult to talk with a bramble patch between us. How do I get in there?” she asked.
Silently he stood and carefully pulled some rose canes aside, so she could step into the enclosure.
She wanted to reach out toward him, but his posture warned her not to come any closer.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I could ask you the same question.” She breathed in a draft of the humid air, feeling enveloped by the brambles and the scent of the plants—the scent of Andre himself.
Kneeling down, she rubbed her fingers over a curly leaf, then brought it to her nose. “What is this?” she asked sharply, wondering if he would finally tell her the truth.
“What do you think it is?”
“A drug,” she shot back. “But not anything I recognize. Is that how you’re making your money, growing some new illegal substance?”
He laughed. “Is that what you really think?”
“I don’t know! Since you won’t tell me anything. But I saw your pot of leaves on the burner in your bathroom when Jarvis searched the house.”
“Hardly enough to sell on the open market,” he answered, then changed the subject abruptly. “I didn’t thank you for getting Dan Cassidy down here. He’s an excellent lawyer. Without him, I’d be back in custody—at least for the short term.”
“Yes, Dan is good. But we’re not going to talk about him now. We were talking about this plant—and the tea from it that you’re making in your bathroom.”
He signed. “It’s not illegal—as far as I know. And it’s not a drug in the usual sense.”
“Andre, stop playing games with me,” she cried out in frustration. “I’m tired of all the secrets you’re keeping. Just let me in on the punch line.”
He stood up and brushed his hands on his jeans. “Maybe it’s more than you want to know.”
“Try me!” Morgan shouted.
Resignation gripped Andre’s features. He gestured toward the plants. “I