Elvis and the Devil in Disguise (A Southern Cousins Mystery With Bonus Charmed Cat Mystery)

by Peggy Webb

  “Why?” Lovie says.

  “Isn’t it obvious? I’ve had a crush on him ever since you brought him to the rump roast cook-off in Kentucky.”

  Lovie is too stunned for words, even those that turn the air blue. But I’m not. “So you’d never do anything to destroy the grand opening of his Treasures of Tulum?”

  “Never!”

  “Do you know of anybody here in New Orleans who might? A known art thief who keeps evading the law? Or anyone who might have a grudge against him or Lovie?”

  “Nothing like that. Callie, isn’t it?” I nod. “But if you’ll delete that video I’ll give you the name of someone who might give you a lead.”

  “Done.” I turn the iPhone so he can see the video and then press the delete button.

  Marilyn smiles, then takes a compact out of his purse and reapplies both lipstick and beauty mark. “He’s a kid named Pete. Most days you’ll find him on the street outside the museum shining shoes.”

  “What’s his last name?” Lovie asks. “Where does he live?”

  “That’s all I know. Good luck with your search.” Marilyn stands and gives us a smile that transforms his face. “I just want to be wonderful.”

  As he blends into the crowd, Lovie and I make our way toward the door. It has begun to sprinkle outside, and the moist air is heavy with the scent of wisteria and jasmine. I turn my face up and let the rain wash off the residue of attempted blackmail.

  “I can’t believe I was filming him, Lovie.”

  “It was all for a good cause.”

  “I like him, especially when he quoted Marilyn Monroe. If I got to know him better, I think we could become best friends.”

  “Don’t get carried away, Cal. He called me a mediocre chef.”

  “Oh well, that tears it then.”

  She elbows me. “Let’s get you out of the rain before you decide to start picking up street people and taking them back to our hotel.”

  Chapter 9

  Lovie’s Opinion on Operation Romance and Limited Options

  I wait until Cal is asleep before I sneak out of bed. By eleven she’s out like a light. We used to stay up ‘til the wee hours of the morning, sitting in the middle of the bed eating popcorn and talking. I guess this is what pregnancy does to you. I’m not anxious to find out.

  I put on my clothes then douse myself with enough White Shoulders perfume to entice every eligible male in New Oleans. Of course, it’s not every male I have in mind. Only one. And he’s not like any man I’ve ever known. Perfume probably won’t work on him, and neither will Love Potion Rocket Blast Off. I’m running out of options, here. Still I tuck the potion into my purse as a backup weapon for Operation Romance. Then I grab the hotel note pad and start writing.

  Dear Cal, I’m going to tell Rocky what we found out at Victor/Victoria. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but don’t worry about me. In the morning, sit in the sunshine and sip orange juice and enjoy being hugely pregnant with my godchild. If I’m not back by lunch, go down to that cute little Bourbon French perfumery on Royal and buy us some more of those exotic floral oils. Orange blossom is my favorite. But don’t go reading wedding bells into my request! XOXOXO Lovie

  I prop the note on the bedside table where she’s sure to find it, then blow her a kiss, tiptoe out the door and call Rocky. He answers on the first ring.

  “Lovie! You’re just the person I want to see”

  I get goose bumps and, call me a silly romantic, I read all kinds of promising things into his response. Rocky’s just down the street, heading back to his room at Annie’s Hideway, and we make arrangements to meet there.

  He’s only one floor up, and I take the stairs. These elevators are ancient, and I don’t want to risk getting stuck.

  I arrive at his door first then stand there with my face as flushed as a giddy schoolgirl. I know everybody thinks my libido is hotter than my electric griddle. In fact, I’ve worked hard to perpetuate that myth. But the plain truth is that I’m scared of making a mistake and ending up with a dud instead of the kind of true love my parents had. Callie got lucky, too. She has a lovely, real-life romance.

  She says I’ve looked for love in all the wrong places. And she just might be right. She also says that true love is staring me right in the face if I’ll only let go and trust Rocky.

  But my track record of winning is horrible. My mother was a concert pianist, and I was going to follow in her footsteps. But she died when I was fourteen, and though Charlie Valentine is the best father any girl could have, I lost sight of myself after she was gone. And I never quite found me again.

  Am I this hundred and ninety pound bombshell who does crazy things just to get a laugh? Am I a caterer with an impressive number of awards and an equally impressive clientele? Am I a loyal daughter, cousin and niece?

  I’d like to think there’s more, that I’m a multi-dimensional person who can be like the sky, spread over everything. I read that, but I don’t remember where.

  See, that’s another thing. I love good books and good movies. I enjoy art and music and simple pleasures. Maybe that’s a side I should show to Rocky instead of a hot-to-trot woman who can’t wait for him to discover my national treasure.

  I’d better make up my mind quick, because here he comes, and he looks good enough to eat. See! There I go again. Defaulting to sex.

  I dial back my hormones and wait for him to make the first move.

  “Lovie!” He hugs me close and it is such familiar comfort that I don’t want to let go. “I’m glad we can have this moment alone. There’ve been too few.”

  “I know.” The old me would have added, Let’s make up for lost time. But the new me, who is uncertain exactly who she is and what she wants, is content to enjoy Rocky’s embrace and let him take the lead.

  “I have a couple of cold beers chilling in the ice bucket.”

  “Great.”

  I follow him inside, and every nerve I have is suddenly frazzled. And not because he’s rock solid and tanned and holding onto my hand as if I’m a treasure he’s not about to risk losing. There’s something about this room that raises the hair on the back of my neck.

  “Lovie? What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” I glance around to find the source, but nothing seems amiss. Rocky’s neat, like Callie. His brush and comb are on the dresser and his closet door is closed. But I know from experience that if I opened it I’d find his extra boots lined up side by side and his jeans and shirts perfectly hung. “Probably just nerves. Let’s sit down with a beer. I have something to tell you.”

  Rocky pops the tops of two cold beers and we sit facing each other in stuffed chairs in the nook beside the window. The curtains are open, and we have a good view of the French Quarter at night while I tell Rocky about Pete, the shoeshine kid who might have a lead on the theft at the museum.

  “That’s great. So far, none of the leads have panned out. All we know is that the theft must have been an inside job.”

  “Then there was no sign of breaking and entering?”

  “None.” He winks at me. “I’ve always said you’d made a good detective, Lovie.”

  Why do I feel as if I’ve just been awarded top prize at a Betty Crocker Bake-off? While I’m glowing, Rocky gives me the inside scoop on Martin’s death, straight from Aunt Ruby Nell. I knew she wouldn’t keep her nose out of a good mystery. And it seems the Delaney sisters also enjoy being neck-deep in intrigue.

  “I don’t know how reliable her information is,” Rocky says.

  “With Aunt Ruby Nell, it could be as solid as Fort Knox or a castle built on quicksand. But since the source is actually connected to those two little old ladies at the Charmed Cat, I’d put money on Martin Sanders being poisoned.”

  Rocky doesn’t mention that Martin was in his chair or that the poisoned soup might have been meant for him. He’s self-contained that way, which is one of the reasons I like him so much. He’s the exact opposite of me. I let every emotion show and never let an opportu
nity pass to express an opinion.

  Except right now. There’s so much electricity in the air, I feel like my hair is on fire. Still, I finish my beer and keep everything to myself.

  “Let’s put these problems behind us for a while,” Rocky says.

  “With pleasure.”

  He sets his beer bottle on the table then pulls me out the chair and into his arms. “I’ve been in love with you for a very long time.”

  I can hardly breathe. I feel like I’m flying.

  “As much as I’d love to take every liberty with you, I’d prefer to save that for another time, when there’s just the two of us.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “I’m not good with words, Lovie. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes.” I don’t know if he means marriage or a time when murder is not afoot. But with his hands feeling like heaven in my hair, who cares?

  Rocky kisses me then and we gravitate naturally toward the bed. I’m in the moment, in the kiss, but my mind is racing toward the two of us lying under the covers pressed as close as bookends while my White Shoulders perfume works its magic. In the heat of the moment, he might even change his mind about waiting for another time. Which is fine with me. I’m just a greedy girl who would love to have it all.

  Rocky leans down to pull back the covers….and there’s the snake, six feet long if he’s an inch, and every inch of him deadly.

  I scream and jump about ten feet into the air.

  “Get to the bathroom,” Rocky shouts. “Shut the door.”

  There’s a blur of movement as he reaches for the viper, and every inappropriate word that ever crossed my mouth vanishes. I don’t even want to know what he’s going to do.

  I race toward the safety of the bathroom and fling open the door.

  And there is the maid, stretched out on the floor, dead as a doornail. She’s still in her a uniform from Annie’s Hideaway, and her purple face is swollen twice its normal size.

  I might just die on the spot. Somebody tried to kill my boyfriend with poisoned soup, and when they got the wrong man, they tried again with a poisonous viper and got the maid, instead. Somebody definitely wants Rocky dead.

  If I’m not careful I’m going to be a widow before I’m ever a bride.

  Chapter 10

  Elvis’ Opinion on Crawling Snakes Versus Four-legged Snakes

  Well, bless’a my soul. Annie’s Hideway had to be evacuated at the crack of dawn because of the pit viper in Rocky’s room and the dead hotel maid! Too bad I was stuck down here in this big old house with a four-legged snake who speaks cat. I’d have dispatched the viper with a snap of my famous jaws and a dangerous shake, rattle and roll.

  Rocky jerked him up and snapped him like a bullwhip. End of snake.

  By the time Lovie and Fayrene and Ruby Nell finish spreading that story around, Rocky will be Indiana Jones and the hero of Wild Animal Kingdom rolled into one.

  The snake made his appearance just as Rocky was about to discover Lovie’s National Treasure, or so she told the family and the Delaney sisters. Everybody laughed, of course, but I think there’s more to the story. Unfortunately, it will be a while before I find out.

  Rocky and Lovie are off to track down a kid named Pete and I’m stuck here safeguarding my human mom from a four legged snake. Houdini keeps sneaking up trying to rub against her legs while she’s in the kitchen chilling out with a cup of tea. If he keeps messing with me I’m going to send him over the bridge. Forget the bridge over troubled waters. I’m talking about that massive bridge that spans the Mississippi river.

  Cats can’t swim. Not in the gospel according to Elvis. Just for insurance, though, I’m liable to tie a concrete block to his tail.

  And speaking of trouble, here comes Ruby Nell tripping down the stairs, dressed fit to kill. She’s ditched her usual caftan for a pair of hot pink toreador pants paired with matching hot pink and bright orange stripped blouse, and she’s topped off the whole shebang with her rhinestone studded sunglasses.

  “Mama, where are you going dressed like that?”

  “To pay a condolence call on the widow Sanders.”

  “I don’t think that’s the right attire. Something in beige might be better for condolences.”

  “I’m trying to cheer her up, not make her cry.” Ruby Nell pauses in front of the mirror over the sideboard and applies another thick coat of neon pink lipstick. “Fayrene and I are going with Pearl. Grace is going to take you to the Café Du Monde for beignets.”

  “I don’t want a beignet.”

  “Nonsense. You’re pale as a sheet. You need to get out in the sunshine and have a little fun. That baby will be here before you know it, and then your fun is over.”

  “Mama! What a horrible thing to say.”

  “I didn’t say the least thing horrible. You just took it wrong, that’s all.” Ruby Nell blots her lipstick on one of the paper napkins on the end of the sideboard then puts it right back where she got it.

  “Good grief.” Callie gets up to throw the napkin into the garbage can. “Maybe I’ll go with Grace, after all. Elvis could use the exercise and I’m going a little stir crazy.”

  “That’s the ticket! We’ll join you there after our little visit with Jeanine.”

  Since when did Ruby Nell get on first-name terms with the widow Sanders, a woman she’s never even met? Before my human mom and I can find out, Ruby Nell prances off with Pearl and Fayrene.

  Callie grabs her phone and starts telling Lovie that she’s heading to the Café Du Monde so she can take me for a brisk walk.

  I’ll have everybody know that a handsome but portly dog such as myself does not go out in public for exercise. He goes out to be seen. And fawned over. And fed greasy, sugary leftover beignets.

  Eat your heart out, stupid Houdini cat.

  Chapter 11

  Lovie’s Opinion on Street Urchins and Unused Eggs

  Rocky and I are sitting on a bench underneath a magnolia tree getting shoe shines. What else? We didn’t find Pete. He found us.

  The minute we arrived at the museum he made a beeline for us, his shoeshine kit banging against his skinny legs, his smile lighting his face, and his dark curls looking as if they haven’t been near a brush in days.

  “Mister, I’ll shine your shoes cheap and throw in one for the beautiful lady free,” he said. And we were both hooked.

  There ought to be a law against street urchins who can con you that fast. What is it about this kid that makes my unused, rapidly aging eggs stand up and shout hallelujah? As he pops the rag against Rocky’s shoes so fast his hands are a blur, I don’t have the least inclination to quiz him about what he saw the night a thief stole artifacts from the Treasures of Tulum.

  “How old are you, kid?”

  “Ten.” He flashes his million dollar smile at me. “Maybe.”

  With one word he just broke my heart. Maybe carries all kind of personal history, none of it good.

  “Where are your mama and daddy?”

  Suddenly Pete is sober as a judge. “My daddy’s gone to do the banking and my mama’s home cooking up a mess of collard greens and fried chicken with biscuits and gravy. She’ll bring it to us at dinnertime, and we’ll sit down yonder in the park and watch that riverboat full of folks who got nothing better to do than joy ride on the river.”

  He just ripped my heart out and stomped it flat on the sidewalk. Furthermore, he read my face and lied like a seasoned con artist. If this scrawny kid is eating fried chicken and biscuits with any regularity, I’m a pencil-thin fashion model who hates sugar and butter.

  I nudge Rocky, and he picks up my signal as fast as Callie.

  “What kind of business does your daddy have?”

  “Mostly this shoeshine business, and it sure is good, mister!”

  “You don’t say?”

  “Yeah. This is a tourist town and they like to get their shoes spiffied up by the local color.” He flashes that smile and Rocky becomes a teddy bear on the spot. “I’m the local colo
r, see? When the shoe shining gets slow, I play my harmonica. Got my own street corner down on Bourbon.”

  Imagining this cute kid on Bourbon Street at night makes me want to run down to Social Services and shake somebody.

  “You get around, don’t you?” Rocky says, and I can tell by his voice that he’s as rattled as I am.

  “I sure do!”

  “Did you happen to be on the street two nights ago when there was a big party at the museum?”

  “Let me think.” Pete cocks his head to one side and wrinkles up his adorable face as if he’s trying to pull the event from an enormous bank of memories that contain big Sunday dinners at the family table and amazing Christmases filled with lights and holiday songs and a shiny red bicycle. “A few bucks might improve my memory.”

  “Would five bucks do it, Pete?” Rocky is having a hard time not grinning at this cheeky kid.

  “Naw. That’s chump change.”

  “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “Yep.” Pete rocks back on his heels, spits on his hands then rubs them together. “It takes smarts to survive…” He stops himself from revealing more, probably tipped off by the emotion showing in my face. “You got a couple of bucks to add to that, mister?”

  “Will this improve your memory?” Rocky peels off two twenties, and I see every emotion under the sun cross that little boy’s face—joy, pride, longing and finally fear.

  “If you trying to get me into trouble, mister, you picked the wrong boy. I can outrun you any day.” Pete starts slinging his supplies into his shoe shine kit.

  “Whoa, Pete. I just want information, that’s all.”

  “For real?”

  “For real. You’re a very smart boy to be cautious of strangers. I’m not trying to trick you, son. Just tell me what you saw that night.” Rocky folds another twenty into the first two and presses them into the child’s hand. “Deal?”

  Pete unfolds the bills and inspects them with the thoroughness of a banker trained to spot counterfeit. Finally he stuffs them into his pocket and draws himself up like he’s just been tapped for president of his school class.