Swamp Santa

by Jana DeLeon

  I grimaced, not even wanting to think about what a term like “sinful” might turn up on the internet. I pulled the chair across from him out and slumped down into it.

  “You’re really going to have to start knocking on the front door like other people,” I said. “What if Carter had been with me?”

  “Then I would have left and you’d have never known I was here.”

  “But you were watching the video when I came in. I could hear the noise. Carter would have heard it too.”

  “Except that Carter is back at the sheriff’s department babysitting a juvenile delinquent who is probably aspiring to be Gertie .”

  I shook my head. “Is there anything you don’t know?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I suppose there’s video of the dynamite explosion as well?”

  He nodded. “And Gertie’s fight with the fish in her shirt. I’m going to be honest with you—she’s the only person I’ve ever met who terrifies me just a little.”

  “Yeah. I get that.”

  “Is she what happened to your Christmas tree? It looks a little rough.”

  “That was a joint effort between Gertie and my cat.”

  “That’s why I don’t have pets.”

  “Even if I didn’t have the cat, I’d still have Gertie.”

  “That’s why I don’t have friends.”

  “Touché. So anyway, I assume you’re here for a reason and not because you had the overwhelming desire to have a late-night beer with a woman who smells like bass and bayou mud. Not that I don’t enjoy your company, but I’m really dying for a shower.”

  “Of course. After you left the Heberts’ office, I decided to run down some associates of Cooke’s. See if any of them had a line on what he was working on.”

  I perked up. If he hadn’t found anything, he wouldn’t be here. “And?”

  “A two-bit PI by the name of Reynolds said he had beers with Cooke a couple weeks ago. He said he was looking for a woman in Reynolds’ neighborhood and wanted to see if he had seen her around anywhere.”

  “A woman? He’s sure?”

  Mannie nodded. “He showed Reynolds a picture.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, but Reynolds didn’t remember much about it. Youngish, long brown hair, brown eyes, which describes half the women in Louisiana. He said he’d never seen her before, but Reynolds spends more of his waking hours drunk than sober, so who knows. Anyway, that’s not the most interesting part. When Cooke went to the bathroom, he left his case folder on the table with his cell phone. Reynolds managed to spill his beer and picked up the file to keep it from getting soaked and another picture fell out—but this one was the woman holding a baby. A baby wearing a blue hat.”

  “Crap.” All the implications of hiring a PI like Cooke to track down a woman and a baby ran through my mind, and none of them were good.

  “I had the same reaction. This whole thing stank to high heaven from the start, but if the male Cooke was looking for is a baby…”

  “Exactly. I appreciate you running down that information. It allows us to narrow down Cooke’s potential targets, anyway. Do you think this Reynolds would recognize the woman from the photo if I sent him some more to look at?”

  Mannie shrugged. “Honestly? No. He’s burned up too many brain cells with whiskey.”

  “Well, at least he’s given me more to go on. I’ll get with Ida Belle and Gertie tomorrow and narrow things down. Can’t have been too many people in that cafeteria who also have babies.” I paused. “Double crap.”

  “What?”

  “That’s assuming the picture was recent.”

  Mannie frowned. “I hadn’t even thought about it, but you’re right. I suppose it could have been an older photo and the child is no longer a baby. You’re good at thinking through all the angles. I think you made a wise choice to become a PI.”

  “Thanks. I suppose options were a bit limited given my skill set. It’s nice to know I have talent for something else.”

  He smiled. “I felt the same way when I went to work for the Heberts.”

  I raised one eyebrow. “Is the work really that different from what you did before? I mean, there’s probably a lot less swimming…”

  Mannie had never confirmed that he was a former Navy SEAL, but I would bet money on it.

  “You might be surprised by the extent of my duties,” he said. “I’m working on my MBA right now.”

  “Seriously?” That statement went down in the ‘things I never expected to hear’ category.

  He nodded. “They’re looking to expand their business and Big and Little can’t handle much more than they’re already managing now. When you add in the sometimes-questionable business practices with their trust issues, they don’t have a lot of options for viable employees.”

  “Makes sense.”

  He rose from the table. “I’ll let you get to that shower. If there’s anything else I can help with, you know where to find me. Or if you need equipment, we can help with that as well. This investigation is a priority for the Heberts, especially now that we suspect a child is involved.”

  “What kind of equipment?” I asked out of general curiosity.

  He grinned. “Maybe a cowboy hat?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I had plans to meet Ida Belle and Gertie at the café the next morning. We arrived at the same time and were all dragging a little. Gertie was sporting a couple of ugly bruises on her arms due to being tossed around in the trailer and the subsequent launch into the bayou. She informed us that the one on her butt was even more spectacular and the fish bite on her boob was legendary, but Ida Belle and I both declined the opportunity to see those firsthand.

  Ally was all smiles as soon as she saw us walk through the door. Our usual table was available and she had coffees on it by the time we took our seats.

  “Everyone is talking about the runaway sleigh ride,” she said. “I saw the videos on YouTube and they are frightening, awesome, and hilarious. The frightening part being those stampeding horses, which I saw firsthand on Main Street, the awesome part being Fortune’s Gunsmoke rescue, and the hilarious part being the fish in Gertie’s bra, the dynamite explosion, and everything that involved Aunt Celia.”

  “The fish part was only hilarious if it wasn’t your bra,” Gertie said. “That thing is not repairable. Do you know how hard it is to find a good bra at my age? Gravity is woman’s enemy.”

  “I’d argue that bras are woman’s enemy,” I said.

  Ida Belle lifted her coffee cup. “Hear, hear.”

  Ally laughed. “I heard Aunt Celia called an emergency meeting of God’s Wives this morning. She’s determined to keep Gertie from ‘ruining’ another Christmas event. I think kidnapping and holding you hostage might be on the table.”

  “Last night wasn’t my fault,” Gertie said. “And as soon as I find that sleigh driver, I’m going to kick him in an inappropriate place.”

  Ida Belle lifted her coffee cup again. “Hear, hear.”

  “Didn’t you hear?” Ally asked. “He broke his arm in two places when he bailed.”

  “That wasn’t where I planned on kicking him,” Gertie said.

  “Anyway, you know Aunt Celia,” Ally said. “It’s going to be a whole lot of nothing, I’m sure, but I just figured I’d let you know. For the record, the Christmas showcase was the best I’ve ever seen. Francis stole the show. I’m usually dozing off.”

  Gertie beamed. “Maybe I should bring him to Christmas service this Sunday.”

  “No!” All three of us responded at once.

  “Why not?” Gertie asked. “He was raised by nuns part of his life. He knows church stuff.”

  “First off, that bird is Catholic,” Ida Belle said. “Second, he was raised the other half by criminals and you never know which line of talking he’s going to take.”

  Gertie frowned. “Yeah, I suppose that Catholic thing might be a problem. I need to talk to Pastor Don about converting him. Can you baptize a bi
rd or will he need a full-on exorcism?”

  “Good God,” Ida Belle mumbled.

  Ally grinned and gave me an apprehensive glance before training a big smile on Ida Belle. “If you have some free time this week, I’d love to discuss your wedding cake with you. I have a ton of pictures to help us get started. Maybe we could review them over dinner.”

  “Why in the world would it take an entire dinner to pick cake?” Ida Belle asked. “It can’t possibly be that hard.”

  “There are a lot of options,” Ally said.

  “A lot of options that don’t mean anything to me,” Ida Belle said. “Look, just make up one of those double chocolate layer cakes you do, throw a couple bass-fishing on top of it, and call it done.”

  Ally stared. “I am not doing a basic chocolate cake for your wedding. Nor am I putting fishermen on it. Maybe for the groom’s cake, but not the wedding cake.”

  “Why does the groom need his own cake?” Ida Belle asked. “I’ll share.”

  Gertie shook her head. “You see what I’ve been dealing with? If she even gets a whiff of a bridal magazine, she pulls her gun on you. The other day, I removed a white napkin from my kitchen drawer and thought I was a goner. She thought it was swatches.”

  “You two are exhausting,” Ida Belle said. “We haven’t even set a date.”

  “But these things take time,” Ally said. “And testing. Your wedding cake has to be perfect.”

  “When has cake ever been a bad thing?” Ida Belle asked.

  “What about that time Old Lady Morrison grabbed her talcum powder instead of flour?” Gertie asked. “It wasn’t as bad as when Eve Jenkins accidentally garnished spaghetti with her son’s weed, but it was still a jolt to the palate.”

  “Does every woman in Sinful need new glasses?” I asked.

  “Have you seen their husbands?” Ida Belle asked. “They don’t want new glasses.”

  I shook my head. “If you don’t start being nicer, I’m going to have to pray for you.”

  “Fine,” Ida Belle said to Ally. “I’ll let you know when I’m available for dinner. But if you’re going to make me look at girlie cakes, you better have samples.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of not having samples,” Ally said.

  Gertie leaned in. “I’ve got some Xanax you can put in them. Might help things.”

  “Why in the world do you have Xanax?” Ida Belle asked. “You don’t worry about anything. Hell, you’re the reason the rest of us need Xanax.”

  “Actually, Dr. Wilkinson prescribed it for you that time you brought me into the ER after that incident with the bread-making machine and that stray cat.”

  “Then why didn’t you give them to me?” Ida Belle asked. “Me and the stray cat could have used them.”

  “It was kinda like admitting you might be right,” Gertie said.

  “On that note,” I said, “I’ll have eggs and blueberry pancakes. And I’ve been meaning to ask you—did you work the cafeteria at all the night of the showcase?”

  Ally nodded. “I was in and out all evening but ducked out to catch some of the show.”

  “Did you see when Santa arrived?” I asked.

  “Kinda. I was headed for the auditorium when he was coming across the parking lot. I waved but he was on his cell phone. I don’t think he saw me.” She gave us a worried look. “He was poisoned, right? And could have infected—or whatever you call it—Ida Belle. I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do we,” I said. “But we’re trying to figure it out.”

  Ally’s eyes widened. “Oh, but I thought Carter…I mean, the police…”

  “Carter’s investigating, but I have a client who’d like to know what is going on,” I said. “So I’m also investigating.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said. “How’s that working out?”

  I knew she meant between me and Carter and not the investigation.

  I shrugged. “A little rough around the edges, but it is what it is.”

  “Please be careful,” Ally said. “All of you. I can’t imagine why that man hurt Rollie but if someone poisoned him, then I can’t help but think they probably had a decent reason. I don’t want to hear that you guys have spent another night in the ER.”

  “We don’t want to spend more time there either,” I assured her.

  “And we’re always careful,” Gertie said.

  Ida Belle shook her head. “One day, lightning is going to just bolt through the ceiling and strike you where you sit.”

  “You better hope not since you’re usually sitting next to me,” Gertie said.

  Ally laughed and headed off to the kitchen. As soon as she was out of earshot, I filled Ida Belle and Gertie in on my visit from Mannie.

  “I wish I’d come home one night and find a sexy man drinking beer in my kitchen,” Gertie said.

  “If you find a sexy man drinking beer in your kitchen, you probably walked into the wrong house,” Ida Belle said.

  “Maybe I should start walking into Fortune’s house,” Gertie said. “That’s where all the hot man action is.”

  “Anyway,” Ida Belle said. “So it looks like our stalker theory might hold weight. But I don’t like the baby angle.”

  “I don’t either,” I said. “But we can’t be sure the child is still a baby. The photo might have been an old one. Still, I think it’s better to start with the baby angle and work our way up from there.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “I agree. Well, that definitely narrows things down. There were two couples in the cafeteria that night and both have babies. Megan Prejean and her husband Seth and Amber Vincent and her husband Zach.”

  Her voice trailed off as she finished the sentence and suddenly, she stiffened. “Both of their babies were adopted.”

  I felt my stomach roll as the theories rolled through my mind. “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Ida Belle said.

  “When did they adopt?” I asked.

  “About three months ago,” Ida Belle said.

  Gertie nodded. “That’s right. In fact, I think they both got their babies on the same day. I remember thinking what a great day it was that two families were made.”

  “I don’t suppose you know anything about the adoptions or the birth mothers?” I asked.

  They both shook their heads.

  “Boys? Girls?” I asked.

  “Both boys,” Ida Belle said.

  Gertie frowned. “I don’t like this at all. It was bad enough when we thought it was an adult being stalked but if it was really all about one of those babies, that means one of those couples and their baby could be in trouble.”

  “It also means one of those four people is probably the killer,” Ida Belle said.

  I blew out a breath. “Then that’s where we start.”

  Fortunately for our investigative team, Gertie had been knitting baby beanie hats for donations and had some she’d just finished. They’d make perfect gifts for both sets of new parents and give us an excuse to make an unscheduled visit and work in some questions while we were there. After breakfast, I dropped off my Jeep at home and we made a quick trip to pick up the hats. Gertie managed to rustle up some gift bags and we were set.

  “Do you think we should tell Carter about this?” Gertie asked on the way to Amber and Zach’s house.

  “Sure,” Ida Belle said. “I think she should lead with Mannie sitting in her kitchen when she got home last night.”

  “Maybe not then,” Gertie said.

  I frowned. That had been the question that had plagued me ever since my conversation with Mannie. In fact, I’d lost quite a few hours of sleep to it.

  “Did you see Carter at all last night?” Gertie asked.

  “No,” I said. “He called and said he would be held up late with the dynamite teen and he was going straight to bed when he left.”

  “Did he sound mad?” Gertie asked.

  I shook my head. “He sounded tired. And somewhat resigned. I almost prefer mad.”

  “I
would too,” Ida Belle said. “It’s hard to see a man like Carter so frustrated. He really wants this town to be a great place to live. With all the things going on here lately, I’m sure he feels like he’s failing the town and the residents, but nothing could be further from the truth.”

  “This place would fall apart without Carter,” Gertie said. “But I can understand how he feels. I feel the same way sometimes.”

  “We all have the same personality type,” I said. “We see something wrong and want to fix it, which in our case, means direct action. It never occurs to us that we won’t be successful so we take risks that other people wouldn’t.”

  “Well, I’m too old to rethink my life,” Ida Belle said. “So I guess we just have to live with it. How are we going to play out these interviews?”

  I’d been thinking about that since breakfast and I still hadn’t hit on the perfect way to approach things. If we didn’t provide any information, we might never steer the conversation where it needed to go. But if we did provide information, we’d be tipping the killer off that we were closing in on them.

  “I think we’re going to have to give some information, in order to get a reaction,” I said. “But I’m still not sure how much I want to provide. I’ll play it by ear. Just follow my lead.”

  “It is rather tricky,” Ida Belle said.

  “And after we do the interviews, I’m going to tell Carter what Mannie told me,” I said. “I don’t have to give specifics on how I got the information.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “Smart. We get what we can out of them before Carter makes his play.”

  “That’s my thinking,” I said.

  Ida Belle pulled up to the curb in front of a pretty yellow house with white shutters. A For Sale sign was in the front yard. Ida Belle frowned.

  “You guys know anything about that?” I asked.

  They both shook their heads.

  “I don’t really know either couple that well,” Gertie said. “They’re Catholic. That makes them Celia’s domain.”

  “Let’s find out about that first thing,” I said.