Swamp Santa (A Miss Fortune Mystery Book 16)

by Jana DeLeon

  “No,” Gertie said. “Ida Belle scares the heck out of us. We wouldn’t have told you because we like you more than Ida Belle. No sense worrying about that woman if there’s no cause.”

  His lower lip trembled and finally he smiled. It wasn’t a huge smile, but at least he wasn’t as stressed as when he ran in.

  “You’re sure she’s all right?” he asked.

  “I think so,” I said. “You know me. If I thought Ida Belle was in any physical danger, I’d be standing in the ER with a gun on the doctor.”

  Walter looked satisfied. “So I guess we just sit and wait.”

  “You can take a nap if you’d like,” Gertie said. “You’re already dressed for it.”

  Walter looked down at his clothes, apparently just now realizing he’d run out wearing his pajamas and no shoes.

  “Good Lord!” he said. “I’ve lost all sense of propriety. What are people going to think?”

  “I think it’s cute,” I said. “Ida Belle thinks we’re all a pain in the butt. No one else matters. And is propriety really a thing in Sinful?”

  Walter’s ears reddened when I said he was cute and he stared down at his bare feet.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s figure out which chairs are the most comfortable and stake them out. We’ll leave the hardest one for Carter since he took off out of here for coffee, I’m guessing so he wouldn’t be the one facing you.”

  Walter shook his head. “I haven’t heard the boy sound that scared since he shot a hole in my boat.”

  “He probably feels responsible since he didn’t insist Ida Belle go to the hospital right away,” Gertie said.

  “Why on earth would he?” I said. “We thought the guy died of a heart attack. How were we supposed to know he was poisoned? And short of arresting and hog-tying her, Carter would have never gotten Ida Belle to go to the hospital. We barely got her here after she found out she’d been exposed to cyanide.”

  “That woman takes stubborn to a whole new level,” Walter said. “Since we’ll be sitting here a while, why don’t you tell me what’s going on with this Santa business.”

  “The only part you don’t know is about Rollie,” I said, and told him what had happened to the regular Santa. “That’s all we know. Or all Carter’s telling us. We wouldn’t have gotten cause of death if Ida Belle hadn’t been exposed. You know his policy.”

  “I do, and I happen to agree with it,” Walter said. “You three do some good work but you also put yourself in some dangerous situations. It’s not just Ida Belle I care about, you know.”

  I reached over and squeezed his hand. “You’re a good man. And Ida Belle is lucky to have you.”

  “Got that right,” Gertie said. “It takes a special kind of person to put up with her for decades on end. I would know.”

  “You’re one to talk,” Walter said. “That bird of yours stole the show tonight. Well, maybe a better phrase would be took down the show. You know Celia went straight from the stage to the sheriff’s department wanting to file charges against Gertie for assault. Myrtle took one whiff and marched her back outside onto the sidewalk and had Deputy Breaux put Mentholatum up his nose before he went out to listen to her complaint.”

  “But Gertie never touched her,” I said. “And technically, the sheep she was supposed to be watching assaulted her.”

  “The truth never mattered much to Celia,” Walter said. “Especially not if she’s the butt of the joke and Ida Belle and Gertie are laughing on the other end of things.”

  “So what did Deputy Breaux do?” Gertie asked.

  Walter grinned. “He told her there was no way he could take her complaint without passing out and said she could either go home and shower and come back or he’d be happy to hose her down behind the building.”

  “Go Deputy Breaux,” I said.

  “She ranted, of course,” Walter said, “threatening to get him fired and all, which everyone knows isn’t happening as long as Lee is sheriff and Carter is really running things. Finally, Deputy Breaux got tired of listening to her—or smelling her—and went inside and locked the door.”

  “Did she ever come back?” I asked.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Walter said. “But tomorrow’s a whole other day.”

  I nodded, wondering what tomorrow would bring. Today had been stuffed rather full. Christmas shows, panicked barn animals, assault, unknown identity, murdered Santas, ER visits…

  But at least things were never dull.

  Given the amount of sweets and wine consumed the night before, I’d planned on falling into bed and going into a light coma. Unfortunately, the late-night hospital visit and subsequent coffee ingestion had overridden the carbs and sugar fest and it was 4:00 a.m. before I crawled into bed. We’d waited for hours for the doctor to come back with test results. He’d finally stepped up the pace when Ida Belle simply got off the bed and walked out of the ER. He’d caught up with her in the lobby, but all requests for her to remain overnight fell on deaf ears.

  The doctor finally admitted that it was just a precaution—and probably one he was taking because her situation was directly tied to a murder—and agreed to discharge her. Ida Belle had told him what he could do with his precaution and his discharge and stomped out the front door. She’d continued to express her displeasure by threatening to shoot anyone who tried to stay with her overnight. None of us were willing to test her on that one, so I dropped off Gertie, then drove to my house and turned over her vehicle. She barely waved before driving away.

  Despite all the coffee and the million unanswered questions I’d come up with while waiting at the hospital, I fell asleep quickly and stayed that way for a good long time. It was after 8:00 a.m. when I finally awakened. Merlin was standing in the bed next to me, staring right into my face when I opened my eyes. I jumped up, startling him, and he peeled out across my head to make his escape. I yelled all kinds of threats as he fled the room, but I knew when I walked downstairs, he’d be sitting in front of the pantry, glaring at me because I was an hour late with his breakfast.

  And because I would be sporting stinging claw marks on my head the rest of the week, I decided to take my time getting dressed. When I finally made it to the kitchen, he’d knocked every can of cat food off the shelf and was standing in the middle of them, giving me a look that could kill. If cats had opposable thumbs, I was convinced they wouldn’t tolerate humans.

  I made him even madder by taking time to put on my coffee first and didn’t even hear Gertie come in over the sounds of his wailing.

  “You should never antagonize a cat,” Gertie said as she stepped into the kitchen. “Have you smelled cat pee? I mean, up close and personal, like on your pillow or your new reclining couch?”

  Aside from the litter box, which I cleaned daily and had those deodorizers, the answer was not really. But if the woman who’d kept an alligator in her bathtub was issuing a warning about animals, I figured I better listen. I grabbed a can and served up Merlin’s breakfast. He took a sniff, then walked off.

  Butthole.

  “Even without making a sound, he always manages to have the last word,” I said.

  “Why do you think I don’t have a cat?” Gertie said. “I don’t need the competition. I’ve got enough stubborn and crazy going on with just myself.”

  “Speaking of which, have you talked to Ida Belle this morning?”

  “I called her grumpy butt as soon as I got up. She was waxing her SUV and said we better not try to treat her like one of those old, sick women or she’d give our Christmas gifts to Celia.”

  “Ouch. She’s really peeved about this.”

  “Ida Belle loathes hospitals and can’t stand people fussing over her when something is wrong. Given that she spent a good portion of the night in the ER, with all of us lurking in the lobby, and she’s right as rain, she’s really hacked. Not at us, really, but more at the situation.”

  “I get that. Maybe waxing her SUV will burn off her aggravation.”

  Gerti
e nodded. “Sooner or later, she’ll be over here wanting to hash everything out. It is a murder, after all, and a particularly nasty one as someone chose to do it in the middle of our Christmas celebration.”

  “I’ve been waiting all night to ask my questions, so I guess waiting a little longer won’t kill me. Is there any particular reason you stopped by?”

  “Can’t a friend just pay a visit?”

  “Some friends, yes. But your visits usually come with additional requirements.”

  “Well, I know you said you weren’t going to decorate since the big Christmas Day gathering will be at Emmaline’s house, but I was hoping I could change your mind. I’ve got more tree decorations than any ten people can use so I hauled some more out of storage and brought them over.”

  “What are we going to decorate? The couch?”

  “No. I had an old artificial tree as well. I used to put it on the landing upstairs but I’m too lazy to carry all that mess up there anymore. Plus, I’m having enough trouble keeping Francis out of the downstairs tree. I don’t need him venturing to the second floor.”

  I’d really hoped to avoid the whole decorating thing. The truth was, I hadn’t decorated a Christmas tree since my mother died. Carter’s mom, Emmaline, had put up a tree in his house and decorated it while he was at work, so I’d gotten out of helping there. And I’d insisted that I didn’t need to spend the money on buying a bunch of decor for my own house since Emmaline always hosted Christmas at her place.

  But Gertie’s hopeful look broke me down. Maybe it was time for new traditions, and decorating a Christmas tree with one of my best friends was definitely the kind of thing I needed to adopt.

  “What the heck,” I said. “Let’s go take a look and figure out the best place to put it, or maybe you can just tell me where Marge put hers.”

  Gertie laughed. “You bought her house with everything she owned in it. Have you come across a Christmas tree? Or any decorations?”

  “Now that you mention it, I guess I haven’t.”

  After I officially bought the house, Ida Belle and Gertie had helped me go through everything and get it sorted into things I would keep, things I would donate, and things that belonged in a landfill. We’d hauled a lot of stuff to local charities but I couldn’t recall a single Christmas decoration among them.

  “So what gives?” I asked. “Marge didn’t like Christmas?”

  “She loved Christmas. Not as much as hunting season, of course. Marge just wasn’t into frills. You see how her house was decorated. Functional sparse is what I always called it. One year, I put a wreath on her door. She used it for target practice.”

  “That does send a message. I can’t promise I won’t shoot anything, but if I do, it won’t be intentional.”

  “Can’t ask for more than that. Let’s go unload my car. I might have gone overboard.”

  Since Gertie usually thinks her over-the-top antics are completely normal, I was more than a little worried about what ‘overboard’ in the Christmas decor arena looked like. Apparently, it took the form of twelve storage containers shoved into an ancient Cadillac. The tree was strapped to the top. If I hadn’t seen it myself, I wouldn’t have believed it possible.

  An hour and four hundred and sixty-two cuss words later, we finally had the tree erected, all the lights working, and were making a dent in hanging ornaments. I had to admit that it looked kind of pretty tucked against my staircase. We finished up the ornaments and Gertie held up some bags.

  “Tinsel or no?” she asked. “It’s a mess to clean up but it’s pretty and sparkly.”

  “Why not? I’ve got time on my hands. A little cleaning won’t kill me.”

  Gertie handed me a box and we started sprinkling tinsel on the tree. “I really think you’ll start seeing business after the holidays. Most people pretty much put things on hold between Thanksgiving and New Year, then they hurry to play catch-up on all the things they were putting off.”

  I nodded. “I figured as much. And it’s okay to have some downtime. I’ve been taking some online courses on crime scene investigation and forensics. Really cool stuff. And I’ve been enjoying relaxing more with you guys and Ally and Carter.”

  “It would be more relaxing if dead bodies didn’t keep popping up,” Gertie said.

  “True. But at least this last one wasn’t a Sinful resident.”

  “I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse, given the circumstances.”

  I sighed. “Yeah. I’m kind of with you on that one. I hope the ME identifies the guy soon and we get some sort of plausible reason for him doing what he did.”

  “But what kind of plausible reason could there be?”

  “I have absolutely no idea.”

  “Me either.”

  “You want a soda?”

  “Yes, please. I think those boxes had ten pounds of dust on them. We’re going to have to do a good clean in here when we’re finished with the tree.”

  I headed to the kitchen and snagged some sodas and heard a familiar cry at the back door. Apparently Merlin was done with his morning trek and ready to come in and take his all-day nap. It still amazed me how much time cats spent sleeping. I opened the door and he strolled right by me, clearly still miffed about his late start to breakfast. I figured two could play the ignoring game, so I headed back to decorating central with the drinks.

  He must have heard Gertie singing because instead of stopping at his food bowl, as he usually would have, he followed me into the living room. I handed Gertie her drink and she took it, then her eyes widened.

  “Uh-oh,” she said.

  I followed her gaze and saw Merlin staring at the Christmas tree as if aliens had just landed. He stood midstep, frozen in place like a statue, his huge green eyes locked on the twinkling tinsel.

  Chapter Four

  Gertie opened her mouth to say something but before she could get the words out, Merlin sprang from the middle of the living room floor and right into the center of the Christmas tree. He wasn’t a huge cat, but he’d carried the momentum of an NFL linebacker. And since he’d hit the tree midway up and the stand was as old as the tree and a little loose, the whole thing started to sway.

  As I rushed to grab the tree, Merlin took the movement as a sign that he needed to exit, but he didn’t opt for running down, which would have benefited us all. No, in true cat form, he went straight up the wobbling tree, then launched from the top of it onto the stairs. That final kick from his hind legs was all it took to send the tree toppling over.

  I attempted to shove Gertie out of the way, but the cord for the lights was wrapped around her leg, so instead, she fell sideways into the tumbling tree. I saw a flash of blinking lights and tinsel before the whole shooting match came crashing down on top of us.

  “It’s electrocuting me!” Gertie yelled.

  I flailed around a bit, sliding on tinsel, and as I crawled out from under the tree, the front door flew open and Ida Belle ran in, guns blazing. She took a couple seconds to make sense of the mess, then dropped her gun in the recliner and came running over to help me lift the tree off of Gertie, who was yelling “ouch” every couple seconds.

  The frayed light cord wrapped around her ankle explained everything. I leaped over the tree for the wall and yanked the extension cord from the outlet. Gertie flopped back onto the floor in relief, her leg bent up as she tried to reach her ankle.

  “Are they going to have to amputate?” she asked.

  “Good Lord, woman,” Ida Belle said. “You’ve got a couple of pink marks. A bite from a fire ant would have done more damage.” She grabbed the offending light cord and held it up for Gertie to see. “What were you doing, using damaged lights?”

  “I thought I’d fixed it,” she said as she sat up.

  “You could have burned Fortune’s house down,” Ida Belle said. “This is exactly why I have a giant plastic Santa in my living room and nothing else. No mess. No risk of fire. And what the heck happened here anyway?”

  I t
old her about Merlin’s magnificent tree leap and she shook her head.

  “Christmas trees are like taunting cats in their own space,” she said. “The medical clinic does the bulk of its December business on Christmas tree injuries. Cats, drunks, and kids. That’s the order in which the destruction plays out.”

  I frowned at Gertie. “That would have been useful information to have before I agreed to put up a tree.”

  “I thought Merlin would be classier,” Gertie argued. “Or at least be afraid you’d shoot him.”

  “Well, apparently, we’ve established who’s in charge at my house,” I said. “And it’s not me.”

  Gertie looked at the destroyed tree and sighed. “I guess I better get started cleaning this up.”

  “It can wait,” Ida Belle said. “Merlin can’t knock it over twice, and now that the threat of fire is contained, I have something to tell you.”

  If Ida Belle the Orderly wanted to delay cleaning up the disaster to talk, then that meant she must have found out something about Fake Santa. I pulled Gertie up from the floor and we headed into our war room, otherwise known as my kitchen.

  Ida Belle barely slid into her chair before she started talking. “Do you remember Margaret Holden?” she asked Gertie.

  Gertie pursed her lips. “That woman from Mudbug who helped with the food drive last year?”

  “That’s the one,” Ida Belle said. “She called this morning about putting together a coat drive for kids after the holiday. I must have sounded distracted because she asked if everything was all right, and I told her about Rollie and Fake Santa. I left out the part about the poisoning, of course. Well, she said they had a problem with their regular Santa this year as well. Apparently, he won a weekend stay at the casino in New Orleans and totally bailed. She’d no sooner put down the phone from talking with him than she got a call from a Santa service saying they still had some slots available and were happy to do things at a discount.”

  “A Mudbug resident ditching a Santa gig for a free stay at the casino isn’t exactly a smoking gun,” Gertie said. “It would be harder to find someone who wouldn’t ditch for the free casino stay.”