Swamp Santa (A Miss Fortune Mystery Book 16)

by Jana DeLeon

  “It’s a beautiful night for the sleigh ride, isn’t it?” Myrna asked.

  Gertie nodded. “We’re hoping it’s a little less eventful than the gala.”

  Myrna shook her head. “What a horrible thing to happen. And in front of children. And then to find out what that awful man did to Rollie. I suppose karma paid him a visit sooner rather than later with that heart attack.”

  “Actually, he was poisoned,” I said.

  Myrna’s hand flew over her mouth and the color drained from her face. Becca stopped digging in her bag and rose up, her eyes wide.

  “For real?” Becca asked.

  “I’m afraid so,” Ida Belle said, and gave a brief recount of our night in the ER.

  “Oh my God,” Becca said. “That’s horrible. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Oh, I’m fine,” Ida Belle assured her. “But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t unnerving.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Myrna said. “And of course it was unnerving. Good Lord, I would have been scared to death. Cyanide is, well, it’s a frightening substance. I only saw a case of poisoning once but that was enough for me.”

  She must have noticed our expressions because she hurried on. “I’m a retired nurse. I worked the ER for several years but it takes a toll. My stress level got too high and my doctor said no more, so I finished up my career tending to newborns. It was a much happier place.”

  A room full of babies sounded scary as heck to me, but for a normal person it was probably a much better option.

  “Oh, that would have been nice,” Gertie said. “Seeing all those pretty babies but not having to take them home and raise them.”

  Myrna smiled. “That was definitely the big plus. I love my daughter but her father was killed when she was only ten. Single parenting is not for the faint of heart. I was glad I only had one.”

  “I don’t know if you’ve heard,” Ida Belle said, “but Fortune is a private investigator. And she’s been hired to look into this situation.”

  “Oh,” Myrna said. “But surely the police…”

  “Of course,” I said. “But my client has strong feelings about certain types of crime, especially around children, and he’s not as invested in law enforcement as other people are.”

  “I see,” Myrna said, but it was clear that she didn’t really.

  “You were setting up for face painting in the cafeteria, right?” I asked. “I wondered if you talked to Santa or saw anyone else talk to him. Perhaps give him something to drink or eat?”

  Myrna shook her head. “I was running late, I’m afraid. Got a dressing-down from Dorothy over it. Some idiot blocked part of my driveway and then my neighbor’s son, who just started driving, blocked part of the other side so I couldn’t pull out. It took me forever to wake him up and get him to move his car. And the other car was still parked there the next day. I had to call Carter to get it towed.”

  I exchanged a glance with Ida Belle, who nodded. I’d bet anything it was Cooke’s car that had been blocking Myrna’s drive.

  “So you didn’t talk to him at all?” I asked.

  “I said hello when I passed by to get some water for my spray bottle, but he only nodded,” Myrna said. “Given how shy Rollie was, I didn’t think anything of it.”

  “Did he stay at the Santa setting the entire time?” I asked.

  Myrna thought for a moment, then frowned. “I think I saw him at the end of the food tables at one point.”

  “He was talking on his cell phone,” Becca said. “I was getting my tripod set up and had to wave him back over so I could test the frame.”

  “And what time was that?” I asked.

  “Maybe five minutes before people started coming into the cafeteria,” Becca said.

  “Did you see anyone else talk to him? Did anyone give him something to eat or drink?” I asked.

  Myrna shook her head. “I’m sorry. After I saw him near the food table, I moved to the other side of the cafeteria where my painting station was. After painting a couple babies, I’d slipped out to the restroom with Megan Prejean and didn’t get back until after all the excitement. She’s been having dizzy spells and her husband didn’t want her in the restroom alone. She’s first trimester and it’s not easy going, I’m afraid.”

  “Really?” Gertie said. “And they just adopted a couple months ago, right?”

  Myrna nodded. “It happens all the time with couples. They can’t conceive and as soon as they sign up for adoption or get the baby, they get pregnant. Has to do with stress.”

  “Well, good for them,” Gertie said.

  “What about you?” I asked Becca. “Did you see anyone talking to Santa? Anyone give him anything?”

  She slowly shook her head. “I mean, Dorothy came by barking orders when the crowd was on its way over but it wasn’t a conversation. I didn’t see anyone else over there at all. He had a bottled water but we didn’t provide those so I figured he brought it with him.”

  “And were you at your camera station the entire time?” I asked.

  “Once I arrived, yeah,” Becca said. “But I was taking video at the show, so I only got there minutes before everyone else.”

  “I heard there was a break-in at your photography studio,” I said.

  Becca shot a sideways glance at her mother before answering. “Yeah. That was weird. The police think it was kids looking for something to hock. It happens from time to time around there. I guess it was just my turn.”

  “Myrna!” Celia’s voice carried across the street. “There are people who need painting over here.”

  “Oh heavens,” Myrna said, and smiled. “She’s caught me conversing with the enemy. I best run or they’ll revoke my Catholic card.”

  She hurried across the street and I looked at Becca. “You want to tell me what you really think about your studio break-in now that your mom’s gone?”

  “You caught that, huh?” Becca said. “My mom is a professional worrier. Maybe it’s her medical training and those years she spent in the ER. She worked overnights and I know she saw a lot of bad things and probably a lot of bad things that happened to women. Or maybe it was being a single parent. Either way, she can be completely overbearing. We had a falling-out earlier this year over that sort of thing and didn’t speak for almost eight months. That’s why when I left New Orleans, I moved to Mudbug and not Sinful. Close enough for regular visiting but not so close she was in my business every day.”

  “Out of curiosity, what made you chose a small town like Mudbug?” I asked. “You seem more the urban type.”

  She smiled. “What made you chose Sinful?”

  “Touché,” I said. “Let’s just say I was tired of the rush and I enjoyed a slower pace far more than I thought I would. And then there’s the people. Some of them aren’t half bad.”

  “I’m terrific,” Gertie said.

  “You’re the reason the pace isn’t slower here,” Ida Belle said.

  Becca laughed. “I was getting tired of the rat race in New Orleans. The competition among photographers is legendary and the hours you have to put in to compete are horrible. Then I had a bicycle accident and broke my arm. I had to stop working for a while and even once I started again, my arm couldn’t take the hours I’d put in before.”

  “That would be rough,” I agreed. “Especially with it being your dominant arm.”

  She nodded. “Mom met a lady a couple years back at the hospital who was from Sinful and said it sounded like heaven. When she retired, she told me she was getting the heck out of New Orleans and away from all the stench and crime. So she moved to Sinful a couple months ago. It took me a month of listening to her go on about how great small-town living was before I finally threw in the towel.”

  “And you set up your own shop,” I said.

  “I lucked out, really. The local pro had just retired, so I slid right into his contracts with the schools and organizations. And the residents started calling almost immediately for weddings and other events
, so plenty of work before I’d even unpacked. It doesn’t pay like jobs in New Orleans did, but with a much cheaper cost of living, it’s been totally doable.”

  “Slim pickin’s on the sexy men side of things, though,” Gertie said.

  Becca laughed at her obvious chagrin. “New Orleans cured me of sexy man desires. Those slick lookers are always trouble.”

  “Had a bad run, did you?” Gertie asked.

  “You could say that,” Becca said. “Thought I’d found the one but turns out he was already taken. He totally fooled me. Probably still would be if a friend hadn’t found out and told me. Another good reason to leave the city. No risk of running into either of them in Mudbug.”

  Her expression was both angry and sad and I felt sorry for her. I’d never been in a relationship before Carter. Not a real one, anyway, but I had been betrayed by people I’d thought I could trust. It made it hard to trust anyone. Something I’d had to work on when I’d come to Sinful. Something I was still working on, if the truth be known.

  Gertie shook her head. “I’m sorry, dear. Men can be awful.”

  “Those kind can be,” Becca agreed. “My next man is going to be a blue-collar guy who likes watching television and fishing.”

  “Throw a rock then,” Gertie said. “You just described every man in Mudbug and Sinful. Fortune got the only sexy single one here, though.”

  “Really?” Becca asked. “Who’s that?”

  “Carter LeBlanc,” I said.

  She raised her eyebrows. “The deputy? Nice.”

  I felt a blush creep up my neck and was glad it was fairly dim on the street. I wasn’t embarrassed about my relationship with Carter but it still felt strange to get accolades for it. Except from Gertie, of course. She wanted to high-five me every time she saw us together.

  “So, the break-in?” I asked, getting back to the reason for our talk.

  “Right,” Becca said. “I’ve actually had two break-ins, but please don’t tell my mom.”

  “When was the first break-in?” I asked.

  “About a week before the second one. My back door was jimmied but nothing was taken. The police think I scared him off when I came home. They also thought it was kids, but then the second break-in happened, so I don’t know what to think.”

  “The second break-in was the night of the Mudbug festival, right?”

  “Yes. I dropped off all my equipment and left my camera uploading the photos from the festival. Then I headed down the street to a neighbor’s house for a little get-together they’d invited me to.”

  She frowned. “It’s weird. I have several expensive cameras in my studio but they weren’t touched. I even had an envelope of cash from a job I’d done the day before in my desk drawer but it was still there. The only thing the intruder did was access my computer and he reformatted it so I can’t tell what he took, if anything.”

  “I understand your studio is a converted garage,” I said. “Did he come into your house?”

  “I don’t think so. I mean, nothing was missing, which makes even less sense, right? It’s not like I have diamonds lying around but I have a couple good TVs and some other electronics.”

  “Sounds more like he was looking for something in particular rather than just things to steal,” I said.

  She crossed her arms across her chest. “I told the cops the same thing but they didn’t appear to want to work any harder at it than they already were.”

  “Which was to blame it on teens and do the minimal amount of paperwork required,” Ida Belle said.

  Becca nodded. “Honestly, the whole thing gives me the creeps. Some guy inside my studio and in my home, but nothing missing. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I wonder if our fake Santa was the culprit,” I said.

  Her eyes widened. “You don’t think…? No way. How would he even know me? I never saw him before the Sinful gala.”

  “Actually, I think you did,” I said. “Mudbug’s usual Santa canceled at the last minute and a contract service just happened to call with availability. But when the organizer tried to contact them for payment instructions, she couldn’t find any proof that the company had ever existed.”

  “Oh wow,” Becca said. “But what possible reason could he have for doing that?”

  “I think he was looking for someone,” I said. “And by playing Santa, he had access to the bulk of the local population at one time but without them knowing who he was.”

  “Looking for someone? You mean, like stalking?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “That’s why my client would like us to look into things. In case someone is in danger.”

  She blew out a breath. “That’s seriously messed up. Man, that kind of thing is why Mom left New Orleans. If she finds out, she’ll insist on living with me until the cops figure out what he was up to. That would be dire.”

  “I won’t say anything to her,” I said. “This is just speculation at the moment, but I can’t think of anything else that fits. Not given the circumstances.”

  “Yeah, it makes sense,” she agreed. “In a completely screwed-up kind of way. I just can’t believe… What if I’d been at home? What if he’s not the only one looking?”

  Gertie patted her shoulder. “It will be fine, dear. I’m sure he was after your photos. Seeing if he could find a shot of the person he was looking for in case he missed them during the event.”

  “I guess so,” she said. “But it makes me feel—I don’t know—icky. To think that he stole my work to stalk someone. Oh man! Do you think someone’s going to try to steal the photos I took last night?”

  “Assuming anyone else is looking for this person, I don’t think they’d risk that twice,” I said. “But it wouldn’t hurt to be careful. I assume you don’t have a security system.”

  “I do now. Got it installed the day after the last break-in,” she said. “Twice in as many weeks was too much for me.”

  “Do you have a weapon?” I asked.

  “If you’re asking me do I have a gun, then yes,” she said. “And I know how to use it. I was the last to leave at a lot of late-night events. A smart woman does not go walking around New Orleans after midnight without protection.”

  “Good,” I said. “I honestly don’t think you have anything to worry about, but it never hurts to be prepared.”

  Gertie frowned. “I think I see Celia motioning to you.” She reached up to wipe at Becca’s cheek. “You have a smudge.”

  Becca rubbed her cheek and shook her head. “Probably that reindeer mom put on me last night. That paint is not as washable as the manufacturers claim. I’m glad I didn’t go with the Christmas tree.”

  “I wish I wouldn’t have.” A girl’s voice cut in and we looked up to see a teen walking by, pointing to the green spots on her cheek.

  Becca shook her head. “The whole parish will be walking around with spots on their faces before the holiday is over.”

  I made a mental note to avoid the face painting part of the holiday offerings. Not that there was much risk of that happening unless I was held at gunpoint, but Gertie had been known to talk me into things I wouldn’t otherwise do. And since ’tis the season, I might have been swayed toward something whimsical if it was going to make her happy.

  “Becca!” Celia’s voice carried over the crowd. “We need you now!”

  “Crap,” she said. “I’ve got to run. You’re sure you think I’m safe?”

  “I do,” I said. “But you should talk to Deputy LeBlanc and tell him what happened. He might have a different view of things than law enforcement in Mudbug.”

  She nodded as she slung her camera strap around her neck. “I’ll do that. Thanks for letting me know.”

  Becca hurried across the street and I looked over at Ida Belle and Gertie. “We’re not getting much,” I said. “So far, all I’ve managed tonight is scaring that poor girl to death.”

  “It won’t hurt her to be on edge a little,” Ida Belle said. “Better than the alternative. Maybe we’ll get an oppor
tunity to talk to some of the others after the sleigh ride. In the meantime, I see Marie waving at us so we better take our places.”

  “What exactly am I doing?” I asked as we headed over.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You have several choices,” Ida Belle said. “You can wait around here and mingle with the crowd. Or you can ride with Gertie and listen to her tales of Christmas. Or you can hitch a ride with me.”

  Jeez Louise. I either had to make small talk with a bunch of people, ride in a trailer of hay with kids, or risk my life on the back of a four-wheeler that Ida Belle was commandeering. I’d had better options on CIA missions.

  “I guess I’ll ride with you,” I told Ida Belle. Since she’d be hitched to a trailer full of kids, that should prevent the worst of her daredevil driving habits, and it was the only option that eliminated the need for me to chat. I still hadn’t gotten that whole chatting thing down. I was fairly certain I never would.

  Ida Belle grinned. “You just don’t want to talk to people.”

  “Says the pot to the kettle,” Gertie said.

  “Hey, I could opt to go home and leave you to it,” I said.

  “But then you might miss an opportunity to interview more people after the sleigh ride,” Ida Belle said.

  I sighed. She had me there, and I was all about efficiency. Catching several people at one event was a lot faster than doing the whole home visit, drink iced tea, have a snack thing. It was a lot easier on the waistline, too. I’d already had to double my daily running distance to counter the additional calories that Sinful provided, because turning them down didn’t seem like a good option. The holidays had multiplied that problem times ten.

  I followed Ida Belle to her four-wheeler and noticed it had a big rack on the back.

  “A body rack,” I said. “Cool. Gives me more to hold on to.”

  She raised one eyebrow. “In Sinful, we call those deer racks.”

  “Ha! Yeah, I guess the cargo is probably a little different here.”

  “Most of the time.”

  I wasn’t even going to ask.

  I waited until Ida Belle was in place, then climbed on the back. When the trailers were loaded and everyone had taken a seat, Marie rang Christmas bells and the procession started out. I was somewhat surprised to see that the horses didn’t react to the four-wheelers, but then they probably heard that sort of thing all the time. It seemed to be the third vehicle of choice in Sinful, after a truck and a bass boat.