Soul Man

by Shari Hearn

  “Yes, you’re still a guy. Listen, someone killed you, and Ally and Jolene might be investigated for it.”

  “Why?”

  “Did you slap Ally on the behind?”

  He shrugged. “I was being friendly.”

  “She didn’t like it.”

  “Tell me about it. She got all up in my face and said she’d send me to my maker if I did it again. Hell, I wasn’t coming on to her. I remember her when she was a kid. No way that was a ‘come-on’ slap on the fanny. There’s a difference, you know.”

  “What about Jo?”

  Cootie’s face changed. Less cocky. Vulnerable. “Jo was the love of my life.”

  “The girls said she left a message on your phone. Why? She’s been married now for...” Marge stopped to calculate the years.

  “She married in July of seventy-eight,” Cootie said. “I remember the date well. WE should have been married by then.”

  “Another thing I hate to break to you, Cootie. Some women may have found you a nice diversion, but you weren’t marrying material.”

  “Apparently, Jolene didn’t think so either.”

  “As I recall, she found you eyeing another woman.”

  “Just eyeing. That’s all I did. Then she up and left town and before I knew it she was married to a preacher over in Atlanta.”

  “And she’s now a mom and grandma. So, again, why’s she leaving you a message?” A horrible thought flashed in her mind. “Please tell me you and she never hooked up again.”

  Cootie sighed and began pacing. “No. No. It’s not like that.” He stopped and stared at Marge. “About a year and a half ago I found out I was sick. My odds of living another five years were about twenty-five percent.”

  “Oh,” Marge whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  “You know what that’s like, right?”

  Marge nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Well, it got me thinking that maybe I should start tying up some loose ends. I wanted to let her know how special I thought she was. So I called and told her I had something she’d want and had a proposition I wanted to make.”

  “What did she want?”

  “A painting I did of her for a class I took in college. The Art of the Human Figure.”

  Marge groaned. “Human figure? As in nude?”

  “She posed willingly,” he said. “Other women have too. No crime. When we broke up, she said she wanted me to destroy it. I said ‘no.’ No artist destroys a fine work of art. But I told her I’d never show it to anyone. Well, when I had this thought that I was going to die, I went back to the painting and altered it. I thought I’d give it to her as a present.”

  “You said you told her you had a proposition for her. What was it?”

  “I wanted to paint her family. All she had to do was provide me a photo and I would do a painting from it. To make up for all the grief I caused her for not giving her the nude painting.”

  “But all you said on the message was you had something she wanted and a proposition for her?”

  He nodded.

  “Damn, Cootie, she probably took that as a threat. Then she called you back with a threatening tone, and now she’s going to be investigated for murdering you.”

  They both turned when they heard Carter swearing. He shoved his phone in his pocket and headed for the back door.

  Marge followed Carter back inside. Cootie managed to scoot in before Carter closed the door.

  Ida Belle, Gertie and Fortune looked up at him from the kitchen table.

  “You don’t look so good,” Gertie said. She patted the chair next to her and he sat.

  “Was that about Cootie’s murder?” Fortune asked.

  Carter nodded and blew out a breath. “I’ve been officially taken off the case.”

  “Why?” Ida Belle asked.

  He tapped his fingers on the table. “Seems there’s a message from my Aunt Jo on Cootie’s phone.”

  The ladies cast glances at one another.

  “What kind of message?” Fortune asked.

  “Sheriff Lee wouldn’t say, just that it could be taken in a threatening manner. When he told Mudbug who Jolene was, the sheriff there said he doesn’t want me anywhere near the investigation.”

  Fortune reached out and covered his hand with hers. “Why do I get the feeling you weren’t really concerned about Ally? That it was your Aunt Jo you were thinking of?”

  He gazed at her. “My Aunt Jo dated Cootie before she moved from Sinful ages ago. My mom said it was a bitter breakup. It took Aunt Jo ten years before she’d finally visit Sinful again. It was always my Uncle Walter’s job to go tell Cootie to stay away from his sister while she was here. But not this time. Now she comes back unannounced and Cootie is murdered.”

  “Doesn’t mean she killed him.”

  “No, of course it doesn’t. I know she wouldn’t do anything like that. But, as a lawman, it doesn’t look good. She’d be one of the first people I’d have to look at.”

  He stood. “I’m wanted back at the station.”

  Fortune stood as well and they hugged.

  “I know I was going to introduce you to my Aunt Jo at dinner tonight, but... maybe it’s not a good time.”

  “Yeah, sure, you probably want to talk with her alone.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “That’s the thing. She might be a suspect. I’m under orders not to interfere, so...”

  “You can’t even ask her about it?” Gertie asked.

  Carter shrugged. “I’m not sure what I can do at this point.” He took one last slug of his coffee.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Fortune said.

  Marge and Cootie followed them toward Carter’s truck.

  “Certainly, the Mudbug Sheriff will clear her as a suspect,” Fortune said. “She wasn’t anywhere near him when he got killed, right?”

  Carter stopped and grimaced. “My mom said when she woke up this morning Jo was gone. She’d left a note on the kitchen table saying she was going to photograph the sun coming up over the Atchafalaya Refuge. When she came home around nine thirty she had a little bag of chocolate chip cookies from a bakery right outside the Refuge.”

  “Proof she was there.”

  Carter nodded. “Doesn’t mean she couldn’t have swung by where Cootie was fishing, shot him, then made her way to the Refuge. Time of death is between four thirty and six thirty.”

  “That’s crazy!” Cootie shouted at Carter.

  “They can’t hear you,” Marge said.

  Fortune’s eyes widened. “You’re not serious.”

  “No, but as a lawman, that’s how I’d see it.”

  “How would she even know where he was?”

  “Because he texted her and told her where he was going to park. He wanted her to join him fishing.”

  Fortune grimaced. “Oh.”

  Marge glared at Cootie.

  “What?” Cootie asked. “Jo’s a widow. Besides, Redneck was supposed to join me. It would have been the three of us. Not like I was asking Jo to get naked in the boat.”

  A voice called out, drawing all their attention.

  “Deputy LeBlanc, I want to talk to you.”

  Cootie’s face lit up. “Speak of the devil.”

  Carter rolled his eyes and sighed as Redneck, his real name Kenneth, approached them. In his late-sixties, Redneck looked true to his nickname. Red hair which stuck out of his beer-logo baseball cap, ruddy complexion, a bit of a beer belly. Beefy arms with a tattoo of a snake circling around his biceps.

  “Redneck, I don’t have time for this,” Carter said. “You’re lucky you only spent three hours in jail. Until the law is changed, parading outside in your underwear is a crime.”

  Cootie laughed. “Midge Allair must have called on him again.”

  Redneck waved Carter off. “I don’t care about that. Is it true? Did someone kill Cootie?”

  “Mudbug Sheriff is still investigating. He was shot. They’re thinking it’s murder.”

  “Mudbug? They’re
a bunch of clowns! They’ll never find the killer. You’ve got to do something. Find out who did it.”

  Carter held up his hand. “Sheriff Lee and Deputy Breaux will be providing backup.”

  “Why not you?”

  Carter glanced at Fortune. “I’m working another case right now.”

  “What’s more important than finding Cootie’s killer?” Redneck slapped himself on the chest. “I was supposed to be there with him, but I overslept. If I’d been there, this woulda never happened.”

  “Or you might have gotten shot yourself,” Carter said. “If you have any thoughts about who might have had it out for Cootie, you should talk to Sheriff Lee, Deputy Breaux or the Mudbug Sheriff’s Department.”

  “Sure, there were guys who had it out for him. Who doesn’t get through life without making a few enemies? Do you know if there’s going to be a funeral?” Redneck asked.

  Carter shook his head. “Cootie had a brother. I’m sure he’ll put something together.”

  Redneck shook his head. “His brother’s an ass. He’ll come in, sell the house and make off with the money. He won’t have any funeral for him. But I can. I have to do something.” Redneck thought a moment. “I know the head of maintenance for the rec center. I bet he’d open it up tomorrow morning for a little memorial. Give people a chance to remember him.”

  Carter reached out and patted Redneck on the shoulder. “It would be nice if you could organize something. I know you two were close. I’m sorry for your loss, Ken.”

  Redneck nodded absently. “Yeah. Ten o’clock. I’ll ask for that slot.” He turned and walked away, muttering to himself.

  “Make sure you include some hula girls,” Cootie called out after him. “Or maybe a stripper or two.”

  Carter reached in and kissed Fortune on the cheek. “I’ll call you later.”

  “Sure.”

  Ida Belle and Gertie wandered up as Carter walked away.

  “Was that Redneck?” Gertie asked.

  Fortune nodded. “He’s going to put together a memorial for Cootie at the rec center tomorrow.” She watched Carter pull away from the curb. “Carter said his Aunt Jo left early this morning to go photograph the sunrise over the Atchafalaya Refuge. Where do you suppose she really went?”

  “You can ask her yourself,” Ida Belle said. “She texted me. She wants to meet at my house in five minutes. You coming?”

  Fortune shrugged. “One thing Carter didn’t say was ‘don’t interfere in Mudbug’s investigation.’”

  “Then what he was really saying was, ‘Not my investigation. Feel free to interfere,’” Gertie said.

  Fortune nodded. “Works for me.”

  The gals headed for Gertie’s ancient Caddy parked in front of the house.

  “Aren’t we going to follow them?” Cootie asked Marge. “I’d like to see Jolene again.”

  Marge groaned inwardly. She needed to focus on this case. One thing she didn’t want was Cootie distracting her. He needed to disappear for a while. “Sure,” she said, nodding. “But we’re not going to ride with them. We’re ghosts. We’re going to zip over there with our thoughts.”

  “How do we do that?”

  She smiled. “I want you to think about Jolene and remember some of the great places you used to go together.”

  “We used to go make out on Hound Dog Island. Jo was very talented in her youth. She could pop a black cherry in her mouth and tie the stem with her tongue.”

  “Something I didn’t need to know, but, okay, you think of being with Jo on Hound Dog Island.”

  Cootie closed his eyes. Within seconds he was gone. What Cootie didn’t know was that young ghosts such as themselves hadn’t yet learned how to fully control their energy. Focusing on a strong memory could often propel a ghost to the place of that memory. In fact, most hauntings were just that—ghosts reliving a strong memory. Marge made a mental note to go check on Cootie later. But, right now, she was curious why Jolene felt it necessary to reach out to the Swamp Team 3.

  Chapter Seven

  THE THREE OF US WERE striding up Ida Belle’s walkway when we heard a noise from the bushes to the right of the door. Ida Belle and I had our weapons drawn from our waistbands before Gertie even unclasped her purse.

  “Whoever you are, come on out,” Ida Belle said.

  I glanced at Gertie. “You need to put your gun in your waistband.”

  Gertie shook her head as she pulled her gun from her purse. “That’s how my butt crack almost became a butt gorge in 2005.”

  “Don’t shoot, it’s just me.” A woman stepped out from her perch inside the bushes. “I didn’t want anyone to see me waiting at your house.”

  Midsixties, with Carter’s beautiful eyes, Walter’s mouth and Emmaline’s nose. Tanned, shoulder-length blonde hair. Could be a poster child for active senior living. And eyeing me as if my threat level were off the charts.

  “Who’s this?” Jo asked.

  I stuck out my hand to shake. “I’m Fortune. Sandy-Sue Morrow.”

  “My nephew’s girlfriend?” She looked at Ida Belle in shock. “Are you serious? I didn’t want Carter to know I was here.”

  “And he won’t,” Gertie said. “Fortune helps us get things done. She knows how to be discreet.”

  “We want to help you,” Ida Belle said. “But Fortune has to be in on it.”

  Jo scrutinized me. “You’re Marge’s replacement?”

  Gertie shook her head. “No one can ever replace Marge, but you can’t have a Swamp Team Three without a third wheel.”

  “Fine,” she said. “Let’s hurry and get inside. The last thing I need is for a snoopy neighbor to see me visiting the Geritol Mafia.”

  Ida Belle held the door open for Jo and she slipped inside. Gertie shook her head. “One time. One time I hit the Geritol and now that’s all people can think of.”

  Jolene and I sat opposite one another in the living room, she in a chair and I on the sofa, as Gertie and Ida Belle went into the kitchen to fetch cookies and sweet tea.

  She fiddled with the purse in her lap. Finally, she looked up at me and smiled. “I’m sorry I was rude back there. It’s just... my nephew shouldn’t know I was here. I don’t want any of what I’m going to say to get out, especially to his mother, Emmaline.”

  “No, I get it. He won’t know.”

  She cocked her head. “You’re certainly everything my nephew said you were. He described you to a ‘T,’ right down to your beautiful blue eyes.”

  I felt myself blushing.

  “When Miss Gertie said you help them ‘get things done,’ I take it Carter isn’t privy to your help.”

  I shifted on the sofa. “Well, he knows we—”

  “—Stick your noses into things that don’t concern you?” She smiled. “Though I moved away long ago, I’ve kept up with the gossip from friends. I’ve heard stories about those two and your Great-Aunt Marge through the years. In fact, I may have heard you connected to a story or two within the past few weeks, so seeing you here doesn’t surprise me. But I can’t imagine my nephew is oblivious.”

  “Let’s just say we have an unspoken agreement. For the sake of his sanity he thinks we bake a lot of cookies together.”

  “Is he a party to this unspoken agreement?”

  I gave her one of those ‘so-so’ shakes of my hand. She smiled. “I like you.”

  I grimaced. Lying to Carter wasn’t something I was proud of. But he was a dedicated lawman. I was just protecting him by giving him plausible deniability. And yes, protecting his sanity.

  Jolene read my face. She gave a wave of her hand. “Listen, honey, the men in our lives don’t have to know everything we do. My late husband Stan gave some real stinkers for sermons, but I told him I loved every one of them. And I told him I loved his favorite tie and the way he combed his hair over to hide his bald spot. He didn’t need to know how I really felt or the times I spent with my girlfriends playing poker. Best he thought I was attending a weekly book club.”

  �
��I like you too,” I said.

  Ida Belle came out with a pitcher of sweet tea, followed by Gertie who held a tray with glasses and cookies.

  Gertie set the tray on the coffee table between the sofa and chairs. “You two sound like you’re getting along.”

  “Let’s just say I like my nephew’s taste in women.”

  I scooted to the end of the sofa, allowing room for Gertie. Ida Belle poured a glass of tea and handed it to Jo, then took a seat in the chair next to her.

  “You’re looking great,” Ida Belle said. “Atlanta agrees with you.”

  Jo held the glass to cool her forehead. “Thank you. I joined a gym and a hiking club.” She looked from Ida Belle to Gertie. “It’s been, what, five years since I’ve seen you two?”

  “Right,” Gertie said. “A year before Stan died.”

  Jo nodded. “My sources say you two have been causing mischief.”

  Ida Belle took a sip of tea. “Our mischief comes in handy at times. I assume that’s why you wanted to meet us in secret.”

  Jo pulled in a deep breath. “It’s well known Cootie Bates and I were an item some time ago.”

  Ida Belle and Gertie both nodded.

  “Wasn’t the best choice I ever made, but we had fun. Fun’s what I wanted back then.”

  “If it helps,” Gertie said, “Cootie and I had... fun once.”

  Jo smiled. “Well, Cootie was a ladies’ man.” Her smile disappeared. “I can’t believe he’s dead.” Her eyes reddened, and a tear fell. Gertie retrieved a tissue box from a side table and held it out to her. Jo took a sheet and blotted her eyes with it. “Thanks. That man has always been a complication in my life. He was crude and unrefined, but at times he was sweet. At least to me, before I caught him eyeing another woman. Then another. Then another. So I broke it off and left. I’ve never regretted my decision, either. Stan was a wonderful man and I have three wonderful children and two fantastic grandchildren. Having said that, I don’t regret MOST of the times Cootie and I spent together.”

  I filled a glass with sweet tea. “Would one of the times you regret be the reason for your visit?”

  Jo pointed at me and looked from Gertie to Ida Belle. “That one’s sharp.” She looked back at me. “Let me back up. It all started when I needed some spending money while I was in college. My parents helped with some, and I got scholarship money, but it wasn’t enough. One day in the cafeteria I overheard several students talking about opportunities in art modeling and how well it paid.”