Soul Man

by Shari Hearn

  “Number one, I’m no Marge. Number two, candles, scented oils and my hands on Celia isn’t my idea of a pleasant afternoon.”

  Gertie nodded. “That’s why we chose the names Inga and Ilka. We could be soothing Swedish gals or bare-knuckled German gals. Marge could be soft as butter when she had to, or she could drive her knuckles in and knead a subject until she brought him to tears.”

  Suddenly, this sounded a little more appealing. “Which ones are we going to be?”

  Ida Belle rolled her eyes. “You have to ask?”

  Gertie nodded again. “I have a feeling Frau. Arceneaux will need a more... aggressive approach for her cellulite. If we don’t have Celia begging for mercy, I’ll be disappointed.”

  I smiled. “Vunderbar.”

  Ally approached our table with three plates of peach pie.

  “Your shift is almost over, isn’t it?” Gertie asked.

  Ally nodded as she set our dessert plates in front of us.

  “Feel like helping us make your aunt’s afternoon miserable? You’ll be helping a friend at the same time.”

  Ally smiled. “You had me at making my Aunt Celia’s life miserable.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  MARGE

  MARGE AND COOTIE STOOD on the banks of Glass Eye Lake, named in honor of Mudbug’s first Mayor, Peter “Glass Eye” Drapeau, who drowned while trying to retrieve the glass eye that popped out while he was fishing.

  Phase one of their detective work yielded few results. They’d traipsed through several homes of Cootie’s enemies—those men who didn’t take kindly to Cootie’s adventures with their wives—and stuck their ghostly heads through closet doors. They had spotted a couple of pairs of Irish Setter boots. Unable to open the boots with their spectral hands, however, they couldn’t determine the exact size. Cootie’s best guess had been that both boots were size 11 or 12.

  Cootie gazed out over the water and smiled. “Yep. Looks like my favorite fishing hole.” He looked down at the remnants of yellow DO NOT CROSS police tape left behind. “This is where the jackass stood and shot me, isn’t it?”

  Marge nodded. She hoped standing in this spot would help Cootie remember the events surrounding his murder. Luckily this area of the lake was deserted, providing them an opportunity to reexperience the moment of Cootie’s death without distraction.

  “I can actually relive that moment by just remembering it?”

  “Yep, the same thing you did with your memory of Jolene on the island.” In fact, Marge had relived many of her favorite experiences by thinking of them. “The trick is not to get caught up in a loop of the memory and endlessly experience it.”

  “I don’t see a danger in that. I don’t even remember getting killed.”

  “You were in shock. Maybe you saw something but can’t remember it. That’s why we’re here. To try to jog your memory. At least give it a try. I’ll enter your memory if you like, so there will be two sets of eyes.”

  “You can do that?”

  “I don’t see why not. Probably similar to entering a living person’s dream, and I’ve done that before. All I have to do is take my hand and place it on your sweet spot while you’re remembering.”

  Cootie leaned back and grinned. “My sweet spot? Why Marge Boudreaux, I didn’t think you were that type of gal. I must say, death becomes you.”

  “Your aura, you idiot.”

  “Oh. All right, but I’m going to tell you what I tell all the ladies I’m with: ‘You break it, you buy it.’” He winked.

  Lordy. If she couldn’t get Cootie to go in the light soon, she’d have to kill him a second time. “Close your eyes and remember that morning fishing. When we’re done, remember us on the shore and you’ll be right back here.”

  Cootie closed his eyes. Within a few seconds, he began to dissolve. She reached over to his fading aura with her hand and soon found herself out in the middle of the lake, seeing and experiencing everything through Cootie.

  Though it had been bright sun when they stood on the shore seconds ago, it was the last gasp of darkness in Cootie’s memory of yesterday morning. A few stars were still in the sky as a thin line of orange poked up on the horizon, getting ready for dawn to overpower darkness and make its grand entrance. A warm breeze grazed Cootie’s face. The boat rocked gently.

  The stillness exploded as a flock of geese shot up into the sky from their left.

  “I saw the birds, then looked over to the shore where they came from,” Cootie said.

  They saw a small flicker of light to the side of a tree. The flicker dropped to the ground. Elder Sheriff Lee had mentioned a cigarette was found at the scene. Marge wished she could have more time to study what appeared to be a darkened figure next to the tree, but Cootie pulled his attention to the thermos of coffee sitting on the bottom of the boat. “After I poured some coffee, I heard my pole moving, so I looked out at the water.”

  They cast their gaze out into the lake, where the fishing line disappeared into the water.

  A sharp pain shot through Cootie’s upper back. Then they plunged into darkness as Cootie pulled himself out of the memory.

  Marge opened her eyes to find herself standing next to Cootie back on the shore. The sun was bright once again.

  “That was a bummer,” Cootie said. “But I didn’t see who did it.”

  “What about the red flicker? They found a cigarette at this spot. You know anyone who smokes?”

  He shrugged. “Half the people in Sinful smoke.”

  “Does Bobby?”

  “Yeah, but we’re friends. Why would you mention him?”

  “Because friends can become enemies really quick under the right circumstances. He stole your license plate sticker and put it on his car and you chewed him out for it.”

  Cootie swatted at a fly that buzzed through him. “Is that really a reason to kill someone?”

  Now the fly got on her nerves. What she’d give for a solid hand to knock it away. “What about the day before you were killed? Aside from your argument with Bobby, anything unusual happen?”

  He thought a moment and shook his head. “We can reenter my memory if you’d like, but it was pretty uneventful. I helped Redneck paint his deck and then we drove to Mudbug Mini-Mart. I stayed in the car because my knee bothered me, so Redneck went in for beer, Doritos and a bunch of quick picks. We have a lottery pool going with a group of hunting buddies.”

  “Is Bobby part of that group?”

  “Yes, but we didn’t win. Never do. Even the special number I play hasn’t won yet. But I’ll keep trying. Redneck laughs every time I pull my little play slip out at the market. Says picking your own number is a fool’s play. I say, ‘why not?’ Now, I start my number sequence at the number fifty. Want to know why? I’m not telling, it’s a secret. It’s on my bucket list to win the Powerball, buy my own private island and turn it into one big man cave.”

  Marge threw her hands in the air. “Except that you’re dead. Your bucket list has expired.”

  “Oh yeah. That.”

  “Look, Cootie, when I said ‘unusual,’ I meant unusual. As in, did something out of the ordinary happen to you the day before you were murdered?”

  He folded his arms. “You’re awfully testy today. Is this what spending eternity with you is going to be like?”

  Marge shuddered at the word “eternity.” “Let’s move on to the Swamp Bar and your argument with Bobby.”

  “I told you. Bobby got over it. You saw how upset he was at my memorial.”

  “Looked to me like he was trying to find someone to pin your murder on. We need to look into him further.”

  “You need to stay out of it and let the law figure it out.” Elder Sheriff Lee appeared a few feet away, sitting on his ghostly mule. “I’ve been looking all over for you, Marge. My boy’s about to catch a criminal. I thought you’d want to see how a real lawman works to stop crime in its tracks.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Some guy break the ‘No Man-Bun on Wednesday Ordinance?�
�� We’re a little busy here, Elder Sheriff.”

  His pursed lips told her he wasn’t amused. “I think this might interest you. I’m talking about a real crime. Someone stole this boy’s paintings.”

  Marge couldn’t get on his mule fast enough. “Damn straight it interests me.”

  “What about me?” Cootie asked.

  “You stay here and see if you can remember anything else about the morning you were murdered. Or even days before. Something UNUSUAL. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  Elder Sheriff tapped the mule with his heel, and he and Marge took off toward Sinful.

  Chapter Fourteen

  IDA BELLE, GERTIE AND I waited at Marie’s house (located next door to Celia’s) for Ally to send an “all clear” text. Ally’s role was to play the dutiful niece who would set up the table and make sure Celia was under a sheet and lying face-down on the table when we arrived. She would also make sure the room was darkened, lit only by a few candles. Our wigs, glasses and medical-looking spa uniforms were pretty good disguises, but we didn’t want to give Celia the opportunity or the lighting to get a long, good look at us.

  Marie sipped her coffee and studied our outfits. “I don’t want to know what you’re up to, do I?”

  Gertie shook her head. “Just helping a friend.”

  Marie nodded and took another sip. She must have heard that from Marge, Ida Belle and Gertie a million times throughout the years. “Well, now that I’m mayor, it’s my duty to encourage the citizenry to help one another. Do carry on.”

  My phone vibrated. “It’s Ally. The pigeon has landed on the massage table.”

  In addition to helping me don a credible spa disguise, Gertie had used the rest of our two-hour window to give me instruction on basic deep-tissue massage, a skill she and Marge had honed during their spy days. We’d also dug up a container of putrid swamp mud from behind my house. We’d use that for our grand finale. What good is a high-quality massage without some healing mud to go with it?

  “If you forget all I’ve taught you,” Gertie said as she, Ida Belle and I made our way up the sidewalk to Celia’s house, “just poke her with your fingers or karate-chop her.”

  “I’m a martial-arts expert. I might chop her too hard.”

  “And that’s a problem, how?”

  We reached Celia’s doorstep. Gertie steeled herself, then knocked on the door. A few seconds later, Ally answered.

  “You must be Inga and Ilka,” she said loudly, winking. “Right this way.”

  We followed Ally into the living room. The curtains were drawn, and scented candles filled the room with the scent of lilacs.

  “Aunt Celia, they’re here,” Ally said gently as we walked up to a lump, or rather, Celia, lying prone on the massage table set up in the middle of the room. Her robe was folded neatly on the sofa.

  Celia lifted her face from the hole in the face rest and craned her neck to get a look at us. Gertie reached over and placed her hand on the back of Celia’s head and pushed it back into the face rest. “My daughter Ilka and I have no time for pleasantries,” Gertie said in an exaggerated German accent.

  “Oh,” Celia said through the hole in the face rest. “I just wanted to tell you what areas you should work on.”

  Gertie cracked her knuckles in Celia’s ear. “Your body vill tell us vat to vork on.” Gertie pointed to Ally. “You, niece. You may leave now.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ally said. “I hope this makes up for Marta going away on a cruise, Aunt Celia.”

  “Probably not. But we’ll see, won’t we?”

  Ally brought her hands up and made choking motions, then left as Ida Belle quietly waited by the stairs. In the event Celia had the tattoo, Ida Belle would search the upstairs and attic for any sign of Jo’s painting.

  Gertie waited for Ally to close the front door. “Zat niece of yours is very nice to call us on your behalf.”

  “Hmmmph,” Celia said into the face cushion. “She owed it to me. She’s the one who recommended Marta to me in the first place. I wouldn’t put it past that girl to have recommended Marta knowing full well she was going to abandon me to go on a cruise. My niece always has ulterior motives. She takes after her mother.”

  Gertie lifted her hand. Luckily, I managed to stop it before her hand made buttfall. Gertie took a moment to get back into character. “Oh my,” she said ominously.

  “What?” Celia asked, her voice panicky.

  “Shhhh,” I said. “My mother is listening to your body.”

  “Yes,” Gertie said, “and vhat I’m hearing is not pleasant. In addition to cellulite you have a pain in zee butt!”

  “Yes, I do!” Celia said. “Three of them, to be exact. Gertie, Ida Belle and Fortune.”

  “Poor baby,” Gertie said. “However, you are in luck. I’ve just come back from a vorld tour where I learned the latest advanced diagnostic tools. First I need to make a visual inspection.” She scrunched up her face. The last time I’d seen that look on her face, Gertie had just eaten a bad clam. “Ilka, remove her sheet please.”

  “What?” Celia asked, alarmed.

  I quickly whipped the sheet up and glanced at Celia’s right cheek. A saggy, sad hummingbird looked up at me from Celia’s doughy, dimply right cheek as if begging me to put it out of its misery. Its desperate eyes will haunt me till the day I die.

  Celia’s hand reached back and pulled the sheet down. “For heaven’s sake! Slow down! Marta slips the sheet aside a little at a time when she needs to work on... more sensitive areas.”

  I looked at Ida Belle and nodded. She padded up the stairs.

  “We’ve seen enough,” Gertie said gravely. “Fräulein, you have vhat is referred to in my country as shitzkriegfartenugen.”

  Celia gasped. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “You failed to mention you had a tattoo.”

  “Oh that. My stupid, former husband Max had me get it when we first married. Funny, you’re the second person today to mention it. But I don’t see what it has to do with my treatment for cellulite and sciatica.”

  My ears perked up. “Second time?”

  “Yes. I got a call a half-hour before you arrived. Someone tried to blackmail me and said they had a painting of me naked wearing a tattoo.”

  “Blackmail?” Gertie said. “Who would do such a thing?”

  Celia started to lift her head again, but I quickly eased her face back into the face rest. “I’ll tell you who,” she said. “Those three pains in my butt I was telling you about. It’s one of their pranks, I just know it. I don’t know how they found out about the painting or my tattoo, but they’re very sneaky.”

  “Tell me more about zis phone call,” Gertie said.

  “No. It was just a prank and I’ll retaliate, don’t you worry. What I’d really like is my massage.”

  Gertie grabbed the lotion bottle and pumped a big blob on her hands. She slapped them on Celia’s shoulders and began massaging her.

  Her next words came out gently. “The thing is, fröken, you are quite correct.” Inga the cranky German had now become Inga the gentle Swedish lady. “Your sciatica is related to these evil women. Emotionally you are a wreck and their poison is destroying you. You need to purge them from your body. You need to tell me everything they have done to you, starting vis the phone call zis afternoon.”

  Celia moaned with pleasure from Gertie’s hands on her shoulders. Gertie wrinkled her nose. She’d need more than a shot of cough syrup when we were done here.

  Gertie looked down at Celia’s feet. Do her foot, she mouthed.

  What?

  Her foot.

  I sighed, greased up my hands and began massaging Celia’s foot. I enjoyed the cranky German girl better.

  “Oh yes!” Celia called out. “This is more like it.”

  “The phone call, fröken. What did these evil women say?”

  “Oh, it was so amateurish. They either had Walter call or used one of those voice changers.”

  “And?” Gertie prompted. />
  “They said, ‘I have a nude painting of you by the late Cootie Bates.’ He was murdered yesterday. And then they said, ‘Place three hundred dollars in a brown paper bag or I’ll make copies of the painting and put them up all over Sinful.’ Can you imagine? And after the poor man was murdered.”

  “Zis man painted you? In zee buff?”

  Celia sighed. “I let him do it to get back at Max who always had a woman on the side while we were married. But Cootie said he destroyed the painting, which is something those three wouldn’t know.”

  Of course, what she didn’t know was that Cootie lied to her. I saw the proof earlier today. Whoever clunked me on the head was now trying to blackmail Celia. “What did you say to this prankster?” I asked.

  “I said that was the dumbest thing they’d ever dreamed up and I hung up.”

  “Did these evil women tell you what to do with the bag of money?” I asked, digging my thumbs into Celia’s foot.

  “Yes,” she moaned. Ick. “They told me to place it in a trash can on the south side of Sinful Park.”

  Gertie stopped massaging Celia’s neck. “When?”

  “What difference does it make?” Celia said, growing annoyed. “Oh, I can feel my sciatica acting up. Do you mind massaging a little lower?”

  “When did they tell you to drop the bag of money?” Gertie asked gently.

  “I didn’t pay attention. I said it wasn’t important.” She raised her other leg. “I’m ready for the other foot now, Ilka.”

  “After the healing mud treatment,” Gertie said.

  “Healing mud?” Celia asked. “Shouldn’t you finish the massage first?”

  I handed the container of Sinful Bayou slime to Gertie as she said to Celia, “Who is the expert here, Fräulein, you or me?” The cranky German had returned. “Now, I am going to place this mud on your body. You will describe all the evil things these ladies have done to you and zee mud vill absorb all the negativity in your body.”

  Gertie yanked the lid off the container, unleashing the aroma that had intensified while being covered. I held back a gag.