by Mary Ellis
“Broccoli? You’re adding broccoli to a veritable Cajun Creole feast?” Hunter shook his head with a laugh.
“Of course. We need something healthy. Now get moving.” Even as she gave orders and pointed at his bathroom door, she looked carefully at him to make sure he was up to the task. She didn’t want him to overdo and end up back in the hospital.
“Will that be it, Miss Price? No dessert?”
When he started to unbutton his shirt, revealing a tanned and toned chest, Nicki blushed to the roots of her hair. “Peach pie, à la mode,” she said. She shook off her shyness and came closer to cover his bandage with the plastic wrap. Once it was as secure as she could make it, she kissed his cheek and then left the room. She didn’t stop until she reached her little Escort, which was squeezed next to Hunter’s flashy Corvette. Giddy excitement welled in her belly just like the time they called her name at a church fund-raising raffle.
So this must be what all those romance novelists wrote about.
This must be what love felt like.
And it felt even better than winning a toaster oven.
FORTY-ONE
The ringing of a phone broke an otherwise perfect moment during a perfect engagement dinner in the Blue Lotus. Why wouldn’t Nicki and Hunter select the restaurant where they first met? Even if she’d been hiding behind a tall menu at the time. Two men pinned her with their expressions—one her fiancé and one her boss.
“Who could be interrupting such an auspicious moment?” asked Hunter.
“Let it go to voice mail,” said Nate.
Nicki dug her phone from her bag. “I think I should look.” Her pulse quickened when she read the name on her screen. “Hello, Sheriff Latanier. I trust you’re calling with an update?”
While Hunter and Nate watched curiously, Nicki listened to news that surpassed her wildest dreams. The sheriff summarized a string of events with professional succinctness. She couldn’t keep from grinning over recent developments in the case.
“I can’t thank you enough, sir. Yes, whenever you need my deposition, just let me know.” Ending the call, Nicki turned to her companions.
“Well?” they both asked simultaneously.
“With Sean’s deposition, the DA was able to obtain a search warrant for the current residence of Theodore Cheval, aka Junior. Junior was living with his mother seventeen years ago when my dad met him in a bar. Fortunately for us, he moved back in with Mama when his third wife kicked him out six months ago. Detectives for St. Landry Parish converged on the house early this morning.”
Nicki paused to take a breath. Her audience waited with rapt attention.
“They found my father’s belt hanging from deer antlers in Mrs. Cheval’s garage. We have people who will testify that the belt was my dad’s. Both Junior and Terrence have been arrested and charged with murder. A warrant is out for Louis Cheval for accessory to murder, after the fact. He helped his brothers conceal evidence. Bond has been set for Junior at a million dollars.” Nicki bit the inside of her mouth to keep from crying from joy. This was no time for tears.
“At long last, cousin.” Nate slapped her on the back.
“Well done, my favorite Nancy Drew.” Hunter leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’d say this calls for a celebration.”
“I solve my first big case and all I get is slapped and a kiss on the cheek?” Nicki snorted with disgust. “I need to hang out with a better crowd.”
FORTY-TWO
Funny how things worked out. Nicki carefully folded her new tops, jeans, and skirts and then laid them in her suitcase with her new socks, underwear, and pajamas. Two pairs of sandals were in the outside compartment along with a hairdryer and assorted toiletries. Everything paid for from Nate’s bonus because she’d cracked the case.
Because the DNA collected weeks ago during her previous visit to La Maison de Poisson turned out to belong to Ashley’s high school sweetheart, NOPD detectives took arson investigators out to Terrebonne to question Bobby “Bubba” LaSalle. Once they dangled a little white lie that his truck had been seen in the vicinity of Christine’s trailer, he cracked like an egg. Apparently, he wasn’t going to jail alone for something that hadn’t been his idea. The firebomb meant to scare Nicki back to Natchez had turned into felony manslaughter when it ignited a propane leak.
Ashley was cooling her four-inch heels in jail, waiting for someone to post bond. And it wouldn’t be daddy dearest because he was sitting in a cell on another floor. Rumor had it Philip was going to plead guilty to second-degree murder of James Nowak to avoid a trial and chance a first-degree conviction. Louisiana still believed in the death penalty.
That got Hunter off the hook, which was the reason for Nicki’s paycheck and motivation for the much-needed bonus. The fed’s preliminary report, based on the evidence Nicki supplied, confirmed Hunter had no culpability in Nowak’s shell game. A statement to that effect would be released to the press and would perhaps quell client uneasiness and stem a mass exodus from his investment firm.
Hunter. He turned out to be the biggest surprise of all. Not exactly the rich, arrogant, self-serving con man she had pegged him for the first time they had a meal at the Blue Lotus. He’d paid for Christine’s funeral following the confirmation of her identity and set up college funds for her children at a local bank. This at least somewhat assuaged her guilt. She had planned to help her friend stop making bad choices, but instead she only brought more evil into her life.
Next, Hunter sent letters to his clients, thanking them for their loyalty and assuring them of full restitution if James’s sticky fingers touched their accounts. Fortunately, it appeared that Philip Menard and Robert Bissette were the only ones seriously defrauded, and Ashley’s dad certainly wasn’t going to be reimbursed. And Hunter sent letters to the junior brokers informing them of new company rules regarding risky investments for the renamed Galen Investments.
Hunter had insisted she use his credit card to replace her wardrobe, but a woman needed to maintain some autonomy. It was enough he had moved to Ethan and Cora’s and given her his apartment until their wedding. She was glad he shared the same conviction that there would be no comingling until after they were married. Fortunately, she had passed the new daughter-in-law test with his mother.
Hunter’s final test lay ahead. Would he be shocked when he saw exactly who she was and where she came from? Her world was very different from the smooth-sailing lifestyle of the rich and infamous. Or maybe the test would be hers.
Nicki pressed everything down in her suitcase and retrieved her makeup bag from the bathroom. Despite all that she’d accomplished, the time had come for an overdue visit back home. Not to her mother’s apartment in Natchez, but to their real home in Red Haw, Mississippi, to the two people who had influenced her life the most.
Mamaw and Papaw would be waiting on their porch when they drove up. He would have on a ball cap, a plaid shirt—cotton in summer, flannel in winter—and work boots; she would be in a floral print duster with fuzzy slippers on her feet. Her gray hair would be a helmet of tight curls thanks to the home permanent a neighbor gave her from time to time. When Mamaw had turned sixty, she lopped off the long plait she wore down her back and opted for an easier coiffure. She hung the braided hair on a hook in the barn and insisted it kept horseflies away from her ancient mare. She had once told Nicki with a chuckle, “When Papaw gets lonesome for the long-haired gal he married, I send him out to the barn.”
A stew full of carrots, potatoes, turnips, dried beans, and whatever meat her grandfather took with his squirrel rifle would be simmering on the woodstove, although her mom would probably bring beef shanks bought on sale at the market and kept in the freezer for just such an auspicious occasion—such as Nicki bringing home the man she loved and planned to marry one day in the not too distant future.
Mamaw would have baked cakes, pies, biscuits, and the oatmeal raisin cookies cherished by her granddaughter. She would set out jars of blackberry jam and strawberry preserves. There
would be no wine in the house, or vintage champagne, or expensive microbrewery beers, but there would be plenty of sweet tea, lemonade, and strong coffee with a pinch of chicory to start the day. There would be mason jars of pickled beets, pickled cucumbers, and chow-chow to garnish each meal. No frilly calico caps covered these lids like those in gift shops—just a label indicating content and canning date. However, her grandparents weren’t totally without modern vices. Papaw bought peanuts in bulk and stored them in a twenty-five-gallon canister. He took a bowl most evenings to eat on the porch and gave any that went stale to the squirrel who peeked in the window. And Mamaw had discount cards for every grocery chain in Natchez for snatching up bargains on her occasional trips to town.
Nicki’s throat tightened and her stomach felt hollow, even though she wasn’t hungry. This was what heartache felt like. She hoped she wouldn’t spend the entire visit teary-eyed from childhood memories.
Nicki Price goes to town and comes home a crybaby. That’s what her grandparents would say, and the thought made her smile. She checked the bag of spices, seasonings, and herbal concoctions she’d picked up locally. Papaw was a fabulous herbalist and could cure asthma attacks, hot flashes, snakebites, migraine headaches, and the common cold. Hmm. I wonder what he has on his shelf for Hunter’s gunshot wound? He’ll probably recommend a poultice and echinacea tea.
“Are you about ready, darlin’?” Hunter’s soft words pulled her from her reverie.
“Just about. I’m checking what I bought to take with us. It doesn’t look like much of a homecoming offering.”
A slow smile spread across his tanned features. “I picked up a few things too while you were sleeping in. They’re packed in the trunk, the food on dry ice.”
Nicki narrowed her gaze. “What did you buy, Hunter? Nothing fancy, I hope. You know my kinfolk don’t cotton to fancy.”
“Simmer down. Everybody likes to try new food. I picked up andouillie sausage, smoked alligator, Creole hog’s head cheese, and a five-gallon tub of fourteen-bean soup mix. None of that needs refrigeration. And for the first night of our visit, the fish vendor packed a crab-and-shrimp boil to cook over the open fire, along with two-pounds of fresh red snapper. Oh, and a quart of olive salad.” Hunter looked mighty pleased with his purchases.
“That’s it? No frogs legs or turtle soup?”
His grin faded a tad. “Would they like that? We can swing by the French Market on our way.”
“I was joking, Hunter. They have frogs and turtles where they live too, should anyone develop an unbearable craving.” She slipped her arm around his waist. “You packed all that in your trunk?”
He nuzzled a kiss into her hair. “Yeah, and rechargeable battery packs for the new table lamp and radio I picked up, just in case your papaw wants to listen to an LSU or Ole Miss game when his generator isn’t running.”
“Will there be room for my suitcase?” she asked. “I sure don’t want to leave my new clothes behind.”
“Hmm…either behind the seat or you might have to hold it on your lap. Sorry ’bout that.”
She tightened their embrace, feeling the heat build between them. “Are you sure you’re ready for this much rusticity? You realize there won’t be a crystal flute, silver ice bucket, or espresso machine within miles.”
Lifting her chin with one knuckle, he bestowed a kiss that pretty much answered every question. “Are you joking, O’lette? Woods for playing hide-and-seek? A rowboat for fishing at dawn? A porch swing for watching the stars come out? I’ve been itching for a quiet getaway for a while.” His hug threatened to crack her ribs. “And you know the best part of all?”
“What’s that, rich boy?” Nicki thought her heart might burst in her chest.
“When we finally tire of stargazing, there won’t be any TV, wi-fi, or fax machines to distract us from the truly important things in life. We’ll be forced to retire to the porch swing for some old-fashioned entertainment.” He kissed her lips softly and drew her head down to his chest. “I, for one, am ready. Laissez les bon temps roulez,” he whispered.
“Me too. Let the good times roll.” That tidbit of French Nicki already knew by heart.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. The characters of Nicki Price and Christine Hall illustrate how certain decisions can profoundly affect the future. What were some of the mistakes these women make that are difficult to overcome?
2. Nicki is often embarrassed by her poverty-stricken upbringing. How do those roots actually help her to become the woman she’s destined to be?
3. On the other hand, Hunter grew up with every advantage. How did his silver spoon upbringing adversely affect his growth of character?
4. Why do you think Hunter was reluctant to confront his business partner as soon as he suspected financial improprieties?
5. What are some other ways people keep their heads in the sand, much to their detriment?
6. Ashley Menard was a manipulator of people and situations. Discuss people you’ve encountered in life with similar abilities. How are they able to get their way so often and for so long?
7. Why is it so important that Nicki solve the cold case of her father’s death, besides the obvious fact that she loved him?
8. The characters of Kermit Price and Philip Menard serve to illustrate how parents are seldom all-good or all-bad. What are some challenges you had to resolve with your own father in order to find peace within yourself?
9. Why does Hunter have just as difficult a task of proving himself to Nicki as she does to him?
10. Nicki’s fear of swamps began during her childhood, yet God forces her to deal firsthand with that fear over and over. Discuss some of your own pet phobias and how you learned to overcome them.
Secrets of the South Mysteries
What Happened on Beale Street
What Happened on Beale Street is an exciting addition to the Secrets of the South Mysteries from bestselling author Mary Ellis. These standalone, complex crime dramas follow a private investigator’s quest to make the world a better place…solving one case at a time.
A cryptic plea for help from a childhood friend sends cousins Nate and Nicki Price from New Orleans to Memphis, the home of scrumptious barbecue and soulful blues music. When they arrive at Danny Andre’s last known address, they discover signs of a struggle and a lifestyle not in keeping with the former choirboy they fondly remember.
Danny’s sister, Isabelle, reluctantly accepts their help. She and Nate aren’t on the best of terms due to a complicated past, yet they will have to get beyond that if they want to save Danny.
On top of Danny’s alarming disappearance and his troubled relationship with Isabelle, Nate also has to rein in his favorite cousin’s overzealousness as a new and eager PI. Confronted with a possible murder, mystery, and mayhem in the land of the Delta blues, Nate must rely on his faith and investigative experience to keep one or more of them from getting killed.
Magnolia Moonlight
What Sinister Secrets Lurk in the Shadows of Yesterday?
Natchez, Mississippi—Private Investigator Nate Price and his new wife, Isabelle, need a vacation. Their coworkers generously team up to surprise them with a belated honeymoon…but the happy trip turns sour when Izzy spies her ex-husband, who appears to have taken up his gambling addiction once again.
While the boss is away, Price Investigations remains in the hands of Beth Kirby, a former police officer, and Michael Preston, a former forensic accountant. Hardly a dream team, as Beth resents working with a man who has no experience in his new job.
But Beth and Michael must move past their differences if they hope to uncover the truth behind a beloved Southern preacher’s demise. The preacher’s widow suspects foul play, despite the evidence indicating suicide.
With tension escalating between these investigators and local law enforcement—and new threats arising on all sides—how will Beth, Michael, and Nate hold on to faith and bring the truth to light?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mary Ellis is the bestselling author of 12 novels set in the Amish community and several historical romances set during the Civil War. Midnight on the Mississippi is the first of a new romantic suspense series, Secrets of the South.
Before “retiring” to write full-time, Mary taught school and worked as a sales rep for Hershey Chocolate. Her debut book, A Widow’s Hope, was a finalist for a 2010 Carol Award. Living in Harmony won the 2012 Lime Award for Excellence in Amish Fiction, while Love Comes to Paradise won the 2013 Lime Award. She and her husband live in Ohio.
Mary can be found on the web at www.maryellis.net
or
https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Mary-Ellis/126995058236
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
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To learn more about Harvest House books and to read sample chapters, visit our website:
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
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