Lethal Bayou Beauty

by Jana DeLeon

  Showtime.

  My pulse ticked up a notch as he crept across the lawn. He paused about ten feet from the back of the house, and I figured he was assessing his options. Fortunately, he followed Ida Belle’s train of thought and moved toward the booby-trapped window. I inched to the edge of the blackberry bush and placed both hands flat on the ground, preparing to spring like a sprinter.

  My pulse spiked as he crept up to the window, and I prayed that Ida Belle and Gertie executed everything with perfect timing.

  As soon as his hands touched the window, Gertie pulled.

  The net wrapped around his feet like a charm, trapping him in place. Ida Belle sprang up and jumped across the steps, attempting to tackle him. Unfortunately, Gertie chose that moment to lose her balance, and fell backward out of the tree.

  The rope must have hooked on to her as she dropped because all of a sudden, the intruder’s feet flew out from under him and straight up into the air, yanking him upside down into the tree.

  Gertie and the intruder both screamed, and he thrashed about so much I expected the net to break at any moment. I leapt up from my hiding spot and ran for the house, intent on helping Ida Belle wrestle him to the ground before he could get away. As I reached the fray, Ida Belle pulled out a curling iron and poked him in the ribs with it. He screamed bloody murder as a sizzle of electricity went off, then the thrashing stopped.

  We spun him around so that we could see his face, and gave each other a satisfied smile as we gazed on the contorted face of Dr. Ryan.

  “You did this with a curling iron?” I asked, starting to rethink my aversion to girlie products.

  “Stun gun,” Ida Belle said. “Looks like a curling iron, which makes it quite handy to carry. No one suspects you’re packing.”

  Gertie yelled and brought us back to reality. Since it appeared that Ida Belle had the situation under control, I hopped up on the fence and saw Gertie, hanging by her feet from the other end of the rope.

  “Gertie’s acting as a counterweight,” I said. “That’s why he’s still up there.”

  “If Gertie’s the one keeping him up there,” Ida Belle said, “she needs to drop a few pounds.”

  “I heard that!” Gertie yelled.

  A police siren sounded in the distance and a second later, Marie rushed out the back door.

  “Don’t just stand there,” Gertie said. “Someone get me down from here.”

  “I think we ought to wait until Carter gets here,” Ida Belle said and grinned. “No chance of Ryan getting away as long as he’s dangling from the tree.”

  “You heard the boss,” I said, trying not to smile.

  “Well, he better hurry,” Gertie complained. “My boobs haven’t been this high up since my thirties. They’re going to suffocate me.”

  The siren grew closer, then stopped in front of Marie’s house. I heard a truck door slam and Marie directing Carter to the backyard. He ran around the corner of Marie’s house and slowed just a second as he caught sight of me sitting on the fence. Then he yanked open the gate and hurried into Celia’s backyard.

  He took one look at the dangling Dr. Ryan and his jaw dropped.

  “We tried to call you earlier,” Ida Belle said, before he could start yelling. “But Myrtle said you weren’t to be disturbed.”

  “So you thought…you know that’s not…I…never mind. Help me pull him down enough to cuff him.”

  Ida Belle grabbed hold of his shoulders and tugged the still-groaning doctor down far enough for Carter to place him in handcuffs.

  “Okay,” Carter said and pulled out a knife. “I’ll cut him loose.”

  “No!” Ida Belle, Gertie, Marie, and I all yelled at the same time.

  “We have a bit of a situation here,” I said and gestured to the other side of the fence.

  Carter pulled himself up enough to peer over the fence and stared. His lips quivered and I could tell he was struggling not to smile.

  “Fine then,” he said. “Pull Gertie down and cut her loose. Ryan can drop for all I care.”

  Completely on board with that plan, I jumped over the fence and with Marie’s help, lowered Gertie to the ground and unwrapped the rope from her ankle. As soon as I let go, I heard Ryan crash to the ground on the other side of the fence and let out a string of cursing about lawsuits and crazy people.

  A couple of seconds later, Ida Belle tossed the net and rope over the fence and into Marie’s backyard.

  “Tell you what,” Carter said as he pulled Ryan through the gate, all of us trailing across the front lawn behind him. “We’ll let you explain to the judge all about the mistreatment you received from citizens while you were trying to break into a private residence just days after murdering the owner’s daughter.”

  “I didn’t murder anyone!”

  “Uh-huh,” he said as he pushed Ryan into his truck. “You can tell me all about it when you’re behind bars.”

  Carter climbed into his truck and looked at all of us standing on the sidewalk, his expression serious and slightly anxious. “For the obvious reasons and a couple that aren’t so visible, I’d prefer if this arrest and the details surrounding it don’t get out just yet. Can I depend on you four to keep this quiet?”

  “Hell yeah,” Gertie said while the rest of us nodded.

  Then we all gave each other high fives.

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that,” he said and pulled away.

  “I need a drink,” Ida Belle said as we trailed back into Marie’s house.

  “I need a new bra,” Gertie said. “My strap broke.”

  I glanced over at Gertie, who had her hand under her right boob, trying to hold it in place and failing. “Now I need a drink.”

  Ida Belle’s cell phone rang and she answered it. After a brief conversation, she disconnected and frowned. “The prayer is over and Celia will be heading home any minute. We should clear out of here before she catches sight of us.”

  We hustled to the garage and waved to Marie as Ida Belle backed Gertie’s Cadillac out of the garage and headed back to my house.

  “What’s up?” I asked. “You have that look like you didn’t tell us everything.”

  “It’s more a feeling than anything,” Ida Belle said. “Beatrice said Celia acted strange at the prayer.”

  “Strange how?” I asked.

  “Beatrice said she seemed fine, considering, then at the end of the prayer, Celia said she was tired of being the only one who lost when it seemed other people more deserving of loss never seemed to suffer any. She said that needed to change.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I don’t claim to be a Biblical scholar or anything, but is she saying she’d rather someone else be cursed instead of her? That doesn’t sound overly Christian.”

  “It’s not,” Gertie said, “and it’s also a stretch from normal thought, even for Celia.”

  “True,” Ida Belle agreed. “Don’t get me wrong. Celia can be a stone bitch, but she’s not usually cruel.”

  “Maybe this has broken her,” I said. “I mean, I know how hard it was losing my mother. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to lose a child.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “No more downer conversation. We just hand-delivered Pansy’s murderer to Carter. Come tomorrow, your good name will be restored.”

  “Whoot!” Gertie cheered.

  “You guys should come in and celebrate. I think I have a bottle of champagne left.” I looked at Gertie. “You only need one hand for a champagne glass.”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice,” Gertie said.

  Ida Belle’s phone rang again and she answered. I could tell by her expression that it wasn’t good news.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked as she pulled up to the curb in front of my house.

  “There’s a mob downtown in front of the sheriff’s department,” Ida Belle said. “They’re calling for your arrest or Carter’s resignation. Vanessa Fontleroy gathered a bunch of people after the prayer and led the charge.”

  Gert
ie bit her lip. “It’s too soon for Carter to come out with the Dr. Ryan angle. He’ll want to make sure he’s got his bases covered before announcing it to the public, especially given the reason why Dr. Ryan killed Pansy.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “We should get down there and check it out. Fortune, you better sit this one out. We’ll fill you in as soon as we know something.”

  “No problem,” I said and jumped out of the car. “Be careful. Everyone knows we’re friends.”

  “Get inside and lock your doors,” Gertie said. “We’ll call when we’re on our way.”

  I watched for a couple of seconds as they drove off, then looked across the street and saw a curtain drop back in place at Mr. Foster’s house. I gave the block a quick scan, then hurried inside, where I was certain a hot shower was calling my name.

  I pushed the deadbolt on the front door in place, then headed to the kitchen to draw the deadbolt on the back door, but the second I set foot in the room, I knew someone had been there recently. My eyes locked in on the small pie tin on the breakfast table with a piece of folded paper next to it. I picked up the paper and read.

  Testing a new blackberry cobbler recipe. Let me know what you think.

  Ally

  I put the note down and walked to the back door. It was already locked, so I drew the deadbolt into place. Ally used to deliver food to Marge when she was ill, so she probably had a key. I knew Gertie and Ida Belle did, but maybe it was time to change the locks. Not that I minded any of those three letting themselves inside, but I had to wonder if any other keys to my house were clinking around pockets in Sinful.

  But that was something that could wait until tomorrow. Right now, I had delicious blackberry cobbler to test. The least I could do was get to it right away. After all, Ally was my friend, and since she’d taken the time to sneak in my house and deliver baked goodies, the least I could do was give her some feedback.

  I opened the refrigerator and poured a glass of milk, already smiling as I sat down at the table and stabbed my first forkful. It was still warm and the sugar granules melted as soon as they hit my tongue, mingling with the tart sweetness of the berries. When I’d been hiding behind those blackberry bushes, I’d had no idea they yielded such heavenly results.

  In hardly any time at all, my fork scratched the bottom of the pie tin, and I wished I had more. I slumped back in my seat with a satisfied sigh. What a perfect ending to an odd but productive day.

  I picked up my cell phone from the table and started to dial, but then figured Ally had attended the prayer and may still be around family or other Sinful residents who sided with the mob down at the sheriff’s department. A text would be better. That way, if she was able to speak, she could call.

  The blackberry cobbler was incredible. Thanks!

  I knew I should head up to the shower, but at the moment, the kitchen chair seemed awfully comfortable. It had been an odd day, but at least the end had been satisfying. Carter could put together his case on Ryan and hopefully, in a day or two, everyone in Sinful would know that the good plastic surgeon was the culprit and not me.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, thinking I might go straight to bed after the shower, then my phone beeped. I slid my hand across the table and turned the phone where I could see the display.

  What blackberry cobbler?

  A cold chill ran through me and I blinked, then struggled to sit up straight. My breathing became labored, and the kitchen counters tilted to one side, then blurred. Panicked, I fumbled with the phone but it fell from my grasp, slid across the table and dropped onto the kitchen floor.

  This wasn’t exhaustion. I’d been drugged.

  The phone beeped again and I knew Ally was trying to text me again. I had no way of knowing what I’d ingested. If I had to wait on Ida Belle and Gertie to return, they might be too late. I forced myself to concentrate on my breathing.

  You’re trained for this.

  The controlled breathing helped steady my limbs, although they were still incredibly weak. I figured I could slide off the chair and onto the floor for the phone. I had enough mobility and strength to manage that.

  Then I heard heels clicking behind me and I knew in an instant that we’d made a horrible mistake thinking this was all over with Ryan’s arrest.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The heels continued around me and I looked up into the barrel of a nine millimeter held by a smiling Vanessa Fontleroy.

  I blinked a couple of times, but the view didn’t change, and I struggled to make sense of what was before me. “I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t you? You seem smart enough to figure it out at this point.”

  Years of repeated Sinful gossip rolled through my mind—Pansy’s penchant for attached men, the mayor’s divorce, the ex-wife who left with most of his money and wouldn’t attend her niece’s funeral, Celia’s admonition tonight that others hadn’t suffered as she had.

  Holy crap! Pansy had an affair with her uncle.

  “Pansy was going to blackmail him, wasn’t she?” I said.

  “She was going to blackmail him again. How do you think she got to LA in the first place? He gave his ex the bulk of his money for her signature on a nondisclosure agreement, and the old fool thought it would all be over. I tried to tell him that he couldn’t trust someone like Pansy, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  “Evidence?”

  She frowned, then her expression cleared as she understood what I was asking. “She claimed she had pictures of them together, and not the family reunion variety. But I tore her room apart and still haven’t found them. I wonder now if she was lying.”

  “Your hands,” I said, my words starting to slur. “Not big enough.”

  “Oh, I didn’t kill her. I heard Herbert take the call from Pansy. I pretended to be asleep, but when he left that night, I followed him to Celia’s house, expecting to catch the two of them in a compromising situation.” She smiled. “Imagine my surprise and delight when I looked through the kitchen window and saw him strangling that bitch.”

  “Why me?”

  “It’s not personal. But when Herbert told me about you threatening Pansy that night at the pageant rehearsal, and since you’re essentially a stranger, I knew you’d make an easy target. When he got home, he was completely panicked, but I took control, as I always do. I told him that I knew. At first, he tried to deny it, but when he realized I was actually glad he’d killed her, he relaxed.”

  What a lovely couple.

  “Goody,” I managed.

  “He’d been smart enough to take her cell phone, so I told him to call your house to make it look like you were the person Pansy had called around her time of death. No one would think anything of her calling Herbert earlier in the night—not with them being related and Pansy in charge of the festival.”

  The drunk. It was the mayor who’d called me that night. Not some drunk at the Swamp Bar.

  “The coroner would only be able to assign a range for Pansy’s death,” Vanessa said. “Fifteen minutes, give or take, wouldn’t dissuade a jury that you’d received a call from Pansy right before her death.”

  “I planned on planting the cell phone in your house and then calling a tip in to the sheriff’s department,” Vanessa continued, “but it took me a couple of days to rustle up a spare key. Then I had to make sure you were out of the house long enough for me to set everything up and make sure you were alone.”

  The mob downtown.

  Ida Belle said Vanessa had led the charge. It was her way of ensuring that Ida Belle and Gertie left me alone long enough for her to take action.

  Vanessa frowned. “If Carter hadn’t been so stubborn—insisting on evidence before your arrest—this could have all been over days ago. You would probably have been in prison the rest of your life, but you would have been alive. If anyone is to blame for this, it’s Carter, for not doing his job.”

  “Why kill me now?” My speech was slurred almost beyond the point of recognition.

  “
Oh, I’m not going to kill you—at least, not that anyone will suspect. See, I typed up a confession, going on about how guilty you feel about killing Pansy and poisoning Celia. Did I mention that the old bat has to go, too? I’m starting to suspect she knows more than we ever thought.”

  “So,” she continued, “I’m going to put this pistol in your hand, hold it up to your head, and pull the trigger. Then I’m going to plant Pansy’s cell phone in your dresser drawer. It’s perfect.”

  I tried to clench my fist, but I couldn’t even force the fingers into a ball. She was right—her plan was perfect. Never in my life had I wanted to kill someone as much as I wanted to kill Vanessa right now, and for the first time, I lacked the ability.

  Surely this couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be the sum total of my entire life—ending at a kitchen table over some pathetic man’s affair with his teenage niece. A pang of regret grabbed at me and twisted my heart as if it were in a vise. All of the things I would never have time to do flooded my mind, overwhelming me.

  Concentrate!

  I forced the thoughts from my mind, determined to find a way to beat the monster in front of me. I may go down, but it wasn’t going to be without a fight. Vanessa reached down and lifted my hand, then let it go. Surprised, I felt my muscles contract, but I forced them to release and allowed my hand to drop full force onto the table.

  Some of my strength remained. It wasn’t much, but if I allowed Vanessa to do all of the lifting, I might have enough strength to pull off an escape. I’d only have a second to make it happen and only one bullet to work with, but it was the only chance I had and I was determined to take it.

  “Enough chatter,” Vanessa said. “I need to get this show on the road and get back to my doting husband. He owes me everything now.”

  She moved to my right side, lifted my hand, and wrapped it around the pistol. Then she moved it to the side of my head.