by Jana DeLeon
“The man is in danger and the police are on the way,” I said. “Either tell me where he is or I’ll jump over this counter and look it up myself.”
“Ma’am, I just checked on him myself a few minutes ago. I assure you, Mr. Broussard is fine.”
I didn’t even hesitate. She’d gotten a warning, after all. I jumped over the counter and grabbed the clipboard hanging on the wall behind her.
“I’m calling security!” she said and grabbed the phone.
“Good!” I yelled back as I took off down the hall.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I scanned the rooms as I ran. One, three, five. I needed nine.
It was the last room on the hallway and I stopped so quickly, I had to grab the doorframe to slow myself down. I sped into the room and saw Meg with a pillow over Kevin’s face. I took a flying leap across the bed and tackled her onto the floor. She screamed and tried to twist out from under me. Her strength caught me by surprise and I struggled to restrain her arms. She kicked back with her right leg and caught me in the side of my head, knocking me off-balance. She managed to flip over and stuck a finger in one of my eyes.
I punched her right in the jaw. And it was over.
Ida Belle and Gertie burst into the room as I delivered the blow, the nurse and a security guard right behind them.
“He’s coding!” the nurse yelled and pressed a button. “Get those people out of here!”
The security guard hesitated, trying to figure out who the bad guy was. Gertie pulled a pair of handcuffs out of her purse and tossed them to me. I secured Meg, who was starting to stir, and rose from the ground.
“She was trying to suffocate him,” I said. “I need you to call the Sinful Sheriff’s Department. Deputy Carter LeBlanc needs to get over here now.”
“I’m here.” Carter stepped past the security guard and entered the room. He grabbed Meg and hauled her up, then half carried, half dragged her out of the room. Nurses and a doctor came rushing past us and they slammed the door as they went to work on Kevin.
Gertie closed her eyes and bowed her head, and I knew she was saying a prayer for Kevin. I sent a quick request myself, then looked over at Carter, who was staring at me in disbelief.
“Where would you like to start?” he asked.
“You got coffee back at the sheriff’s department?” I asked. “Because it’s going to be a long night.”
The doctors were able to stabilize Kevin. He was still unconscious but he was breathing on his own, which was a good sign. It took several hours to go through everything with Carter and the state police. Davies and Sands spent the first hour glaring at me and threatening me with arrest for interfering with their investigation. Each time, Carter reminded them that if it weren’t for my interference, another man would have died and two people would have been convicted for crimes they didn’t commit. Finally, they lost the attitude and became interested in how it had all played out.
When I put out my theory about Abrams being the one who killed Garrett Roth by switching his meds, they both stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. But a search of Abrams’s confiscated suitcase revealed a baggie of pills that matched the description of Garrett’s heart medication. I had no doubt that when tested, they would find that’s exactly what it was.
“But why keep the meds if he was switching them out?” Davies asked. “Why not throw them away or flush them?”
“I’m sure that’s exactly what he did before Garrett died,” I said. “But this time he needed them to make sure his cover wasn’t blown. Francesca packed Garrett’s pills in a plastic dispenser every week when he left for New Orleans so he could ensure he took them every day. My guess is Abrams replaced them with the placebo as soon as Garrett arrived, so for the better part of the month, he wasn’t getting any medication at all.”
“So why did he have the real meds with him?” Davies asked.
“Because Garrett came home early, which meant that he didn’t finish all the pills in his dispenser. Then he died. Abrams needed to replace the placebos with the real thing in case someone decided to test Garrett’s meds. With Francesca, Meg, and Dr. Wilkinson insisting Garrett was strict about taking his medication, there was a chance someone would follow that trail just to ensure the content of the pills wasn’t the problem.”
“So Abrams came to Sinful to switch out the fake meds for the real ones,” Davies said. “Then why didn’t he leave afterward?”
“Because he never got to switch them,” I said. “Francesca told us she kept the bedroom door locked, even when she wasn’t in it. The cleaning staff wasn’t even allowed entry. Abrams hadn’t figured out how to get inside and replace the meds. I’ll bet anything that if you check the bathroom, you’ll find the dispenser with the meds. Test the pills. They won’t be real, and a search of the New Orleans residence will probably turn up more of the fakes in Abrams’s quarters.”
“And you figured all of this out by looking at a cupcake.” Carter shook his head and smiled.
“It was those little sugary tombstones. They looked like Tic Tacs, which look like pills. And when I started thinking about who had access to the house and motive to want Garrett dead and what the body in the maze accomplished, it all started to fit together.”
“And you think Kevin put the body in the maze?” Davies asked.
“I think Kevin unloaded the body in the maze,” I said. “But I think Meg stole it, put on the makeup and cut off the head. I don’t think Kevin would have been capable of such an act. He was probably having enough trouble dealing with what he did do.”
“Then why do it at all?” Sands asked.
“Because Meg convinced him that Francesca was going to get away with murder if there wasn’t an autopsy,” I said. “Kevin is head over heels for her. Or was. He would have done anything to help her.”
“So Meg put the cameras in the house,” Carter said.
I nodded. “Which is how she knew about the affair. She was the one behind the police tip and she put the saw in Sims’s shed.”
“I can’t believe she cut off her own father’s head,” Davies said. “I know he was already dead, but still.”
“There were only two people who hated Garrett enough to do something like that,” I said. “Bullard and Meg.”
“But why did she hate him so much?” Gertie asked. “I still don’t understand that part. I know he kept her on a short leash as far as money is concerned. Money has often been enough to kill a person, but cutting off a head is a whole other level.”
“And don’t forget the makeup,” I said. “Garrett only listened to classical music. Meg told us he hated rock. The makeup was more insult added on.”
“Why?” Carter asked. “What drove her to such an extreme?”
“I think Meg’s childhood was much worse than anyone knew,” I said. “Francesca said Garrett was a cruel man. I think if you get her to talk, you’ll find out the extent of his abuse. My guess is that’s the real reason all the live-in staff were dismissed. He didn’t want witnesses.”
“There was just Francesca,” Ida Belle said. “And she wasn’t about to go up against Garrett.”
“Which is why Meg hated her enough to frame her for murder,” Gertie said and sighed. “So much abuse and sadness. And look what it caused. If people just treated each other better.”
“Why do you think Meg did it now?” Carter asked. “Why wait this long?”
“This is just a guess,” I said. “But I think she needed the money. I think she wanted the man in New Orleans that Garrett didn’t approve of, but my guess is he only wanted her if she came with the trust fund. When Garrett didn’t turn over her trust fund when she turned twenty-four, the other man lost interest and she retreated to Sinful to try to figure out how to get her hands on the cash. You’ll probably never be able to prove it, but I’m guessing that man is the one who called in the tip about Sims and Francesca.”
Carter nodded. “Because the call originated in New Orleans. Meg put him up to it.”
<
br /> “I still can’t believe she tried to kill Kevin,” Gertie said. “I know she didn’t love him, but I thought she cared about him.”
“I believe she did,” Ida Belle said. “She just cared more about herself.”
I nodded. Some of what I surmised was speculation, and unless Meg confirmed my suspicions, we probably would never know for certain what was behind it all. But I had a feeling my guesses were pretty much on the money. It took a lot of hours to wind through all the information and to review the typed statements. It was 9:00 a.m. before we headed out of the interview room. I couldn’t wait to have a long shower and an even longer nap.
As we stepped into the hallway, we saw the New Orleans police coming toward us with Francesca, ready to transport her. Meg had just been placed in the other interview room with her attorney. As Francesca passed the doorway, she stopped and stared at Meg.
“Why me?” Francesca asked. “I understand your father, but I never did anything.”
Meg’s eyes flashed with hatred. “Exactly. You never did anything.”
Francesca dropped her gaze to the ground and walked away.
Chapter Twenty-Six
We stepped up to Kevin’s bed and Gertie reached out to squeeze his hand. He was pale and weak, but he was lucky to be alive. It had been two days since I’d kept Meg from smothering him. He’d been steadily improving since he’d regained consciousness the day before but the doctors said he still had a long way to go.
And he still had the police to deal with. He’d avoided the worst of the charges as he hadn’t been the one to steal or desecrate the body, but he had admitted to being the one to transport it to the maze and position it during break.
“How are you feeling?” Gertie asked.
“Good, I guess,” he said. “All things considered.”
He looked down at the bed for several seconds and I could see tears forming.
“He used to beat her, you know,” Kevin said quietly. “But that wasn’t the worst of it. There was this old well on the property. He’d put her in it when he was unhappy with her. Sometimes he left her there for days with only bread and water.”
I felt my stomach clench. I’d known Meg’s childhood had been rough, but I hadn’t supposed just how rough. It was no wonder that she hated her father, and he’d carried his control into adulthood by restricting her access to money. Although given how unstable she must have been, I doubted she’d have done any better if she’d had it. More likely, the man she wanted would have bled her dry and left her even more damaged than before.
Kevin knew she’d tried to kill him, and yet he still cried for her. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
We didn’t stay long. Kevin needed the rest and we had to get to the big Saturday festival celebration. The maze had been officially retired for this season. After learning the truth about Garrett, Francesca, and Meg, no one’s heart was in it any longer. But I had no doubt the committees would get together next year and the maze would be up and running better than ever. And I had an entire year to figure out how to avoid participating. Apparently, me in relation to death of any kind was a recipe for disaster.
The state police had conducted a search of Garrett’s townhome and found a plastic bag of the fake pills, along with the molds that Abrams had been using to make them. They had matched those remaining in the pill dispenser in Garrett’s bathroom. Francesca had been arraigned in New Orleans and would finally stand trial for vehicular manslaughter and everything else that went along with skipping out on the charges. Sims had been released and although I’m sure he was relieved, now that he knew the truth about Francesca, nothing would ever be the same. Meg had attempted suicide in jail and had been remanded to a psychiatric facility until they could determine she was competent to stand trial.
The state police had gone away happy and taking all the credit, and Carter had gotten back to the business of looking over Sinful, as he always had. Wilkinson had been vindicated and could continue to treat heart patients guilt-free. Celia had been oddly quiet, but I figured it wouldn’t last. She never let being completely and utterly wrong slow her down for too long.
“Looks like everyone came out, even though it’s freezing,” Gertie said as we walked up to the park.
Another front had moved in the night before, sending Sinful down into the fifties. I considered it pleasant and cool, but then I was a Yankee. The locals were convinced the end was nigh. They had turned out in layers of turtlenecks, sweaters, coats, scarves, hats, and gloves. I had gone with jeans, a sweatshirt, and a light waterproof hooded jacket, just in case it decided to rain. We waved and greeted people as we made our way through the festival crowd toward the booths.
“I want funnel cake,” Gertie said. “I never get one because they’re always closed up before I get out of the maze.”
Ida Belle smiled. “We are definitely having funnel cake.”
“And caramel apples,” Gertie said.
“You’ll pull your teeth clean out of your mouth,” Ida Belle said.
“I used the extra strong denture grip,” Gertie said.
“She says that every year,” Ida Belle said. “Then inevitably, she ends up yanking her teeth out on one of those apples and scaring the heck out of a bunch of kids.”
I laughed. It was good to be back to semi-normal.
“Hey, there’s Carter and Emmaline,” I said, and pointed toward the funnel cake booth. “And that must be her new man.”
Midfifties. Six foot one. One hundred ninety pounds. Silver and black hair and a nice smile. The only threat to me was if I got between him and Carter.
“I’m dying to meet him,” Gertie said, and we made a beeline for them.
Emmaline saw us approaching and waved, giving us a huge smile. “I’ve been watching for you. Carter assured me you wouldn’t miss tonight but I’ve been worried you might have taken a break from all this. You know, given what happened.”
I gave Emmaline a hug and she pointed to the man standing next to her. “I’d like for you to meet Carlos Morales. Carlos, this is Fortune Redding, my son’s girlfriend.”
Carlos clutched my hand between his and smiled. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“That’s sorta frightening,” I said.
“Only for me,” Carlos said. “Between the Special-Forces-turned-cop son and the CIA-agent-turned-PI girlfriend, I’m the one who should be frightened.”
“Good call,” Ida Belle said, and extended her hand. “I’m Ida Belle and this is Gertie. We’re Fortune’s partners in crime fighting.”
“Ha!” Carter said. “And sometimes just in crime.”
“The crime only occurs when crime fighting,” Gertie said, and shook Carlos’s hand. “Sometimes things require a more artistic approach than the police are allowed.”
Carter raised one eyebrow. “Artistic? Is that what we’re going with?”
We all laughed.
Emmaline squeezed my arm. “I’d love it if you’d come for Sunday dinner tomorrow. I know you usually dine with the Sinful Ladies, but I was hoping they could do without you and banana pudding for one Sunday.”
“I’d love a day off from running,” I said. “Should we invite Carter?”
Everyone laughed again and I felt my chest tighten. This was it. This was what I’d been missing in my life and never knew. Not until I had it. A place to live that I loved. Friends and family who cared about me and would put themselves at risk for me. Whom I would die for.
Carter and I finally broke away and strolled hand in hand through the festival, checking out the baked goods and craft booths. Chuckling at the kids doing the pumpkin walk and playing cornhole. And it occurred to me as we went that a feeling I’d never had before was present.
I was comfortable.
No anxiety about a mission. No worry over red tape. No neighbors complaining about me running on my treadmill at 3:00 a.m. No alarm to set. No debriefings. No traffic. No subway. I’d traded it all for a small town wi
th the weirdest people I’d ever met, alligators who loved casserole, and weeklong Halloween festivals.
I looked up at the full moon and thought about just how awesome this night was.
Then Ida Belle yelled.
“Come quick! Gertie’s stuck in the apple-dunking barrel.”
I grinned. Now it was perfect.
* * *
More adventures with Swamp Team 3 coming in 2019!
