Fortune Funhouse (Miss Fortune Mysteries Book 19)

by Jana DeLeon

  “Then maybe I’ll also do some checking on our inappropriate policeman,” Big said. “There might be another way to get someone else on the case.”

  “I could make it so someone else was on the case,” Mannie said.

  Big gave his top man a nod. “No one doubts that, but I’d like to try less, um…physical pursuits unless absolutely necessary. At least in this case. Now, if we discover who injured Emmaline LeBlanc, then you are free to conduct business however you see fit.”

  Mannie gave him a pleased nod.

  “I really appreciate your help on this,” I said. “And Mannie staying at the hospital. Carter wouldn’t entrust his mother to just anyone.”

  “I don’t blame him,” Mannie said. “I wouldn’t either.”

  I gave a passing thought to what Mannie’s mother would be like but couldn’t picture it.

  “Any time we can lend assistance, all you have to do is ask,” Big said. “Now, if the business part of the visit is behind us, I’d love to talk to Gertie about her fire-breathing performance. The YouTube videos are always fun but never quite as good as your retelling.”

  When we left the Heberts’ office, we headed for the fairgrounds. They would be up and running by now and we hoped to find the attendant for the funhouse. It was also well past lunch and despite my earlier musings about resolving my sugar addiction, I intended to find the funnel cake stand.

  “You know Big Hebert thinks you’re his surrogate daughter,” Gertie said.

  “I don’t know about that,” I said.

  “He definitely likes you,” Ida Belle said. “Heck, does he have kids other than Little? It just occurred to me that we don’t even know if he’s married. Or ever was. I wonder if there is a Mrs. Big.”

  “Technically, we don’t know where he lives either,” Gertie said. “We just know he has a fabulous condo in NOLA.”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say he lives right where we just saw him,” I said. “Think about it. That building is huge, but there are never any other cars in the parking lot except his and Mannie’s. We see some empty offices downstairs and a conference room, but they don’t look occupied. Big’s office is upstairs but we’ve never seen more than one room. Given what his place in New Orleans looked like, I’ll bet he’s got a palatial suite of rooms there. That’s why he’s always available at his office.”

  “Given his lack of desire and physical mobility, that would make sense,” Ida Belle said.

  “Do you think Mannie lives there too?” Gertie asked.

  “I’m guessing he does,” I said. “He always seems readily available.”

  “Cool,” Gertie said. “Then I still have an opportunity to see his bedroom. I might have to visit the ladies’ room next time we’re there.”

  “You are not going to wander around the potentially private quarters of the Heberts and Mannie,” Ida Belle said. “And what would you do in the man’s bedroom anyway?”

  “Wait for him to show up?” Gertie suggested.

  “You’re impossible,” Ida Belle said.

  “Hey, you married your soul mate,” Gertie said. “Fortune practically scooped Carter up when she got off the bus. I’ve only got another thirty years or so of prime left. I need to step up my pace.”

  “Woman, your prime was so long ago, the USDA revoked their stamp on it,” Ida Belle said. “In thirty years you’ll be slowly turning to dust.”

  “Then there’s no use getting started on the death march now, is there?” Gertie said.

  “Well, you have a date tonight,” I said. “And Jeb seems like a better fit.”

  “Are you saying I’m too old for Mannie?” Gertie asked.

  “Yes,” Ida Belle said.

  “I’m saying you might not be able to offer Mannie things he could be interested in having in the future.”

  “Like a wife who isn’t in the grave,” Ida Belle said.

  “Or children,” I said, figuring that was the argument I’d win on.

  Gertie frowned. “Well, that kid thing is a definite no. I never wanted them and by God, I’m not wasting my prime years on them.”

  Ida Belle sighed. I grinned.

  When we reached the funhouse, I stared at the attendant in disappointment. It wasn’t the same guy who had been working the night Emmaline was attacked.

  Fortyish but looked ten years older. Six foot even. Two hundred thirty pounds, too much of it sagging, including his biceps, which now had a misshapen Marine Corps tattoo. His skin told the story of many years of alcohol, drug use, and smoking. His body told the story of too much carnival food and no exercise.

  I made yet another mental note to back off the funnel cake.

  Maybe.

  “Hi,” I said to this surly-looking replacement. “I’m looking for the dude who was working this attraction when that guy was murdered. Do you know where I can find him?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “You don’t look like no cop.”

  “That’s probably because I’m not,” I said.

  “Well, you’re way too good-looking for him to be having side action with, so what do you want him for?” he asked.

  I grimaced at the ‘side action’ comment. Gross. Then I pulled out my identification.

  “I want to ask him some questions,” I said.

  His eyes widened. “PI? They’re making you guys a lot better-looking than before. ’Course they used to not come with boobs.”

  “I’m not interested in your compliments,” I said, feeling the urgent need to punch him in his roving eyes. “Do you know where the guy is or not?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “What’s it worth to you?”

  “Not wasting a bullet?” Gertie suggested.

  He glanced at Gertie, who was staring at him with her serious expression, then looked back at me and smiled. “Like that would happen.”

  “She forgot to mention that she’s former CIA,” Gertie said. “Trust me, better men than you have tangled with her and been buried afterward. So do you know the answer or not? Because your lack of personal hygiene is starting to get to me.”

  I glanced over at Ida Belle. Gertie was really on a roll today.

  “He left yesterday,” the guy said. “Collected his pay and said he was done. Don’t know where he is and don’t care. Guys like him cruise in and out of the circuit every day.”

  “Is there a manager I can talk to?” I asked. “Maybe get a forwarding address?”

  “Forwarding address,” he said. “That’s funny. Like people here have anywhere to go. And for your information, I’m the super here. Ain’t nobody got more information than me.”

  “You’re the super?” I asked, not buying it for a minute. This guy couldn’t run his own life, much less a business. “What’s your name?”

  He pointed to a tattoo on his arm.

  “Whiplash?” I said.

  “I get it,” Gertie said. “For the rides.”

  “No,” he said. “For what I can do to people with a good shake.”

  I knew the statement was supposed to scare me but I just smiled. In order to shake someone, you had to catch them first.

  “I’m going to guess that’s not on your birth certificate,” I said.

  He scowled at my smile. “Well, that ain’t none of your business, is it? Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got some tickets to take.”

  There wasn’t a single person lining up for entry, but I knew I wasn’t going to get anything else out of this guy. And I agreed with Gertie on the smell. Clearly, Whiplash had an aversion to soap and deodorant, so we headed off.

  “I think you offended him by not being afraid,” Gertie said.

  “Offending idiots is one of my superpowers,” I said.

  “You think he’s telling the truth about the ticket guy taking off?” Ida Belle asked.

  “Who knows?” I said. “The problem is people like him are usually professional liars.”

  “Carnival people?” Gertie asked.

  “Drug addicts,” I said. “Part of that smell
was rotted teeth. Dude has a meth habit.”

  “Ah.” Gertie nodded.

  “Let’s walk around for a bit,” I said. “See if we can spot him.”

  “It would help if we had his name,” Gertie said. “I don’t suppose Carter could get it for us.”

  “No way,” I said. “He was at the hospital when all the questioning was done and Palmer’s not going to make that sort of thing available to him.”

  “I guess we should have asked Whiplash,” Gertie said.

  “He wouldn’t have told us,” Ida Belle said. “Some of these people are working the circuit because they’re hiding. From people, from the law, whatever. But the general policy is to not give personal information about someone unless you want people giving out yours.”

  I nodded. “I suppose we could try to find the real manager, but I’m guessing he won’t be forthcoming either. Too many criminals on the payroll.”

  We walked to the end of the fairgrounds, scanning everywhere as we walked, but didn’t see any sign of the attendant. We crossed over to the next lane of attractions and started back toward the parking lot. I tensed when we approached the funnel cake booth but held firm to my resolve. Ida Belle gave me a side glance and I knew she was wondering what was up but was smart enough not to ask. Gertie, however, did not have the same intuition.

  “You guys want funnel cake?” she asked and started bounding toward the booth.

  I’ll cut back next year.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” I said and hurried after her. I could hear Ida Belle sighing behind me.

  “Just one,” I said as we got in line.

  “Just one cake?” Ida Belle asked. “Or just one trip in line?”

  “One cake,” I grumbled, feeling as though I’d just been caught in duplicity by my mother.

  “Uh-huh,” Ida Belle said.

  “Don’t worry,” Gertie said. “The fair’s in town the rest of the week. You’ll have plenty of time to get more.”

  “That’s what me and my waistline are afraid of,” I said. “All the baked goodies from you and Ally and the home cooking running rampant in Sinful are bad, but funnel cake is the best and worst thing ever. I can’t turn it down.”

  “It’s because it’s not available all the time,” Gertie said. “If it was, you could pace yourself.”

  “You think that’s it?” I asked.

  “Sure,” Gertie said. “You know how you can fix that, right? Just buy your own funnel cake machine. Then you can have them whenever you want. Bet you find out you don’t want them nearly as much.”

  “Ha,” Ida Belle said. “I bet she finds out she needs to sell that machine on eBay and buy a treadmill.”

  I sighed. “Unfortunately, Ida Belle is right. I seem to have found the one thing I have no self-control with.”

  Gertie gave me a mischievous grin. “And Carter.”

  “I have self-control with Carter,” I said.

  Gertie raised one eyebrow.

  “Okay, somewhat limited, but it’s there,” I said.

  “So you’re saying funnel cake ranks ahead of your man?” Gertie asked.

  “I’d refuse to answer,” Ida Belle said. “There’s no way to not implicate yourself in one way or another.”

  Gertie looked at Ida Belle. “Okay, then you play. Your SUV or Walter?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Ida Belle said. “There are plenty of old men running around Louisiana.”

  “There are plenty of old Blazers too,” Gertie said.

  “Not in that kind of shape,” Ida Belle said.

  “The same could be said for the old men and Walter,” I pointed out.

  Ida Belle threw her hands in the air. “I gave the man a whole dresser drawer and a quarter of my deep freeze. What more do you want from me?”

  Gertie grinned. “I knew that SUV was number one.”

  We secured our funnel cake and continued our walk, scanning the attractions and games for the attendant. We were almost to the end of the row when Gertie elbowed me and almost caused me to dump my funnel cake.

  “Over there,” she said. “In the navy T-shirt. Is that him?”

  “That’s a woman,” Ida Belle said.

  “Oh,” Gertie said. “Well, she looks like the guy.”

  Ida Belle stared at her in dismay. “She’s at least fifty years older, has a giant silver beehive hairdo, and she’s using a walker.”

  Gertie waved a hand in dismissal. “I know, I know. I need new glasses.”

  “There!” I said and pointed at the House of Mirrors.

  “You were right,” Gertie said. “The other guy was lying.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I studied my target as we approached.

  Early thirties. Five foot eleven. Two hundred pounds. Decent muscle tone. Old scar on his right biceps. Possibly a knife fight. Threat level low if he couldn’t dodge a knife stab.

  As we made our way toward him, he nodded to a couple of teens as he took their tickets, then looked over and locked in on us. He froze and I could tell he recognized us from the night before. For a minute, I thought he was going to run, but instead, he plastered on a fake half smile. Still, his body was so tense I could see his jaw flexing.

  “Ladies,” he said as we stepped up. “Would you like a trip through the House of Mirrors?”

  “I think we’re going to stay out of your houses,” I said. “For the obvious reason.”

  I pulled out my ID and showed him. His eyes widened.

  “Private investigator?” he asked as he glanced at Ida Belle and Gertie, clearly confused.

  “These two ladies are my assistants,” I explained.

  “Were you working for that man?” he asked.

  “No. We were simply out for a fun night at the fair when an unfortunate Sinful resident stumbled across the dead guy, then bolted into the glass wall. When we went in to see what had startled her, we found the injured lady and then I backed into the dead guy when I went back in to retrieve my wallet.”

  “Oh,” he said. “So what do you want from me?”

  “Your name, for starters,” I said.

  “Um, Brandon,” he said. “Brandon Stevens.”

  “Did you know the dead guy?” I asked.

  His eyes widened and he shook his head. “I never seen him before. Honestly, if he hadn’t been dressed fancy, I probably wouldn’t have even remembered him.”

  “Did anyone go in right after him?” I asked.

  “No. Right after he went through, I put up the rope so I could take a break…uh, the nature calling kind. Anyway, the johns are just behind the funhouse, so I was only gone for a minute. Right after I got back, the lady who hit the glass came up and then no one else until the old guy came up and said I needed to shut down the attraction because there had been an accident.”

  I sighed. Someone could have easily ducked under the rope while he was gone.

  “I suppose someone could have sneaked in,” he stated the obvious.

  “Unless the funhouse is haunted by a killer ghost or there’s a bad guy living inside it, I’m pretty sure that’s what happened,” Gertie said.

  He ran one hand over his head. “Yeah, right. I know. Look, you’re not going to tell my boss, are you? We’re supposed to call for backup when we have to take a break. Shutting down an attraction, even for a minute, is against the rules. I mean, when someone’s hurt, that’s different, but if a guy’s just gotta take a whiz…”

  “Is there another way into the funhouse?” I asked.

  “You can go in the exit,” he said.

  “I mean a back way,” I said. “Service entrance? This thing is basically rooms on tractor trailers that you slot together. Surely there’s another way in to handle things. Storeroom?”

  “Oh yeah,” he said. “There’s a back door but it’s always locked.”

  “Do you have a key?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Only maintenance does. And I guess my boss.”

  “Did you check to see if the back door
was unlocked after the man was killed?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “I mean, crap. I guess I should have, right?”

  “Actually, the cops should have asked you about another exit and checked themselves,” I said. “Did they?”

  He shook his head again. “That cop guy, uh, he didn’t ask much. Just if I knew the guy or the lady and if I saw anyone go in after them. Those other guys took my fingerprints, but I don’t see the point as they’ll be all over the funhouse.”

  “That was for elimination,” I said.

  He scrunched his brow but I didn’t feel like explaining.

  “Did you tell the cop about your potty break?” Gertie asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “He said he wouldn’t tell my boss. Oh man, he’s going to find out, isn’t he? It wasn’t easy to get this job. I don’t want to lose it.”

  “Really?” I asked, somewhat surprised. “I would think this kind of business is always looking for people.”

  “Most of the workers are older and they’ve been on the circuit for a while,” he said. “They have friends who get them in, and they tend to stick to those they know and their friends.”

  “Those that won’t give out personal information on people who would rather remain anonymous,” I said.

  “Yeah, I guess,” he said.

  “So what’s your reason for being here?” I asked. “You don’t look like a drug user. You got a record? Running from the law?”

  He stared at the ground. “I got in some trouble before but I been good for a year now.”

  “So why this job?” I asked. “Can’t be for the pay or the upward mobility.”

  “Could be for the connections,” Ida Belle said. “If you’re wanting to branch out on your previous criminal enterprises.”

  “No, ma’am,” he said. “Look. I ain’t got no family and the so-called friends I had back home mostly kept me in trouble. I needed to ditch everything and start over. I don’t have much in the way of skills, but the fair got me out of my old life. The pay isn’t great but I got low expenses and I like moving around. I figured eventually I’d find somewhere I liked well enough to work out how to stay.”

  I studied him for a moment. The tone sounded sincere and his body wasn’t indicating an outright lie, but he wasn’t being completely honest either.