Louisiana Longshot

by Jana DeLeon

I glanced at her bare hand. “So, what’s your story? You’re smart, and I bet you’d have no trouble snapping up a guy, whatever that means, but you’re here, no children attached, and well below the average age group.”

  Ally sighed. “I almost got away. My dad died when I was a teen, Momma didn’t have any job skills to speak of. She was a receptionist at a dispatch office the next town over. There was no money for college, so I worked at the café several years after high school to pay for my first two years. I figured I could get a part-time in New Orleans to pay for the rest while I was going to school. But then Momma got sick my junior year.”

  “And you came home to take care of her?”

  Ally nodded. “Francine was a lifesaver and gave me my old job back, and I’ve been doing some online courses when they’re available, but they don’t offer a lot of courses online for a nursing degree.”

  “And your mother—how’s she doing?”

  “She’s dying…Cancer. One of those painful kinds that can take you in months or stretch into years. Momma’s going on three years now.”

  “Wow. I’m really sorry. That’s got to be hard.”

  “Oh, it’s been out of my hands for a month now. She finally got so bad that the doctors insisted she go to a nursing home in New Orleans.”

  “Then why are you still here?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, when I was going to school, I knew absolutely that I wanted to be a nurse and live in the city. Then I came back home to take care of Momma, and all of a sudden, it didn’t look as good.”

  “Maybe it’s just cold feet over getting back into school.”

  “Maybe,” she said, but she didn’t sound convinced. She lifted up a spoonful of oatmeal, then set it back down in the bowl and looked directly at me. “Did you ever think you had all the answers when you were in the thick of something, but then when you take a step back, you realize you were so busy getting things done that you never stopped to ask yourself if it’s what you really want to do?”

  Her words slammed into me like a freight train. Back in D.C., I always kept busy. If I wasn’t working, I was thinking about work, preparing for work, or reviewing past work to identify areas that needed improvement. I didn’t allow myself to slow down, much less step back. Maybe because I was afraid I’d ask the same questions Ally was asking herself. And I knew I had no good answers.

  I realized that I’d never answered, but I had no idea what to say. Finally, I decided the truth was as good as anything and didn’t give anything away. “I guess I never thought about it. I’ve been on autopilot for a long time.”

  Ally nodded. “If Momma hadn’t gotten sick, I would have stayed in New Orleans, finished school, and probably gotten a job there. I think sometimes it takes a life-changing event to make us really see the way we’re living based on the choices we’ve made.

  “I can see that.”

  “Maybe one day, you’ll have an event and it will cause you to rethink everything.”

  Like having a price on my head and hiding out in the swamp, pretending to be an ex-beauty queen?

  “Maybe you’ll be lucky,” Ally continued, “and you’ll think your choices are the right ones.”

  “Somehow, I doubt it. That hindsight thing and all. I’d guess most people aren’t happy with everything they’ve done.”

  Except my father. Mr. Perfection.

  “That’s true,” Ally agreed.

  “So, have you figured out what you want to do?”

  “I think so, but you’ll probably think I’m crazy.”

  “You are the least crazy person I’ve met since I arrived. The upside of that is that nothing you say could surprise me.”

  She grinned. “I want to own a bakery and make beautiful, fancy desserts.”

  “I assume you don’t mean in Sinful.”

  “No. A bakery wouldn’t work in Sinful. People don’t have the money for fancy desserts, and most of the women here can bake like nobody’s business anyway. But a little shop in downtown New Orleans would be a dream. Fresh coffee brewing all day…people walking in from the street to buy chocolates and then returning for wedding cakes and party trays.”

  She sighed. “Like it could ever happen.”

  I shrugged. “Why not? You can go to culinary school and work for a bakery while you’re finishing. That way, you learn all the cool stuff they don’t teach you in classrooms or books.”

  “Yes, that’s true enough. I guess the part I get stuck on is capital to open a business. I wouldn’t make much in a bakery, and Lord knows, Momma’s house will probably barely cover the medical bills.”

  “So stay here a bit and save up. It’s got to be cheaper than New Orleans, especially as you’ve got a free place to stay. Save more once you’re in school and working and then apply for one of those grants.”

  She stared at me for a moment, her brow wrinkled, and I could tell her mind was working through the details. Finally, she nodded. “You’re right. I need to start working on a plan, instead of just sitting here and feeling sorry for myself.”

  “That’s okay. Anytime you need to sit around, eating this kind of food, and feeling sorry for yourself, I’ll be happy to sit with you and tell you to stop.”

  She laughed. “It’s a deal.”

  “And if you want to start practicing your baking and need a tester, I’m up for that, too.” I glanced down at her bowl of oatmeal, the only plate on the table that was hers. “That oatmeal seems a lonely choice for a prospective baker.”

  “Clearly, I don’t have your metabolism. If I ate all this, I’d be in a coma. Do you have a workout routine?”

  “Mostly running and stress.” Especially lately.

  “I don’t want any more stress, but maybe I’ll take up running if it keeps you that fit.”

  “You could always run from the police. That would cover the running part and the stress part.” It certainly had for me the day before.

  She laughed. “I had something a little less interesting in mind.”

  Don’t we all? “So, tell me, what’s the deal with the Sinful Ladies Society?”

  Ally glanced at the couples in the corner and then leaned in toward me. “Momma always called them the Geritol Mafia. They’ve been running Sinful for as long as most people can remember.”

  “But running it how? I mean, they look like harmless, old ladies.” I didn’t buy that for a second, but I figured I’d get more information by playing dumb.

  Ally frowned. “I know. I said the same thing to Momma once, but she shook her head and told me I should never underestimate a clever woman. She said anything Ida Belle wanted done in Sinful, she figured out a way to make it happen, but I never heard her raise her voice or even ask someone for a favor. I have no idea how she manages it all.”

  I remembered the photos Gertie had sent to that unsuspecting husband to get Deputy LeBlanc out of his house.

  “Blackmail?” I suggested.

  Ally shrugged. “I guess anything’s possible. There’s a whole lot more that goes on in small towns than what people imagine.”

  “Given that a human bone washed up in my backyard on my first day in town, I’m not about to argue with you.”

  “That’s a bad deal. There’s been a lot of talk that the bone was Harvey Chicoron’s, although the sheriff hasn’t said for sure.”

  “I hear Harvey wasn’t very well liked.”

  “That’s a gross understatement, really. Most people who’d known him for more than five minutes loathed him.”

  “Sounds like a good riddance, then.”

  Ally nodded, but she looked worried. “The problem is, people are saying his wife, Marie, did it. Everyone loves Marie, and no one would blame her for doing it, but we don’t want to see her go to prison, either.”

  “What does Marie say?”

  Ally’s eyes widened. “I thought Gertie or Ida Belle would have told you—Marie’s missing. Deputy LeBlanc is madder than a hornet although he’s trying not to let on.”

 
; “That doesn’t exactly help her case. So, where do people think she is?”

  “No one knows, but I’m starting to hope it’s someplace where there’s no extradition.”

  I took a bite of pancakes and held in a sigh.

  I was hoping the same thing.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I was so stuffed when I left Francine’s that I decided I needed to skip eating for a while, at least until supper. I’d enjoyed talking to Ally, which sorta surprised me as the only women I’d had any sort of personal conversation with more than once and for more than a couple of minutes were the D.C. coroner and Hadley. Talking to Ally had also given me an idea. Ally was young and had been away for a while, so she wouldn’t know all the past sins and secrets of the town, but I’d bet money that Walter would.

  He sat in the general store every day, chatting with customers and watching the ebb and flow of the locals. Not to mention that he kept proposing to the object of my curiosity. If Walter didn’t know how Ida Belle got things done, I’d concede she had them all hypnotized. I also figured it would be interesting to get a man’s take on Harvey and Marie. So far, the only male who had been involved on any level was Deputy LeBlanc, but he was keeping all his opinions to himself, except the ones he had about me.

  Thoughts of Deputy LeBlanc made me briefly wonder what he’d make of it if he caught me talking to Walter, but he had told me to return the pistol. So, technically speaking, it would be his fault if I returned the pistol and it led to conversation. After all, it would be bad manners, especially in the South, to walk into a man’s store, hand him a gun, and not even ask how his day was.

  Mind made up, I returned home, roused Bones from his nap on the porch and back into the kitchen, grabbed the pistol and headed to the general store.

  Walter was in his usual spot behind the counter, sitting on a stool and reading the newspaper. He looked over his paper when I walked in and shook his head. “I guess the headphones didn’t work so well,” he said.

  I stepped up to the counter and pulled up a stool to sit, assuming he was referring to the unfortunate raccoon incident. “Deputy LeBlanc has been talking about me again, hasn’t he? If he keeps it up, I’m going to assume he’s flirting.”

  Walter grinned. “Well, now, that might just be the case. Carter usually tries to avoid women as a species, but he does seem to have you in his rifle sights.”

  “Speaking of which,” I said as I pulled the pistol from my waistband and passed it back to Walter, “he told me I had to return this. I hope I didn’t get you into any trouble.”

  Walter stuck the pistol under the counter and waved a hand in dismissal. “All Carter did was give me a disapproving look. He knows better than to do more. After his dad died, I darn near raised the boy. He’s my nephew.”

  I blinked. I don’t know why I was surprised. Considering the size of the town, some of the locals had to be related.

  “Oh, I didn’t know that. Of course, that stands to reason,” I said, leading into the next direction I intended to take the conversation. “Being new here, I don’t really know much about anyone.”

  Walter laughed. “Yeah, that was clear when Ida Belle and Gertie managed to rope you into their nonsense. Most people tend to stay out of their path when possible.”

  “Really? The way I hear it, Ida Belle practically runs Sinful.”

  “That’s true enough.” He looked upward. “Lord save us all from the machinations of an intelligent female.”

  I put my elbows on the counter and leaned toward Walter. “But how does she do it, exactly?”

  He shrugged. “I do what she wants because I’ve been in love with her since elementary school. I don’t know everyone else’s reasons. Never asked.”

  The plot thickened. Either he was telling the truth, which I found charming, or he was lying.

  Time for a different tactic. “I’m sure you heard we didn’t find Marie on Number Two.”

  “I saw the long faces when you pulled up at the dock. I figured as much.”

  “What’s the deal there? I gathered from Gertie and Ida Belle that Harvey wasn’t well liked, but I don’t get why everyone assumes Marie did it.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “So, let me get this straight—two strangers tell you they need your help finding a woman that they think killed her husband and who is hiding on a stinky island, and you thought it would be a good idea to go with them?”

  I frowned. “When you put it that way, I guess it sounds a little sketchy.”

  “A little?” He shook his head. “You’re not at all the way Marge described you. We were expecting some shrinking violet that looked down her nose at the bunch of hicks. The last thing I would have figured you for was hooking up with Ida Belle and Gertie and trying to protect a woman accused of murder.”

  “Marge and I weren’t really close. I think she only knew what Mother told her about me, and Mother tended to believe what she wanted and not what was reality. I don’t know what to tell you, except that I guess I figured they were two nice, old ladies who needed help.”

  “Ha. Two nice, old ladies. I guess I can see how you would think so, not being from around here, but I’m guessing you’ve got a different opinion of their skill set by now.”

  “Yeah, but they seem good judges of character, and Marie was a friend of Marge’s. I assume my aunt would be helping if she were alive, so I guess I figure it’s the least I can do. Besides, Ida Belle and Gertie don’t think Marie’s dangerous, so why would I assume she is?”

  Walter sighed. “She’s probably not, and Marge definitely would have been in this up to her neck. To answer your earlier question, Harvey Chicoron was the biggest butthole this side of the Atchafalaya. But last time I checked, you couldn’t kill a man for being an ass.”

  “That’s sort of a shame, really,” I said.

  Walter raised his eyebrows. “Have anyone in mind?”

  “Not at this moment, but give me some time.”

  “I’m beginning to get why Ida Belle enlisted your help.”

  I shook my head. “Looks like it’s all for nothing. We haven’t found hide nor hair of Marie, and as it seems everyone’s sure of her guilt, I guess the outcome of this mess has already been determined. All that’s left is the trial.”

  Walter nodded, his expression sad. “I’m afraid you’re right, but no one in Sinful’s going to be happy about it.”

  “Oh, that’s not true. Harvey’s cousin Melvin came to my house the other day, banging on the doors and windows and swearing I was harboring Marie. He somehow got it in his mind that I was her attorney. Tried to serve me with papers to keep her from spending her own money.”

  “Melvin’s always been a useless cuss. Lazy as the day is long and always trying to get people to shell out money for his latest get-rich scheme. He couldn’t get money off of Harvey, and that always hacked him off. It’s probably been eating him alive that Marie’s had control of Harvey’s estate all these years.”

  “So, if Marie goes to prison, does Melvin get the money?”

  “I’ve never heard anything about Harvey leaving a will. Sorta stupid for a rich man, but Harvey wasn’t the brightest of bulbs. Far as I know, Melvin is next of kin, so I guess he’d come into it all.”

  I whistled. “Talk about hitting the lottery.”

  “Yep. It would be about the same thing.”

  “So, why don’t people think Melvin killed Harvey?”

  Walter frowned. “It’s crossed my mind a time or two, but there’s a couple things that keep me from latching onto that theory. First one is that unless Melvin could make certain Marie was blamed for Harvey’s death, he still wouldn’t benefit.”

  “That’s true. And you don’t think he’s smart enough to do that?”

  “Clearly not. If he did it, he kinda screwed up the finding-the-body part of the crime. You can’t exactly convict Marie of killing her husband if no one can prove he’s dead.”

  “But surely Harvey wouldn’t have disappeared and left all the mo
ney behind.”

  “There was some rumors—I don’t have any hard proof, mind you—that he was carrying on with a woman from New Orleans and they were planning to run off together. I’ve heard whispers that a good sum of money was missing from his accounts, but I can’t get any details out of Carter.”

  That figured. “You said a couple of reasons.…”

  “Yeah, second one is that when Harvey disappeared, Melvin was sitting in prison in New Orleans.”

  “I don’t suppose he could have had a friend do it—especially as he had the perfect alibi?”

  “I don’t know. Melvin didn’t have any friends that I’m aware of, and besides which, where the heck has the body been all this time? If there was a plan in all this, it was botched big time.”

  I sighed. “I guess you’re right. So there’s no one else that might have taken a shot at Harvey?”

  “Shoot—throw a stone and you’ll hit someone who wanted to. There’s no shortage of people who are happier in Sinful with no Harvey Chicoron. Hell, I’m one of them, but it’s a big leap from hating a man to putting a bullet in him.”

  “Yeah, I suppose it is.” For normal people.

  Then I processed the rest of his statement. “You, Walter? You seem so calm. Why would you want to shoot him?”

  “Harvey’s family built and owned most of Main Street. Me, the butcher, the churches, and Francine all rented the space. We tried to buy it for years, but Harvey’s parents wouldn’t sell. Then Harvey got control when his parents died and decided to put the screws to everyone. He doubled the rent, and we either had to pay up or get out.”

  I shook my head. “I would have shot him for you if I’d been here.”

  “Normally, I’m a peaceful man, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say it crossed my mind a lot more than once that everyone in this town would be better off if Harvey was dead.”

  “So when he disappeared, I guess that problem went away.”

  “Sure. First thing Marie did after she got control of the estate was lower the rent back to the old rate. Then she sold us our buildings at a more than fair price.”

  Walter narrowed his eyes at me. “What’s your interest in all this, anyway? You one of them amateur sleuth sorts?”