by Jana DeLeon
“That coffee ready yet?” Ida Belle asked.
“Coming right up.” Gertie said and started filling cups.
Marie picked up one of the slices of toast and took a bite, but she didn’t seem enthusiastic about eating. I didn’t blame her. High stress levels tended to eliminate my appetite as well, and I normally had no shortage. I saw Gertie add a generous swish of bourbon to Marie’s coffee before she carried the cups to the table and took a seat.
Marie took a sip of the coffee and grimaced a little. “It’s a little strong, Gertie. Pass me some sugar.”
Gertie slid the sugar bowl across the table to Marie. We all sipped in silence for a couple of minutes. I figured they were waiting for Marie to eat more of the toast and get a bit of the coffee in her before hitting her with the letter.
I sipped my coffee, trying to remain patient, and was just about to give it up when Marie swallowed the last bite of toast and Gertie nodded at me. I pulled out the letter and slid it across the table to Marie. Reading it out loud to her somehow felt intrusive.
Marie hesitated, the fear clear in her expression, then finally lifted the letter and began reading. Her eyes grew red and watery as she read, and a single tear slid down her cheek as she placed the letter on the table.
“Can we wait until tomorrow to take this to the sheriff?” she asked, her voice breaking.
“Of course, dear,” Gertie said and patted her hand.
Ida Belle nodded. “It’s been waiting all these years. I don’t think another day is going to kill anyone.”
“Is this going to be enough?” Marie asked. “To, you know…”
“I think so,” I said. “The police will want to talk to all of you, of course, but I can’t see any reason for the prosecutor to pursue you on this. It really doesn’t serve anyone’s interest, including the prosecutor’s. The chance of getting a conviction against you given these letters is slim. It’s definitely enough to sway a jury.”
“Showing all this to the sheriff is the first step, anyway,” Gertie said.
“Exactly,” Ida Belle chimed in. “And we’ll be right there to help you with this and every step that comes after.”
Marie rose from the table and gave us all a small smile. “I appreciate everything you’ve done. I don’t know what I would have done without you. You’re wonderful people, and I don’t deserve such good friends. I’m going to get back out of sight, just in case Melvin is watching. I need some time to be alone with my thoughts…and talk to Marge.”
I don’t know why exactly, but the thought of Marie, sitting in the attic on that cot, talking to her dead friend—the woman who’d killed to save her—got me choked up. I felt the pressure building in my nose and between my eyes, and my mouth dropped a bit as I realized what was happening.
I caught the tear before it escaped my eye and stared at my moist fingers. I hadn’t shed a tear since my mother’s funeral twenty years ago. I wasn’t sure what it said about me that I shed a tear for a woman I’d never met but hadn’t shed a single tear when my father died.
“We’re going to go,” Gertie said, and I realized they’d risen from the table and were standing there, purses in hand, and looking down at me.
“Call if you need anything,” Ida Belle said, always the one taking care of business.
But I could see the unshed tears in her eyes as well, although she was working hard to keep them in. Gertie didn’t even bother trying to stop them or wipe them away, instead letting them rest on her tanned skin, like proud emotional banners.
As they left the house, I stared down at the kitchen table, wishing I could be more like Gertie.
Chapter Nineteen
I tried to make myself busy, but putting up the coffee cups, cleaning the pot and wiping the kitchen table took only minutes. Then I wandered from room to room, wondering what to do with my afternoon. Marie was still tucked away in the attic, and I really didn’t expect to see her for a while, if not tomorrow morning.
Packing the house was always on the list of things to do, but I still felt funny making decisions about someone else’s property, and for once, I wasn’t starving. Sighing, I opened the kitchen blinds that had been closed to hide Marie and stared across the back lawn to the bayou. It was deceptively peaceful, but that slow-moving, muddy water had held a secret that set off a maelstrom in this small town.
A cluster of cypress trees on the far right of the lawn perched right near the bank, the huge limbs shading the yard and part of the bayou. In the middle of the trunks hung a rope hammock. I stared at the hammock for a couple of seconds, then hurried upstairs, mind made up. I was going to grab my book, get in that hammock, and do my best to escape for a couple of hours. The next morning was going to be hard, and I needed to get centered before I went to the sheriff with the three ladies.
I took the time to change into shorts, then grabbed my book and hurried outside, not bothering with shoes. The hammock was wide and comfortable, and I settled in immediately. I hadn’t managed to read a chapter before I caught myself dozing off.
My eyes had just closed when I heard the sound of a boat approaching. I didn’t bother to open them. I wasn’t doing anything legal, for a change, and I figured whoever it was would continue on by, but seconds later, the engine cut out and I heard a thud on the bank in front of me.
I opened one eye and saw Ally standing in a flat-bottom boat, smiling at me.
“I was beginning to wonder if you’d heard me,” she said. “Sorry I interrupted such a good nap.”
I swung my legs out of the hammock and walked up to the edge of the bank. “That’s okay. I was supposed to be reading, but then I got comfortable and warm and, well…”
Ally nodded. “Why do you think I’m in my boat? I just crawled out of a lawn chair with a serious case of bed head. I was supposed to be working on some pastry recipes. I figured if I didn’t get upright, I’d never get back out of the chair.”
“So you’re cruising Sinful by boat? Is that really interesting enough to keep you awake?”
Ally laughed. “Hardly. But I thought fishing might keep me up and provide me with a nice supper and at least, a change of scenery. So, what do you say—want to hit the bayou with me?”
Fishing certainly wasn’t on my list of things I liked to do, but I did like Ally, and so far, I hadn’t gotten into any trouble when I was with her.
“You sure it’s not going to rain?” I asked and pointed to the dark clouds in the distance.
“Probably not until tonight. That’s pretty typical of Louisiana in the summer.”
“Oh, why not,” I decided. “Let me lock up the house. I don’t have any equipment, though. Maybe Marge has some in her shed.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got several poles.”
I hurried inside to change into a tank top and grabbed a pair of flip-flops that I’d kicked off in the living room. They probably weren’t the best choice for fishing, but I’d noticed Ally was wearing them as well, so I figured she wasn’t as serious about fishing as she was about getting out of the house for a while. We were definitely on the same wavelength there. I’d much rather be outdoors whenever possible.
For a second, I wondered if I should tell Marie I was going out, but decided to leave her in peace. If she needed something, Ida Belle and Gertie were only a phone call away. I gave Bones a quick pat and hurried back outside, locking the back door behind me.
Ally gave my outfit an approving nod. “Fishing is really about getting a tan. I’m glad you thought to go sleeveless, although you’ve got a really good tan already, especially for being from up north. Do you use tanning beds?”
As my tanning “secret” was working in the Middle Eastern desert, I stretched my mind for an answer that made sense, but I wasn’t really clear on the question. Then my mind flashed back to the Facebook page, to that vain, simpering beauty-queen who had left Sinful to become an actress.
“I have one of those lamps,” I said, reciting one of her self-aggrandizing posts. “I use
it in the spring so that I won’t burn when I get outside in the summer.”
“That’s smart. A burn is no fun. Always itchy and with the humidity combined with heat around here, you’re forced to stay in air-conditioning until it heals. I hate being cooped up.”
I pushed the boat away from the bank and hopped in, taking a seat on the bench across the front of the boat. “Are you sure you want to be a chef? I’ve never seen any baking outdoors.”
She laughed. “I’m going to make sure when I build my own shop that I have huge picture windows in the baking area. Until, I plan on suffering a lot.”
She started the motor and directed the boat at a cruising pace up the bayou, waving at people along the bank as she went. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of the wind and sun on my face. Even the smell of the muddy water seemed somehow relaxing, and I started to understand why people liked living here.
“Oh, he’s a big one.” Ally’s voice broke me out of my half stupor, and I opened my eyes as an enormous alligator swam within inches of the boat.
“Jeez, he must be twelve feet long.” I stared at the beast, whose entire body extended on top of the water as he paddled down the bayou. As he disappeared below the surface, I rethought that liking-to-live-here thing. Relaxing too much in Louisiana might get you eaten.
“I guess you don’t swim much around here,” I said.
“Oh, mostly they mind their own business. People ski down this bayou all the time, and kids swim off the docks.”
“Do their parents have them heavily insured?”
Ally laughed. “There’s an angle I never considered, but you’ve got me wondering as my mother let me swim off the dock, too.”
She continued down the bayou past Main Street, and I looked back to see the town fading into the distance. Finally, we reached an open area and she eased the boat under a tree. She cut the engine, then reached over to pick up two fishing poles and handed me one.
“Do you know how to cast?” she asked.
“It’s been a while, but I’ll figure it out.” I did a quick review of the equipment and strained my mind back to the one time my father had taken me fishing. He promptly decided that, since I wasn’t a boy, I wouldn’t be able to do it properly.
My jaw clenched involuntarily, and I executed a perfect throw into the middle of the bayou.
Ally whistled. “Great toss. Now reel it in, and let’s put some bait on it so you catch a fish.”
“Oh yeah, bait,” I grumbled and I reeled in the line.
Ally stuck her hand in an ice chest and handed me a shrimp and a beer. “The shrimp goes on the line,” she said with a grin.
I baited the line, tossed it back out, and popped the top on the beer. “Maybe fishing isn’t so bad.”
“Oh, it’s really an excuse to be outside and drink beer. Sometimes, I don’t even bait my line. I just toss it out there and sleep.”
She tossed her own line out into the bayou, then leaned back across the bench at the back of the boat. I decided that Ally was by far the smartest person I’d met in Sinful and laid back across my bench, enjoying the shade of the cypress tree and the gentle breeze that blew across the bayou.
I must have dozed off, because the next thing I remember was the sound of a roaring engine. Before I could sit up, the boat pitched on its side and I fell off the bench and into the bottom of the boat.
“Damn them!” Ally yelled from the back of the boat.
I stood up and saw a boat speeding away down the bayou away from us. “Who was that?”
“The Lowery brothers. Trust me, you don’t want to know more. They’re mannerless pigs. Everyone on the bayou slows down for fisherman except them.”
I heard another boat engine rumble behind me and readied myself to avoid another bottom-of-the-boat experience, but as I turned, I saw Deputy LeBlanc cut the engine on his boat and coast up beside us.
“You all right?” he asked me.
“Fine,” I said.
“I’ll give them a ticket,” he said to Ally. “They won’t pay it, but I’ll have the ammunition to toss them in jail for a couple of days. I’ll run them down before I head to New Orleans for an appointment.”
“Good,” Ally said.
He looked back at me and gave me a once-over. “I see you’re keeping better company today. Hell, you’re even wearing clothes. Keep up the good work.”
He gave me a grin, started his engine and headed off down the bayou in pursuit of the Lowery brothers.
“He’s seen you without clothes?” Ally asked, her eyes wide.
“I was wearing a trash bag, but it’s sorta a long story.”
Ally flopped back down on the bench. “I have a twelve-pack and the day off. This, I have got to hear.”
***
Ally and I were having such a good time, we managed to polish off six of the beers and kill the entire afternoon and some of the evening. We even caught six huge fish that Ally identified as speckled trout, and she promised to invite me over to eat. I’d finally told her about the trip to the Swamp Bar, hedging around the reason for the trip and the exact cause of my dip. She’d laughed until she cried and then laughed more.
Her sheer delight in my ultimate humiliation finally forced me to see the humor in the situation, and I laughed as well, then marveled that I’d found such a comfort level with a woman I barely knew, when I’d never found that same level of comfort with anyone back home. Hadley had known me since I was a kid and gladly volunteered as a fill-in mom. Director Morrow, who’d been my father’s partner at the time of his death, had done his best to steer me in the right direction, but I still wouldn’t confide in either of them, much less volunteer up things that embarrassed me.
And all of that was so convoluted and loaded with baggage that I wasn’t about to dive into analyzing it. Especially not today. On a pleasant day, with a good breeze, great company, and beer. Finally, when we were sunburned and beer-logged, Ally headed back up the bayou to Marge’s house, making me promise to meet her for late breakfast the next morning.
Marie crept out of the attic when she heard me stirring downstairs, and I fixed us up grilled cheese sandwiches. She didn’t say much, but I could see the weight of everything in her eyes. I didn’t envy what she had to do tomorrow in the least—not even in exchange for a free pass to all of Harvey’s money. A lifetime of guilt was clearly eating at her.
I had just stepped out of the shower when the text message signal on my cell phone sounded. What now? It had been so quiet all day, and I’d really hoped that would carry into tomorrow, at least until we went to see the sheriff.
I wrapped myself with a bath towel and went into the bedroom to check the message. Marie, whom I’d finally convinced to move into the spare bedroom across from me, hurried into my room.
“Who is it?” she asked.
I glanced at the display. “Ida Belle.”
We’re having trouble with the new blanket design and need your knitting expertise. Come to Gertie’s as soon as possible.
My pulse spiked and I felt the blood run from my face. Gertie and Ida Belle knew I couldn’t knit. The message sent me right back to the Middle East, with all the tricks and codes Harrison and I used to let each other know we were in distress.
I knew immediately that everything about that message was wrong.
Clearly, the intent was to get me to Gertie’s house.
“It’s a trap,” I said.
Marie’s eyes widened. “What’s happening?”
“We’ve been wrong…so very wrong.” The only people who knew I was in cahoots with Ida Belle and Gertie were Walter, Deputy LeBlanc, Marie and Melvin. Only one of them had reason to want us all in the same place and be secretive about it.
And then it hit me—everything everyone had believed all these years had been off. All this running around to use Melvin as a misdirection, and he’d been the killer all along. I’d bet money on it.
“What’s wrong, Fortune? Tell me what’s going on.” Marie’s voice rose in
pitch.
I dropped the phone on the bed and ran back into the bathroom to throw on my clothes; then I rushed out and pulled on my tennis shoes. Marie gasped when I pulled Marge’s pistol out of the nightstand and checked the clip before tucking it into my waistband.
I hurried over to her and gripped her arms. “Listen to me. I don’t know if he’s back from New Orleans, but I need you to call Deputy LeBlanc and tell him that Gertie and Ida Belle are being held hostage at Gertie’s house.”
All the blood rushed from Marie’s face. “Who’s holding them hostage?”
“If I’m right—Melvin.”
Marie’s hands flew up to cover her mouth. “Oh, God! This is all my fault.”
“You can play the blame game later. When you reach Deputy LeBlanc, tell him I’ve gone to help and I’m armed. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Marie said, her voice barely a whisper.
I shook her a bit. “Snap out of it, Marie. Gertie and Ida Belle need you to be strong.”
Suddenly, something clicked in Marie. I could see it in her eyes.
The tears that were threatening to fall seem to evaporate. She straightened up to full height, her jaw set in a hard line, and probably for the first time in her life, Marie got mad.
“Damn right, I’ll call the deputy,” she said. “Now, you go shoot that son of a bitch!”
I grinned at her before running out of the house and across the street. I wanted to take a peek through Gertie’s back windows before I went and rang the doorbell. If there was a way to sneak up on Melvin and get the advantage, I was taking it. No use politely stepping through a doorway into potential death unless absolutely necessary.
Silently, I lifted myself over Gertie’s back fence and crept across her yard, happy that she hadn’t turned on her back porch light. Only a faint glow from the moonlight reached the yard. The shadows of the hedges provided pitch-black cover all the way to the kitchen window.
