by DeLeon, Jana
“Holy crap!” Ally shouted, then slapped her hand over her mouth. She glanced around the café, then leaned in. “Celia had an affair with her uncle? What the hell is wrong with my family?”
Gertie frowned. “I don’t know as I’d call it an affair. The uncle had to be in his midforties at the time, and Celia was only eighteen. I know women are a lot more knowledgeable about things these days, but back then, a man that age could have pulled a fast one on an impressionable young woman. And Celia’s mother was strict. She had no street smarts to speak of.”
“That’s true enough,” Ida Belle said, “and if you consider that Celia never had much in the way of male attention, then it’s a recipe for being taken advantage of.”
“So if Celia was pregnant with another man’s child, why did Max marry her?” I asked.
Ida Belle shook her head. “That is a damned good question.”
“I think we should mull it over with some blueberry pancakes,” Gertie said.
I nodded. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a long time.”
“Make a note,” Ida Belle said. “Her next idea is sure to be a doozy.”
Chapter Two
As we exited the café, Deputy Carter LeBlanc ran out of the sheriff’s department. In his jeans and black T-shirt, with his rugged good looks and awesome body, he looked as if he’d stepped off of one of those law enforcement hottie calendars. I felt my entire body stir and my heart leap more than just a little. Carter had become one of the biggest surprises I’d encountered since I’d arrived in Sinful. He was also my biggest dilemma.
He caught sight of us and hurried across the street, frowning. As he approached, I raised my right hand. “I swear, whatever it is, we didn’t do it. We were just having breakfast and watching the Celia and Max show.”
“Ah man,” Carter said. “Celia and Max had a showdown? I can’t believe I missed it. What happened?”
“Max basically said Pansy wasn’t his daughter,” I said.
Carter’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Scout’s honor,” Gertie said.
“You weren’t a Scout,” Ida Belle said.
“Only because they wouldn’t let girls in,” Gertie said. “Anyway, Max wouldn’t say why he came back or where he’s been all this time, and Francine had a crack at him before Celia got there.”
Carter looked impressed. “If Francine couldn’t get it out of him, he must really be up to something big. We could have used her in Iraq.”
“So if you weren’t coming over here to accuse us of something that I’m certain we would never do, why were you frowning?” I asked.
“The hurricane,” he said.
“Crap.”
“I knew it.”
Ida Belle and Gertie both spoke at once.
“What?” I asked, completely confused.
“Tropical Storm Lizzie turned into a hurricane in the wee hours of the morning,” Ida Belle said. “It was headed for Mobile, but apparently, it’s shifted.”
Carter nodded. “Looks to come in somewhere between New Orleans and Gulfport.”
I felt a bit of panic course through me. Desert storms, assassins, and incendiary devices I could deal with. Hurricanes were outside of my scope. “Do we need to evacuate?”
“No,” Ida Belle said. “If it comes in that far east, we’ll just get flash flooding and a tornado or two.”
“Sounds like a good reason to leave to me,” I said.
“If we left every time there was a threat of flooding and tornadoes,” Gertie said, “no one would live here at all.”
“Seriously?” I looked at the three of them. “I’ve been living in a constant state of weather peril and none of you thought you should fill me in?”
Carter raised one eyebrow. “Given the things you’ve involved yourself in since arriving in Sinful, I’m going to go out on a limb and say even if the hurricane hit Sinful directly, it would be a better bet than some of the other choices you’ve made.”
I frowned. It wasn’t exactly untrue, but it was slightly rude of him to point it out while I was having my moment of panic. “Fine,” I said, relaxing. “If you guys say there’s nothing to worry about, then I won’t worry. What do I need to do to prepare, boil water or something?”
“Only if you’re delivering a baby,” Gertie said, “which happened during a hurricane a couple years back.”
“You delivered a baby?” Suddenly, it all became scary again.
“I tried asking him to stay in there for another day,” Gertie said, “but babies can be stubborn that way.”
“She really did ask,” Ida Belle said. “Pleaded, actually.”
“I don’t blame her,” I said. “Okay, so baby delivering aside, what do I need to do?” My mind whirled with all the things in Marge’s house. Did I board up windows? Did I have enough beer to last out the storm? What if the power went out? Could Ally make blueberry muffins over a campfire? And what would I build a campfire out of? I didn’t like the fig tree much, but it was live wood. It probably wouldn’t burn very well.
“It’s simple,” Ida Belle said. “You close the storm shutters and secure them, fill the bathtubs with water, make sure you have flashlights and batteries, and that’s it.”
“Why are we taking baths?” I asked.
Carter laughed. “If we lose utilities, you’ll need the water to flush toilets.”
“Unless you want to fish it out of the bayou,” Gertie said. “Plenty of people do.”
“No thanks.” I’d seen what lived in the bayou and didn’t want any of it near places my naked butt rested. “So I batten down the hatches and ride it out? That’s it?”
“Oh, you can’t stay at your house when the storm hits shore,” Ida Belle said. “You’re right on the bayou, and there’s a chance the bayou could come inside your kitchen. Everyone with property on water goes to one of the churches. Gertie and I handle those staying at the Baptist church and Celia and her group handle those staying at the Catholic church.”
“Just when I thought I’d gotten out of going to church this week,” I grumbled.
“Pastor Don’s visiting his sister, so there won’t be any preaching,” Gertie said. “But I can’t promise no singing or prayer. People tend to get worried when the storm hits.”
Yeah. I was right there with them.
“We best get to the store and get more batteries before the rush,” Ida Belle said.
“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Carter said. “I’m on my way to the fire department to get the storm alarm set off.” He gave me a quick kiss, then hurried off down the street.
Gertie reached into her purse and brought out three sets of earplugs. “You want to put these on. Trust me.”
Ida Belle took a pair and popped them in her ears. “She’s right,” she yelled. “That siren is horribly loud. Sounds like a dinosaur-sized cat wailing.”
I stuck one earplug in and nodded. I already needed them if Ida Belle was going to keep yelling.
We headed across the street to the General Store. Walter was in his usual spot behind the counter, reading the newspaper. He looked up when we came in and nodded. “Figured you’d be in when you heard the news. I put together a box of supplies for the church. It’s sitting by the hat rack. I’ll have Scooter run it over for you as soon as you check and make sure you don’t need anything else.”
“We need batteries!” Ida Belle yelled.
Walter winced and I waved an earplug at him.
“Ah,” he said. “Carter’s going to get the siren set off.” He pulled out a pair of earmuffs and put them on. “I still have to hear customers, but at least the muffs take the edge off.” He motioned Ida Belle and Gertie toward the box he’d referred to before and they set off across the store to check it out.
“Take those off for a minute,” I said.
“What?” Walter yelled.
I reached up and yanked the muffs off his head. “I don’t want to yell.”
“Probably just as well. It usua
lly takes them forever to get that alarm on, and it’s hard to wait on people when you can’t hear a word they’re saying.”
“You heard about Max, right?”
“Oh yeah. Two of the fishermen came hurrying over here yesterday after he showed up, then Celia came in this morning, ranting like a crazy woman. That part was nothing new, mind you, but she did buy a box of shotgun shells.”
“Did she say why?”
“Claimed she needed to protect her home. I guess she thinks Max is going to break in.”
“And she thinks shooting him is a good answer for that?” My mind whirled with all the legal possibilities. Was it breaking and entering if you used to own the home, were supposed to be dead, and it turned out you were just a butthole who left your wife and didn’t bother to tell her for twenty years? If Celia shot him breaking into her—their house, was it self-defense or murder one?
“A bit of a messy situation Celia’s in,” Walter said, cluing in on my thoughts.
“I’ll say. I have no idea what would happen if she shot him.”
Walter nodded. “Can’t say that I know myself. I’m just hoping we don’t have to find out.”
“Did you know Max well?”
“Not really, but then I don’t think anyone did except Celia. Turns out, she probably didn’t know him that well either, I guess. Max was always a loner. Most people considered him a bit odd. He was always wandering around with a sketch pad, drawing odd renditions of buildings and people. It put people off the way he’d stare at them, then start marking on that pad.”
“I can imagine.” I wouldn’t want someone sketching me without permission. It was creepy.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I figure if he came back after all these years, it’s for a darned good reason, and so far, no one can give me one.”
“I don’t think anyone’s got a good reason to give.”
“Except Max.”
“I suppose he does, but I’d bet he’s not going to share it. Not until he’s ready.”
“I’m sure you’re right. I guess we’ll just hope he’s not here to try to rob Celia.”
“Hope and pray on that one,” Walter said. “The woman is a horrible shot. She’d probably end up shooting a neighbor.”
I cringed. “We should probably warn Marie.” Ida Belle and Gertie’s good friend lived next door to Celia.
Walter nodded, then looked up at the door as the bells jangled. “Uh-oh. Speak of the devil.”
“He’s here?” I struggled not to whirl around and stare.
“Coming this way,” Walter mumbled.
I heard the footsteps behind me and Walter looked past me. “Max,” Walter said. “What can I do for you?”
“I heard the storm’s moving in,” Max said. “Figured I better get a flashlight and some water.”
Unable to stand it any longer, I turned around and stuck my hand out. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Sandy-Sue Morrow, Marge Boudreaux’s niece.” I threw out my cover identity like a pro and gave myself silent props for not cringing when I said the name “Sandy-Sue.”
Max shook my hand. “How’s old Marge doing?”
“She’s dead. I’m here this summer settling her estate.”
Max looked a bit taken aback at the directness of my response, but he recovered quickly. “I’m sorry to hear that. She was quite a character.”
“That she was. So I hear through the grapevine that you’ve been gone for some time. What brings you back to town?”
Max’s expression went completely blank. “Just a bit of unfinished business. Shouldn’t take long to clear it up, then Celia can scramble to salvage what’s left of her flagging reputation and try to lord over the masses once more.”
“You really don’t like your wife, do you?” I asked.
Walter snorted and reached for a tissue, trying to pretend he was coughing.
Max smiled. “No one likes my wife. Why should I be any different?”
“I don’t know, because you married her?”
“The biggest mistake of my life, and one I fixed as soon as I had the ability to.”
I frowned. Sure, Celia was a raging bitch and a perpetual thorn in the side of anyone with a lick of common sense, but no one deserved such disdain from the person they’d made vows with. My initial assessment of Max had been correct. He wasn’t a nice man.
The bells on the door jangled again, and a gray-haired woman walked in holding hands with a man, probably twenty years younger than her. The younger man shared the same facial features, but his head remained dropped, his gaze locked on the floor. I could tell that he wasn’t completely right. I didn’t even bother with my usual assessment. There was nothing to fear here.
“Morning, Mrs. Hinkley,” Walter said. “Will you and Landon be needing some hurricane supplies?”
Mrs. Hinkley cast a glance at Max and wrinkled her nose, as if she’d smelled something unpleasant, then gave Walter a nod. “Some batteries, kerosene, and a couple jugs of drinking water, please.”
Walter reached for a box and set off in the store to assemble Mrs. Hinkley’s supplies. Max gave Mrs. Hinkley a nod and looked at the young man.
“Hello, Landon,” Max said. “Do you remember me? You used to draw pictures for me.”
Landon finally lifted his gaze and stared at Max for a moment, then moved behind his mother. “No! No drawing! No more!”
Max’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry,” he rushed to say.
Mrs. Hinkley turned around and rubbed her hand up and down Landon’s arm. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice calm and soft. “You don’t have to draw. I’ve got a new can of clay for you.”
Some of the tension left Landon’s shoulders and he looked up at her. “Is it blue?”
“Of course it’s blue,” she said. “Isn’t that your favorite color?”
Landon nodded. “I like blue.”
“Why don’t you see if you can help Walter,” Mrs. Hinkley said, then turned around again as Landon headed off across the store.
“I didn’t mean to upset him,” Max said.
“It wasn’t you,” Mrs. Hinkley said. “He’s been that way ever since I brought him back to Sinful from the group home. He loves making animals out of clay, but he won’t pick up a pencil at all. I’m sure it’s a phase of some sort.”
Max frowned. “That’s unfortunate. He always loved drawing. Of course, I haven’t seen him in a long time. I guess things change.”
“They certainly do,” Mrs. Hinkley said, but her tone had grown frosty.
Max took the hint and gave us a nod. “I best go get my supplies. Good day, ladies.”
Mrs. Hinkley waited until Max had walked away, then looked over at me. “You must be Marge’s niece. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“All good, I hope,” I joked.
She smiled. “Mostly. Except for the stuff Celia said, but then I stopped paying attention to what Celia says sometime shortly after my birth.”
I nodded. “I like a smart woman.”
She laughed. “Then we should get along fine. You in here for supplies?”
“Yep.” I pointed to Ida Belle and Gertie, who were going through a box of supplies in the corner. “I’m depending on them for direction. This is my first hurricane.”
“Well, you’ve got the best helping you out. Ida Belle and Gertie are part of Sinful’s emergency management team for hurricanes.”
“If they’re not busy creating them,” Walter said as he stepped behind the counter with Mrs. Hinkley’s box of supplies.
“I heard that!” Gertie shouted from across the store.
“Put your earbuds back in,” Walter said.
Mrs. Hinkley smiled and peered into the box. “Looks like you got everything, Walter.”
“I’ll put it on your tab, Belinda. Give me a call if you need any help with your windows. I’ve got Scooter on hurricane duty today.”
“I’m hoping the new shutters take all the effort out of it, but I’ll give you
a call if I need help. Tell Scooter to stay safe out there. The wind is already starting to pick up.”
“I’ll let him know,” Walter said.
“It was nice meeting you,” I said.
“It was nice meeting you, too,” Mrs. Hinkley said. “I’m glad to see Celia was wrong, as usual.” She pointed to the box and Landon slid it off the counter, and followed his mother out of the store.
“Celia must really be losing ground,” Gertie said as she pushed a box around the counter. “Belinda Hinkley is a hard-core Catholic.”
Ida Belle hefted another box onto the counter. “Belinda’s not bad. She’s never bought into Celia’s ravings. Never been a part of that silly God’s Wives group of hers. Her husband was a commercial fisherman. Got killed in a boating accident back when Landon was about ten. Her whole life was devoted to that boy until he went to a group home in New Orleans three years ago. Then she took up gardening with a passion—vegetable gardening, not flowers. She has some of the biggest and sweetest tomatoes I’ve ever eaten.”
Walter nodded. “If she’d grow more, I’d sell them in the store and we’d both retire.”
“It’s a shame the home closed,” Gertie said. “Belinda said he was doing so well there, and the poor woman deserved some time to herself. But I guess you have to take care of your own.”
“That is the truth.” Walter looked into the boxes. “You sure you got everything? You might have missed the kitchen sink.”
“We won’t know if we need one of those until the storm is over,” Gertie said. “And of course this isn’t everything, but we’ll supply our own cough syrup.”
Walter began making a note of the supplies. “I’ll put it on the church’s tab. Same goes for you three as far as Scooter goes—if you need any help securing your homes, give me a call and I’ll send him round.”
“Are you coming to the church for the storm?” I asked Walter.
“Oh, well, I don’t know that it’s necessary,” he said. “I’m pretty well fixed at my place. The ground’s a little higher and I’m farther away from the bayou than you are.”
“I was just thinking we might need help or something,” I said.
Walter looked a tiny bit embarrassed and more than a little pleased. “Well, if you think I might be able to help, I suppose I could spend the night in a pew.”
