by Mary Ellis
“Hey, Tennessee, need a ride back to the Golden Magnolia?” Johnny Herman stuck his head out the window of his vehicle.
“What on earth are you doing here?” Craig snarled.
“I’ve been waiting to give you something, sonny.”
Craig walked to the annoying man’s car, stopping a foot from the driver’s side.
“This is for you and Cassie.” Herman shoved a banded stack of hundreds out the window.
“How do you know my wife’s name is Cassie?” He chose probably the least consequential of his pack of questions.
“Nate told me. He and Isabelle have been worried about you. Get in. I don’t want you walking down the street with this much money.”
“How did you know where I was?” Inconsequential question number two.
“Nate followed you when you left the casino. He thought you might want some privacy when you went inside the church. I took over waiting for you to come out when I cashed out of the game. What happened? Did you fall asleep in there?”
Craig climbed into the car and sighed wearily. “Yes. All that stress wore me out.”
Herman tossed another stack of money into his lap before driving away from the curb. “Add this to what you still need to pay off that guy. I only kept playing for your sake.”
Staring at the money, Craig chose the big question: “Why would you do this for me, a total stranger?” A hitch in his voice betrayed his emotions.
“You ain’t no stranger, Mr. Tennessee. I used to be you, once upon a time.”
Craig placed the money on the console. “Thanks, but I can’t take money from a senior citizen. You can probably put it to good use.”
Herman braked to a sudden stop. “Nope. I don’t need it. I gave the Golden Magnolia back the amount they staked me. I just added an extra twist to Nate’s original plan. Now stop arguing and do what I tell you. Boy, I see why you and Isabelle didn’t last—you’re both cut from the same piece of stubborn cloth.”
“That is the truth.” Grinning, Craig picked up the money and tucked it in his coat. “Thank you, Mr. Herman. I’ll never forget this, and I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t, sonny, because I’m going to be keeping tabs on you.”
FIFTY-ONE
Wednesday
Nate let his bride sleep in the next morning. When he heard her stir, he opened the shutters and flooded their bedroom with sunshine.
“Goodness, Nate. What time is it?” Isabelle bolted upright.
“Eight fifteen. You have forty-five minutes to shower and dress. Craig and Cassie are joining us for breakfast.”
“Craig and Cassie?” she squealed, swinging her legs out of bed. “What have you been up to behind my back?”
Nate tossed her a bathrobe. “All questions shall be answered on the east verandah. I’ll wait for you there. Don’t be late.” He closed the pocket doors behind him.
For the first time in their marriage, Isabelle appeared ten minutes early. “Okay, spill what you know.” She dropped breathlessly into her chair.
Nate shrugged. “I would have, dear wife, but the Mitchells are here.” He pointed at Craig and Cassie on their way up the walk.
Isabelle stared at the couple while Nate folded his newspaper.
“Mrs. Russo, I believe we’re ready for breakfast,” he told their innkeeper.
“You two look…absolutely joyous,” Isabelle said to their guests.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” said Craig, taking Cassie’s elbow. “Miracles do happen, Mrs. Price.”
“You be nice, Craig.” Cassie wrapped her arms around Isabelle. “If not for these two, we might not have our happy ending.”
“I don’t know how to say thank you.” Craig offered Nate his hand, but when he started to shake, Craig pulled him into a man hug. “If there’s any way I can repay you…”
Nate felt his cheeks flush. “Someday I’ll ask for tickets to the Grand Old Opry.”
Everyone laughed and sat down as Mrs. Russo delivered four plates of breakfast. “Dig in, folks. Today I whipped up my specialty.”
Nate picked up his fork. “Can you two spend the day with us? We’re heading to Mobile for some sightseeing.”
Cassie and Craig exchanged a look. “We’ve taken up enough of your honeymoon. The Prices will spend today alone.”
“No spying from behind potted plants,” added Craig. “No surveillance, and no worrying about us. The Mitchells are fine.” He kissed the back of Cassie’s fingers.
“What will we do?” Nate winked at Isabelle.
She rolled her eyes and nibbled a piece of toast. “Mind if I ask what happened at the big game?”
Craig took a long gulp of coffee. “Johnny continued to play and win after I left. He returned what the casino had staked him and gave me the rest. I paid the loan shark and got him off my back forever. I tried to return what was left over to Johnny, but he said to donate it to Mississippi’s GA helpline.” Craig began to eat his omelet.
“What about Mickey Pierce and his crazy glasses?” asked Isabelle. “Will he get away with this?”
“Let him eat, Izzy.” Nate patted his wife’s hand. “We didn’t invite the Mitchells over to interrogate Craig.”
“No, she has a right to know.” Craig dabbed his mouth. “When I paid Pierce my winnings and returned the glasses, I was afraid he would say that he wanted me to get into another game with Big Sam. Malloy will be in Biloxi in three weeks for a tournament, but Pierce told me he will have another player in place ready to take a few million off the guy. That crook never uses the same player twice, so I’m off the hook.”
“He won’t get away with this, will he?” Isabelle demanded.
Craig smiled. “Biloxi police, along with casino security, will be waiting for whoever uses those glasses in the high-stakes poker room. Those glasses will be retired before they’re put into mass production.”
Isabelle picked up her fork and began to eat. “Thank goodness you didn’t cheat.”
Craig locked gazes with Nate. “That is the truth.”
“What’s next for you two?” Nate asked.
Cassie, who had been eating and listening while her husband talked, set down her fork. “I cashed in my plane ticket, and we’re driving back to Nashville today. I can’t wait to get home. Not that Bay St. Louis isn’t the sweetest town on the Gulf.” She glanced around guiltily.
“I plan to beg for my old job back as a law clerk and eventually get reinstated as an attorney. In the meantime, I want to live a quiet life with my beloved wife.” The look he gave Cassie left little doubt as to his sincerity.
“If it will help, I’ll testify before the bar association that you helped law enforcement capture a band of card cheats. I’ll even bring Johnny Herman to Nashville with me. That guy needs to get out more.” Nate shared a smile with his wife as he said that.
“You would do that for me after I caused so much fuss on your honeymoon?”
“I would. What are family and friends for if not to create a little drama in life?”
Craig gave Nate his second meaningful gaze. “Not that I’m not grateful for the offer, but I hope that won’t be necessary. I don’t want to talk or even think poker ever again. But my home will always be open to you and Mr. Herman. I can’t thank the three of you enough.”
When the silence grew uncomfortable, Nate did the only thing he could—attack his breakfast with a vengeance.
After a tearful goodbye to Craig and Cassie, they walked down to the beach and dug their toes into the powdery white sand. “What’s going on with you, Izzy?” asked Nate, sensing something was wrong. “Are you sad about leaving in a few days?”
“No. I love Natchez, and I’m eager to go back.” Isabelle slipped her hand into his. “I just hope I didn’t ruin our first vacation as man and wife.”
“Are you joking? What second husband would want to miss this kind of excitement with husband number one?”
She pursed her lips. “You’re not disappointed we d
idn’t have more…private time together?”
He laughed. “We still have three more nights at this lovely B and B to help nature take its course.”
“If you’re referring to makin’ babies, Mr. Price, we might as well watch a movie tonight.”
He stopped short. “What exactly are you saying?”
“Have you heard about those little kits from the drugstore? If the stick turns a certain color it means one thing, but if—”
“Spit it out, Izzy,” Nate interrupted.
“It turned a lovely shade of blue with a plus sign. We’re pregnant.”
“Does blue mean a boy?”
“Not necessarily. It’s too soon to tell, but the Price family will soon be three.”
Nate picked her up and swung her around. “Let’s go home early. We need to go house-hunting and buy a minivan.”
“Simmer down, Mr. Price. We’ve got at least seven months to prepare. Today we’re going to Mobile, and tonight you’re buying me something fattening for dinner. After that, we’ll sit on the porch and discuss baby names.”
“And then?” Nate lowered his wife to the ground.
“Who knows? We still have the most romantic suite in Mississippi. Let the games begin. And I’m not talkin’ cards.”
FIFTY-TWO
Natchez
Looks like you won’t be our overnight guest after all, Kirby.” The officer delivered his heartfelt regrets with a loud clang of metal against the bars of her cell.
Momentarily confused, Beth bolted upright and peered around her dismal surroundings. Then she remembered Jack tramping through her mother’s garden and dragging her away in handcuffs. “More’s the pity, Sergeant. Perhaps we can rendezvous later in the week.” She shifted onto her belly and slid off the top bunk, trying not to wake her roommate. During one of their chats, Beth learned that the young woman had been arrested for shoplifting for the third time from the same establishment.
“Look who’s here, your partner in crime.” Sergeant Mendez unlocked the cell door and stepped aside, revealing Michael leaning against the dingy wall. He was wearing workout clothes and a worried expression on his face.
“I was at the gym, Elizabeth. I came as soon as I heard. I planned to call you later.”
“Right about now you look like a Ralph Lauren model, Mikey,” Beth said as she squeezed past the cop in the doorway.
“Could you two take the reunion somewhere else? I’m trying to catch some sleep here,” her roommate complained from underneath the blanket.
“Sure thing,” said Beth. “Nice meeting you, Wanda. Good luck in court.”
Michael’s smile lines deepened. “You certainly make friends quickly.”
Beth walked down the hall to the personal property room. “A gal needs pals on the inside. Did you bail me out? How much did they ding you for?”
“Nary a dime. You’ve been released on your own recognizance, but I was fully prepared to put up my car title if necessary.”
Beth got in line at the clerk’s window. “For your new Charger? I’m not worth it, considering I’ll soon be out of a job. Nate will fire me the moment he hears about my arrest.”
Michael scanned the hallway in both directions. “Let’s not discuss it until we’re someplace private.”
“Good idea.” Most people were minding their own business, but a few cast withering looks at her. Beth avoided eye contact with others as she waited for her belongings to be returned.
As soon as they reached the parking lot, she inhaled a deep breath of warm, humid air. “Ah, freedom. Seems like I was locked up for months instead of hours.” Beth hurried to his car and jumped in the moment he unlocked the doors.
“Are you hungry? How about coffee and a sandwich? Got a place in mind?”
“Yes, yes, and anywhere not frequented by off-duty cops.” She slouched down in the seat.
“Let’s cross the bridge into Vidalia. I bet nobody knows you there, so we can avoid the paparazzi.” Michael wiggled his eyebrows comically.
“This isn’t a joke. They charged me with felony obstruction, which could be bumped up to federal court if the FBI feels I impeded their case in any way.”
“Calm down. It’s not as bad as that.” Michael turned onto the ramp to the bridge. “At best, what you did was interfere with a police investigation, which is a class B misdemeanor. You can probably plea that down to disorderly conduct and get off with community service. Along with time served, of course. Maybe they’ll have you scrubbing graffiti or picking up litter.” He leaned over to bump shoulders.
“Remind me to laugh uproariously the next time you sprain an ankle. I can’t believe you find the demolition of my career amusing.”
“Chief McNeil was the one who called me at the gym after he ordered your release. He was furious that Lejeune got the warrant behind his back, especially after I explained how and when I came by the new information.”
“Once again, Chris had to come to my rescue.” Beth scrubbed her face with her hands.
“Hey, I’m the one who rode my white horse to the station. If you prefer, I can take you back to your comfortable suite with Miss Sticky Fingers. Just say the word.” Michael sounded duly offended.
“Sorry. Being tired, hungry, and crabby does nothing for my people skills. Please don’t take me back to the slammer.”
“Didn’t they give you anything to eat? Even a PI has constitutional rights.” He braked at the end of the bridge.”
Beth chuckled, giddy from fatigue. “They delivered supper while I was asleep. When I woke up, I discovered that my roomie had eaten both trays. All she left me was the Jell-O. Thank goodness it was lime, my favorite.”
“This restaurant serves the best twenty-four-hour breakfast in Vidalia. They make great burgers and fries too.”
“I’ll take all of the above.” Beth staggered from his car toward the neon-lit door.
Inside, none of the patrons paid them any attention. Once they had slipped into a back booth, a waitress appeared immediately with coffee and menus. Beth ordered a club sandwich with fries without even looking. “Okay, I’m ready for your update.”
“Same for me,” said Mike to the waitress. Turning back to Beth, he said, “Unfortunately, neither your favorite detective nor McNeil were at the station when I dropped off the new statements. Lejeune didn’t wait for an explanation. He just overreacted. When McNeil heard, he called my cell and told me where you were. Why didn’t you notify your parents or one of your friends? Then you wouldn’t have had to wait until I got back.”
“My parents went to New Orleans for the day, and none of my friends have cash sitting around to post bail. How did you do in Jackson? Is your engagement back on?” She took a long sip of coffee.
“That’s not remotely funny, but I’ll let you slide for now. I just delivered samples of Rachel’s DNA and fingerprints to the chief. He’ll see that they’re sent to the crime lab for comparison against those found at the murder scene. Because I emphasized that Rachel is a flight risk, the Natchez investigation should get immediate priority.”
Beth refilled their mugs from the carafe on the table. “I’m impressed, Preston. You’ve handled yourself very professionally on this case.”
“I had a good teacher.”
She shook her head. “I can’t take any credit. What happened today is proof I’m incompetent, just like Jack said.”
“Don’t let him undermine your confidence, Kirby. He’s hated you for a long time. Chief McNeil said that once he speaks to the DA, all charges against you should be dropped, providing we’re both willing to cooperate with the federal investigation—and there are no further missteps with the murder investigation.” Michael pointed his finger at her.
Beth stared out the window as a cat slinked between cars under the yellow glow of a streetlight. “You have my word I’ll stay out of Jack’s way. If one of us needs to communicate with Homicide, it will be you.”
“Sandwiches will be out in a jiffy, folks, but you can start on the
se now.” The waitress delivered a heaping basket of fries and bottle of catsup and then hurried away.
Beth pulled out a fry hot enough to burn her fingers. She dropped it back in the basket and said, “I need to call my parents. They should be home by now and are probably wondering as to where I am. Not that they don’t have enough to worry about already.”
Mike grabbed her wrist as she pulled out her phone. “They don’t have to know about today, Elizabeth. Like I said, within a couple of days all of this will all go away.”
She met his gaze. “The neighbors saw me dragged off in handcuffs, Mike. Mrs. Patrick probably was waiting on my parents’ glider when they got home with cell phone pictures to show them. Nothing escapes her attention on Meadowsweet Avenue.”
Michael doused his side of the basket liberally with catsup. “At least Nate never has to know. Maxine doesn’t live in your neighborhood and wouldn’t snitch even if she did. She likes you, same as me.” He winked and began eating.
“I need no better friends, but Jack will make it his mission to tell. My former partner would love to see me tar and feathered or sent downriver bound and gagged.”
“Stop reading Mark Twain and look on the bright side. We might have cracked the case. McNeil has already contacted the FBI Financial Crimes Division. A special agent should be here tomorrow to look at the evidence. You and I need to stay by the phone in the office. As soon as Natchez PD hears from the crime lab, they will know how to proceed. This is only conjecture at this point, but the feds might use Rachel in a sting to bring down her boss at D.K. Financials and anyone else connected to the scam.”
Beth choked on a French fry. “Sounds like the cops are only worried about the investment fraud. What about Paul’s murder? Surely they won’t let Rachel walk away after killing an innocent preacher who only tried to serve his congregation.”
“Take it easy. Drink some water before you hyperventilate. Murder is a capital offense in Mississippi. No one’s walking away from that. We don’t know if her DNA will match what was found on the rope and stool. I got the feeling at lunch that Rachel might be arrogant and greedy, but I doubt she’s a murderer.”
