by B K Baxter
“No,” she replied. Then a mischievous grin crept across her face. “But then again, I’m not surprised. It must be hard for her to pull herself out of the mayor’s bed.”
“Oh my,” I said, at a loss for words. “I guess you haven’t seen Gita then.”
“Nope.”
My polite smile was back in place. “Thank you for your time.”
I walked away, looking for another employee to approach. I found a couple women at the water fountain and asked them, but neither had seen Gita around either. A young man whose coveralls were tidier than others told me they didn’t get many visitors at the refinery, especially someone as well put together as Gita Clarke. For a moment, I thought he might have a crush on the mayor’s assistant, but the way he started rhapsodizing about her outfits made me realize it was her clothes he desired, not Gita herself.
I was about to try another area of the plant when I noticed a familiar figure operating one of the machines. He was tall, his coveralls covered in grease spots, and his head crowned with a bush of curly dark hair. This was the man who Tammy had hugged the day I met her at her food cart. It was also the man who’d peeled out of the trailer park in his truck with Tammy hollering after him.
I noticed then that a ball cap sat on top of his machine, and it made the wheels in my mind start to turn. Taz had said that the man in Tabby’s house that day had been in coveralls and a ball cap. Tabby’s mother had said that Tabby had made a play for her boyfriend. Could it be that the man Tabby was kissing that day was her own mother’s boyfriend?
I swallowed, my stomach gurgling at the thought. Maybe this man was the missing link we’d been waiting for. If he was carrying on an affair with Tabby behind both Tammy and Vince’s back, he might have some ideas about how she ended up dead.
Or he might have had something to do with it himself.
I took a deep breath and started forward, figuring I had nothing to lose in talking to him. When I got close enough to catch his attention, I waved, making him look up.
His brow furrowed. He looked me up and down, then turned off his machine. “Yeah?”
“Hi, there. I’m Jade, a friend of Tabby’s.”
Confusion writ large on his face, he shook the hand I offered. “Fuzzy.”
“Nice to meet you, Mister, uh, Fuzzy.” I pulled my hand back and surreptitiously wiped it on the back of my skirt. “I wondered if I could talk to you for a moment about Tabby?”
Fuzzy frowned, replying in a gruff tone. “I don’t know why you wanna talk to me about that girl. I barely knew her.”
“Well, you are seeing her mother, right? Tammy Carter.”
Nodding, he looked me over again, his eyes holding a lifelessness that should have disturbed me. “Yeah, I see Tammy from time to time.”
“So you must have known Tabby more than a little, right?”
“What do you want?” Fuzzy asked, his patience running thin.
I knew I wouldn’t keep his attention for much longer, so I decided to take a calculated risk. We were at his place of employment, after all, with his coworkers buzzing all around us. It should be safe to ask the question I wanted to know the answer to most.
I leaned in and lowered my voice. “Tabby told me that you two were having an affair.”
Fuzzy’s eyes widened, and without warning, he grabbed me by the arm, yanking me forward and across the floor to another hallway. I tried to free myself, but his grip was like an iron vise around me.
“Let me go,” I said, trying to inject my tone with as much authority as I could muster.
He ignored me, instead shoving me into a storage closet and shutting the door behind us. “Who the heck are you, and what are you trying to do?” he growled when we were alone.
“I told you. I’m Tabby’s friend, and I—”
“That girl didn’t have any friends.” He towered above me, his face turning red, and I felt a ripple of fear roll through me. “Why are you here trying to stir up trouble? You’re messing with my livelihood.”
I held up my hands, taking a few steps backward until I ran into a shelving unit. “I’m just trying to figure out what happened to Tabby. I want to know the truth.”
“Well, I ain’t got it,” he bit out. “I didn’t murder that girl.”
“That girl was your girlfriend’s daughter. And you were sleeping with her.” I was scared, but my anger overcame that fear, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
“So was half the town!” His leaned in close, and I could see little red veins blooming on the end of his nose. “Tabby liked to push people’s buttons. Liked to toy with them. Her mother. Her husband. It was all a game to her. I was just another way for her to score points.”
“You didn’t mind that she was using you as a pawn? Or maybe you did mind.” I tried to stand up to him, tried to hide the fact that he intimidated the heck out of me. “Maybe she threatened you with exposure. To your girlfriend. To your boss. Maybe that’s why you did it.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he growled. “I told that girl no when she wanted me to help her rub her husband’s nose in her infidelity. She threatened to have her own mama evicted to get back at me.”
Tabby was definitely a cold one. Fuzzy lived with her mother. Therefore, to get Fuzzy evicted, she had to get her mother evicted. And she hadn’t hesitated.
His voice was like razor wire. “If you’re the one thinking about exposing me, I’m not going to stand still and let you screw up my life.” He was already crowding me, but now he put his arms up on either side, hands against the shelving unit. I was caged in, trapped.
I tried to reposition myself, tried to shrink into a ball, but when I lifted my left foot to resettle it, I caught it on a stack of shop towels on the bottom shelf and slipped on the fabric. I fell, my butt hitting the floor between Fuzzy’s legs.
I wasn’t about to let this opportunity go by. As quickly as I could, I scrambled between his legs and back to the door. I pulled myself up and opened it, lunging into the hallway before he could grab me again.
I ran down the hallway, having no idea where I was going other than away from Fuzzy. I could hear his footsteps slamming the floor behind me. He was a big guy and I was a librarian who pathologically avoided cardio, so I knew it was only a matter of time before he overtook me.
Then Vince Means turned the corner, caught sight of me, and let out a yell. “Hey!”
I froze, now trapped between two potential murderers. Fuzzy slowed to a walk about ten feet behind me. Vince approached, his face heavy with darkness like a storm cloud.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice like gravel. Then a look of realization crossed his face. “You’re here with the doctor, aren’t you? Like I told her, I know there’s no new initiative. You’re just trying to snoop.”
Out of breath, I started to sputter. “Mr. Means, I was just—”
“You were just leaving, is what you were just doing,” he interrupted.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw that Fuzzy was almost close enough to touch. “He—your employee here. Do you know what he and Tabby were—”
Vince looked over my shoulder, then let out a quick laugh. “I don’t care if Fuzzy was sleeping with my wife. He wouldn’t be the only one. He’s a good machinist. I can use that skill way more than I could use a trophy wife who did nothing but lie and cheat on me.”
I goggled at the businessman. Surely, not even Vince Means could be this callous. Could he?
“Fuzzy, you get back to work. I’m going to show the librarian out.” The man in coveralls did as he was told, burning me with a final blazing look. Vince, his hand on my upper arm, was grumbling as he led me toward the exit.
“I’m giving your description to my security people. If they catch you or the good doctor skulking around here again, I’m going to have you arrested.”
He put me out the door, then turned around and left without a backward glance. I made my way to my car, where Char was already waiting for me.
&nb
sp; “How’d it go?” she asked me.
“About as well as it went for you.”
She nodded. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve already ordered a pizza. Please tell me you have more wine at your place.”
Climbing into the car, I let out a shaky breath. “I’m beginning to think that if I’m going to stick around in New Orleans, I better invest in a vineyard.”
Char’s laughter echoed around the car as we drove out of the refinery’s lot.
Chapter 21
Chonks was standing on the kitchen table, his demands imperious and urgent.
“I told you I’d be a little late today, Mr. Bossy Pants,” I said as I filled his dish.
“He’s not in the mood for excuses,” Char said with a smile on her face.
“Clearly.” I set down the dish in its customary space on the other side of the refrigerator, and Chonks dashed across the table, his steps multiplied as he tried to compensate for the slippery surface. Then he was at his dish, making pig-like grunts as he dug into his dinner.
“A cat after my own heart,” Char said as she flipped open the lid on the pizza box. I busied myself with the wine, and soon, we were all settling into our respective poisons of choice.
We’d kept things brief during the car ride, both of us recovering from our adrenaline rushes. I did mention what happened with Fuzzy in the storage closet, and Char had a minor freak-out, offering to give me an examination to see if he’d damaged me in any way.
I convinced her that my butt was big enough to handle the impact and that Fuzzy hadn’t gotten a chance to do anything before I made my daring escape. I would live to slip and fall another day.
“So what happened in Vince’s office?” I was dying to see if she’d crashed and burned as spectacularly as I had.
“Vince seemed to know I was full of bull from the first words out of my mouth. It sounded convincing as I said it, but almost immediately, he got this smarmy grin on his face, feigning surprise and excitement at everything I said but in an over-the-top way that said he didn’t believe a word.”
I shook my head, confused. “Are you just a terrible actress? You could have mentioned that fact.”
Char stuck her tongue out at me. “I’ll have you know that I played Daisy Mae in New Orleans Community Theater’s rendition of Lil Abner.”
“Then how did he know…” I sat back, eyes wide as realization hit me. “He was tipped off.”
“What? I mean, how? We’re the only ones who knew the plan.”
“But we aren’t the only ones who would know there is no new health initiative coming out of the mayor’s office, right?” I held up my finger, walking through the points as I laid them out. “Say the receptionist comes in and says there’s some people from the mayor’s office here to see him. Say he is having an affair with Gita. Maybe he wonders what the deal is, so he calls her before you come in. Gita would tell him there was no initiative, and when you come in the room, he already knows you’re there under false pretenses.”
“Well, I got nowhere quick. He made a few jokes at my expense, let me talk myself in circles, then told me to get the hell out and if I came back again, he’d have my brother arrest me himself.”
“Harsh,” I set, letting out a long breath. “I didn’t do much better. No one I talked to had seen Gita around the refinery. So if she and Vince are having an affair, they’re not carrying on at his place of business.”
I stared at the slice of pizza on my plate, remembering the mix of fear and excitement I’d felt during our infiltration of St. Dismas Sugar Refinery. Still, we’d gotten little of use out of the adventure.
“He did say he knew about the affair,” I murmured to myself.
“Who said? Which affair?”
“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head to clear it. “Vince. He said he didn’t care if Tabby was sleeping with her mother’s boyfriend. In fact, Fuzzy was too valuable of an employee to fire over it, if you believe that.”
“Then it’s clear Vince didn’t have Tabby killed out of revenge for cheating on him.” Char frowned. “So we’re back to Tabby holding something over Vince’s head, like a relationship with the mayor’s mistress.”
“And we have no evidence for that except for Tammy’s word.” My brow furrowed. “Maybe Tammy did it.”
“Murdered her own daughter?” Char sounded skeptical. “I mean, she’s definitely got a crazy streak, but killing her own daughter? Do you think she could do it?”
At this point, I had no idea. We were quickly running out of options. I was never more certain that I wasn’t cut out for solving mysteries. “I don’t know, but we know she said she’d put Tabby out of the house for messing around with Fuzzy. Assumedly, she meant years ago, since Tabby hasn’t lived at home for a while, right?”
Char nodded. “She lived with Vince.”
“Where Tabby was still carrying on with Fuzzy. Maybe Tammy found out they were continuing their affair behind her back, got mad, and took matters into her own hands.”
Char tossed the crust of her slice of pizza back into the box. “She’s a tough woman, but murder? She might love the guy, but it’s her daughter.”
“There’s the eviction too,” I added. “Tabby wanted leverage against Fuzzy to make him cooperate, so she threatened to evict her mother, whom Fuzzy lives with. What if Tammy found out about it, and it shoved her over the edge? Tabby could effectively ruin her mother’s life. She could steal her boyfriend, kick her out of her home, and probably get Vince to not let her bring her food truck around.”
“So Tammy resented her daughter’s power over her and did something about it. That’s our working theory?”
I nodded.
“It’s dark,” Char said, pushing the pizza box away. I knew it had to be bad if it was able to kill her endless appetite. “I’m going to head home and try to get some sleep.”
“Wanna hit the bazaar tomorrow? Grab some of those apple fritters for breakfast before figuring out our next step?”
Char nodded, but her normal enthusiasm for the fritters was subdued. “See you at ten.”
The next morning saw us sitting in the food court area of the bazaar in white folding chairs at a small, perpetually sticky folding table. Armed with apple fritters and cups of chicory coffee, we were going over our options.
I felt deflated, defeated, and by Char’s expression, she felt similarly. “We could go back to the trailer park and talk to Tammy again,” she said.
“I don’t relish another run-in with Fuzzy, especially on his turf.”
Nodding, Char set down her fritter. “Honestly, I don’t know what good another chat with Tammy would do. She doesn’t seem like the type to break down when confronted with her crime.”
“Yeah. If you’re able to murder your own daughter in cold blood, I doubt the two of us are going to be able to intimidate her into a confession.”
We sat there, twin frowns on our faces, silently contemplating the reality of the situation. We might not be able to free him. Taz will go down for a murder he didn’t commit because we will have failed him.
“What do we have here, two Sad Sallys?” I looked over to where Dottie Turleigh was holding a tomato plant snug against her side. “What’s gotten into you ladies? Why so doom and gloom?”
“We’ve been trying to find Tabby’s real killer, and we’re coming up empty,” Char admitted.
Dottie set her plant on the table, a confused expression on her face. “What do you mean, real killer? Didn’t your brother already do that?”
“He’s got the wrong man,” I said. “Taz couldn’t have done this.”
“And why not? You know he spent some time in a mental institution, right?”
Both Char and I shook our heads.
“What are you talking about?” Char asked. “I’ve never heard that before.”
Dottie smiled widely and took a seat, primly folding her hands in her lap. Although she looked like the picture of a sweet old Sunday School teacher, she prepared to spill the tea lik
e a pro.
“It was years ago, when the boy was still in high school. His mother told everyone he was in summer camp, but I discovered he was really in an institution in Baton Rouge. I found out when I saw an envelope addressed to his mother Wanda when I was visiting with the postman. You remember Postman Rick, don’t you, Char? Such a nice man.”
“He was a worse gossip than you are,” Char said.
Dottie clutched her pearls, pretending to be scandalized for a second, but she was quick to pick up the thread. “The envelope was from Priory Psychiatric Hospital. Postman Rick said she got one every couple weeks. Probably a bill of some kind.”
“Thank you for your opinion, Miss Dottie,” Char said, her tone dismissive.
Dottie stood up and sniffed, picking up her plant before sticking out her chin and addressing Char. “Why don’t you let your brother do his job? That boy has a dark past. Mark my words.”
She walked away, and Char shook her head about the old busybody. “She was probably digging through the mail herself. Postman Rick indeed. He had a belly so big, it would bounce when he’d walk up your steps to drop off the mail. Plus, he would stop and chat to anyone he came across, whether that person wanted a chat or not. It took until seven o’clock somedays before he’d finish his rounds.”
“Even if it’s true, it doesn’t mean Stanley’s a murderer.” Still, I was rattled by Dottie’s intimation.
Before Char could respond, her phone started to ring. She picked it up, then stood up immediately. “I’m on my way. Don’t move him.” Hanging up, she said she had to run. It was Dr. Loomis’s wife. “The old guy slipped and fell, and she’s afraid he’s broken his hips. Maybe he’ll finally retire and take it easy like he should, for his own good.”
“You’re forgetting your fritter,” I called as she started away from the table.
“Wrap it up for me!” she hollered back, then took off at a jog toward the parking lot.
I sat there for a few minutes longer, debating. I was trying to help Stanley, but it was clear I didn’t have all the facts. I thought that perhaps it was time to pay a visit to Stanley’s mother, to see if what Dottie said was true.
