by Jana DeLeon
She turned to look at me and I pointed to the jug. “It’s leaking! Throw it away.”
Gertie glanced back and saw the fire chasing her, and her eyes got as wide as saucers. She was about twenty feet from the street when she reached back with her arm and did a shot put move, hurling the jug away from her.
Right on top of a car that had just pulled up to the curb.
The jug made a loud thump as it dented the car hood, then exploded, sending the remaining gas in different directions. Gertie leaped to the side as the flames shot by her, hit the ground, and didn’t move. The car’s driver jumped out and I groaned when I saw it was Celia Arceneaux.
I ran toward the street, shouting for her to get out of the way as the flames moved across the sidewalk. She paused for a second, then took off across the street as the flames ran up the side of her car. The entire thing caught fire. And that’s when I realized the car was rolling forward.
I changed directions and ran for the food vendors, waving my arms like a madman for them to flee the scene. They’d come out of their trailers to watch the fray. I saw Kayla grab her husband’s arm and they took off across the park away from the fire. A couple seconds later, Celia’s car hit their trailer and the entire mess went up in flames. The pretzel vendor, who’d been parked in front of them, had left his truck attached. He fired up his vehicle and floored it. His tires squealed as he yanked the food trailer away from the curb, leaving a trail of pretzels and sodas as he went.
As soon as I was certain everyone was out of harm’s way, I ran over to Gertie, who had pushed herself up into a sitting position. She looked around at the giant burning disaster and her mouth dropped. “What happened?”
“It’s a long story,” I said. “I can tell you while the fire department is putting it out. Let’s get you farther away.” I helped her up from the ground and hurried over to the sidewalk, some distance from the fire, where a lot of the teens were gathered. I looked back toward the bonfire and saw Ida Belle and Carter coming toward us, each helping a limping teen. Sirens were already sounding in the distance. I looked back at the park where the fire was still raging out of control. I hoped the fire trucks got here before it spread into the neighborhood.
Carter helped a teen sit down, then hurried over to us, Ida Belle right on his heels. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Did you get burned?”
We both shook our heads.
“Thank God,” he said, his relief apparent.
The sirens grew louder and a couple seconds later, a fire truck squealed around the corner. The firemen jumped out and ran into the park with the hose, dousing the flames. Steam rose from the ground everywhere the fire used to be, leaving dark ashy patches behind. A second truck pulled up behind them and went to work on the car and food trailer.
“That was close,” Ida Belle said.
“Too close,” I said. “Are all the kids okay?”
“Yeah,” Ida Belle said. “A few of them fell trying to get out of the fray, but I don’t think there’s anything more serious than a twisted ankle or two.”
Relief coursed through me. “This could have been so much worse.”
“Hold that thought,” Gertie said and rolled her eyes to the right.
We looked over and saw Celia Arceneaux stomping toward us, her face flushed red, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t from the heat.
“You three are responsible for this,” she said.
“The hell we are,” Ida Belle said. “This is unfortunate, but it was an accident. The gas jugs the kids brought to start the fire were leaking.”
Celia glared. “And you were supposed to be supervising those brats to prevent them from doing something stupid like burning the town down.”
“You’re doing a fine job of that on your own,” I said.
She whirled around to face me. “I bet it was you that threw that jug on my car, and I’m going to have a front-row seat when Nelson hauls you away.”
“Good luck with that,” I said and held up my hands. “Take a big whiff. Not one ounce of gasoline.”
Celia wrinkled her nose and took a step back from my hands. “I don’t care what you say. The bottom line is you were supervising this event and you’re going to pay for the repairs.”
“And you’re going to pay for our trailer.” Colby stepped up and glared at Celia. Kayla hovered behind him, clearly uneasy. “What kind of idiot jumps out of their car without putting it in park?”
Celia’s eyes widened. “It was on fire.”
“Still doesn’t make it my problem,” Colby said. “Not only was it your car that just put us out of business, you paid us to work this venue. I’d say you and the city of Sinful are on the hook for the cost of our trailer and the revenue we lose while we’re waiting for a new one.”
“But…but it’s their fault!” Celia flung her hands in our direction.
Colby pointed his finger at her. “Lady, I don’t care what position you hold in this town. The bottom line for me is only one person jumped out of a moving car and that was you. I expect to hear from your insurance company tomorrow morning. Don’t make me come looking for you.”
“Colby, don’t,” Kayla pleaded and tugged on his arm. “I’m sure everything will be taken care of.”
Colby turned to look at her. “Don’t even start. You’re the reason we’re in this one-horse town to begin with.”
He whirled around and went stomping off. Kayla lingered for just a second, looking as if she wanted to say something, then turned and hurried off behind him. Celia whipped around to glare at us.
“Before you say a word,” Carter said, “they didn’t bring the gasoline and you can’t hold volunteers responsible for anything. You can try, but it won’t hold water. So unless you can figure out which of those kids brought that gasoline and which one set it that close to the fire, a judge will laugh you out of court.”
“We’ll just see about that,” Celia said. She gave us all a murderous look before stomping off across the park in the direction of her house.
“She’s just leaving her car there?” Gertie said. “Flaming up the whole parish?”
“Let her go,” Ida Belle said. “Her presence makes matters worse.”
“I feel bad about Colby and Kayla’s food trailer,” I said.
“Me too,” Gertie said. “Hopefully they have insurance to cover the trailer and the business loss.”
“I’m sure they have something,” Ida Belle said, “but Colby’s right—the town will foot the bill for whatever his losses are.”
“That doesn’t pay his bills tomorrow,” Gertie said. “And we all know how long insurance companies take to do anything. Maybe we could take up a collection at church on Sunday.”
“That’s a good idea,” Ida Belle said. “I’ll talk to the pastor about it.”
“Count me in for a donation,” Carter said, “but not the churchgoing part.”
“Heathen,” I said.
He snorted. “Please. You only go because Ida Belle and Gertie need you to win the banana pudding race.”
“Not anymore,” Gertie said, frowning.
“That’s right,” I said. “As long as Francine’s not serving banana pudding, there’s no race. Not having to go to church might be the only positive thing about all of this.”
“Heathen,” Gertie said.
“I was sleeping anyway, and you know it,” I said.
“Why do you think I’m in the choir?” Ida Belle said. “If I didn’t have to stand and sing periodically, I’d be snoring up there. Pastor Don is a nice man, but he can make any topic at all a snooze fest.”
I heard one of the firemen yell and saw them head back to the truck with the hose. “Looks like the fire’s out,” I said.
With the flames extinguished, the only light left in the park came from the streetlights on the sidewalk. I could see a trail of burned grass leading away from the sidewalk in front of Celia’s car. The car and trailer were a smoldering mass of twisted black metal.
“Cleanup isn�
��t going to be fun,” I said.
“No,” Gertie agreed, “and there’s going to be some angry toddlers tomorrow when their mothers tell them they can’t go to the park.”
“The cavalry’s arrived,” I said and pointed to Nelson, who was climbing out of his car.
He stopped to speak to some of the kids, who were filtering down the street, apparently deciding all the cool stuff was over. He waved his hands around like a madman, and I could tell he was yelling. The teens just looked at him as if he were crazy, shook their heads, and kept walking.
Then he caught sight of us and came stomping over. “What the hell happened here?” he demanded.
“Aliens landed,” Gertie said, “and set the whole damned place on fire. I think they were after the kids.”
A flush crept up Nelson’s face and he opened his mouth to speak, but Ida Belle cut him off.
“Tell him the truth,” Ida Belle said, and I saw her wink at Gertie.
“Okay,” Gertie said. “The truth is we were burning crosses and it got out of control. You know how we Baptists are.”
Nelson’s entire body stiffened to the point that a good wind would have broken him in two. “I know you’re up to something. If I was equipped, I’d arrest you.”
Carter, Gertie, and I all pulled out a set of handcuffs and held them out toward Nelson.
Chapter Twelve
“This isn’t over!” Nelson spun around and strode across the park, yelling at one of the firemen.
The four of us looked at one another and burst out laughing. Gertie clutched my arm, laughing so hard she was sobbing, and we both sank onto the ground in a delirious pile. “That couldn’t have been more perfect if we planned it,” I said.
“I know,” Gertie said. “I’ll never forget the look on his face.”
“Yes,” Carter said. “He’s probably as confused as I am. Why exactly do the two of you have handcuffs?”
Gertie and I looked at each other and started laughing again. Gertie waved a hand in dismissal. “Shouldn’t you be asking Ida Belle why she doesn’t?”
Ida Belle wiped the tears from her eyes. “I thought I took your handcuffs away,” she said to Gertie.
Gertie nodded. “You did, but I had a spare set stuffed in my bra.”
Carter looked pained. “This conversation has gotten really uncomfortable. And since I know I’ll never get a straight answer out of any of you, I’m going to call it a night.”
“Me too,” Ida Belle said. “It’s going to take a whole tank of hot water to get the smell of ash off of me.”
“Another advantage of burning the place down,” Gertie said. “We get to go home a good two hours early.”
Carter leaned over to give me a quick kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I watched for a couple of seconds as he walked away, then turned around to find Ida Belle and Gertie grinning at me. “Stop it,” I said.
“C’mon,” Gertie said. “We’re allowed a vicarious thrill.”
“And if there were anything thrilling going on,” I said, “you’d be in line to hear about it right behind Ally. She’s already threatened me.”
Gertie nodded. “It stands to reason. She’s young and still holds out hope that she’ll get lucky.”
“Oh hell,” Ida Belle said, “you’re old and still hold out hope you’ll get lucky.”
“Wait a minute.” I looked at Gertie. “I thought you two were committed to the single life.”
Gertie patted me on the shoulder. “Getting lucky and being single are not mutually exclusive.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Okay, but for the record, my life is complete without any vicarious thrills of the sexual kind.”
Ida Belle laughed. “No doubt. Let’s get out of here before Gertie sets another car on fire.”
“That was an accident,” Gertie said as we started toward my Jeep. “I was trying to throw it to the side, but with my sore arms, I couldn’t hold on long enough to get it all the way around.”
Ida Belle clapped her on the back. “Look at it this way—after this, everyone will probably forget about that candlelight wedding thing.”
I reached into my pocket for my keys and suddenly remembered Vapor and the papers. “I’m an idiot!”
“About what?” Gertie asked.
“That kid I went to the back of the bonfire to check out—the one with the hoodie—he was Little Hebert’s nephew. He gave me the results of the fingerprint trace.”
“Jesus, woman!” Gertie said. “Talk about burying the lead. What do they say?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Right after he gave them to me, Carter showed up and then you ran off to dance, and you know the rest.”
“Emergency meeting time,” Ida Belle said. “Either my house or Gertie’s, since Ally will be at Fortune’s.”
“Who has food?” I asked. “I’m starving.”
“I’ve got pot roast and brownies,” Gertie said.
“You win,” I said and jumped into the Jeep.
The crowd that had formed at the park was slowly making its way back home, most of them walking down the middle of the street rather than on the sidewalk. I weaved around them and made the couple blocks’ drive to Gertie’s house. As I parked at the curb, I heard my phone signal a text and pulled it out to look. It was from Ally.
Which one of you burned the park down?
I smiled.
Guess.
Gertie?
Actually, the park burning was an accident, but Gertie did take out Celia’s car.
OMG Tell me!
We’re stopping off at Gertie’s house for a bit. Will fill you in when I get home.
“What’s the matter?” Gertie asked. “Does Carter miss you already?”
“That was Ally wanting to know which one of us burned the park down.”
“What did you tell her?” Gertie asked.
“I told her it was you, of course.”
“Keep talking that way,” Gertie said, “and I won’t feed you.”
“Yes, you will, because you want to know what the fingerprint search turned up as much as I do.”
Ida Belle waved her hand at us. “Why don’t both of you stop yapping and get inside.”
We headed straight for the kitchen and Gertie pulled a stewpot out of her refrigerator and stuck it on the stove. “This will take about five minutes, but it doesn’t taste the same if I use the microwave.” She grabbed three beers from the refrigerator and slid them onto the table before taking a seat across from Ida Belle and me.
I pulled the papers from my pocket and started to read. “Dewey Parnell. Thirty-one years old. Lists his address as New Orleans.”
Ida Belle and Gertie looked at each other.
“Did you know him?” I asked.
“Oh yeah,” Ida Belle said. “Dewey was a real problem child. Before he even started school, he threw a rock through every window of the schoolhouse. Two weeks after he started kindergarten, his teacher filed for short-term disability, claiming severe mental anguish…and she got it.”
Gertie nodded. “Week three, he used a pocketknife to shave three students’ heads during nap time. The substitute teacher needed counseling.”
“And an attorney,” Ida Belle threw in. “By the time he hit first grade, the parish had had enough of Dewey and he was expelled when he duct-taped a student to his desk and set his tennis shoes on fire.”
“That’s about the same time he was asked to leave the Catholic church for peeing in the holy water. His mother finally admitted there might be something wrong with him, and got him a shrink. He worked with Dewey for a couple of years, and Dewey finally returned to school in the third grade. His mother had kept him up by homeschooling him.
“And he was better?” I asked.
“Well,” Gertie said, “‘better’ is a relative term. I suppose most of us thought he had improved over how he used to be, but he was still light years away from where he needed to be. But at that point, he’d learn to pretend just enough to keep
from getting kicked out.”
“If he wasn’t cured, why didn’t he keep seeing the shrink?” I asked.
“The shrink had a heart attack,” Ida Belle said.
“Of course he did,” I said. “What kind of trouble did this guy cause in high school—terrorist threats, drowning puppies?”
“No, that was the odd thing,” Gertie said. “It was like one day, someone let the air out of him. He wasn’t a different person, per se, it was more like he wasn’t any person at all.”
Ida Belle nodded. “He just went through the motions, graduated, then disappeared. I asked his mother about him once and she avoided the question. I figured he’d come to no good.”
“Too bad he didn’t have the big showdown moment in New Orleans instead of bringing it back here,” I said.
“Well,” Gertie said, “we figured from the beginning that someone from Sinful was involved. Maybe with Dewey dead, they’ll relocate.”
“Unless there was more than one from Sinful,” I said.
“Any employment history?” Ida Belle asked.
“Dishwasher at a couple of restaurants, bartender, most recently employed with one of those traveling carnivals.”
“A carny?” Gertie asked. “Now there’s a good fit.”
“Let’s see what else is here.” I scanned the papers. “Looks like a laundry list of arrests, mostly for stupid stuff—petty theft, pickpocketing, drug possession, but nothing about distribution.”
“If he’s the cooker, he wouldn’t be distributing,” Ida Belle said. “Whoever is in charge always keeps the cooker separate from the distributors. Otherwise, the distributors would cut out the middleman.”
“Did Little know anything about Dewey?” Gertie asked.
“Not according to Vapor,” I said.
“Vapor?” Ida Belle asked.
“Apparently, that’s his nickname due to his ability to disappear. Since he managed to get out of my sight in about two seconds, it seems pretty accurate.”
“Did he say anything else?” Ida Belle asked.
“Only that the Heberts didn’t have information on the cooker or any known associates.”
“Do you think they’re telling the truth?” Gertie asked.
