by Jana DeLeon
“Then it goes on to talk about the charges,” I said, “and Ted’s history with the Maselli family.”
Ida Belle shook her head. “It’s absolutely mind-blowing. But what I still don’t get is why Sinful?”
“Maybe he really did meet that guy…Parker…and remembered the town. Maybe he stuck a pin in a map and came here. Unless Paulette decides to tell, I don’t think we’ll ever know.”
“Carter’s going to shit,” Gertie said.
I sucked in a breath and looked at Ida Belle, whose eyes widened.
“We have to tell him,” I said.
“But how?” Ida Belle asked. “Even if we come up with some outlandish reason that we found out who Ted really was, we still can’t give him the blackmail photos without giving you and Gertie away.”
I slumped back in my chair, trying to think of any way to get the information to Carter without incriminating ourselves, but I kept coming up empty. And guilty. What we knew could be the key information needed to solve this case. Ted would be in the ground. Paulette would leave town, and the murderer would be behind bars. Everything Carter said he wanted. Everything that would clear Ida Belle’s name. And the only thing standing in his way to happiness and Ida Belle’s path to freedom was me and my lies.
“This is the biggest mess ever,” I said finally.
Ida Belle nodded. “I hate to agree with you, but we really stepped in it this time.”
Gertie’s face fell as her still-addled brain caught up with Ida Belle and I. “We were only trying to help, and we’ve made it even harder for Carter to do his job.”
“Not really,” I said. “Think about it—Carter had no reason to search Ted’s house and unless he did, he would never have found those photos. And if we hadn’t taken them those other guys might have found them just like I did. Then we wouldn’t have the proof either.”
Gertie brightened a little. “So really, we saved the evidence.”
“You could look at it that way.”
Ida Belle sighed. “The evidence that doesn’t do me any good.”
The disappointment and defeat of the two strongest women I’d ever met overwhelmed me and I felt my heart beat a little bit harder. These were good women, and more importantly, they were my friends. I had to make this right.
I sat up straight in my chair and looked at both of them. “The evidence does us plenty of good.”
“I don’t see how,” Ida Belle said.
“Because. We can use it to catch the murderer. Wasn’t that the plan all along?” I pulled up my list of the photo suspects and pointed to the screen. “One of these four people is probably the killer. We need to figure out which one.”
“How?” Gertie asked. “It’s not like any of them are going to admit it if we ask them.”
I drummed my fingers on the kitchen table. “If only we could be at the funeral services tomorrow.”
“Good Lord, why?” Gertie asked.
“To people-watch,” Ida Belle said.
I nodded. “It would be interesting to see how these four people react at the services.”
“Wouldn’t it be smarter for them to just stay home?” Gertie asked.
“No,” I said. “They would think that would look suspicious. Everyone being blackmailed knows these pictures exist and that if they came out, Carter would take a hard look at them for Ted’s murder.”
Ida Belle nodded. “The blackmail victims, likely including the killer, have to attend the funeral and pretend to mourn along with everyone else. That’s why it would be beneficial if we could be there watching—looking for that person whose actions seem strained or stilted.”
Gertie sighed. “I see the value, but none of us can walk into that service without causing a huge problem.”
Ida Belle stared at her for a moment. “No, but we could watch at the cemetery.”
“I don’t see how,” Gertie said. “Some people are bent if you so much as walk to your mailbox. How are you going to show up in the cemetery when you’re the main suspect?”
Ida Belle grinned. “From a distance.”
“Oh,” Gertie said, then her eyes widened and she sat up straight in her chair. “Oh, that’s a great idea!”
“Will someone please fill me in?” I asked.
“Sinful Cemetery is at the far end of town with the swamp creating the back border. There’s only one road in and out but the bayou runs behind the tree line where the swamp begins.”
A picture began to form in my mind. “So you want to sneak up the bayou and watch the funeral from the tree line using binoculars?”
“Yes,” Ida Belle said, “except there is the issue of slope.”
Gertie frowned. “I didn’t think about that, but the ground does slope off from the cemetery toward the tree line. I don’t know that we’d have a clear view.”
“Then we’ll have to climb trees,” Ida Belle said.
“Oh no,” I said, a million different endings for that scenario playing out in my head, and none of them good. “It’s risky enough to attempt to watch the funeral, and will only make things worse for Ida Belle if she’s caught, but to do it dangling from trees is simply asking for trouble.”
I looked at Gertie. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time you were in a tree—you know, at Ted’s house? Or the stakeout when we were trying to find Pansy’s killer?”
Gertie blushed a bit but waved a hand in dismissal. “That could have happened to anyone. But I agree with you that it wouldn’t be good for Ida Belle to get caught. So it looks like the two of us will have to handle it.”
“No way.” I shook my head. I’d have better odds walking down the center aisle of the Catholic church during the middle of the service than I had trying to get Gertie into a tree without breaking a hip or me.
“I agree it’s not optimal,” Ida Belle said quietly, “but it’s the only thing we’ve got.”
I blew out a breath, knowing that despite all the things that were wrong with the idea and the million more that could go wrong with the execution, come tomorrow, Gertie and I would be dangling from trees, watching a funeral through binoculars. Even though it was a lousy one, it was the only option we had at the moment.
“I’ll do it,” I said. Sure, climbing trees with Gertie was risky and the even larger worry was that if we got caught, it might be the straw that broke the camel’s back for Carter. If he poked lightly into my background, my cover would remain intact, but it wouldn’t hold water under harsh scrutiny.
Regardless, it was a risk I had to take.
It was the last risk we had available.
###
It was close to 3:00 a.m. before I dragged myself home. I was exhausted, achy, itchy, and for the first time in my life, I actually felt whiny. I grumbled and complained all the way upstairs, and not even the steaming hot shower could improve my mood. The revelation about Ted’s real identity had been a shocker I was completely unprepared for, and now, a jumble of thoughts ran through my mind. It was as if someone had loaded all the pieces to the puzzle into a cannon and then shot them out.
Now, I had a million torn pieces to pick through—trying to decide which ones were important and which ones were merely interesting. Unfortunately, the day had left me with no brainpower and limited physical reach. It was beyond time to hit the bed. If there was a God, he’d let me sleep in tomorrow. After all, dealing with Gertie and trees was going to require both mental and physical strength.
I managed to pull on a tank top and underwear and shorts, thinking I’d take a couple of minutes to make some quick notes on my laptop before things slipped away, but instead, I collapsed in the bed. The cool sheets felt so good against my tired body that I practically wept. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this exhausted.
Despite my whirling mind, it took only seconds for me to doze off, but I didn’t stay that way for long. I couldn’t have been sleeping more than ten minutes when I bolted straight up in bed and then froze as I heard the sound of glass shards clinkin
g together in the bedroom across the hall.
The window!
With everything that was going on, I’d completely forgotten that I’d shot a hole in the guest bedroom window. I hadn’t even remembered to clean the glass off the floor, which had turned out to be a good oversight since that broken glass had alerted me that someone was in that room.
I lifted my nine-millimeter from the nightstand and slipped out of the bed, silently placing my bare feet on the cool wood floors. I eased across the bedroom, careful to slide my feet rather than lift, hoping to avoid any creaking. Moonlight streaming in my bedroom window illuminated my bedroom and carried into the hallway, making passage easier.
When I reached the doorway, I peered around the corner into the hall. It was empty so I slipped out of my bedroom and across the hall, then flattened myself against the wall right next to the guest bedroom doorway. I held my breath and listened, waiting for any indication that the intruder was still in the room.
Finally, I heard the brush of something against the fabric of the bedspread. As if someone had walked too close to the bed and I heard the sound of their pants rubbing against the bedspread. I gripped my pistol, counted to three, then burst around the corner, gun leveled at what should be center mass for most people.
A second later, something hit me square in the face, and I squeezed off a round as I stumbled backward into the hall.
Chapter Seventeen
As soon as the claws dug into my scalp, I knew my friend the cat was the culprit. I flipped on the bedroom light and saw the offending tree limb perched right outside the pane of glass that was missing from the window.
The first pane of glass, that is.
Thanks to my furry intruder, a second pane of glass was going to need replacing as well. I looked down at my legs where the cat was weaving in and out of them, rubbing against my bare skin and purring so loudly I could hear him.
“Dude, I can’t keep cactus alive. You don’t want to live here.”
The cat let out a loud meow and sat, gazing up at me with huge emerald-green eyes. I felt myself soften and the cat flopped onto the floor and rolled, rubbing his head on my feet.
Crap.
I’d just acquired a cat.
“I assume you’re hungry, but I don’t have any cat food. I do have some leftover baked chicken. Would that be good?”
The cat sat up and meowed and I narrowed my eyes at him. If I didn’t know any better, I would swear he understood what I’d just said. My eyes widened and he strolled off and headed downstairs. I shook my head and followed him into the kitchen where I started chopping up a hunk of chicken breast. The cat sat patiently next to me, gazing up at me with those big green eyes.
I’d just placed the plate of chicken on the floor when my doorbell rang. I strode to the front door, ready to tell whoever was standing there that unless my house was on fire, I didn’t care. No matter what they had to say. I didn’t care one bit.
I flung the door open and saw an exhausted Carter standing on my porch. Immediately, my heartbeat quickened. What if the house or church intruders had returned and something had happened to Ida Belle? What if that lump on Gertie’s head had been a concussion?
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“You tell me,” Carter said, sounding as exhausted as he looked. “Your neighbor reported gunfire here.”
“Oh crap! I didn’t even think about someone calling the police.”
He raised one eyebrow. “I take it there’s a lot of middle-of-the-night gunfire where you’re from?”
Considering I “lived” most of the time in the Middle East, it was a loaded question, but as long as I concentrated on my apartment in DC, I could answer without lying. “No, of course not.”
“So do you want to tell me why you were firing a weapon inside your house in the middle of the night? Giving gun-shooting lessons now, maybe?”
I rolled my eyes and motioned him inside. “This way.”
I strode off to the kitchen assuming he’d either follow me or leave. Either way, I could get this over with and go back to bed.
“There.” I pointed to the cat, who’d just finished up the chicken and was now cleaning his face. I couldn’t help myself from smiling. He was awfully cute.
Carter looked at the cat. “You were shooting at the cat? If you’d just stop feeding him, he’d go away.”
“I wasn’t shooting at the cat. Well, not exactly. I heard something moving in the guest room across the hall and thought someone was breaking in. When I went into the bedroom, the cat jumped on my head and startled me, and I accidentally shot out a window pane.”
Carter sighed. “With all the strange things going on in this town right now, why in the world would you leave a window open, especially on the back side of your house?”
“Oh, I didn’t leave it open. He came through another pane I accidentally shot out this morning when I thought the cat was breaking into my shed. I guess my neighbor wasn’t at home to hear that one and report me.”
Carter ran one hand through his hair and shook his head. “I don’t even know where to start, except to say, you need to get some Mace or a baseball bat, or just use that boxing that knocked Gertie out if you come across an intruder. But you are someone who should never, ever own a firearm.”
“In this town, you think I’m the person most likely to have an accident with a firearm? Really?”
“Well, this makes three accidental shootings since I’ve known you—all with your house as the victim. In that same span of time, two accidental misfires is the most I’ve logged on anyone else. So yes, you are the top of the list of most likely.”
“Hmmm.” That was rather distressing. I knew I’d lost some of my edge since I’d been living in Sinful, but I didn’t think I’d topped the locals for stupid behavior with firearms. Hell, I hadn’t even thought it possible to top the locals after seeing some of Gertie’s mishaps.
“Look,” Carter said. “I’m not even going to ask you where you got the gun because quite frankly, I don’t want to have to arrest the person who gave it to you. So just give it back and we can both pretend we never had this conversation.”
I shrugged. “Okay.” I had no intention of telling Carter that Marge had a veritable arsenal behind a secret panel in the master bedroom closet. “Sorry you had to get back out of bed over this.”
“Ha. You’re assuming I’ve been to bed.”
He turned around and strode out of my house without another word. I locked the door behind him, then peeked through the mini-blinds and watched him drive off. As much as I tried to tread lightly around the good deputy, I felt sorry for him. He might possibly have had an even worse day than I did.
And you feel guilty for withholding information that could help his investigation.
I sighed and mentally gave my conscience the bird. Why couldn’t I have been born a sociopath? I was quite convinced my father had been one, and it had seemed such an advantage. Never caring about another person’s feelings made it super easy to do what was only convenient for oneself.
Before I came to Sinful, I’d thought I was just like my dad, except for the successful career part, and I’d ceased thinking I’d ever measure up to my golden father’s standards years ago. But since I’d been in Sinful and met Ida Belle, Gertie, Walter, Ally, and even Carter, I was starting to realize that I wasn’t anything at all like my father.
I’d just been pretending to be.
The cat meowed and rubbed my legs. I reached down to pick him up. “Since you’ve decided you own me, I guess I should think of something to call you.”
He purred and stretched his head out to bump my hand, clearly informing me I was supposed to be petting him. I smiled and scratched him behind his ears.
“How about Merlin?”
He looked up at me with a satisfied expression and meowed again.
“Merlin it is then.” I started up the stairs. “Maybe you’ll work some magic and bring me a solution to this situation with Ida Belle. Thi
nk you can do that?”
He looked up at me again, and I swear, he winked.
Or maybe I was sleep-deprived.
###
Despite the fact that I didn’t get to sleep until around 4:00 a.m., I only managed to sleep until seven. Having a rigid mind and a habitual temperament was a real bitch sometimes. I tried to force myself back to sleep, but I lasted another ten minutes that were filled with frantic, horrible dreams before giving up and climbing out of bed. I stretched my arms above my head, then reached down for the floor, trying to limber up all the muscles that had gotten a workout the day before.
I noticed that neither our late night nor my stretching routine seemed to affect Merlin’s ability to sleep. He lay curled up in the middle of the spare pillow, his whiskers occasionally twitching. If only I could achieve that level of relaxation.
I headed downstairs to the kitchen and reached for the coffeepot, then decided instead to head into town and have breakfast at Francine’s. Given my friendship with Ida Belle and general Yankee status, I might catch some flak, but I was going to have to go into town anyway to buy cat food for Merlin. And if I was going to be harassed, I might as well get a good meal out of it. One that I didn’t have to cook or clean up afterward.
I hurried back upstairs, tossed on yoga pants, T-shirt, and tennis shoes, and brushed my hair before pulling it back into its standard ponytail. Merlin opened one eye, yawned, and rolled over. I didn’t know much about cats, but it didn’t appear as if he were going to make a good sentry at all.
It hadn’t gotten ridiculously hot yet, so I opted for a jog instead of driving. Cat food couldn’t possibly weigh that much and if I ended up buying more, I could always have Walter hold the stuff for pickup later. Besides, Sinful had been hell on my waistband. Even my yoga pants were protesting a bit and they were elastic waist. If I wanted to keep eating all the baked goodies that came my way, I was going to have to step up the exercise portion of things.
My house wasn’t much of a jog from town, but I stretched it out by circling around a couple of blocks before heading straight up Main Street. The General Store wouldn’t open for a bit, so I headed to Francine’s, where the smell of cinnamon buns overwhelmed me as soon as I stepped inside.
