Mardi Gras Murder_A Cajun Country Mystery

by Ellen Byron

  Maggie nodded. Denise resembled her cousin by design, not nature. Where Pauline was naturally tall, Denise wore platform stilettos to achieve a similar height. Pauline had a willowy figure; Denise’s body seemed to be straining against an inclination toward curves. The most unusual difference was their hair. Pauline’s was a lustrous chestnut similar to Maggie’s, while Denise had blonde roots at her crown. Whereas many women dreamed of golden locks, Denise had gone in the opposite direction, covering hers with a dye that mimicked her cousin’s brunette shade. The only similarity both women shared was bright green eyes.

  “… and so, let us continue to honor the memory of our pageant’s founding fathers by commencing with the interview portion of our contest.” Gerard’s speech came to a merciful close.

  “Amen,” said Denise, her tone fervent. Denise initiated a round of applause that the other mothers and a few contestants quickly joined. Maggie noticed Gin glaring at Denise and trying to out-clap her.

  The judges adjourned to the parlor. One by one, the contestants joined them to answer a few basic questions.

  “What do you like most about Pelican?”

  “What are the three most important qualities a queen must possess, and why?”

  “Why should you earn the honor of being the next Miss Pelican Mardi Gras Gumbo Queen?”

  Maggie found the first three girls indistinguishable from one another. The fourth was the pierced girl, Allouette Randall, who she learned was Denise’s daughter. Allouette was monosyllabic and seemed so deeply unhappy, Maggie ached for her. After Allouette came Kaity Bertrand, who possessed a vivaciousness that couldn’t be denied. Belle Tremblay, the last contestant, was indeed the poster girl for any pageant queen. Maggie took an instant dislike to her for absolutely no good reason. You’re being a reverse snob, she chided herself. Get over it.

  Once the interviews were completed, the judges narrowed the field down to the three finalists. Belle was the obvious front-runner, but Kaity scored enough compliments from Robbie and Mo to make her a dark horse candidate, much to Maggie’s pleasure. The only surprise came when Gerard declared Allouette the third finalist. “Pauline is very loyal to her cousin, Denise,” he explained. “If we don’t include her daughter in the final three, I’m concerned Pauline might pull Belle from the competition.”

  Mo nodded. “Sometimes you gotta play Pelican politics,” she explained to Maggie.

  “Constance and I will let the young women know around eight PM tonight, and then tomorrow—”

  A shriek from the hallway interrupted Gerard, followed by the sounds of a scuffle and a cacophony of yelling.

  “What the hey?” Robbie said, speaking for all the confused judges.

  Maggie ran to the door, flung it open, and stepped into the hallway, where all hell had broken loose. Gin and Denise Randall were locked in a catfight as their daughters yelled at them to stop. Maggie tried to yank the women apart, only to be knocked aside. The other mothers looked on helplessly.

  “Take it back!” Gin screamed. She put Denise in a chokehold.

  “Never!” Denise spit out between coughs. “She doesn’t belong here, and you’re proving it!”

  “Hey!”

  The other women started at the sound of a male voice, but Gin and Denise kept at each other. Jayden, who had come into the manor house to take a shower, put down his towel and stepped between the women, struggling to keep them separated. It was at this moment Gerard appeared behind the other judges.

  “He’s gone crazy—he’s attacking the women!” Gerard yelled, panicked. “Constance, get your purse pistol!”

  “No!” Maggie yelled. “He’s saving them from each other.”

  Maggie stepped into the fray again. She grabbed Gin and pulled her away while Jayden did the same with Denise. The hallway fell silent, the only sound coming from the women’s heavy post-fight breathing.

  “I. Am. Never. Speaking. To you. Again.” Allouette spit at her mother. She turned to Pauline. “Can you take me to your house?”

  Pauline snapped out of the paralysis afflicting her. “Yes.” She put a hand on Denise’s shoulder. “It’ll be all right.”

  Denise, weeping, followed after her cousin. Grabbing this as an opening, the other mothers and contestants murmured excuses and rushed for the front door. Gerard made an effort to regain his composure. “Well, that was … I don’t know what that was.” He shook a finger at Gin. “I should disqualify both you and Mrs. Randall from this competition. But out of respect for your connection to the esteemed Crozat family, I won’t.”

  Gin looked abashed. “Thank you, sir.”

  “However, if anything like that ever happens again, there will be consequences. We need to go, Constance. I have an appointment.” Gerard proceeded down the hall to the front door, gesturing for his wife to follow, which she did.

  Gin straightened her clothes and fixed her hair. “I’m sorry, baby girl,” she said to Kaity. “But nobody talks smack about my loved ones.”

  “I thought you were awesome.” Kaity took her grandmother’s hand. “Let’s get you a nice gin and tonic.”

  Gin squeezed Kaity’s hand. “You know your grammy so well.”

  Kaity led Gin out of the manor house, leaving only Maggie and Jayden in the hallway. Maggie took a deep breath. “Wow. That was ugly. Thank you so much for helping me break it up.”

  Jayden didn’t seem to hear her. “That man said I attacked the women.” His voice was low, the tone laced with fury. “He wanted to shoot me. And he didn’t even apologize.”

  Maggie felt terrible for letting Gerard escape without calling him out on his insulting behavior. “Oh, Jayden, I’m so sorry. Please don’t let Gerard Damboise upset you. He’s a pompous twit who doesn’t deserve a minute—no, a second—of your thoughts.”

  Jayden continued to stare at the door without speaking or moving, unnerving Maggie. For the first time since they met, she had the ominous sensation the tightly coiled vet might be dangerous.

  Chapter 5

  As soon as Jayden disappeared down the hallway leading to the main-floor guest rooms, Maggie stepped outside onto the manor house veranda, hoping some fresh air might calm her. She found Denise sitting on the front steps. Her face was blotchy and wet with tears. “I owe you an apology,” she said. “There’s absolutely no excuse for my behavior.”

  Maggie sat on the steps next to Denise. She noticed the woman was trembling. “You don’t have to apologize to me. Although you might want to throw a few ‘I’m sorrys’ Gin’s way. I don’t think you want her as an enemy.”

  “No, never. I don’t want anyone as an enemy. I have no idea how I lost it like that. It’s just that this pageant is so important to Allouette…”

  She trailed off. Maggie debated how to phrase her response. “If it makes you feel better, I am not getting that from Allouette at all.”

  “Oh, it means a ton to her. But you know teens. It’s all about looking cool, so she’s hiding it.”

  “Well, she’s doing a really good job of that.”

  Denise nervously twisted her hands together. “That Gerard Damboise is not a nice man. He doesn’t respect my family. He thinks I’m not worth the time of day because I married an American, not a Cajun or Creole. But oh, how he loves my cousin Pauline. He’s always sucking up to her. She hates it but puts up with it because she’s a nice person. She was a Miss Pelican Mardi Gras Gumbo Queen herself, you know. Talk about setting the bar high, huh?”

  Maggie, fixated on Denise’s weaving and unweaving of her fingers, responded with a cursory nod. A truck bearing the logo of HomeNHearth, a local big box hardware chain, turned into the Crozat driveway and lumbered toward the manor house. Denise brightened. “My husband, Mike, is here. I came with Pauline, but Allouette didn’t want me in the car with them.” Denise tried to sound matter-of-fact, but the tears threatening to spill over her lower lids gave her away. “With her dad making deliveries, it was easy enough for him to come get me.”

  The truck groaned to a stop
in front of the veranda, and a man hopped out of the driver’s seat onto the ground. Mike Randall was in his early forties and had the bland good looks of a former high school jock. His medium brown hair was cut short on top, with a fade on the sides, and his ruddy complexion showed a macho disdain for sunblock. “Hey, babe,” he addressed his wife. Then he nodded at Maggie and gave her a sly smile. “Hi there.”

  “Hello.” Maggie’s tone was cool. She instantly pegged him as the kind of guy who flirted to remind himself he was still desirable. For Denise’s sake, she hoped his come-ons never moved beyond flirting.

  “We’ve met before,” Mike said. “I make a lot of deliveries to your other family manse, Doucet. Man, these old plantations are money pits. I don’t know how you folks keep them up.”

  “It’s not easy,” Maggie had to acknowledge.

  The front door opened, and Tug stepped onto the veranda. He had flour on his face and hands, and wore a stained apron that read “Got Gumbo?” “What’s going on?” he asked. “I heard a commotion but was in the middle of making a roux.”

  “Hey, you must be Mr. Crozat, the Pelican Gumbo King,” Mike said.

  “I don’t know if I’d call myself the king,” Tug said a touch coyly.

  “Oh yeah, you’re a legend. But I best warn you, you may have some serious competition this year. I entered the cook-off. Time folks around here got a taste of some fine Mississippi gumbo.”

  He winked at Tug, who glowered. Mike climbed back into the truck cab and patted the seat next to him. “Come on, babe,” he said to his wife. “Pop a squat.”

  “Thanks for your kindness, Maggie. And again, my apologies.”

  Denise scampered over to the truck and hauled herself up into the passenger’s side of the cab. The truck rolled down the driveway and out onto the River Road.

  “I don’t like that guy,” Tug muttered.

  “I’d say it’s you feeling competitive, but something about him bothered me too.”

  Maggie and her father, both pensive, watched the delivery truck lumber out of view.

  * * *

  Much as Maggie loved her father’s gumbo, a thick concoction loaded with chicken, andouille sausage, okra, and tasso ham, she was ready for a break from it and jumped at Bo’s invitation to join him for dinner. She drove into Pelican’s historic business district, where four blocks of nineteenth-century buildings with ornate black wrought iron balconies ringed a village green. When it came to decorating for a holiday in Pelican, Mardi Gras ran neck and neck with Christmas. Every building was festooned with a riotous array of purple, green, and gold flags, banners, wreaths, and garlands. Cajun and zydeco tunes played from speakers the Chamber of Commerce had set up in the green’s bandstand. Maggie sang along with Clifton Chenier’s “Allons a Grand Coteau” as she parked in an angled space. She locked up the convertible and headed into Junie’s Oyster Bar and Dance Hall.

  Old Shari, the restaurant’s nonagenarian bartender, waved and shouted a greeting. The proprietor, JJ, greeted Maggie by enveloping her in a hug. JJ, who’d inherited the restaurant and a closet full of caftans from his late mother, Junie, never missed an opportunity to kitsch up the place. Oversized purple, green, and gold glittery balls hung from the century-old tin ceiling. A center table had been removed and replaced by a fake tree covered with Mardi Gras beads hung on it by patrons. JJ himself sported a gold lamé caftan and a bright green silk scarf decorated with purple fleur-de-lis.

  “Here you go, chére,” JJ said. He strung multiple strands of beads around her neck. “Ones you don’t want, put on the Mardi Gras tree.”

  “My first beads of the season. I want them all.” Maggie kissed JJ on the cheek. Maggie noticed a plastic cauldron next to the tree. A half dozen more cauldrons and pumpkin-shaped buckets were scattered around the room. “Are you doing some kind of holiday combining now?”

  “Leaks, chére. The storm did a number on the old girl’s roof. And we’re way down the list for repairs.” JJ grinned. “Shabby chic is so yesterday. I give you … dilapidated chic.” He announced this with a grand swoop of his arms.

  “Maggie! Hey—over here!”

  Maggie saw Gin Bertrand waving to her. Gin was sitting with a group of women Maggie recognized as mothers of Miss Pelican Mardi Gras Gumbo Queen contestants. Maggie walked over to the table.

  “I want you to know I got a nice apology email from Denise, so we’re good,” Gin said. “We got some of that ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ thing going on now.”

  Denise, who was sitting next to Gin, flashed a relieved smile. “Yes,” she said with a vigorous nod. “We both figured we went after the wrong person. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Gerard Damboise.”

  Gin snorted with derision. “Him making anyone who isn’t a Tremblay feel less than. It gripes a person.”

  The other women vigorously nodded agreement, but Denise put a finger to her lips. “Shh, Pauline’s coming back from the little girl’s room. I don’t want her feelings getting hurt.” She waved to her cousin, who was exiting the restroom. Pauline, looking perplexed, waved back as she walked toward the table.

  “Maggie, before I forget, I need to tell you something.” Gin rose and pulled Maggie away from the others. “I didn’t want to say this in front of the ladies,” she whispered, “but I got a text saying Kaity was one of the three finalists. Thank you for that.”

  Gin winked at Maggie, who held up her hands and shook her head. “No, no, no. I had nothing special to do with it. Kaity got the honor all on her own. I make sure I don’t show favoritism to any contestant.”

  “No worries, chére—I won’t breathe a word. I’m just happy for the turn things took. It wouldn’t have been too good if they’d gone the other way, either for Kaity or your Gran’ and my papa’s relationship.”

  “Wait, what—?”

  “Oo, my food’s here. Talk at ya later.”

  Gin winked again and then sauntered back to her table, leaving behind a nonplussed Maggie.

  The front door swung open, and Bo came into the restaurant. He wore jeans and a black sport coat over a white button-down shirt, his ersatz uniform when working a case. Pretty much every woman in the restaurant shot him a glance, which didn’t escape Maggie. He ambled over and kissed her. She could have sworn she heard a disappointed sigh coming from a nearby table. “Sorry I’m late. The computers at temp headquarters keep crashing, and it’s slowing everything down.”

  “I never mind waiting for you,” she said, and returned his kiss to the sound of another disappointed sigh.

  Bo took her hand and led her to a table tucked in a corner. A glass of Chardonnay and a bottle of beer sat waiting for them, along with a basket of popcorn shrimp. “JJ knows us so well.” He studied Maggie. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Except … I think I was just threatened.” She recounted her conversation with Gin.

  “Yep, that’s what I’d have to call a veiled threat. Man, they take that pageant seriously around here.”

  “I know. I can’t wait until Gran’ gets better so she can relieve me.” Maggie sipped her wine. “Oh, I needed this tonight.” Bo nodded in agreement and took a slug of beer. “Did you find out anything else about our John Doe?”

  “Nothing helpful. No item of clothing on him was less than fifteen years old, down to his socks. If anything was recently purchased, we’d at least be able to track down the store of origin and see if we could connect him to a general area in the country.”

  “Were you able to get anything out of Gerard?

  “He never returned my calls.”

  “What?” Maggie stopped drinking mid-sip. “He said he had an appointment.”

  “If he did, it wasn’t with me.”

  “Really?” Maggie frowned. “He doesn’t seem the type to dodge the police. He’s a super by-the-rules guy.”

  “I’ll let it be known at the station to keep an eye out for him. Might be a traffic stop in his future.” Bo put a hand over Maggie’s and smiled, creating a single dimple
on the right side of his mouth. “Let’s put floods and bodies and suspects out of our minds and focus on what’s important here—popcorn shrimp.”

  In response, Maggie picked up a shrimp, tossed it up in the air, and caught it in her mouth. Bo laughed. “Sexy.”

  Then he did the same.

  * * *

  Bo begged off going back to Maggie’s place for a nightcap. “Whitney and Zach are spending the night in New Orleans,” he explained, referencing his ex-wife and her second husband. “She’s got a doctor’s appointment first thing in the AM, so I need to relieve the babysitter and pick up Xander.” He made up for his absence with a kiss Maggie could take home with her.

  Maggie drove out of Pelican and onto the River Road toward Crozat, smiling to herself as she replayed Bo’s embrace in her mind. The road was littered with potholes caused by the flooding, and she forced herself to focus on navigating around them. She stopped for a red light and gazed past the levee to the Mississippi. Although it was late February, the air was warm, so Maggie lowered the car windows. She could hear a barge engine hum as it made its way to the Crescent City and eventually the Gulf of Mexico.

  The traffic light turned green. Maggie was about to go when she was suddenly thrust forward by the impact of a car hitting her back bumper. “Sonuva…,” Maggie swore. She put the Falcon in park, stepped down on the emergency brake, and got out, slamming the car door. There’d been a spate of accidents lately caused by people texting behind the wheel, which infuriated her. She marched up toward the car behind her, ready for a confrontation. Then she saw the driver was slumped over his steering wheel. Anger forgotten, she ran to him.

  “Are you okay?” The man lifted his head and mumbled something unintelligible. “Let me help you.” Maggie fumbled in the dark for the car door, somehow managing to pull it open despite her shaking hands. The driver grabbed her wrist and she screamed. The man clinging to her was Gerard Damboise.

  Gerard’s face was white; spittle dripped down from the left corner of his mouth. “I-I—”