by June Shaw
“Well,” I said, and speared a popcorn shrimp with my fork.
“Dr. Wallo!” Gil called.
“Oh, my God!” a woman yelled. People around wore shocked expressions.
The doctor shoved back his chair and dashed to Gil’s table.
Fawn was slumped over, facedown in her gumbo.
Chapter 20
Stevie and I rushed from our chairs toward Fawn. So did others in the restaurant.
“Stay back! Give them room! She needs air,” manager Jake Bryant shouted.
People stopped and stared. We left space between us and Fawn. Dr. Wallo and Gil were gently laying her on the floor. I stood on tiptoe to see between people’s shoulders. The doctor felt the side of Fawn’s neck. He listened near her nostrils. He looked at Gil, his look void of hope, and started mouth-to-mouth on Fawn.
The part of her face that I could see appeared swollen.
Jake stretched his arms toward our group. “We need this room for medics to come through. Move—please.”
We pressed to the side of the pathway from the door. People began slipping outside. The kind thing to do was leave.
Stevie and I went outside. We stood in front of Gil’s restaurant like most other people. I glanced into the dark at the street, where sirens screamed their approach. Everyone jammed together on and near the restaurant’s wooden bridge. Most patrons and workers stayed quiet. Some complained.
“I just got my food,” a man said.
“Me, too. I hope they’ll give us a rain check.”
“What if their food killed her?” a woman said.
“Yeah,” some others agreed.
My fighting instinct struck. I yelled, “Their food didn’t hurt her! If you think the restaurant owes you something, I’m sure they’ll give you a rain check for another meal.”
People glanced at each other. “That’s not a bad idea,” someone said.
“I’ll check with them tomorrow,” another agreed.
Groups started toward the parking lot. Sirens wailed closer.
“I’m not eating here anymore,” a departing man said.
“Neither me,” agreed a tall one.
“Their food didn’t kill anyone!” I hollered.
The tall guy faced me. “Then what did?”
Scores of people waited for my answer. “We’ll find out soon enough,” I said, my voice not as loud or as certain. “But you can be sure it wasn’t the gumbo.”
I had no idea what was wrong with Fawn, except she didn’t appear to be breathing. Trembles made my gait unsteady.
No one looked satisfied with my answer. Some shook their heads.
“Let’s go,” I said, and touched Stevie’s arm. We watched an ambulance and police cars approach, then walked to our cars.
Vehicles drove away from Cajun Delights. I imagined most people inside them did like me. Prayed.
Stevie and I got into our cars without speaking and drove away. Would this horrible incident affect Gil’s restaurant? I hated to think so but had heard those customers griping.
And what if Fawn died? My gosh, she seemed a sweet person. She had a family. She couldn’t be dead.
But if she was, she would be the second person in that small stop-smoking group to die. Would whatever happened to her be connected to the man I’d tripped on—whose leg imprints on mine now throbbed?
I’d need to get Dr. Wallo to x-ray my shins.
I followed Stevie toward her house. We were a few blocks from it when another problem sprang to mind.
I tooted my horn, put on my flashers, and nosed to the road’s shoulder.
She pulled over and walked back to my PT Cruiser. “You have car problems?”
“No, but your house might. I was going in it this evening, and the door was unlocked.”
She leaned close, her stare intense. “Didn’t you ever forget to lock the door?”
“And there was noise inside.”
“What kind of noise?”
“Maybe a person moving around. Or your house settling. Or ice dropping from the ice maker.”
“It’s been a really trying, long day. I’m going home.” She jammed herself back into her car and sped off.
I followed, hesitantly now that I recalled the noises. Big chicken that I was, I really slowed down to let her get there a bit ahead of me. Stevie wasn’t scared.
Soon she was reaching her house. I was almost three blocks behind. She shouldn’t go inside alone.
Bad girl, Cealie. Go help her.
I shoved the pedal to the floor.
Flashing blue lights came to life. A police car roared after me.
Curses sprang from my lips. Then an idea came. I tapped my brakes and slowed. Putting on my flashing lights, I continued down the street to Stevie’s house.
The police car followed, lights swirling, siren wailing.
Front doors flew open. People popped out of houses to see what was going on.
Exactly what I wanted was happening, except the policeman might give me a speeding ticket. Not a big problem. I would have wanted police to come to Stevie’s house, just in case a bad person was inside. Now I was getting a policeman there.
Porch lights came on at her neighbors’ houses. Doors opened. Adults stepped out to their porches and stared at me.
The cop’s car closed in.
I replaced my flashers with my right blinker and pulled in front of Stevie’s house.
Her garage door was shut. If someone had gotten into her house, that person would have heard the siren coming and rushed away. At least that’s what I hoped.
The cop car stopped behind me. It shut off its siren. Swirling lights atop it cast an odd blueness.
I shut off my motor and got out. I knew the police would want a driver’s hands up where they could be seen, so I raised mine. I glanced at Stevie’s house—still no sign of life. No visible lights.
“You again,” the deputy said.
“Oh, hi.” I recognized him as the first one who’d come here when Pierce died.
“You didn’t know we had speed limits?”
“I screwed up,” I said with a weak smile. I heard people excitedly speaking and glanced around.
Most of my cousin’s neighbors were in their yards, watching us. I looked at April’s house. She wasn’t outside. Still no light inside Stevie’s. I might have to get this deputy to come in.
“Where were you coming from in such a hurry?” he asked, writing on a pad.
“Cajun Delights restaurant.”
His face snapped up toward me. “You were there, too?”
I nodded, hands high. “Why?”
He shook his head. “Somebody dies, and you’re there. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
I lowered my arms. “Fawn died?”
“And you know her.” He shook his head harder.
My eyes stung as I thought of that young woman. Fawn seemed so full of life. But not anymore.
Stevie’s porch lights sprang on. She walked out the door.
“You’re all right!” I said.
“You thought something happened to her, too?” The deputy scratched his head.
“I could have guessed this,” Stevie told me in disgust. “My neighbors call to say the cops grabbed someone in front of my house.”
She returned inside, slamming her door.
The deputy lowered his pad. “I won’t ticket you since you just experienced a tragic incident in that restaurant. But you might be called in for questioning regarding that woman who died tonight.”
“Why? Do you suspect she was murdered?”
“We’ll need to investigate. But stay close. You may be called.”
He went to his car, and I walked up to the porch. People still watched from their yards. I waved to them all to let them know I was friendly.
Some of the women waved back. Since the cop car was leaving, I imagine they decided I wasn’t going to pull out a gun and shoot them.
I clasped the doorknob.
It wouldn’t
turn. Stevie had locked me out!
I was going to ring the bell, but she’d purposefully done this. While everyone in the neighborhood stared, I made a big deal out of digging the key out of my purse. I held it up, unlocked her door, and went in.
“Do you know how embarrassed you made me?” Stevie screamed as I entered the den. “Everybody’s calling, telling me to be careful—there’s a cop following someone toward my house. And I peek out—and it’s my cousin with her hands in the air!”
“Sorry about that.” I glanced toward the rear of the house. “Have you checked everything? Did anyone break in the back door?”
“Grrr.” She threw her hands upward and stomped off.
Feeling safer since the deputy had made lots of noise, I clomped to the rear of the house to inspect. Imagining Fawn dead made me shiver. My heart went out to her and the people who loved her. Fear about who or what might be killing people around my cousin made me pretend to be brave.
I flicked on the kitchen lights and spoke with a loud, deep voice. “Good, this looks good. Nobody came in here, right?” I glanced at Minnie cactus. What appeared especially good was that no one had ransacked the room, although I couldn’t imagine what anyone might steal from a kitchen. What mainly satisfied me was that the door wasn’t busted or open.
What didn’t look good in here was the stove.
It looked like someone had used a sledgehammer on it. No wonder Stevie seemed ticked off at me. When she’d parked in the garage and entered this room, she’d seen this again. Tomorrow I’d need to replace it. Right now I needed to inspect the back door. Maybe it was unlocked, a bad person standing right outside.
I opened my cell phone in case I needed it. “Let’s see if this door is still locked,” I said in my deepest tone. “Nobody better be here because the police are still near.”
I reached out and tried the knob. Still locked.
Braver, I checked the ice maker and found the metal arm up. I pushed on it, trying to make ice drop so I could tell what that sounded like. The arm didn’t lower. I didn’t want to force it and break another of Stevie’s appliances. I could easily replace them but didn’t believe she’d be happy if I broke all her things.
She slammed the door to her bedroom. Her action assured me she wasn’t happy.
I didn’t think I should be the one to tell her Fawn was probably dead.
I went to my room. Everything appeared normal. I checked the window and closet. Thank goodness, nothing.
I changed into my nightgown and pulled back the bedspread. Uneasiness clung to my skin. I peeked under my bed.
No person. But on the clean floor near the foot of the bed lay a round pink object. I grabbed it.
Ugh, chewed gum. I went to the trash can to toss it, then stopped. I stared at the gum wad and squeezed. It moved easily between my fingers.
I didn’t think old chewed gum remained pliable for long. The floor was so clean, there weren’t even any dust bunnies. Had April been in here? If so, it must have been a recent visit. Why would she come in?
Returning to the window, I peeked between the curtains at her house.
Through her sheer curtains, I could see bright lights in one room. I wished I’d checked that earlier, soon after all the other neighbors were outside watching me. If she wasn’t home then, it would have made sense that she hadn’t called to check on the commotion or been outside, rushing over here to snoop.
A light on now didn’t prove anything. She and Cherish might have gone out, although it seemed rather late for that. But what did I know of their habits or what they did with their lives? Only that cute nosy April had bright blue eyes and chewed pink bubble gum and drank lots of diet lime drinks, and Cherish called Stevie her aunt but she wasn’t.
I squeezed the gum. It had stiffened during the time I held it. I tossed the gum, determining I’d only imagined its changed feel.
In the hall bathroom I soaped my hands. I was tempted to knock on Stevie’s door and ask about April being in my room lately. Reason told me I’d better not. My cousin seemed to like April much more than she liked me.
I slipped into my bed and tossed around. Shapely Fawn who sucked straws to keep from smoking had died in her gumbo. She was probably in her mid-forties, with two children and a husband. What could cause such a young person to die?
In less than a week, two people from Stevie’s group mysteriously their lives. I imagined the group like Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None. One person after another was found dead.
My heartbeat thrust up against my throat. I needed to keep Stevie away from everybody else in her quitters’ group.
Chapter 21
Stevie was gone when I awoke. Apprehension grasped the nape of my neck. I tiptoed, searching her house, envisioning her friend facedown in gumbo and Trottier facedown in tall grass. I recalled the unlocked front door to this house and the noise.
Had someone snatched Stevie?
I almost grabbed a phone and darted outside. But the kitchen treated me to the rich aroma of brewed coffee. Stevie’s washed cup, saucer, and spoon were drying in the drain. The newspaper lay neatly folded on the table.
I picked it up. Tuesday. Another school day for her. The wall clock said it was late morning.
I brought coffee to the table to savor with the local newspaper. I spread the paper open. Headlines snapped me to full senses. Woman dies in local restaurant.
Near the headlines, a close shot of Cajun Delights restaurant.
The brief article did not mention Fawn’s name. It said all of the woman’s close relatives had not been notified yet. The cause of her death had not been determined. A physician, Dr. Dan Wallo, had been eating at the restaurant and tried unsuccessfully to revive her.
The reporter quoted restaurant patrons who said they’d left once a customer died. They were shocked, seeing a woman with her face in her bowl, which held chicken gumbo, restaurant manager Jake Bryant was quoted as saying. Bryant told reporters the gumbo also contained andouille sausage, okra, garlic, and other seasonings. This new restaurant was owned by Gil Thurman, who was not available for comment. An investigation into the woman’s death was continuing.
I breathed. Studied the picture. Gil’s restaurant, the grand opening poster.
I reread the article. Exhaled. What would this death do to the business he was trying to establish?
Not interested in other sad news, I left my eyeglasses on the table and took a quick shower. In my underwear, I faced the mirror and opened my bottle of liquid makeup. A glob dropped into the lavatory basin.
I’d been taught to be frugal. Besides, there wasn’t much left in the bottle. It was supposed to prevent lines, and I needed all the help I could get to pretend this stuff diminished them. Maybe it would even cover my mustache.
I leaned over, positioning my hand between the glob and the drain. I used my free hand as a scoop. And heard heavy footsteps approaching.
A chill jolted up my spine.
This wasn’t April. Without a doubt, a man was walking toward this room.
The only nearby thing I might use as a weapon was my makeup bottle or mascara wand.
A tap came on the wall outside this room, followed by the shoes slapping the floor inside here.
I bent and held onto the lavatory, giving myself leverage as I prepared for him.
He rushed toward me, speaking.
“No!” I yelled and drew my right knee up. I slammed my right foot back, using all my force to hurt him where it would count—and recognized his voice. I tried to yank back my foot. Too late.
“Cealie, no!” Gil yelled. He doubled over, grabbing himself where my foot struck, grabbed the wall for support.
“Gil, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you.” I moved closer.
He put his hand up to stop me. “It’s okay. I’m—” He shoved himself straighter. Groaned and bent over. “I’ll be okay.” His voice held pain.
“Why did you walk in here without warning?”
He held hi
mself, then moved his hand away. “I rang the doorbell and knocked. Nobody answered. I tried the doorknob. The door opened.”
“Darn, nobody locked it last night.” I tapped my head. I should have locked it. “There was so much commotion.” I noted the anguish in his face. “Are you really all right? I should bring you to a doctor.”
Gil’s hand had remained near the area where I’d hurt him. He jerked his hand to his side and stood ramrod stiff. “No, I’m fine.” He smiled slightly. “At the last minute, I saw what you were ready to do, so I pulled back and turned. You didn’t score a direct hit.”
“Good thing I’m not a good aim.”
“I’ll make sure you never have target practice.”
I realized how I was dressed. “I wouldn’t have greeted you in a pink bra and panties.”
His smile was real. “Those are nice. And I especially like your black lacy ones.” Gil moaned but seemed to try to keep his smile. “But I’ll have to ravage you another time.”
A frightening thought came. “You will be able to ravage again, right?”
He awarded me a half grin. Gil started to bend, pain obvious from the new deep creases outside his eyes. “Cealie, you were there last night. You saw that woman drop her head in her dish.”
“I didn’t actually see when it happened. We had smiled at Fawn, and she and Stevie pantomimed with each other about smoking straws.”
“You two knew her?”
“She was in Stevie’s stop-smoking group. I’d met Fawn there, and she came over once since then.”
Gil shook his head, looking sad. “What a horrible thing to happen to her.”
“She was sitting at your table. Were you friends?”
“I didn’t know her. I’d come out of my office but wasn’t going to eat until later.” He always let customers sit at the table considered his until it was time for his meal. Once people left his table, he sat and ate.
“You spoke to her,” I recalled.
“I asked if her gumbo was all right. She said she hadn’t tried it yet.”
“And a few minutes later, she died.” I released a deep sigh. “Do you know what killed her?”
