by Frankie Bow
Carter laughed. “Fortune, you got one heck of a smart mouth for a beauty queen. I thought you all were supposed to smile sweetly and wish for world peace.”
“I never claimed I was any good at being a beauty queen.”
“Is there anything else you’re not telling me about this animal attack?”
“I wish I could tell you something useful. We were walking out of Francine’s, on the bayou side of the road, and this big cat came lunging out from the bushes, straight at Justin. It didn’t let up until Ida Belle shot it in the shoulder. Thank Heaven for Ida Belle.”
“Do you think Justin could tell me anything?”
“Like what? What would you ask him? ‘Do you know why this wild animal might have wanted to harm you?’”
“Look, Fortune, I’m doing what I can here. You don’t have to be sarcastic.”
“There was one thing I noticed. That guy that calls himself a reporter, Santiago, was hanging out at Francine’s right before the incident. And he’s been popping up everywhere, asking questions. He seems suspicious to me.”
“Well, unless you think Santiago turned himself into a cougar and ran out after you, that doesn’t help me.”
“Who’s being sarcastic now?”
“Sorry.” Carter slowed the truck and pulled into the driveway of Marge’s house. “Here we are.”
He sat and looked at me. “Fortune, when you’re up to it, I’d like to have dinner again. You just let me know when.”
I couldn’t process this right now. I had to get back to the hospital.
“Sure thing.” I hopped down from the cab and ran into the house.
Back at the hospital, I found Ida Belle and Gertie in front of Justin’s room, arguing with Mayor-Elect Celia Arceneaux.
“Celia, did you come to check on Justin? That was nice of you.”
I didn’t even bother to ask how she knew to come here. In Sinful, people just find out about things.
“No she didn’t,” Ida Belle said. “She came here looking for you, Fortune.”
“I just wanted to find out a little more about that man you came into the General Store with this afternoon.”
“Celia, this is Sinful, not Pyongyang. People are allowed to have out of town visitors without mayoral approval.”
“Oh no, no, Fortune, you misunderstand me.” Celia attempted a girlish laugh. The effect was chilling. “Walter tells me he was a very important researcher from the university. And he came all this way, just to visit our little town?”
“He is from the university,” I said.
“Why, that’s very impressive,” Celia purred. “That’s the kind of high-quality visitor we’d like to encourage here. Does he have any plans to return? I can arrange for a free pass to the Nutria Festival.”
“Really Celia?” Ida Belle said. “You know, Justin’s a researcher too. And he’s from a university. How come you weren’t so impressed by him? Cause he’s just some skinny Oriental kid who doesn’t look like a movie star?”
“I can hear you,” Justin called from his room.
“I’ll go see how he’s doing,” I said. “Sounds like he’s feeling a little stronger.”
I pushed past the three older ladies into Justin’s room and pulled the door shut behind me, muting the sound of their bickering.
Doctor Broussard was standing by Justin’s bedside, making notes on a chart. Justin had been cleaned and bandaged, and with most of the blood wiped up, he looked a lot better.
“How’s the patient?” I asked.
Doctor Broussard looked up. His thin face wore an even grimmer expression than usual.
“Gave him the tetanus booster, and we’re going to administer a rabies vaccination before he goes home.”
“He said likelihood of rabies is low,” Justin added cheerfully from the hospital bed, “Only one documented case of a human bitten by a rabid cougar, but better safe than sorry, ah? Cause once symptoms show, cannot do nothing.”
“That’s correct. Justin, excuse us?” Doctor Broussard took my elbow and guided me back into the hallway. Ida Belle, Gertie, and Celia had gone.
“Is he okay?” I whispered. “What is it? His health insurance up to date?”
“There’s no problem with payment,” Doctor Broussard said. “It’s just that—this reminds me of another case I had. It was years ago, but very similar circumstances. I’m going to ask you to keep an eye on him. If anything out of the ordinary happens—anything at all—bring him right back in. Not the next day, not in a few hours, but right then. You hear?”
“I’m not sure I’m the one you need to—”
“Ida Belle doesn’t have a car,” he said. “Gertie needs vision correction and she refuses to get it. And I hear you can keep a cool head in a crisis, Fortune. You’re a lot like Marge in that way.”
That was uncomfortably close to the truth, considering Marge herself had been a secret government operative.
“Believe me, you develop nerves of steel out there on the beauty contest circuit,” I said. “Compared to what goes on there, wild animal attacks are a piece of cake.”
“I don’t doubt it. Yes, may I help you, young lady?”
“I’d like to visit Justin Lao.” Desiree Roche smiled sweetly. “I hope I’m in time for visiting hours.”
Her caramel-blonde ringlets (real, not extensions) grazed her shoulders, and she wore a modest wrap sweater in a sort of pale orange over a yellow flowered sun dress. Desiree Roche had this girlie thing down. Maybe I should start taking notes on her style. I had the feeling that people weren’t entirely buying my former-beauty-queen cover.
Doctor Broussard nodded for her to go ahead, but his rimless glasses glinted disapprovingly as he watched her sashay into Justin’s room. He made sure to prop the door open. Doctor Broussard excused himself and I hung around outside, peering in every so often, but all I saw was Desiree and Justin talking. Desiree was sitting very properly in the chair next to the hospital bed, her slender hands folded in her lap. Well, what was I expecting her to do? I really had to stop suspecting everyone of the worst possible motives.
That reminded me, I still had to check up on Toby LaRoquette, to make sure the man I’d met really was the renowned professor of genetics that worked at the University.
“Excuse me, Justin?” I poked my head into his room. “Do you get data here? I was hoping I could check something on your phone.”
“Sure,” he said. “They got my stuff over there, in that bag on the chair. Fortune, you gotta be the only person I know without a smart phone.”
“I know. I’m so used to my little flip phone. I’m sure I’ll get around to buying a smartphone one of these days.” Sure I will. Most people know that your smartphone broadcasts your location, and they’ve heard of people getting their private photos hacked. What they don’t realize is that it’s not that hard to remotely turn someone’s internet-enabled phone into a bugging device. If you’ve ever felt your phone get warm in your pocket when you’re not using it, take that as a compliment. Someone out there thinks you’re interesting enough to listen in on.
I dug through Justin’s backpack and pulled out his phone.
“Be right back.” I went out into the hallway to see Gertie and Ida Belle coming from the direction of the hospital cafeteria.
“We just ate,” I said. “Francine’s seafood platter wasn’t enough for you?”
“We needed a little cough syrup,” Gertie explained. “After dealing with Celia.”
“We went down to get some Coke for a mixer,” Ida Belle added. “Do you know the cafeteria’s right next to the morgue?”
“I wonder if they use the same refrigerator,” Gertie said.
“Glad you’re both feeling better. I could use a shot or two of cough syrup myself. Anyway, here’s what happened while you were gone. Doctor Broussard thinks Justin will be okay, but he says we should keep an eye on him in case anything unusual happens, which doesn’t sound like he’s really fine at all. And now Desiree Roche is sitting in
Justin’s hospital room with him.”
Ida Belle and Gertie both stuck their heads into the doorway of Justin’s room. Desiree and Justin waved at them. Ida Belle and Gertie waved back and then ducked back into the hallway.
“What should we do?” Gertie fretted.
“Whaddaya mean? We should mind our own business, that’s what,” Ida Belle groused.
“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to see if Professor Handsome really is who he says he is. Hang on. Shoot. The screen’s locked.”
I went into Justin’s room and once again interrupted the tête-à-tête.
“Sorry to butt in again. Can you unlock the phone for me?”
Back out in the hallway, Gertie and Ida Belle craned over my shoulder as I pulled up the university website. I navigated over to the medical school and searched for Toby LaRoquette.
“He checks out,” I said.
“Does he ever!” Gertie added.
“Unless he has an evil twin,” Ida Belle added.
“A handsome evil twin.” Gertie fanned herself with her hand.
There on the faculty page was a photograph of Toby LaRoquette, and it was definitely the same man that I’d walked over to Walter’s General Store with. I’d recognize that cute scar/dimple thing anywhere. Toby LaRoquette was the real thing.
I cleared my browsing history, went back into Justin’s room, and dropped his phone back into his bag.
“You find what you need?” Justin asked.
“Yes, I think so. Thanks.”
As I was exiting the room I almost collided with Nick Santiago.
My first instinct was to physically block the entrance to Justin’s room. That wouldn’t have been hard; at five foot ten, I towered over the little reporter.
“He’s busy,” I said.
Santiago craned his neck to look past me, and then stepped back.
“Ah, the young man has company. I won’t intrude. Is he planning to go to the Festival tomorrow?”
“Why are you asking?” This was my polite version of “what business is it of yours?”
“He’s been through a lot already. He should take it easy. All of you should be careful, in fact. That’s my advice to you.”
“Thank you for the advice. Was there anything else, Mister Santiago?”
I considered threatening to call the newspaper to confirm his identity, but I didn’t want to put him on alert. Calling the paper wouldn’t help anyway. Even if I could get someone to talk to me, they probably wouldn’t share the newspaper’s personnel information.
Santiago shrugged amiably. “You’re suspicious. I’m glad to see it. Very wise.”
He turned and ambled down the hallway, his bald head reflecting the harsh fluorescent light.
“What an odd little man,” Gertie said.
“He’s no reporter,” Ida Belle folded her arms. “A real reporter would’ve run over all three of us to harass that poor kid in his hospital bed.”
Chapter 10
Doctor Broussard ordered Justin to stay in the hospital overnight, just to be on the safe side. When I picked him up the next morning, he was more than ready to leave, and looking forward to accompanying Ida Belle and me to the festival.
I was curious about his visit from Desiree Roche the previous evening, and I had some time to pry the information out of him. We were inching back toward Main Street in the festival traffic.
“You should thank your visitor,” I said. “She managed to repel a reporter who wanted to talk to you.”
“A reporter came by? I didn’t even notice.”
“No, you didn’t. So what were you talking about for all that time?”
“Oh. Desiree heard about what happened to me. I dunno how, but she did. She just wanted to see if I was okay, was asking me all about it. Did I see the thing that attacked me, what it looked like an’ li’dat. Shoot, I dunno. I never saw nothing.”
“That’s all? She was in there with you for a while.”
“She was asking me some more about my research too. I like that there’s someone I can talk to that’s interested in my work. Especially after I got the brush-off from LaRoquette.”
“It is nice when you can share common interests with someone. But Ally was interested in your work too, wasn’t she?”
“Ally’s cool. But I could tell she was trying to pretend like she was interested. I know what I do is pretty boring to most people. It’s not like I’m a secret government agent or li’dat.”
I gripped the steering wheel just in time to stop myself from driving into a telephone pole.
“What was that about a government agent? Why would you say that?”
“Oh, my new game I just got. You get to play a government sleeper agent who has to help restore order to a lawless society after a plague wipes out most of the population.”
“Ah. Listen, you hungry for breakfast? I know they don’t feed you that well at the hospital.”
“I’m not really feeling a hundred percent.” Justin patted his lean belly. “Maybe when we get over to Ida Belle’s I’ll just have a piece of fruit or something.”
“You sure you want to go to the festival? Maybe you should stay in and rest up.”
“Nah, I told Ally I’d buy some of her pie. I don’t wanna flake out on her.”
The Annual Sinful Nutria Jamboree was everything I’d expected. Blazing sun, suffocating humidity, and enough of a crowd to make me twitchy. At least there were only booths and not actual rides, which would have added screaming, vomiting children to the mix.
Celia was leading around a little parade of a note-taker, a photographer, and a videographer. Judging from their age and complexion, she’d probably press-ganged them from the local high school. Nick Santiago was never more than thirty feet away from us. With his short stature he managed to keep a low profile in the crowd, but I could see him, dictating his notes into a little handheld device.
Gertie had gotten dressed up for the occasion by donning a moth-eaten nutria coat over her pink pantsuit, and sporting lipstick in a shade of high-visibility fuchsia. Ida Belle thought taking her curlers out was a more than sufficient concession to fashion. I felt exposed in a light sundress (more so because I was unarmed). Justin was keeping up with us, but even in a tank top and nylon board shorts, he was sweating.
Celia and her entourage came marching up to us.
“I called your associate, Professor LaRoquette,” she said. “To invite him to the Festival, as a guest of the town of Sinful.”
“Celia, he’s not really my—”
“He sends his regrets and says he’s not feeling well. It must have been a sudden illness.”
“Yes, I can’t imagine what might have brought it on.”
“I think we should send him a get-well card. From the town.”
“I don’t really know him,” I said. “I’ve only met him once. But you should go ahead, if you want to.”
“You should tell him about our new video channel, Fortune. It’s called Sinful Moments.”
“Bad idea,” Ida Belle muttered.
“Tell him to spread the word around the university,” Celia commanded. “I think the college students would like to see how much Sinful has to offer.”
“I’ll make sure to mention that to him if I ever get a chance. But right now, we’re all headed to your niece’s pie booth. I can’t wait to see what wonderful pie varieties she’s come up with.”
“Me neither,” Gertie chimed in. “Come on, let’s go.”
That seemed satisfactory to Celia, and she graciously dismissed us.
The line at Ally’s booth was short, even though (or perhaps because) she was giving out free samples of nutria pie.
“What about the gumbo?” I asked. “That was pretty good. How come you’re not selling it here?”
“It was nice and spicy,” Gertie said, “and it had so many different ingredients you didn’t really know what you were eating.”
Ally shook her head miserably. “Aunt Celia said it
had to be pie, cause that’s what she announced in the paper. Sorry you guys, I never was able to get the pie recipe worked out to where it tasted good.”
I’d eaten six-inch-long camel spiders in the Afghan desert. How bad could Ally’s swamp rat pie be?
Here was the answer: Bad. The nutria—swamp rat—had a pungent, earthy stench that seeped into my sinuses. At least roasted camel spiders tasted a little like shrimp.
Poor Justin was looking positively green now. He didn’t taste the pie. The mere sight of the oozing brown pie innards sent him running.
Ida Belle and Gertie followed him to the row of striped red-and-white tents that housed the games of skill, the fortune tellers, and the vendors selling cheaply-printed Sinful Swamp Rat t-shirts and trucker caps.
“Don’t take it personally,” I assured Ally. “He’s probably still shaken up from last night.”
“What do you mean?” Ally asked. “What happened last night?”
Ally had gone to bed right after the dinner shift at Francine’s. No one had told her about the cougar attack on Justin. I filled her in with the bare facts, leaving out the part about Desiree Roche rushing over to be by Justin’s side. Then I quickly excused myself and ran after Justin, Gertie, and Ida Belle.
They’d found a shady spot behind the row of tents, away from the crowd. Justin was soaked with sweat and breathing hard.
“Someone get him water,” I said.
“He doesn’t want any.” Gertie showed me the water bottle she’d been carrying in her bag. “I offered it to him.”
Justin had his hands on his knees now and was sucking in great gulps of air. His hair was sticking to his forehead; his shirt was soaked through and plastered to his skinny frame. I looked around to make sure we were away from prying eyes. We were, if you didn’t count the teenage couple a few tents down. They seemed to have their attention elsewhere.
