Hair Extensions & Homicide / Supernatural Sinful Box Set

by Frankie Bow

  I found my toothpaste and picked a catnip-filled fabric mouse for Merlin on my way to the counter. “Oh, Walter, I'm going to buy these too.” I pulled a big pair of rhinestone-framed sunglasses from a circular rack on the counter and slipped them on.

  Walter stared at me.

  “I’ll just wear them outside,” I said. “It’s important to protect your eyes from ultraviolet light.”

  “Want me to take the price tag off before you go?”

  I slapped his hand away. “Nope. I want to wear them like this.”

  As advanced as facial recognition has become in the past few years, you can still confuse it with a big pair of sunglasses and a dangling price tag.

  “Any news on your candy thief?” I asked as I counted out my cash. I had to peer straight down, below the bottom rim of the dark glasses, so I could see what I was doing.

  Walter shook his head. “I was short again yesterday. With all the visitors for the festival, it was impossible to keep an eye on everyone. Hey, Merlin’s gonna love that little catnip mouse. I just got ‘em in, so it’s fresh.”

  “What do cats do with catnip anyway?”

  Walter chuckled. “It’s kind of like the Sinful Ladies Cough Syrup. Only it’s for cats.”

  “Well, then, Merlin, you’re welcome.”

  I smiled at Walter and then hurried out of the General Store with my head down and my hair extensions hanging over my face. If Santiago snapped a picture of me now, it would be useless for identification purposes.

  I decided to stop in at Ida Belle’s. Let’s see Nick Santiago try to show up and spy on me there.

  Gertie answered Ida Belle’s door.

  “Fortune,” she exclaimed. “We’re sunglasses twins. I got a pair just like that in my bag. I bought ‘em at the General Store. I’ll show you.”

  “No, Gertie, that’s okay.” I took off my own glasses and shuddered when I saw them in my hand. They were an outsize cat eye style, the frames encrusted with rhinestones in every color of the rainbow.

  Ida Belle was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of sweet tea and a big plate of blueberry muffins.

  “Tea?” Ida Belle stood to get another glass for me.

  “No, I’ll just have water. I don’t need all that sugar. I wouldn’t mind a blueberry muffin, though.”

  I’d just pigged out at Francine’s Diner that morning, but the human stomach always has room for blueberry muffins. It’s a scientific fact.

  “So where’s Justin?” I asked. “And his friend?”

  “Desiree only stayed for a couple hours.” Gertie sat down next to me.

  “And Justin’s back in his room,” Ida Belle added. “He’s been sitting there all morning with his iPad, watching documentaries about panda bears.”

  “Any more transformations?” I asked.

  Gertie shook her head. “Not that we’ve seen. Ida Belle and I have been taking turns looking in on him.”

  “What did you think of Desiree’s story? About the, uh, what Justin found?”

  “I believe her,” Gertie said.

  “She told us some more after you left,” Ida Belle added.

  “Did she tell you who the father was?”

  “No. And believe me, we tried to get it out of her. No dice. She did tell us they couldn’t get a proper Catholic burial, cause of, well, you saw it. So they buried it out in the woods. They think another animal must’ve dug it up, or maybe those heavy rains washed it out.”

  “I can’t believe the Catholic Church would refuse to bury a baby because it had a birth defect,” I said. “This isn’t the Middle Ages.”

  “It wasn’t a birth defect,” Gertie said gently. “The poor thing was a cat.”

  “Part cat,” Ida Belle corrected her.

  I opened my mouth to argue with them, but I remembered what Professor Toby LaRoquette had found. The creature’s DNA was “felid.” A cat.

  “I can’t even process this. I’ve been all over the world, and I’ve seen things that most people wouldn’t believe, but all this magical swamp hoodoo is too much even for me. I feel like I’m getting pranked, and I’m waiting for someone to reveal the hidden cameras.”

  “I suppose it’s hard to get used to when you didn’t grow up with it,” Gertie said.

  “Hey, here’s something I’m having trouble getting used to.” I took a heavenly bite of muffin and swallowed. “I want to get your read on it. That man Nick Santiago is following me. I don’t think he’s working for Ahmad, but he’s up to something.”

  “Justin’s the one who’s been poking around and stirring things up,” Ida Belle pushed her chair back. “He probably knows something about it. I’ll go get ‘im.”

  Justin looked like he hadn’t slept well, and he might have lost a little weight, but otherwise he seemed back to normal after his shapeshifting episode.

  I told Justin about being tailed around Sinful. Justin listened, gulping down sweet tea and stuffing blueberry muffins into his mouth.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “Ono, the muffins, Aunty Ida Belle. Sorry, Fortune, you was asking about da kine?”

  “I'm just wondering if you know anything about Santiago, and why he might be following me.”

  “Toby, Professor LaRoquette, he said the oil company guys was gonna be after me cause my researching the spill. Maybe he's following you cause he thinks you're gonna lead him to me. No big deal. I got nothing to hide.”

  “Yes you do,” Gertie said.

  “Oh yah. Forgot about that.”

  “Fortunately everyone is assuming that the panda in the photo is someone wearing a costume,” I said. “Good thing no one caught your first transformation on video. But now that Celia Arceneaux’s set up that video channel, you’ll have to be careful.”

  “My first transformation,” Justin sighed. “Man. I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “Maybe you should call the professor,” Ida Belle said.

  “Don't tell him about the panda bear thing, though,” I added. “Just the Nick Santiago following us around thing. See if he has any ideas. “

  Justin shook his head and devoured another muffin. “I don't wanna bother LaRoquette. I feel like I already wasted his time. He tested that specimen for me and drove all the way out here and everything.”

  “Why Fortune,” Gertie said, “why don’t you call the professor?”

  “Oh yah,” Justin brightened. “You should do it, Fortune. The Santiago guy was following you anyways, so you gotta good reason to ask about it.”

  “Well.” I looked around at the eager faces. “I guess I could take one for the team.”

  I called Toby from the landline in Ida Belle’s bedroom. I thought he might not remember who I was, but he did. Even better, he sounded happy to hear from me. I have to admit, the sound of that velvety drawl made my heart skip a little.

  “I’m actually calling about Justin,” I said.

  “Justin? Is he all right?”

  “Um, sure, he’s fine.” I didn’t like lying to Toby, but telling the truth would have made me sound like a lunatic. “He did mention that you warned him not to get on the bad side of the local corporate interests.”

  Toby laughed. “It sounds so ominous when you say it like that. The thing is, when you gotta keep bringing in grant money, you can’t afford to make the money people mad at you. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Well, there’s something that has me a little worried,” I said. “This guy calling himself Santiago has been following us around. He claims to be a reporter, out here for the Swamp Rat Fair thing, but the event ended yesterday and the guy’s still here. The reason I’m calling is that we, I, was wondering if you had any advice.”

  “Well, I doubt you have anything to worry about. I’ve dealt with my share of reporters and they are persistent, but you know what? They’re just people doing their job, just like the rest of us.”

  “Oh.” I was disappointed, but what did I expect? This wasn’t Toby’s problem.


  “But since you were concerned enough to call me, maybe I might could take a drive out to Sinful tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Professor LaRoquette—”

  “Toby, please.”

  “Toby. I don’t want you to go so far out of your way.” Actually I kind of did want him to. Even if he wasn’t into girls, he was charming, brilliant, and extremely easy on the eyes. Although it didn’t feel right to make him drive a four hour round trip just so I could ogle him.

  “Don’t you worry about it. I’ll be honest, I’ve been trying to think up an excuse to see you again, so you just made things easy for me. I hope you wouldn’t mind joining me for dinner. You can tell me all about it then. And if this Nick Santiago follows us, I’ll just invite him to pull up a chair and explain himself.”

  I was no expert on flirty small-talk, but I was pretty sure that Toby LaRoquette just asked me out on a date. Maybe he wasn’t gay after all.

  “Well I, um, okay. Sure. Sounds great.”

  I really was going to have to work on my flirty small-talk. Geez.

  I hung up in a daze. Objectively, I could see that I was experiencing the typical emotions expected in an undercover assignment. The isolation, the sudden, severe craving for intimacy, and worst of all, the recklessness. Something about living in another person’s identity can make you feel invulnerable, as if consequences don’t apply to you. It’s the reason masked Mardi Gras revelers can debauch themselves all night and then go to Ash Wednesday services the next morning with a straight face. If I wasn’t careful, my cover could become my Mardi Gras mask.

  Maybe it was happening already.

  The real me, Fortune Redding, would never compromise a mission by getting involved with the town’s deputy sheriff, much less throw him over for a gorgeous stranger who lived two hours away.

  But “Fortune Sandy Sue Morrow” was going full speed ahead. And all she cared about right now was that tomorrow, she had a dinner date with the gorgeous Toby LaRoquette.

  Chapter 13

  Ida Belle and Gertie practically high-fived me when they heard that Toby was driving out to take me to dinner. Justin didn’t seem quite as thrilled, but he had a lot on his mind. I reminded him that the whole point of this dinner was to find out if he was in any danger, either from the omnipresent Nick Santiago or from anyone else.

  Toby showed up at six pm on the dot, looking flawless in a tweed blazer, a white dress shirt, and no tie. I know the tweed blazer is a college professor cliché, but on Toby, it looked fantastic.

  Of course Toby LaRoquette could probably show up wearing a garbage bag with a hole cut out for his head, and he’d still look amazing.

  Merlin came bounding up and dropped the chewed-up catnip toy at Toby’s feet as an offering. Toby bent down to pet Merlin, and then picked up the catnip toy and pretended to take a big whiff. Merlin jumped up and snatched the toy back between his tiny jaws.

  “You don’t have to humor the cat,” I said. “He’s spoiled enough.”

  Toby chuckled and petted Merlin, who was now rolling on the floor in an ecstasy of catnip and attention.

  “He’s a cute little guy,” Toby said, and stood up. Merlin sprang up and pounced. Toby gasped with pain, and his hand flew to his shoulder, where Merlin was sticking to him like a tick.

  “Merlin! Bad kitty!” I pulled Merlin away, leaving fuzzy snags where Merlin had hooked his claws into Toby’s jacket. I threw my badly-behaved cat into the backyard, slamming the door shut before he could run back inside.

  “Are you okay?”

  Toby blinked a few times and took a deep breath. I asked. He looked pale, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead.

  “That little guy doesn’t know his own strength.”

  “Toby, why don’t you take off your jacket, and I can get some disinfectant—”

  “I’m fine.” He took both my hands in his. “He didn’t break the skin. Just took me by surprise is all. Anyhow, we need to get going. I have reservations at a little seafood place I think you’ll like, but it’s about twenty minutes from here.”

  Toby had a dark green 1967 Sunbeam Tiger, a tiny British two-seater convertible. It was a nice change from those big, overcompensating macho trucks that some of the local guys drove, not naming any names or anything.

  The restaurant that Toby had picked out was a step up from Francine’s in fanciness, perfect for a first dinner date. The Catfish a la Meuniere was superb, baked crisp on the outside, tender inside, and smothered in tangy, buttery sauce and pecans.

  The pleasant conversation continued through dinner and the drive back to Sinful. If I had one complaint it would be that riding so close to the ground in the pitch dark on a narrow back bayou road, especially when a lifted pickup truck would roar past, was not relaxing. I noticed that Toby steered mostly with his right hand. Merlin must have really clawed his shoulder but good.

  I tried to answer Toby’s questions about my librarian job and my late Aunt Marge as well as I could; I was on more solid ground when he asked how I was enjoying my summer in Sinful. I could tell him then about the various festivals, the Sinful Ladies’ Society, and the Sunday morning stampede from the churches down to Francine’s for her incomparable banana pudding. Toby told some entertaining stories about university politics, and we pulled up to Marge’s house just as he was finishing up a racy tale about a researcher who couldn’t figure out why his experiments weren’t turning out. The man set up hidden cameras around his lab. The next morning, he had a clear-as-day video of one of his distinguished academic rivals sneaking into the lab under cover of night and weeing all over the petri dishes.

  Toby helped me out of the passenger seat and walked me up to the front door.

  “And speaking of surveillance,” he said. “You see that Santiago guy at all tonight?”

  “Now that you mention it, no.”

  “Well, you see? If he’s stalking you, I guess he’s not making much of an effort.”

  I laughed politely, but thought no, it might just mean he’s becoming better at hiding himself.

  “Although I have been giving some thought to Justin’s situation,” Toby sounded serious now.

  “Toby, would you like to come in? I can make coffee. I’m not trying to, I mean, I really do mean just coffee. I think this is important. What do you think about Justin’s situation?”

  “I appreciate the invite. I’ve gotta head back, though, and I’m afraid if I come inside I’ll never want to leave.”

  So we’d just stand out here on the front porch as a display for all the nosy neighbors. Oh well.

  “I hate to be the bringer of bad news,” he said. “But Justin’s research program, the way it is now, there’s only two ways it can go. Number one, he finds nothing. No effect of the spill this far west. He’ll get his thesis written, but it’s almost impossible to get null results published, so he’s not gonna get any good pubs out of it. He starts out his academic career already behind the competition. Now that’s the best case. The other way it can go is he does find something. His rapid evolution or phenotypic plasticity or whatever he thinks he’s finding out there. He can make a connection between the spill and the effect on the Coypu population and pin the blame right on the oil companies. You think they’ll be happy about it?”

  “I see what you mean. Do you think Justin’s in any danger now?”

  Toby sighed.

  “I sure hope not. I tell you. None of us wants to end up like Fordyce and Whittingdon.”

  “Fordyce and…are those the two scientists who disappeared and wound up as handbags?”

  “What?”

  “I heard that from Ida Belle. Toby, what would you do? If you were Justin?”

  “He hasn’t invested that much time here. If I were in his place, I’d cut my losses. I’d get on a plane tomorrow and go back to Hawaii as fast as I could. Find something else to work on. Heck, they got more endangered species there than anyone. He could do a lot of good there.”

  “I’ll pass that along.” I dug
in my bag for my house key. I hadn’t been planning to have Toby spend the night, but it was a little disappointing that he didn’t seem even slightly interested in the possibility.

  “Fortune, wait.” He picked up my free hand and lifted it to his lips. “I had a wonderful evening.”

  “Me too. Thank you for dinner.”

  I stood out on the porch for a while after Toby drove away, staring into the dark and listening to the humming and chirping of the bayou at night.

  A rustle in the bushes interrupted my reverie. I pressed myself back into the dark part of the porch, against the wall, and waited. I still wasn’t used to dressing like a civilian, and I felt vulnerable without my nine strapped to my thigh.

  I watched a portly shape waddle out of the shadows and toward the front porch. The shape paused and looked up at Marge’s house.

  I let my muscle memory take over and sprang.

  “Who sent you?” I hissed, although the fact that the portly little man was pinned to the ground, with my forearm pressing on his windpipe, precluded a natural flow of conversation.

  “I can explain,” he wheezed. “Please let me up.”

  I stepped off him and watched warily as he stood, brushed the dirt and shell chips off his cheap brown suit, and retrieved his badge.

  I sighed. “Why don’t you come inside?”

  Ally was relaxing at the kitchen table, leafing through a cookbook. She looked up with a confused expression when we walked in.

  “This is Nick Santiago,” I said. “NOLA PD.”

  “What? I mean, how do you do. Care for some sweet tea?”

  “Much obliged. Need to wash all that dirt down with something.”

  When the three of us were seated, I said,

  “Why were you sneaking around my house?”

  “I believe I was simply walking up to the front door.” His voice still sounded a little raspy.

  “What happened?” Ally asked.

  “Little misunderstanding,” I said. “Would you mind telling me what’s going on here?”