Hair Extensions & Homicide / Supernatural Sinful Box Set

by Frankie Bow

  “Did you do that?” Sheriff Lee asked.

  “Sheriff, you know I—I mean, our town couldn’t afford any of that. But I thought if I could make the thief think I’d hired a private investigator, that’d put the fear in him.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Well, not exactly, Sheriff. That’s when I started getting the threats.”

  “From who?” I asked.

  Lee glared at me.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll ask the questions here. From who?”

  “From whom,” Gertie whispered.

  Celia shook her head.

  “I don’t know. But his messages were vile. Utterly vile.”

  “Blanche DuBois couldn’t have said it better,” Ida Belle muttered.

  Celia sniffled, and her lower lip trembled.

  “Sheriff Lee, I will tell you what happened. But I do not wish to be a spectacle. Some privacy would be appreciated.”

  Lee nodded to us.

  “You three may as well go on home,” he said.

  “Thank you, Sheriff,” I said. “On our way.”

  The three of us stood up, already knowing what we would do next.

  “Sheriff,” Gertie said, “I’m just going to stop in the ladies’ room first. I trust no one will mind.”

  The ancient air-conditioning ducts in the building doubled as a perfect intercom system. And the best and most private place to listen was the little bathroom.

  “Don’t break the toilet again,” Gertie reminded me as we filed down the hallway.

  “That wasn’t my fault. What kind of low-budget toilet can’t handle a person’s weight?”

  “I don’t think they’re designed for people to stand on them,” Ida Belle said. “Now. If we can keep still and keep our mouths shut, we can probably…okay, here we are.”

  As the most limber of the three, I stepped into the tiny bathroom first and wedged myself between the sink and the wall. Gertie followed, and Ida Belle came in last and slid the flimsy little bolt to lock the door.

  The sounds from the interrogation room came through muffled and echo-y, but we could hear most of the conversation. Celia’s voice, of course, came through loud and clear.

  “No, I did call it in, you old—I mean, Sheriff. That’s what I was telling you. I called 9-1-1.”

  “Don’t get huffy with Sheriff Lee, Celia,” Gertie whispered.

  “And you’re telling me you can’t describe the vehicle?”

  “Well, it was, I don’t know, it was a car. A dark one, I think. It was night time, and it all happened so fast.”

  “Darn,” Ida Belle hissed. “What’d we miss?”

  “Well now,” Sheriff Lee’s voice echoed down the air vent. “What with all this jumping around, you’re making it difficult to follow the story. Start from the beginning, if you would.”

  Ida Belle and Gertie exchanged a mini- fist bump (we were all wedged in too tight to move much) and looked up at the air vent expectantly.

  “Tatienne and I were walking out to the parking lot after class.”

  “Tatienne?”

  “Miss Tauzin.” Celia’s voice broke and she started to sob.

  “Sheriff,” this was Mary-Alice’s quiet voice. “Is all this necessary? Celia has been through so much in these last few days—”

  “Celia was going to let an innocent woman hang,” Sheriff Lee’s voice had a hard edge to it. “It’s the least she can do. Please continue, Celia.”

  “Hang?” Gertie squeaked.

  “Shh!” Ida Belle glared at Gertie.

  “We were in the parking lot, and had come to the place where she was going to her car, and I to mine,” Celia whimpered. “I had given Tatienne—Miss Tauzin—one of Mary-Alice’s glasses holders. They glow in the dark, so you can find your glasses.”

  “Why Celia,” Mary-Alice exclaimed. “What a lovely gesture.”

  “It was the worst thing I ever did.” Celia collapsed into sobs.

  “I believe I’m getting the picture,” Sheriff Lee said. “Can you describe Tatienne Tauzin?”

  Celia was bawling loudly enough to rattle the fixtures. Finally she gasped,

  “A lovely woman. Simply a lovely woman.”

  “I understand what you’re getting at, Sheriff,” Mary-Alice said. “Tatienne and Celia did look somewhat alike. They were about the same height and figure, and Tatienne wore her hair a bit like Celia’s. In a poorly-lit parking lot, one could be mistaken for the other.”

  “Especially if Tatienne Tauzin was wearing Celia’s glow in the dark glasses chain,” Sheriff Lee said.

  “Oh, my.” Mary-Alice sounded horrified. “Oh, dear.”

  “Celia, did you witness the hit-and-run?” Sheriff Lee persisted.

  “I only heard the car at first. It was speeding. It was going so fast. Too fast. And when it was gone I saw something…glowing. On the ground, very faintly. I went over to look.”

  The conversation paused; I assumed Sheriff Lee was getting Celia a tissue. I was getting a cramp in my leg. We probably didn’t all need to cram into the bathroom to eavesdrop, I realized. It was too late to do anything about it now.

  After a few moments, Celia picked up her story again.

  “I called 9-1-1 for help right away, Sheriff. Immediately. But I could see for myself that it was too late. Tatienne was gone. And the thing is, Sheriff, I knew it wasn’t Tatienne they were after. It was me. I was certain of it. And I knew they’d try again once they knew they’d gotten the wrong person. So I…I did what I had to do to save myself. I took Tatienne’s wallet from her handbag and put mine in. Then I called Mary-Alice. Mary-Alice, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to have to hear all the sordid details. But that’s the only way I could make the killer think he got me.”

  Mary-Alice was silent.

  “I bet Mary-Alice did it,” Gertie whispered. “Who could hang around Celia that long and not want to murder her?”

  “Don’t be silly, Gertie,” Ida Belle said, “you’re saying she ran down Miss Tauzin, and then as she was driving away she got a call from Celia, thought, oops, missed, and then came back to get Celia while she was still driving the murder weapon?”

  “It’s possible,” I said. “Although, Gertie, it seems like your drama class is full of suspects. And there’s something else we haven’t thought of. Maybe Miss Tauzin actually was the target from the beginning.”

  “And Celia thought it was about her, because Celia thinks everything’s about her,” Ida Belle finished my thought. “That’s likely.”

  “What a harebrained plan,” Gertie huffed. “To try to let everyone think she was dead. How long was Celia planning to keep this up? Until after I got the chair?”

  “Shh,” I said. “Sound goes both ways. Besides, Lee said you were going to hang, not get the chair.”

  “So what were you doing sneaking around your house with the lights off?” Sheriff Lee asked.

  “I was running out of cash,” Celia said. “And I didn’t have my credit cards, you see. They were all in my wallet.”

  “The wallet you planted on the dead woman.”

  “I told her she should come to my house,” Mary-Alice said. “She couldn’t stay in that motel forever.”

  “Well, I think I need to have a little chat with Mudbug PD,” Sheriff Lee said. “We need to straighten some things out. No, no, don’t go. You ladies stay right there. I’d like you here for this conversation.”

  Chapter 13

  Friday was a new day.

  Gertie was off the hook for Celia’s murder, as Celia was clearly alive and well. Once Sheriff Lee related Celia’s story to Mudbug PD, they quickly confirmed that the dead woman was indeed Tatienne Tauzin, drama instructor at Mudbug Technical Institute.

  The murder was no longer any of our business. There was still the case of the missing town funds. Gertie had convinced us that it was probably a friend or distant relative of Celia’s, if not Celia herself, behind the thefts. After all, nothing like this had happened before Celia took over the ma
yor’s office. Not even during the reign of the corrupt Herbert Fontleroy, Celia’s predecessor.

  I went for my morning run and stopped in at the General Store to buy…well, I didn’t really need to buy anything. But Walter was Carter’s uncle. Pathetic as it was, I was hoping for a scrap of information, a clue. Where was Carter? What had happened between that magical afternoon and now?

  I chose to think of the Carter LeBlanc situation as a mystery that had to be solved, but deep down I suspected it was no mystery at all. Carter was interested in a no-strings-attached flirtation, knowing that “Sandy Sue” was going to disappear at the end of the summer. The minute I suggested I might stay on permanently, he lost interest. And now he was avoiding me.

  I pushed into the General Store. Even though it was only mid-morning, the chilled air inside was a welcome respite from the sultry Louisiana summer. Walter looked up at the jingle of the bell.

  “Morning, Fortune. Heard the news about Celia. What can I help you find this morning?”

  “Oh, I just stopped in for, well, you know…um…”

  “Can’t make up your mind?” he chuckled.

  Your nephew’s the one who can’t make up his mind, I thought.

  “What did you hear about Celia?” I was stalling, trying to think of something to buy. I would’ve loved to pick up a six-pack of Abita Golden, but Sinful was still a dry town.

  “That the rumors of her death were greatly exaggerated. She was in here yesterday evening purchasing groceries. Sheriff Lee’d convinced her it was safe to move back home. Guess Gertie’s off death row for the time being.”

  I wanted to ask Walter whether he’d seen Carter recently. But my pride wouldn’t let me. Carter knew my number, knew where I lived, and had an unanswered message from me sitting in his voice mail. I picked up a bottle of Pepto-Bismol pink nail polish and set it on the counter. My own manicure was looking pretty ratty, so it was a plausible purchase.

  “Just this,” I said.

  “How’s your classes going?” Walter asked as he rang me up.

  “Oh, over at Mudbug Tech? Fine. It’s a really compressed schedule, five nights a week. Keeps me busy. Which is good, I guess. I don’t understand some of the other students, though. Some of them spend the whole class period sitting and playing on their phones. Or worse, they think they know more than the professor and argue with her, even though they always turn out to be wrong. Why even bother to go to school if you’re going to take that attitude? Drop out and let us serious students learn in peace.”

  “You shouldn’t let the knuckleheads get to you, Fortune. Don’t take it personally.”

  “No, you’re right.”

  But I did take it a little personally. In Afghanistan, I had tried to protect girls who risked their lives to go to school. And I knew families who had lost their daughters because they took that risk. It bothered me that I couldn’t do more for them without endangering my mission.

  I wasn’t about to share any of that with Walter, of course.

  “I don’t like to see people throwing their opportunities away. And I feel sorry for the professor when the students are so rude.”

  “I’m sure you’re a model student, Fortune.”

  I smiled. “You know it.”

  I pushed my way back out into the muggy air and let out a sigh. That had been a useless little expedition. No information whatsoever about Carter. Normally Walter would say something about his nephew. Maybe Walter was avoiding the topic because he knew that Carter had lost interest in me. How humiliating.

  It was getting too hot and humid now to run comfortably, and I was debating whether to push myself anyway, when my phone rang. It was Ida Belle.

  “Get over here now,” Ida Belle commanded. “We have an emergency. It's Celia.”

  Filled with new energy, I broke into a sprint.

  Chapter 14

  Ida Belle’s front door was locked. I knocked and waited for her to let me in.

  Inside, Gertie was sitting at Ida Belle’s kitchen table with a weeping Celia Arceneaux. Celia’s laptop was open on the table. The jaunty “Celia the Great” sticker on the side was a sad contrast to the defeated-looking woman herself.

  “Celia was right,” Ida Belle said.

  ”What’s going on?” I asked. “Right about what?”

  Gertie motioned me over to look at the open laptop.

  The “from” address was a string of what looked like nonsense letters to me. The message was clear, though:

  You have one more chance. Reply to this message with the account info and login.

  Next time I won’t miss.

  Under that was a street address in Sinful.

  “Isn’t that your address?” I asked. Celia nodded.

  “They want her to know that they know where she lives,” Ida Belle explained.

  I studied Celia. She hadn’t sent the message to herself, I was pretty sure. Behind her defiant expression, she seemed genuinely terrified. The fact that she’d actually reached out to her nemeses Ida Belle and Gertie for help was proof of that.

  “Did you contact Sheriff Lee?” I asked.

  “That old fool was no help at all! He tried to put me off, so I told him if he couldn’t do anything about it, the least he could do was let me talk to someone who still has their prostate. Then he got that dimwit Deputy Breaux, who stood there and scratched his head and asked me if I knew who sent it. I said of course I didn’t and he said then how did I expect him do anything about it if I didn’t even know who sent it.”

  I noticed she didn’t say anything about the other deputy. Carter. I certainly wasn’t going to ask.

  “What about—” I started.

  “We called ‘em all,” Ida Belle interrupted.

  “But now that there’s an explicit threat—”

  “You’d think,” Gertie said. “But no.”

  “Even the—”

  “Yep. They told us they didn’t have the resources. They said the same thing as before. Celia could hire a detective and then find an attorney and try to sue this idiot. If she can find out who he is.”

  “Let me see that,” I sighed.

  I read through the email and then, with a few keystrokes, securely forwarded the email to my partner at headquarters, Ben Harrison. Then I erased my electronic tracks and pushed the computer back to Celia. The threat wasn’t aimed at me, so it probably wouldn’t be a high priority for the CIA. But Harrison might pass it along to someone who’d know what to do with it. It was worth a try.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “Mary-Alice said I could stay with her,” Celia said.

  “That’s awfully nice of Mary-Alice,” I said. “So, what did you need me for?”

  “She won’t go in Gertie’s car,” Ida Belle said. “Not with Gertie driving. Not that I blame her.”

  “Oh, what nonsense,” Gertie sulked.

  “And she doesn’t want to ride on the back of my motorcycle. So we thought you could drive the Jeep.”

  Chapter 15

  Celia rode in the passenger seat next to me, with Gertie and Ida Belle in the back. I’m a good driver, but Celia’s running commentary almost ran me into a ditch. When she wasn’t yelling things like “Watch out!” “That one’s gonna hit us head on!” or “Idiot!” she was sucking in her breath sharply and crossing herself. I was relieved when we pulled up to Mary-Alice’s little one-story house in the suburbs of Mudbug.

  Mary-Alice hurried out to meet us, almost unrecognizable in baggy overalls and a giant straw hat. She pulled off thick canvas gloves with daisies printed on them.

  “I was just tending to my strawberries.” She beamed at us. “Come in, and we’ll have some sweet tea.”

  We followed Mary-Alice inside. She seemed to be in a much sunnier mood than she had the night we’d tackled her in Celia’s house.

  “Your house is lovely,” Gertie remarked. She was right. It was a little too fussy and floral for my taste, but neat and bright. Thanks to the generous windows and wispy lace curtain
s, the interior was drenched in sunshine.

  “I do love it here. And the best thing about it is, it’s paid off. Here, there’s room at the kitchen table. Please, sit down. I’ll get us some tea. No, no, sit.” Gertie, Ida-Belle, Celia and I settled around the table as Mary-Alice set out our tea. “It’s so important for women to be prudent with our finances. There are always unexpected expenses, aren’t there? Water heater goes out, fender-bender, roof repair. We don’t make as much as the men, and we live longer. Our money has to stretch.”

  “Mary-Alice, you have anything to eat?” Celia got up and began to rummage in Mary-Alice’s fridge.

  “Oh, help yourself, dear. You must be famished.”

  I wondered how long Mary-Alice’s saint-like patience would last, with Celia staying in her house.

  “So do you ladies make it out to Mudbug often?” Mary-Alice asked.

  “We do lately,” Ida Belle said.

  “We’ve been coming out every night for classes at Mudbug Tech,” Gertie added. “I’m in Celia’s acting class. I don’t know what they’re going to do for the rest of the session, though.”

  “Now that poor Miss Tauzin has passed.” Mary-Alice crossed herself demurely and sat down to join us at the table.

  “If they keep the class going, I’m going to stay in. Celia, you should’ve seen how people were fighting over your part in the play when they thought you were dead. It was like a pack of gators going after a swamp rat.”

  “Once the news about Miss Tauzin gets out,” I said, “they’re going to suspect that Celia’s not dead. If her would-be murderer is in that class, they’re going to try again.”

  “Yeah, I better keep my eyes peeled in class tonight,” Gertie said.

  “Peel your eyes all you want. Won’t do much good if you don’t wear your glasses.”

  “Shut up, Ida Belle,” Gertie suggested sweetly.

  “My grandson is enrolled at Mudbug Tech.” Mary-Alice volunteered. “He’s taking a computer class. His name is Caden. Caden Wilson. He’s a smart boy.”