Fortune Hunter (A Miss Fortune Mystery Book 8) (8 page)

* * *

B
y the time
Ida Belle dropped me off at my house, the neighborhood was dark and silent. I invited them in for drinks and cookies, but they both begged off, saying they needed a shower and bed. Gertie promised to burn the costumes in her fireplace, just in case. I was pretty sure I needed the shower part, too. After all, I’d touched Winky’s hands and I knew where they’d been. But I’d spent so much time sleeping lately that I didn’t think bed would look inviting any time soon.

I took a long, hot shower, then headed downstairs for the kitchen. I still had some leftovers, but I grabbed one of the frozen dinners instead and popped it in the microwave. While that was cooking, I checked the refrigerator and reached for a beer, then changed my mind and pulled out a bottle of wine. By the time I’d gotten the cork out and poured a big glass for myself, the microwave dinged and I pulled my Salisbury steak and mac-and-cheese dinner out. It needed a bit of salt and pepper and could never be confused for Gertie’s or Ally’s home-baked offerings, but there was something comforting about sitting alone at the kitchen table and eating a frozen dinner like I had so many late nights in DC.

I pulled my laptop over and opened it up to check my email. Nothing from Harrison, which could be seen as either good or bad, depending on which side of the half a glass I wanted to be on. I flipped over to Facebook and pulled up Gertie’s account, shaking my head at the picture that was 80 percent butt and tattoo and 20 percent pie and oven. She’d gotten a couple of comments on it, including one from Celia who’d told her she ought to be ashamed. Like Celia was one to talk. She’d been sending someone young enough to be her son pictures of her half out of her best dress.

I scrolled down to the next post. It was fairly lengthy and didn’t include a picture. Usually Gertie wasn’t long-winded online, but as I started reading, I understood. This was her “I’m questioning my life” post. The one where she talked about the death of her fictitious aunt and money was nice but it couldn’t make up for all the things she hadn’t done. Then she went on to talk about how her aunt had never married or had children and had died alone, and while Gertie had friends that loved her, it wasn’t the same as sharing your life with someone day in and day out. I had to give her props for delivery. It was a fine snow job, and if I hadn’t known that’s what she was up to, I might have wondered if it was real.

Maybe some of it is real.

The thought flashed through my mind like a bullet and I paused, fork right in front of my lips. No. That couldn’t be the case. Gertie was perfectly happy with her life. She’d never once intimated that she had any regrets for the choices she’d made or the way she lived right now. And while her age her slowed her down physically, that bit of news hadn’t reached her mind yet. It was still convinced she was twenty.

Was it possible, I wondered, to choose a single path at a young age and be so certain it was right for you that you never questioned it at all? At one time, I would have said absolutely, but I would have been answering with no exposure to anything else but my narrow existence. And that wasn’t an answer that came from a place of truly knowing. It was an answer that came from a place of ignorance. Now that I’d been exposed to a different type of life, I couldn’t seem to stop questioning every choice I’d ever made or ever would.

And just when I’d started to convince myself that I was overthinking everything and that my true place in life was back in DC, busting the bad guys with Harrison and generally being unsung heroes, Harrison had to go and tell me he was chucking everything over a woman. Of all the things he’d told me since I’d arrived in Sinful, that was actually the most shocking.

Not once had I ever thought about Harrison as a husband or father. I couldn’t wrap my mind around him washing a car in the driveway in front of a pretty clapboard house, or spending his Friday night at a children’s choir recital instead of the gun range. It didn’t fit.

Or maybe it did.

Before Sinful, I wouldn’t have pictured myself with even one friend that I confided in and trusted, much less several. Granted, some knew more about me than others, but I’d let all of them become part of my life. I shook my head. The problem with the future was there was so much unknown. If only someone could look past today and tell me what to do.

My feelings for Carter had taken me completely by surprise. And that surprise had led me to make foolish decisions that had only resulted in hurting both of us. I regretted hurting him, but not what I felt for him. Never that.

Without warning, my thoughts shifted to my mother. It was amazing to me how after so many years, I could still picture her as if she were standing right in front of me. I could still smell the coconut body lotion she always wore. I could feel her fingers gently pushing my bangs out of my eyes.

Did she love my father? I guess she must have. She married him and had me. I was young when she died, but I couldn’t remember them arguing or even disagreeing.

I frowned.

Maybe that was the most telling thing of all. My feelings for Carter were real and I believed his were as well, but that hadn’t stopped either of us from arguing. Two intelligent people couldn’t be expected to agree on everything, but yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t recall a single instance of disagreement between my parents. Were they careful to make sure I never heard? I doubted it. Kids tended to hear everything eventually. Or were they just pretending to be the perfect couple?

I stretched my mind, trying to remember what daily life had been like when my mother was alive. My father was gone often for work, sometimes weeks or a month at a time, so it was just my mom and me most of the time. But when I thought about the times I remembered my father at home, I couldn’t recall him doing anything with us or anything with my mother. I remembered having a sitter once when they attended a funeral, but otherwise, I was never far from my mother’s reach.

I slumped back in my chair and blew out a breath. Why hadn’t I ever thought about my parents’ marriage before? My father was cold and uninterested in raising his own child. I had never stopped to consider that his disinterest might have also included my mother, but thinking about it now, it must have.

Derrick Redding could be charming when he wanted to be, and likely that charm is what sucked my mother in. And maybe in the beginning, he’d really wanted her or thought he did. But at some point, his narcissism took over and everything became about him. Or maybe it always had been and he’d simply been able to hide it for a while. Playing the role of the devoted husband and father. He played roles every day in his work. The only difference was this role didn’t have an expiration date. Until my mother died.

I reached for the wine and downed half the glass. This was too much to think about. There was no way I’d ever know the truth, and dwelling on it would only depress me even more. I remembered my mother as a kind and happy person. I didn’t want anyone or anything to alter that memory.

“
F
ortune
, wake up.”

Ida Belle’s voice was in my dream but I couldn’t see her. The room was black. Then I felt someone touch my shoulder and I bolted upright. Ida Belle stood next to my bed, wearing a worried expression.

“Is something wrong?” I asked. “Where’s Gertie?”

“She must have been in the shower when I called,” Ida Belle said. “I left a message for her to meet us here.”

I looked over at the clock. Seven a.m. Not the crack of dawn, but considerably earlier than an accepted time for house calls. “Did someone at the hotel recognize us?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Get dressed and come downstairs. Gertie should be here any minute. I want to wait for her before I tell you what’s happened.”

She headed out of the room and I heard her footsteps on the stairs. I hopped out of bed and pulled on yoga pants and a T-shirt before hurrying behind her. Ida Belle was in the kitchen putting on a pot of coffee. I grabbed some bagels from the refrigerator.

“You want one?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I had eggs and toast.” She pointed at the empty wine bottle on the table. “Party for one?”

“What else?”

She put the bottle in the trash can and the glass in the dishwasher. “You sleeping all right?” she asked.

“Let’s see. Running for my life from a naked man, hot shower, half a plate of cookies, and a bottle of wine. After all of that, you should worry if I
didn’t
sleep.”

She started to respond when I heard the front door bang shut. A couple seconds later, Gertie stepped into the kitchen, her hair still in rollers. “How come nothing ever happens after I’m done with my hair?” she asked.

“Because that would be convenient,” Ida Belle said. “Grab some coffee. I have news.”

I fixed my bagel, poured some coffee, and sat at the table across from Ida Belle. I glanced over at Gertie but she appeared to be as much in the dark as I was.

“Myrtle called me early this morning,” Ida Belle said. “Gail Bishop was murdered last night.”

Gertie dropped her coffee cup and it crashed onto the floor, sending coffee and bits of porcelain all over the kitchen floor.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said and hopped up to grab Gertie another cup.

Gertie took the cup, her hands shaking. “I can’t believe it. Myrtle is sure it was murder?”

“Shot in the forehead while sleeping.”

I frowned, trying to recall anything about the woman I’d met in the General Store that would explain why someone would want to murder her. “She’s in her forties and pleasant-looking, right? Husband in a wheelchair?”

“That’s right,” Ida Belle said. “You met them at the General Store.”

“Yes. When her husband tripped Celia with his wheelchair.”

“What about Nolan?” Gertie asked.

“He’s got some bruises but is otherwise all right,” Ida Belle said. “Physically, anyway. Myrtle said he fell apart when the paramedics told him Gail was dead.”

“Did he see anything?” I asked. “Do you have any details?”

Ida Belle nodded. “The story as I heard it was that Gail had a headache and turned in before Nolan. Their bedroom is upstairs. They have one of those rail things that lifts Nolan’s wheelchair up the stairs. Nolan was watching television downstairs in the living room when the power went out. He heard a scream, then a pop, but he said it didn’t register at first what it was.”

“That makes sense,” Gertie said. “No one expects to hear a gun being fired upstairs in their house. He could have thought it was a lightbulb bursting or something of the sort given the power outage.”

“Except for the scream part,” I pointed out.

“Exactly,” Ida Belle said. “He wheeled over to the bottom of the stairs and called for Gail, but she didn’t answer. Then someone with a flashlight ran down the stairs straight for him. He shoved Nolan’s wheelchair over and ran out the front door.”

“How did he get in the house?” Gertie asked.

“The window in the master bedroom was open. The latch on it doesn’t work properly. Apparently all you have to do is jiggle it some and it will work its way loose. There’s a trellis on the back wall of the house that leads right up to it.”

“No alarm?” I asked.

“No security system,” Ida Belle said, “but Nolan has one of those buttons on a necklace that he can press to call the paramedics. They responded quickly, thinking it was for Nolan, of course, but he sent them upstairs and they promptly called for the police.”

Gertie shook her head and sniffed. “That’s awful. Gail was such a nice woman, and I actually mean that. I’m not just saying it because she’s dead.”

Ida Belle nodded. “She was nice for real. No put-on.”

“Do the police think it was a robbery?” I asked.

“I don’t know what they think,” Ida Belle said. “Carter was there, of course, but he hasn’t typed up any reports yet. If he’s got any ideas, they’re all in his head. Myrtle got most of the story from the paramedics, and then she overheard Carter telling some of it to Deputy Breaux.”

“I don’t think Gail owned any valuable jewelry,” Gertie said. “At least, I never saw her wearing anything valuable. Even her wedding ring is a plain gold band. And no one is foolish enough to keep cash in their house these days. Not enough cash worth killing over, anyway.”

I frowned. “Well, there has to be something. Genuinely nice women don’t get murdered over nothing.”

“That’s what worries me the most,” Ida Belle said.

“We need more information,” Gertie said.

“We should have some later on today,” Ida Belle said. “Marie is a large donor to the charity that Gail administered. Gail helped her find the home Charlie is in. She’s been friends with them for years and knows Nolan’s personality and his disability as well as anyone in Sinful. She went over first thing this morning to help Nolan. He’s going to need someone to lean on, both physically and emotionally.”

Marie was one of Ida Belle and Gertie’s best friends and Charlie was her autistic brother. She was perpetually nice and always worried about things being right and fair. She was also the candidate who called for the audit of the mayoral election. If the vote was found to be fraudulent, then Marie would be the new mayor of Sinful. The city probably couldn’t do any better, at least in my opinion.

“I’m glad he’s got Marie,” I said.

“I’m glad we’ve got Marie,” Gertie said. “I know we have this catfish thing going on, but I think murder trumps it.”

“The police might solve it before we even get all the facts,” I said, hoping it was true more than actually believing that would be the case. Facts tended to make their way to Ida Belle and Gertie on the express train, and no way were they going to leave this one alone.

“It would be nice,” Ida Belle said, “but I’m not counting on it. I expect Carter will be by here any minute now, reminding us to mind our own business.”

I held in a sigh. She was probably right.

I rose from the table to pour myself another cup of coffee. I’d barely gotten two sugar packs poured in when I heard the rap on the door. I knew that knock. I looked over at Ida Belle and Gertie and the sigh I’d held in earlier escaped.

“I’ll get it,” Ida Belle said. “You sit back down and drink your coffee.”

She headed out of the kitchen and I sat down again. The expression on my face must have reflected exactly what I felt because Gertie reached across the table and squeezed my arm. “Don’t let him get to you,” she said. “At the very least, don’t let him see that he is.”

I smiled and nodded. Gertie was right. No way was I letting on to Carter how bad I felt about our breakup. My life and my feelings were no longer his concern.

A second later, he walked into the kitchen behind Ida Belle and I felt my smile slip for just a second, then I forced it back on. Not a big toothy grin sort of smile, but a small pleasant one. The kind reserved for when you’re trying to be polite and don’t really want to be.

“I see you’re all up early,” Carter said. “No surprise there. I suppose you’ve already heard about Gail Bishop.”

We all nodded.

“So tragic,” Gertie said. “Gail was such a nice woman and now, poor Nolan on his own again.”

“Yes, it’s all extremely unfortunate and unpleasant,” Carter agreed. “It’s also a police matter and a serious one, so I expect you to stay out of it. I mean it. This was a callous crime. Whoever did it wouldn’t think twice about popping off any of you three to cover his own ass.”

All of a sudden, my forced pleasantness vanished and I just felt tired and angry.

“We’re not stupid, you know?” I said. “In fact, I’m certain you know we’re not stupid because you know more about us than anyone in this town. Are you stopping by anyone else’s house to tell them not to butt their nose into your investigation, or just the people who might figure it out before you do?”

Gertie sucked in a breath.

Carter’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped a bit. Of all the things he’d expected me to say, that apparently wasn’t on the list.

“I’m tired of this entire song and dance,” I said, unable to stop now that I’d gotten the rant started. “Before you knew my true identity, I had to pretend to be some helpless, ignorant female, as Gertie and Ida Belle have done for years. Well, now you know the truth and I’ll be damned if I’m going to continue acting like something I’m not. At least not in front of you. You can arrest me if you’d like, or handcuff me to my couch, but what you cannot do anymore is condescend to me. Or them.”

I rose from the table and stomped out of the back door and onto the lawn. I didn’t stop stomping until I reached the edge of the bayou that ran behind my house. I could feel the heat on my face and struggled to get control of my emotions. I stared out at the moving water. It seemed so peaceful. The entire town did, really. Yet so many bad things had happened. So many secrets exposed. So many lives ruined.

I was tired of it all. Tired of pretending to be something I wasn’t. Tired of being who I thought I was. Tired of not knowing what I wanted. Tired of caring what other people thought. And most of all, tired of being judged for the things I’d done.

“Are you all right?” Ida Belle’s voice sounded behind me.

I started to say “yes” but then decided there was no point in lying. “No.”

“I don’t blame you,” she said, and stepped up beside me. “I wasn’t either.”

I looked over at her. “What do you mean?”

She looked out over the water for a while and I could tell her mind was somewhere else. At first, I thought she wasn’t going to answer, then finally she spoke.

“When I first came back from Vietnam, I thought I was going to live happily ever after, so to speak, but I was never able to slip into it. Oh, everyone thought I should be thrilled to be back from that hellhole and grateful that I’d returned alive and in one piece. I was, and I wasn’t. You see, the young woman who came back from the war was a lot different from the young woman who went to war.”

I nodded. That was always the case.

“I went,” Ida Belle continued, “because I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to save our American soldiers, and I knew I had the intelligence to do more than wrap wounds or clean bedpans. And I was right. I was very good at what I did, just like you, and with that knowledge comes a feeling of strength and…I don’t know how to describe it exactly, so I’ll just say purpose.”

“That’s a good way to describe it.”

“I thought you might agree. I believe that women like us are not made like other people. Gertie, for all her common domestic pursuits like knitting and baking, still doesn’t have that average manner of thinking that drives most women to normal lives. Even successful career women mostly go on to have husbands and children and barbecues with family. But women like us can’t ever wrap our minds around such a life of simplicity.”

“We can’t let go of that part of us that wants to do something bigger than we are. That thing that makes us who we are.”

Ida Belle nodded. “It’s our nature that makes us so good at what we do. It saves the lives of many and improves the lives of so many others, and most will never know. It’s like a drug, almost, the knowledge that you make a difference to so many just because you’re the best at what you do. You feel as if you were born for this thing and this one thing only.”

“Yes! That’s it exactly.”

“Then one day, we’re faced with not doing it any longer. Not being who we inherently are. And that’s the worst day of our lives because it makes us question every choice we’ve ever made and will ever make. Because we start to wonder if we’re real or simply a well-oiled machine.”

I felt the tears well up and I nodded. “How do I know the answer?”

“It will come. I promise you that, and I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it to be true. It takes time, and that part is like death to people of action. But one day, you’ll know the truth, and it will be so obvious that you’ll wonder why you didn’t see it to begin with.”

She put her hand on my shoulder.

“You’re a person born with purpose, Fortune Redding.”

* * *

I
spent
a long time standing there staring at the bayou. The answers Ida Belle told me would come never materialized, but then I hadn’t figured they would. They weren’t simple questions, so I couldn’t expect simple answers. I finally headed back inside and found a note from Gertie saying they would be back at lunch to talk things out. Gertie was bringing a chicken casserole.