Lethal Bayou Beauty (13 page)

“I’m as ready as I’m getting.”

Chapter Ten

I’d expected church to be a somber affair, and it was. Sure, the Sinful Baptists and Catholics had their own mini Holy War going on, but murder tended to put superficial things on hold. The preacher started off with a Bible passage, then launched into his sermon on the responsibilities of Christians as far as kindness goes.
 

I listened for a bit, then my mind wandered back to our investigation, where it stayed until Gertie elbowed me to stand for the final prayer.

Even though the Sinful Ladies had called a temporary cease-fire in the Banana Pudding War, Gertie and I had taken seats at the back of the church, so we were the first outside. The Catholics were still in church, so we crossed the street and stood at the edge of the sidewalk outside the Catholic Church. The rest of the Sinful Ladies Society joined us soon after they hung up their choir robes.
 

We stood in a line down the sidewalk, silently waiting.

Then a peal of bells rang out and the doors to the church opened. The first person out was Celia, wearing unrelieved black and leaning on the arm of a woman I hadn’t seen before.

Fifty-something, forty percent body fat, looks so much like Celia, she must be a relative.

Celia paused for just a second to look at Ida Belle, who had taken the head position in our lineup, and gave her a single nod. Then she caught sight of me and her eyes widened, then narrowed. I saw her jaw flex before she turned and continued down the sidewalk to Francine’s. I caught several glares from Celia’s group as they filed by.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go to lunch,” I said to Ida Belle. “You saw how Celia and her buddies looked at me. If it causes trouble, it only draws more attention to me.”

Ida Belle shook her head. “If you don’t go, you’ll appear guilty.”

“It looks to me like they already think I am.”

“Then there’s no reason to go confirming it, is there?” Ida Belle headed down the sidewalk behind the GWs, the Sinful Ladies falling in step behind her.
 

“She’s right,” Gertie said, placing her hand on my shoulder. “If you stop doing normal things, it will only add more fuel to the fire. I know it’s an uncomfortable situation, but you don’t have a choice. Not if we want to make the best of this.”

“Fine then,” I said, holding in a sigh as we started down the sidewalk after the Sinful Ladies. Ida Belle and Gertie knew this town and its residents better than anyone. If they thought this was the best course of action, I had no reason to argue. But the niggling fear that this was not going to turn out well tickled the back of my mind all the way into Francine’s.

The GWs had taken the “good” tables that stretched in front of the storefront windows, the spot normally reserved for the winner of the after-church banana pudding race. Francine was already delivering bowls of banana pudding to them. I gave the bowls a wistful look as I took a seat at a table toward the back of the café.
 

“Runner’s remorse?” Gertie whispered as we sat.

“Maybe a bit,” I admitted.

“Don’t worry. Next week, the pudding is ours.”

“Is a week long enough to concede? I mean, with southern manners and all?”

“We’re not Italian and while I won’t speak ill of the dead, especially on Sunday, let’s just say that everyone is mourning for Celia, not because they perceive some inherent loss to the community.”

A shadow fell over my shoulder and onto the table and I looked up to see Ally holding a tray of iced tea.
 

“Hi, ladies,” she said with a big smile, and then the next instant, she dumped the entire tray of iced tea directly on top of me.
 

I jumped out of my chair, startled and confused, and realized Ally was staring in shock at the woman I’d seen walk Celia out of the church. Suddenly, everything made sense. The woman must have walked up behind Ally and tipped the tray over on me.

The woman glared at me. “You’ve got some nerve—flaunting yourself in front of my cousin. And I saw you jogging away from her house this morning when I went to gas up the car. Haven’t you caused her enough heartache? Do you have to gloat in front of her house?”

“I never set foot on your cousin’s street, so you couldn’t possibly have seen me there.”

“I saw you jogging away from her street.”

I threw my hands in the air. “She lives at the far west side of town. As long as I’m jogging east, I’ll always be jogging away from her street.”

“If Deputy LeBlanc had a lick of sense, you’d be sitting in jail.” She narrowed her eyes. “Or maybe you’re paying him off somehow. That pretty blond hair and those innocent blue eyes may fool other, less intelligent people, but I know what you are.”

I struggled to maintain my cool, even though I was pretty sure I’d just been called a prostitute, or whore. I was a little confused about which. My hands clenched involuntarily and my right leg automatically slid back a couple of inches into striking position.
 

Ida Belle, who’d jumped up a second after me, looked at me over the woman’s shoulder and shook her head. A second later, I felt a fork in my back and Gertie peered around me.
 

“That’s enough, Dorothy,” Gertie said. “You’re not helping Celia any with your behavior, and we both know that when Carter has a reason to arrest anyone, he will.”

“Maybe he needs some help pushing him along,” Dorothy said. “Maybe I’ll talk to Mayor Fontleroy about Deputy LeBlanc’s job security.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Gertie said.

“Not as big as the one you’re making…taking up with murdering trash.”

She spun around and stalked off toward the front section. Not even the sound of a single clinking fork could be heard in the café. Everyone sat frozen, some still holding their forks in the air. Celia looked over at me as Dorothy took a seat next to her, the faintest hint of a smile on her otherwise putrid face.
 

“Here’s a towel,” Ally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
 

She pulled a rag from her apron pocket and handed it to me.

“Show’s over,” Ida Belle announced. “Get back to your lunch.”

Heads whipped around and everyone made a pretense of going back to their meals and previous conversations. Either people were seriously afraid of Ida Belle or they were the most conflict-avoidant group of people I’d ever seen. I leaned toward the first option.

I wiped my face with the rag, but it was like trying to drain a swimming pool with a sponge.
 

“Let me get you something bigger,” Ally said, still looking completely horrified over the entire mess.

“No, thank you,” I said. “This can’t be fixed with a towel. I’m going to head home and shower. I’m sorry my presence created this mess.”

Ally’s face clouded in sympathy. “This is not your fault. I’ll send you some lunch home with one of the Sinful Ladies.”

“Thanks,” I said.
 

“We’ll go with you,” Gertie said.

“No. Stay and finish your lunch.”

Ida Belle frowned. “If you’re alone, you don’t have an alibi if anything else were to happen.”

I shrugged. “Everyone I’d want to kill is in here eating lunch, so I’m good. I’ll see you guys later.”

I managed to hold in my frustration and embarrassment until I’d left Main Street and stepped into my neighborhood, then I kicked the first thing I saw that wouldn’t break my foot. In this case, it turned out—rather appropriately—to be a wooden sign for Mayor Fontleroy’s reelection campaign.
 

The splintering crack of the wood improved my mood, but only by a bit. With Celia’s group gunning for me, I didn’t stand a chance of keeping my cover intact. Once exposed, I’d have no choice but to transfer to whatever Director Morrow could muster up, and the thought of starting over in a new place depressed me.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I kind of liked it here. Sure, I’d dug my heels straight into hell trying to keep from coming, but when you got past the drunks, idiots, and murderers, it wasn’t such a bad place. In Ida Belle and Gertie I’d found comrades who understood my way of thinking and reacting as the average civilian never could. In Ally, I’d begun what could possibly turn out to be my only friendship with a civilian…and a woman to boot.
 

In another location, I might be safer, but I probably wouldn’t matter. In Sinful, I finally felt like someone wanted me around for more reasons than earning my paycheck. I hadn’t felt that way since my mother died.

“I would ticket you for destruction of private property,” Deputy LeBlanc’s voice sounded behind me, “but I can’t stand the son of a bitch, either.”

I turned around without even making an attempt at a cover story or denial. “We’d probably both be better off if you’d arrest me and lock me up.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Any particular reason why?”

“Are you blind? Do you think I walk around wearing ten glasses of iced tea because I’m making a fashion statement?”

“I take it there was an accident at Francine’s?”

“Oh, it was no accident. Some moose named Dorothy tipped an entire tray of tea onto me, and it’s all your fault.”

“How the hell is it my fault?”

“According to Dorothy, the only reason you haven’t arrested me is because I’m paying you off in ways that involve no clothes and probably things that are illegal in the good town of Sinful—a fact that she announced to the entire café, I might add.”

He grinned. “And that bothers you?”

“She basically called me a murderer and a whore…or prostitute. I haven’t figured out which applies in this type of situation.”

“Hmm, I suppose since you’re receiving value for your services that would make you a prostitute.”

I glared.

“Hey, at least you’re a businesswoman with a purpose, although the value I’m providing seems high considering the trade.”

“Excuse me? I am great at everything I do. Not that I’d ever stoop to that level, but if I did, I guarantee you, it would be well worth the cost of your deputy position in glorious Sinful, Louisiana.”

He stepped closer to me and brushed a damp piece of hair from my chest, his fingers brushing lightly over the sensitive skin just above the breast-line of my dress.

“Maybe I should arrest you then. I’m probably destined for bigger things.”

An unexpected flush started at my center and raced out, making every nerve ending in my body tingle. I forced myself to hold position even though the urge to take a step back was overwhelming.
 

“If you’re going to arrest me,” I said, happy that my voice sounded calm, “then I suggest you do it now, while you still have the ability.”

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dorothy plans on talking to the good mayor about your qualifications, or lack thereof, for doing your job, and according to the local gossip, she’s not the only one riding that train. So I suggest you find the killer before they start slinging more than iced tea.”

“Then I guess I better get on with it before both our good names are ruined.”

I waved a hand in dismissal. “I don’t have a good name to ruin.”

He leaned closer to me and said in a low voice, “Then maybe you should reconsider bribing me, since you have nothing to lose.”
 

He gave me a wink before turning around and heading off toward Main Street. I watched him walk away, unable to help admiring his perfectly proportioned backside. From broad shoulders to long, muscular legs, he was built for action. I bet he’d made a hell of a soldier.

Before my mind could wander to all the other maneuvers Deputy LeBlanc was likely highly capable of performing, I whirled around and headed home. I needed a cold shower and a new plan to stay visible without becoming an open target for Celia and her friends.

Chapter Eleven

“We’ve got a problem,” I said as I peeked out my living room window.
 

Dusk was settling over Sinful, and as soon as it turned to dark, Ida Belle, Gertie, and I were going to break into the sheriff’s department and find out what was in Pansy’s file.
 

Ida Belle stepped up behind me. “What’s wrong?”

I lifted a slat on the blinds and pointed to the ancient horse with even older rider standing across the street. “Surveillance.”

Ida Belle peered outside. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
 

She turned and yelled down the hall to Gertie, who was in the kitchen, changing into tennis shoes.
 

“Carter’s got Sheriff Lee sitting across the street.”

Gertie hurried up front, pulling on a black crocheted sweater as she came.

“I said black hoodie,” Ida Belle said. “We’re going to a break-in, not a funeral.”

“This is the best I could do on short notice,” Gertie said. “I have a black hat to match.”

Ida Belle rolled her eyes. “Lovely. If we get caught, you’ll have the most fashionable mug shot. Fortune managed to come up with a black hoodie.”