Swamp Sniper (29 page)

“You have to arrest Ida Belle,” I said.

He gave me a single nod and I noticed he couldn’t even look straight at me. His agony was so clear that it made me hurt for him. I couldn’t begin to imagine how bad he felt.
 

I rose from my chair and placed my hand on his arm. “She understands. So do I. There’s no conflict from where we sit. No judgment and no expectation of special treatment. If you don’t handle this by the book, it could do even more harm to her case if this goes to trial.”

“Knowing you’re right doesn’t do anything to diminish how pissed I am to be in this situation in the first place.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. It sucks.”
 

“It’s just that I know Ida Belle didn’t kill that man, and the prosecutor is forcing me to waste time on an avenue that’s going to yield nothing. In the meantime, there’s a killer walking around Sinful, smiling and thinking he got away with it. And that pisses me off the most.”

“So catch him. Go arrest Ida Belle because you have to, then spend every moment you’ve got catching the real killer. Everything will turn out all right.”

“You really believe that?”

“I have to.”

###

I argued with myself the entire walk back to the General Store, second-guessing whether I should have spilled the beans about everything right then, but something told me it would only have muddied the waters. I had no doubt Carter would follow up on Lyle at first opportunity and with any luck, another bag of matching poison would be enough to get the prosecutor off Ida Belle’s trail.

For years, I’d been trained to guard information because my life literally depended on it, and for years, I’d done so without so much as a single thought given to who could have also used the information I had and for what purposes. Information dissemination wasn’t my call, and I’d never questioned it.
 

So why was it so hard to keep this information to myself? Information that could blow my cover wide open, which definitely put my life in danger? Why was I struggling so much to keep quiet? Why did I feel this overwhelming sense of guilt?

Because you let things get personal.

I sighed. I really hated it when my father was right.

###

“Surely there’s something we can do,” Gertie said for the hundredth time.

I glanced over at Marie, who had been wringing her hands for the five excruciating hours we’d been camped out in her kitchen. Gertie sat in one of the kitchen chairs with her foot propped in a chair, encased in one of those boots that are made to keep your ankle immobile and look like you’re about to go skiing, albeit on one leg.

I sat in the chair across from her, absently petting Bones, who had fallen asleep sitting up with his head on my leg.

“Do you need another painkiller?” Marie asked.

“I just had one thirty minutes ago,” Gertie said. “Are you trying to sedate me or kill me?”

Our only lucky break of the week had turned out to be a non-break. Gertie’s ankle was only sprained, but it was a bad one. Not that there was a good sprain, but when you’re as old as Jesus, a bad sprain may as well be a missing limb as far as recovery went. Her head had also checked out okay, although Marie and I still had our doubts.

“I’m sorry,” Marie said and reached for a mixing bowl. “I just can’t stand all this waiting. What’s taking so long?”

“Carter said he was going to push the prosecutor to talk to the judge and try to get bail set,” I repeated for at least the tenth time. “He promised Walter he’d play up Ida Belle’s age so he could get her out of jail and back home. Walter has already said he’s putting up whatever money is required, but all of that is bound to take a long time, especially if the prosecutor argues for no bail.”

“Why would he do that?” Gertie asked. “Ida Belle’s no killer.”

“The prosecutor just looks at the evidence, not the person.”

“So you’re saying it’s not his fault he’s a douche bag?”

“Something like that. Anyway. All we can do is wait.”

Gertie sighed and reached for her glass of soda. “Are we going to tell Carter everything?”

“If he doesn’t find the same poison at Lyle’s house, then we’ll tell him everything before this goes any further.”

I could tell Gertie was gearing up for another question when her cell phone rang. She looked at the display and frowned. “It’s Celia. She probably just wants the gossip. I’m not going to answer.”

The phone went silent after another couple of rings and then my cell phone sounded off. It was Celia.

“I don’t think she’s calling me for gossip,” I said and answered the call.

“Have you heard?” Celia shouted as soon as I answered.

“Yes. Ida Belle has been arrested. We’re waiting for news.”

“Jesus Christ, I knew that a hundred moons ago. Do you take me for an amateur?”

She didn’t pause after the question, so I assumed it didn’t require an answer.

“A couple of fishermen pulled Paulette’s body out of the bayou about an hour ago.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I bolted upright. “Holy shit! Hold on a sec.” I pressed the speaker button and waved at Gertie and Marie to listen. “I’m here with Gertie and Marie. Could you please repeat that, Celia?”

“I got a call from Babs and she was in a panic. Her husband and his buddy were fishing over around Little Bayou when their anchor got hooked on a log…at least, that’s what they thought it was. They pulled on it a bit and managed to get it dislodged, but it weren’t no log they pulled up. It was Paulette, dead as a doornail.”

Marie dropped into a chair, all of the color draining from her face. Gertie appeared struck silent for the first time since I’d known her.

“I take it she didn’t drown?” I asked.

“Hell, no. There was a bullet hole right through her forehead. They pulled the body into their boat and covered it with a tarp. Peter called Babs on the way to the sheriff’s department and told her what happened.”

“And you’re sure it was Paulette?”

“Positive. The face wasn’t damaged and besides, she was wearing a gold sequined blouse. No one else in Sinful dresses like a hooker except her. What the hell is going on, Fortune? That cousin of hers told me she’d gone home to New Jersey. Do you think he killed her?”

“I honestly have no idea,” I said. “I’ll do some checking and let you know if I find something out.”

“And I’ll keep my ear to the ground over here. I don’t know what’s going on in my town, but I’ve gone from worried to downright pissed. I want this settled.”

“So do I. Thanks, Celia.”

I hung up the phone and stared at Gertie and Marie, trying to make sense of it all. “Who killed Paulette and why?”

“Not anyone from Sinful,” Gertie said. “They would have known better than to drop a body in a prime fishing location. There’s plenty of places around here a body would probably never surface.”

I shook my head. “That only leaves Tony or the guys from the church.”

Gertie sucked in a breath. “I hadn’t even thought about them. I figured they left after they got their picture. We haven’t seen them hanging around.”

“No, but they’d stick out in a place like Sinful. If they’re still in Louisiana, they would be lying low.”

I rose from the table and walked into Marie’s living room so that I could peek out her front window across the street to Paulette’s house. Marie trailed behind me. “Have you seen Tony today?” I asked.

“No, but I’ve spent most of the day in the kitchen. I bake when I’m nervous. I think I’ve got more cookies in my kitchen than Keebler.”

I peered at the house, looking for any sign of movement. Tony’s car wasn’t in the driveway and nothing seemed out of place, but clearly something was very wrong. I was just about to step away when I saw the blinds in the front window of Paulette’s house lift up, then drop back down.

“There’s someone inside,” I said.

“Who?” Marie asked.

“I couldn’t see him, but I saw the blinds lift up.”

“Maybe Tony’s car is in the garage,” Marie said.

“He told Celia he was leaving today.”

Marie shook her head. “I wish I would have sat here all day and paid attention. I just never thought…”

Gertie hobbled into the living room using the crutches she’d gotten at the hospital. “You couldn’t have known,” Gertie agreed. “I wouldn’t have been watching all day either.”

I nodded. “Trust me. None of us saw this one coming.”

And I had no idea what to do about it. The logical part of me said to let the police handle it. If a couple of fishermen had delivered Paulette’s body to the sheriff’s department in the past hour, surely someone would head to the house to secure it as a potential crime scene.

But with Carter at least an hour’s drive away and tied up with the judge and the prosecutor, who was left? It was a little after 5:00 p.m., which meant that Sheriff Lee was probably already in bed for the night and besides which, he couldn’t properly secure his ancient horse, much less a crime scene. Deputy Breaux seemed nice enough, but I couldn’t imagine him making a decision anytime soon on how to store Paulette’s body, much less secure her house.
 

I looked out the blinds again and bit my lip. By the time Carter got done wrangling with the prosecutor, whoever was inside the house might be gone, which meant whoever killed Ted and Paulette might be gone because the chances of anyone having a legitimate purpose to be inside their house was slim to none.

“I’m going over there to try to see something,” I said.

“No!” Marie’s said. “What if it’s the killer that’s in there?”

Since I was hoped that was the case, I didn’t answer immediately. “If I can see who’s in there, it might help Ida Belle.”

“You’re talking about sneaking up on murderers,” Marie said.

“All part of the job,” I said.

Marie stared. “You’re a librarian, Fortune. Not a soldier.”

Crap. I’d completely forgotten I was talking to Marie, who had no idea of my true identity.
 

“I mean it’s part of the being-a-friend job,” I said, trying to cover my faux pas.

Marie shook her head. “It’s too dangerous. Ida Belle wouldn’t want you to take such a chance.”

“She’s right,” Gertie agreed.
 

“Maybe,” I said, “but if the situation were reversed, would Ida Belle take the chance?”

Gertie glanced at Marie, then at the floor. Marie stared over my shoulder at the window.

“That’s what I thought,” I said. “Then it’s settled. I’ll go through Marie’s backyard and over the fence, then skirt around and enter Paulette’s backyard like Gertie and I did the other night. You two stay glued to this window. If anything looks suspicious, one of you call me and the other call the police.”

Neither of them looked pleased, but they didn’t argue.

Before I could change my mind, I headed out Marie’s back door.
 

###

I paused long enough to send Marie and Gertie a text to let them know where I was before sidling down the fence and entering Paulette’s backyard. I was fairly certain they were both glued to the window, but it never hurt to hedge your bets. I inched across the back of the house and ducked behind the bush directly below the living room window. I peered up and saw that the window was cracked open an inch or so.
 

I was easing up to peer inside when I heard a man’s voice.

“What’s your problem?” the man asked.

I knew the voice sounded familiar, but it took me a couple seconds to place it as the ringleader from the church.

“You’re my problem, Ritchie.”

I recognized the second voice as Tony, who apparently hadn’t left town as he’d told Celia he would, but then neither had Paulette.

“You got some nerve, coming at me with that attitude,” Ritchie said.

“You haven’t even seen attitude. What the hell were you thinking? I told you I had this under control,” Tony raged. “If I hadn’t bugged the sheriff’s department when I was there with Paulette the other day, we wouldn’t even know someone found the body. We’d be sitting ducks.”

“But you did your job, for a change, and we’re not. So what’s the problem?”

“
For a change?
I had this entire situation under control.”

“The boss didn’t think so. He thought you were taking too long.”

“Look, I respect the boss, but he has no idea how these small towns operate. You can’t just murder people and expect that it will blow over like in New Jersey. People actually give a shit around here. Another couple of days and I would have brought Paulette back home to be dealt with.”

“The boss said she wasn’t allowed to step on New Jersey soil again. Said she didn’t deserve it.”

“So I could have killed her in New York,” Tony argued. “Either way, it didn’t have to happen here or now.”

“You think it didn’t have to happen now? You know she’s been talking to that FBI agent, right?”