Elvis and the Devil in Disguise (A Southern Cousins Mystery With Bonus Charmed Cat Mystery)

by Peggy Webb

  “I saw somebody hauling stuff out of the museum that night. They had a blue truck with Jefferson’s Maintenance on the side.”

  “Do you know where I can find Jefferson’s Maintenance?”

  “Mister, for that kind of money, I can show you. Follow me.”

  Pete sets off at a trot, his shoe shine kit banging his legs with every step. Without a word, Rocky reaches down for the kit and gives the boy a thumbs-up signal. After winding through back alleys and taking short cuts only somebody born to these streets would know, we find a hole-in-the wall clean-up business with an equally shabby owner who introduces himself as Mac Jefferson.

  Rocky--ever the gentleman--makes introductions as if the three of us have just dropped by for a social call and maybe a cup of café au lait in the grubby looking office I spot behind fly-stained windows at the back of his garage. One of Rocky’s gifts is putting people instantly at ease, and it works like a charm on Mr. Jefferson.

  When I add that Rocky Malone is the famous archeologist in town for an exclusive showing at the Beaufort Center, Mr. Jefferson becomes our new best friend. In short order we learn that he’d reported one of his trucks stolen two days before the gala at Beaufort Center, and he’d discovered it mysteriously returned this morning, cleaner than it had ever been.

  “I can show you the truck.” He leads us to a vehicle that is significantly cleaner than the two others parked in the garage. “Don’t touch it. I heard about the robbery on the news, and I’ve already called the cops to come take a look-see.”

  The mention of cops agitates Pete, and he tugs on Rocky’s hand. “Mister, are we all done?”

  “You did a great job, Pete. If you’ll deliver Lovie safely to the Café Du Monde, I’ll consider our business arrangement complete. Deal?”

  “Deal. Shake on it, mister.”

  “Call me Rocky.” His large calloused hand closes around the slender brown one and he winks at me.

  See you later, he mouths, and I’m off at a fast clip with Pete. If I keep running through the back alleys of New Orleans like this, I’m going to lose my breath and my love handles, both.

  “You can slow down, Pete. We’re not going to a fire.”

  He moderates his speed to a slow trot, and I gulp in air. I never knew it would take this kind of energy to keep up with a kid. No wonder people put mothers on pedestals.

  “What you fixing to do at the café, Miss Lovie?”

  “Call me Lovie. I’m going to meet my cousin, Callie.”

  “Is she nice as you?”

  “She’s nicer.”

  “Bet she’s not as pretty.”

  “Are you trying to flatter me?”

  “Naw. I just call it like I see it.”

  Call me a big fraud. I’m hopelessly in love with this kid.

  Chapter 12

  Big Surprises and Big Scares

  Elvis, Grace and I took the streetcar as far as Canal Street and then walked to the French Quarter. Sitting at the outdoor Café Du Monde in the sunshine with my dog at my feet and this charming Delaney sister at my table, I decide the walk was good for all of us. Every little kid on the street had to stop and pet Elvis. He’s now wearing the biggest doggie smile in the world. I’m wearing a smile, too, but not of the dog variety. The walk helped me put the latest murder and early morning search for more snakes in Annie’s Hideaway in the rearview mirror.

  It will all be over soon, and as Uncle Charlie says, alls well that ends well. I don’t know why that soothes me, but it does. Maybe when my baby comes, I’ll read Shakespeare to her as well as nursery rhymes.

  I lean back in my chair, content. We have a terrific table beside the street. After two beignets, Elvis is happy just to watch the horse-drawn carriages go by.

  Grace and I have also enjoyed our share of the café’s specialty, and while we sip our café au lait, she’s revealing some interesting tidbits surrounding the mysterious Delaney sisters. For instance, her sister Pearl once had a secret boyfriend.

  Before I can find out anymore about the secret boyfriend, she says “Pearl has a way with engines. She can fix any car she pleases. She keeps our Stutz Bearcat in perfect running order.”

  “You have a Stutz Bearcat?”

  “Didn’t Pearl tell you?” I shake my head. “It’s yellow, like a buttercup. It sits in our garage most of the time, but it’s in perfect running condition. Pearl’s got a Harley Screamin’ Eagle, too.”

  “Holy cow! So does my husband.”

  “She used to ride that thing like a maniac, but that was way back when.”

  “When was…” My womb clenches so hard I think little Jackie Nell is going to burst out of there screaming her head off. “Oh…oh my.”

  “My stars and garters! What is it?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not due for another three weeks.” I gingerly feel my abdomen for any signs of her premature arrival. “It was probably nothing.”

  “Oh, good. I’d be no more help than Prissy in Gone with the Wind.” She fans herself with her napkin. “Ruby Nell told me that husband of yours is an international businessman.”

  That’s not true, of course. But it’s the cover story everybody in the family believes except Uncle Charlie.

  “Does this husband of yours ever have need for a fake ID?”

  “What?” I nearly spew my café au lait on Grace. How could she possibly know that Jack travels all over the world using one alias or another? He has impersonated so many men, I can’t keep track of them all. And what in the world would she know about fake IDs?

  It’s a relief to see Lovie round the corner and head in our direction. She’s carrying something that looks like a shoeshine kit, and she’s got the cutest little boy I’ve ever seen in tow. About ten. All smiles and sparkly dark eyes and tumbled black curls. He’s too skinny, though, and his clothes could use a good mending and washing.

  Lovie arrives slightly out of breath and introduces him as Pete.

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” He extends a slightly grubby little hand, and when I reach for it, I’m hit with another contraction that bends me over double.

  Lovie says a word Pete shouldn’t hear while Grace jumps up and yells, “Is there a doctor in the house?” Jack is on the other side of the world; Mama is no telling where offering fake condolences to a recent widow; Uncle Charlie is nearly three hundred miles away, and I’m going to have this baby in the middle of an outdoor café in New Orleans.

  “Don’t worry, ma’am,” Pete says. “I got this covered.” He puts his finger between his lips and gives a whistle that brings a horse-drawn carriage right to our table.

  After much ado, our entire motley crew is stuffed into the carriage and heading to Annie’s Hideaway. Grace hangs onto the leftovers she scooped off the table and into her enormous straw bag; Pete hangs onto Elvis; Lovie hangs onto her cell phone as she calls a doctor the kid told her about, and I’m trying desperately to hang onto my sanity.

  I’m also trying to remember when the first contraction hit and what the baby book said about timing them.

  Lovie glances at me, panicked. “Breathe.” She blows out through her mouth to show me how. As if I don’t know. As if I’ve lost my mind as well as most of my dignity. It serves her right when the doctor comes on the line while she’s in mid-blow. “The baby’s coming,” she yells.

  “Tell him it’s me, Pete,” the kid says, calm as you please. “I said call.”

  “Pete said call you… No…no… Not me… Listen, if I’m pregnant, it’s a miracle on the order of the virgin birth.”

  “Holy cow, Lovie! Get serious.”

  She’s still setting the record straight when we arrive at the hotel. Thanks to Grace and a little kid who acts much older than his years, I get into the hotel in one piece. Lovie comes tearing after us, babbling that Dr. Channing will be here soon. Or maybe she said Dr. Charming.

  In my condition, who can keep up with frivolous things like names? I’m worried about his credentials. What kind of doctor comes at the
request of a street urchin? Maybe they’re running a scam, and we’re all going to get robbed and rolled, or whatever you call it. Or it is the other way around?

  Oh, shoot. All I want to do is lie down.

  Lovie reads my mind and leads me to the bed then turns back the covers. Grace fetches a cold cloth for my forehead while Pete eyes Elvis’ pink silk pillow.

  “What’s that?”

  “The dog bed,” Lovie tells him.

  “Boy, that’s really living. Can I try it out?”

  “Of course,” she says, and we give each other this look. We’ve been reading each other’s minds since we were children, and it’s perfectly clear that both of us want to tuck this kid under our wings and take him home with us.

  All of a sudden I realize that I haven’t had a contraction since we left the café.

  “I think I’m okay,” I say. “It must have been Braxton Hicks contractions. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that sooner.”

  There’s a knock at the door, and Lovie leaps to open it. A tiny gray haired man who looks like a Hobbit enters and tips his hat.

  “Hello. I’m Dr. Louis Channing.” He’s carrying a black bag nearly as big as he is, and he ruffles the kid’s hair on the way to the bed. “Hey, Pete. I see you’re still making connections.”

  “You bet, Doc.”

  “You’re going to grow up to be a politician, kid.” He sets his bag by the bed. “I see you’re the patient. “

  “Yes. I’m Callie Valentine Jones.”

  “Tell me what happened, Callie.”

  I explain everything, including my own belated diagnosis.

  “Let me see about that.” He shoos everybody from the room. “Go downstairs and wait somewhere.” When Lovie starts to leave, he points his finger at her and says, “You. Stay.”

  I’m relieved to see that he is very professional and thorough. While he’s examining me, he chats with Lovie. It turns out he’s retired and owns an antique store, Channings on Royal Street. But he still loves the practice of medicine, keeps his license current and is the last of a dying breed, a doctor who makes house calls, especially on Pete’s recommendation.

  “That kid’s smart as a whip. If Pete tells somebody to call, I pack my bag and go.” He puts the blood pressure cuff on me and turns to my cousin. “What brings the two of you to New Orleans?”

  When she tells him about Rocky and the missing Treasures of Tulum, he does a double take.

  “I heard about the theft on TV, but they didn’t list the missing pieces.” He scratches his chin. “You said one of the pieces is a jade necklace?” Lovie nods, and as he studies her, he becomes agitated.

  “What’s wrong?” she says.

  “I bought a jade necklace last night, after hours, from a woman who could have been your twin. Tall, big boned, lots of red curly hair. She said her name was Lovie.”

  Lovie says a word that would shrink a lesser man than the doctor, and I rise up from the bed like a dangerous mother hippo.

  “That’s my cousin’s name, and you’d better get out of here before I do bodily harm to you with the brass lamp.”

  “Oh, dear, dear. Everybody needs to just calm down. I can explain.”

  Lovie’s already on the phone. “The cops are on the way.” She jerks up the lamp. “I’ve got the weapon, Callie. You get back in bed.” I crawl back under the covers and she points the lamp at the doctor. “Start explaining.”

  The doctor grabs his bag and hat. “I know I should have asked for verification, but the necklace was such a beautiful piece. It’s not often to get one that fine in the shop. And I really had no idea it might be stolen.” He rams his hat onto his head and turns to me. “Young lady, you’ve had a few Braxton Hicks contractions, and you’re in no danger of giving birth today. I’ll just wait downstairs.”

  “Sit!” Lovie lifts the lamp over her head as if she’s ready to strike. “If you think I’m letting you out of this room to ditch that necklace before the cops can find out whether it belongs to Rocky’s collection, you need to examine your own head.”

  “Oh, dear.” When he sinks into one of the cushioned chairs by the window, I almost feel sorry for him, especially with Lovie towering over him, still holding the brass lamp like a baseball bat. “I think it’s time for me to retire from house calls.”

  There’s a loud banging on the door that makes the doctor jump and shreds my last nerve. When Lovie opens it, the cops streams in followed by Mama, Fayrene, Pearl and Grace. My room has become Grand Central Station.

  Everybody starts talking at once, and suddenly this big commanding voice says, “Everybody get quiet.”

  It’s Pearl, standing in the center of the melee as impressive as the Statue of Liberty. Within minutes she has organized this group with the efficiency of an Army General. The cops have taken statements and hauled Dr. Channing out the door; Mama is standing over me swabbing my face as if I’m going to kick the bucket any minute, and everybody else is perched about the room like sparrows waiting for a crumb. Who would have believed a little old lady who was once called Debbie Delicious could do all that? There’s definitely more to Pearl than meets the eye.

  “While you were trying to have the baby without me,” Mama casts me an accusing look, “Fayrene and I found out that Jeannine is nothing more than a grieving widow.”

  “I agree completely,” Pearl adds.

  “That’s right,” Fayrene says. “You can mark Jeannine off the suspect list. All she wants to do is plan her husband’s urology.”

  “Mama, for your information I’m not trying to have the baby without you, and furthermore, I’m not making a suspect list.” There’s no need for her to know about my escapade at Victor/Victoria. “Things just keep happening, that’s all.”

  “I can tell you one thing. You and Elvis are going back to the Delaney’s house so I can keep an eye on you. Jack would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you.”

  Before I can protest, Lovie says, “That’s actually a great idea, Aunt Ruby Nell. Rocky’s room is still cordoned off with crime tape. He can use this room and we’ll go with you.” She turns to Grace. “Do you have room for all of us?”

  “My stars and garters! We have room to house the population of a third world country. You’re all welcome there.”

  “Great! That’s settled then.” Lovie starts flinging her stuff into a suitcase. Suddenly, she stiffens like she’s been electrocuted. “Where’s Pete?”

  “Oh, dear.” Grace sends Lovie an apologetic look. “We were having the best time on the patio. He ate the rest of the beignets and was playing with Elvis to beat the band. Then all those cops started streaming in and my ESP told me something was amiss up here, and before I could turn around, Pete was gone.”

  Lovie is too upset to say a single word, inappropriate or otherwise.

  “Don’t worry, Lovie.” I push aside the wash cloth Mama keeps pressing to my head and get up to put my arms around my cousin. “You and Rocky will find him.”

  Chapter 13

  Lovie’s Opinion on Park Benches, Little Boys and Fate

  By the time Rocky calls to say he’s finished with the police at Channing’s Antiques and I can get Callie’s and my suitcases packed and moved to the Delaney’s house, it’s dark. Still, it’s good to know that when I set out with my boyfriend this evening, my cousin is surrounded by women who will take her to the hospital if my godchild decides to put in a premature appearance. Though how premature the baby would be with only three weeks to go, I haven’t a clue.

  And at the rate I’m going, I’m not likely to find out. Oh, well, I won’t think about that right now. I fluff out my hair and give myself another spritz with Jungle Gardenia.

  Callie and I are sharing a huge upstairs room that features a window seat overlooking a back yard garden lush with blooms. She’s sitting in the window seat surrounded by rose chintz cushions, reading, while Elvis is stationed at her feet.

  “Wish me luck, Cal.”

  “I will, but you do
n’t need it. You and Rocky are going to find that little boy because you’re both loving and clever and wonderful.”

  “Are you trying to stay on my good side because I threatened Dr. Channing with a brass lamp?”

  “That, among other things.”

  “What other things?”

  “I plan to be the matron of honor at your wedding.”

  “What wedding?” I try to be flippant, but my heart is racing as hard as when I ran through the back alleys with Pete.

  “The one I feel in my bones.”

  “That settles it, then.” I hear a car turn into the driveway and strike a pose with hands on hips. “Cal, your bones are about as reliable as Fayrene’s ESPN.”

  I leave her laughing, which was the plan all along, and then hurry downstairs to meet Rocky. The welcoming committee is already there—Fayrene, Aunt Ruby Nell, Grace and Pearl—all giving him bad advice.

  He’s taking it in stride, not the least bit of panic or male ego showing. “There’s Lovie.” His smile is a glorious thing as he strides toward me and takes my arm. “Let’s find Pete.”

  Rocky’s rental car is a Honda Civic that looks like a toy car beside the two of us. When I climb in, it’s not my best look but he doesn’t seem to notice. He folds himself behind the wheel and we head toward the French Quarter.

  “What happened at Channing’s?” I ask.

  “The jade necklace was from the collection. Channing swore he had no prior knowledge of it and did not recognize it as belonging to the Treasures of Tulum. He also claimed he’d never seen the woman who sold it to him.”

  “Was there any proof he’s lying?”

  “None. And I don’t think he was.”

  “Then the investigation is still at square one.”

  “No, I think we’re closing in. Tomorrow the police will be checking all the other antique stores, trying to come up with the other pieces and some new leads.”

  “I don’t know how much longer we can stay here. Callie’s had Braxton Hicks contractions, and I don’t know whether the best thing is to take her home and risk complications in the car or just settle in here until after the baby comes.”