Cajun Fried Felony

by Jana DeLeon

For that matter, why put the luggage in the car at all? Why not ditch the car that night and bury the luggage in the woods as I’d suggested to begin with?

  I sighed. It didn’t make sense. Which meant I was going to have to go back to the beginning and try to figure out a different scenario, because the current one no longer worked. Not in a plausible way.

  “I thought you might be up.” Carter’s voice sounded behind me.

  I turned around and saw him walking up with a thermos of coffee. I held mine up.

  “Great minds,” I said.

  “More like not enough sleep.”

  “That too.”

  “You make any sense of things yet?” he asked.

  “Not even. Every scenario I come up with that fits makes the killer either one of the dumbest people on the planet or the most arrogant.”

  “Criminals are usually one or the other. That’s why they get caught.”

  “I get that, but there’s got to be limits. Given the method of disposal, I don’t think Venus’s murder was planned, but someone was clever enough to make it appear as if she’d gone back to New Orleans. Someone who knew no one in Sinful would go looking for her. Then they, what? Get away with hiding the body but risk it all on packing up her clothes in the trunk of her car before sending it off that embankment? Why not get rid of the car that night and the luggage the next day? Why hold the car waiting for the luggage and take all the risk that someone would find it or see them sending it over that embankment?”

  Carter shook his head. “I haven’t come up with anything reasonable either. Not even reasonable on the side of idiotic.”

  “We’re missing something.”

  “We’re missing a lot of something, but that’s the way investigations go. You pick up a piece here and there and hope when you’ve collected all you can find that you have enough to form a picture. There’s always holes, but if you have a good enough basis, you can fill them in.”

  “This case has a hole you could drive a shrimp boat through.”

  He nodded and frowned. I knew he was in his usual slump that he got into when a major crime happened in his town, but he seemed even more concerned than he had been the night before.

  “Is something else wrong?” I asked.

  “Did you know Walter asked Ida Belle to marry him again?”

  I nodded. “Ida Belle was snippier than usual and Gertie and I finally got it out of her.” I didn’t elaborate on Ida Belle’s out-of-the-ordinary response because I wasn’t sure what Carter knew, and it wasn’t my place to tell him Ida Belle’s personal business.

  Carter stared at the bayou and shook his head. “I don’t know why he does it. All these years and he still keeps trying. And every time, she breaks his heart a little more. He ought to know better by now, but he’s spent his life pining for a woman who doesn’t want him.”

  He sounded a tad angry and a tiny bit bitter, but I couldn’t blame him. Walter was his uncle and had stepped in as a father figure after Carter’s dad passed.

  “I don’t think it’s that simple,” I said quietly.

  He looked down at me and sighed. “I know that. Ida Belle isn’t cruel and even if she had a reason to be, it would never be directed at Walter. I guess I just wish he’d figured out how to move on years ago.”

  “I know you don’t get it, and I’m not about to say I understand it either. Hell, I’m a complete beginner at the relationship thing. But maybe in the big scheme of things, they’re both where they have always needed to be. It might not be enough for us, but it must be for them or they wouldn’t still be doing this dance.”

  He leaned over and brushed my lips with his. “You’re right. It wouldn’t be enough for me. But I get what you’re saying. I’ll call you before I bring Whiskey in for questioning.”

  “Thanks.”

  As he walked away, I rose from my chair and headed inside. I needed a good breakfast and an influx of ideas. I figured a trip to Francine’s would cover one of them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ida Belle and Gertie walked into the café about ten minutes after I arrived. Ida Belle appeared alert and rested and I wondered how the heck she managed to sleep with all the things she had going on. Even Gertie looked a bit better, but in comparison to the morning before, that wasn’t saying a lot.

  Ally popped over and took our order, but she didn’t have time to chat as the café was busy and she had food up in the window.

  “Did the blanket over the cage work?” I asked when Ally headed off.

  “It did,” Gertie said. “Well, until about 5:00 a.m. when he started doing morning prayers.”

  “He must have picked up on the nun’s schedule,” I said.

  “It’s a wonder the criminals didn’t shoot him,” Ida Belle said.

  “They probably kept him in the back room of some seedy bar where they did all their business,” Gertie said.

  “You’ve been watching Mafia movies again,” Ida Belle said. “Not all criminal enterprises own a bar.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s required,” Gertie said. “You know, some sort of code.”

  “And what happens if you don’t comply?” Ida Belle asked.

  “You’re forced to pay retail for your drinks and find your cheap women on the street corner?” I suggested.

  “Despite the levity intended, you do make a somewhat viable point,” Ida Belle said.

  “If only I had everything else figured out,” I said.

  “I take it you didn’t have an investigative epiphany last night?” Ida Belle asked.

  “Oh,” Gertie said. “I wonder what that would look like.”

  “She’d probably leap out of bed and shoot a hole in the roof,” Ida Belle said.

  “I’ve actually already done that,” I said. “Not together, but separately.”

  Gertie waved a hand in dismissal. “If you haven’t shot a hole in your house, you shouldn’t even be allowed to live in this town.”

  Ida Belle looked over at me. “Good news. You’re safe from eviction.”

  I grinned. “Glad I won’t have to pack and run but unfortunately, there was no leaping and shooting as part of my nighttime program. I’m as confused this morning as I was last night. Heck, maybe even more so since I’ve had longer to think about it.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “I will admit, I can usually come up with some sort of viable explanation for things that seem completely odd—Gertie is my best friend, after all—but this one has me stumped.”

  “And as someone who regularly comes up with those completely odd lines of thinking, I don’t have a clue either,” Gertie said.

  “Carter stopped by on his way to work this morning,” I said. “He’s as clueless as we are. Which is why we need to stop concentrating on the why and focus on the who.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “I agree. After breakfast, we’ll see if Melanie is at home. She usually works afternoons at the bank so we might be able to catch her this morning.”

  “Then we can head up the highway and see if Haylee is at work,” Gertie said. “We couldn’t run down a home address for her.”

  “So we’re visiting a tattoo parlor?” I asked. “Yippee. What could possibly go wrong there?”

  Ida Belle pointed at Gertie. “No one is getting a tattoo.”

  “Not even a little one?” Gertie asked. “I’ve been thinking—”

  “No you haven’t,” Ida Belle said. “Look around this dining room. You see what happens to tattoos once skin sags. Your skin’s already there. Anything you do will look like a blob.”

  “Maybe I was thinking of getting a blob,” Gertie said.

  “Well, you’re not doing it today and certainly not at any place that employs Haylee,” Ida Belle said. “If you insist on that madness, then you need to make a trip to New Orleans and go to a place that actually cares about health code.”

  “Probably a good idea,” Gertie said. “I suppose I shouldn’t do it on the clock anyway.” She looked over at me and I shook my head.

  “
There is no way I’m calling a tattoo a business expense,” I said.

  Ally stepped up with our breakfast and grinned. “Maybe you could get a trademark for your business and make everyone get a tattoo,” she said.

  “You’re not helping,” Ida Belle said.

  “Wasn’t trying to,” Ally said as she put plates on the table.

  “Any gossip?” I asked.

  Ally shook her head. “Not since they identified the body. I mean, there’s low talking about who might have done it, but mostly people think someone followed her from New Orleans. The ones who don’t have landed on Whiskey, since he was seeing her and they had that big fight the night she was killed.”

  “What do you think?” I asked. Ally was young and had grown up in Sinful. Because of her age, she sometimes had a different perspective than Ida Belle and Gertie.

  “I honestly don’t know,” she said. “I’d love to think it was a stranger but I think it’s the coward’s way out. The truth is, Venus created plenty of hard feelings here in Sinful. No use looking elsewhere until you’ve gone through all of them.”

  “So you’re leaning toward Whiskey?” I asked. As far as I knew, no one was aware that Whiskey was my client except Ida Belle, Gertie, and Carter. I wanted to get Ally’s unbiased opinion.

  “You know, I don’t think so,” Ally said. “I mean, just the sight of him scares me a little, and I have no doubt he could have throttled her with those big hands of his. But even though most wouldn’t believe it, Whiskey’s smart. The CPA I’ve been talking to about my bakery concept does the books for the bar. He said I should talk to Whiskey sometime about inventory methods and identifying and catering to a customer base. Said Whiskey was one of the sharpest clients he had for squeezing every ounce of profit out of a business.”

  “That’s fascinating,” Ida Belle said.

  Ally nodded. “Goes to show you can’t tell by looking at a person. So anyway, I figured if he’s that smart, he’s not going to throw it all away on someone like Venus. Besides, he’s got his daddy to look after, and he does a real fine job there. I visit him a couple times a month to drop off meals from Francine and Whiskey is really taking good care of him.”

  “He was always a good son,” Gertie said.

  Ally frowned. “There was one thing I overheard this morning that I didn’t like. Dorothy was in here earlier with Aunt Celia. She said that earlier this year, Percy had a complete meltdown in the bank, accusing the manager of stealing from his safe-deposit box. Her implication was that he was unstable and given how Venus was always stealing from him, maybe he finally made sure she couldn’t anymore.”

  “That’s a particularly insidious piece of gossip,” Ida Belle said.

  Ally nodded. “I hope people don’t start thinking Percy did this. I mean, I suppose he could have, but I just don’t think so. But then, I can’t picture him going off on the bank manager either.” She sighed. “I guess you just never know.”

  “Probably true,” I said.

  “Well, I better go grab some food,” Ally said. “I’ll bring you guys a coffee refill on my way back.”

  “Seems no one of consequence and good common sense likes Whiskey for this,” Ida Belle said.

  “Since the DA has no common sense, I guess that lets him out of that line of thinking,” Gertie said.

  “Can’t really blame him,” I said. “On paper, Whiskey looks like a great option. And the evidence is pointing his direction.”

  “On the surface, sure,” Ida Belle said. “But it’s all circumstantial.”

  “Not sure a jury would get a look at Whiskey and think so,” Gertie said.

  “We’re trying to prevent it from getting to that point,” I said. “So let’s dig in and get moving. What do you think about that bank story about Percy?”

  Ida Belle and Gertie glanced at each other, clearly unhappy.

  “I don’t like it,” Ida Belle said. “For several reasons. The first being that I don’t want to think Percy did it. The second that even if he didn’t, Dorothy and Celia are going to spread that bit of nastiness through Sinful faster than the speed of light. You know how things go here. It could make things hard on Percy.”

  “Then I guess we best hurry,” I said.

  We made quick work of breakfast, said goodbye to Ally, and headed for my house first to drop off my Jeep. Then we drove over to Melanie’s house with a batch of cookies that Gertie said would serve as a “friend” condolence sort of offering. Melanie’s car was in the driveway, which was a good sign. We knocked on the door and a couple minutes later, a young woman opened the door.

  Twenties. Five feet four. One hundred ten pounds. Plain hair. Plain face. Plain clothes. Would be great undercover as this woman could pass on a street completely unnoticed. Threat level zero.

  She gave us a polite smile but looked a little confused. “Hello, ladies. How can I help you?”

  Gertie displayed the cookies and I held in a grin. Living in Sinful, I’d discovered that the quickest and easiest way to gain access to a house when you weren’t expected and not necessarily wanted was to present food. Apparently, some law more important than even the Ten Commandments made denying people with food the right to enter a form of blasphemy.

  “I brought you some cookies, dear,” Gertie said. “We thought you might be upset, given the things that have happened.”

  “Oh, of course.” She stepped back and waved us inside. “I just made another pot of coffee. Jeff poured most of the first one in his thermos before he headed out. I barely got a half cup and that wasn’t going to cut it. I’m allowed a full cup a day and I intend to get it.”

  Gertie brightened. “You’re pregnant? I hadn’t heard.”

  Melanie blushed. “We’ve been keeping it quiet for now. With all the trouble we’ve had getting pregnant and the miscarriage earlier this year, I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I’m three months along. We’re going to tell Jeff’s parents at Christmas, so if you’d keep it secret for now, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Of course,” Gertie said and gave her a hug. “Congratulations. I know how much it means to you and Jeff to have a family.”

  A flicker of something, maybe grief, flashed on Melanie’s face, but it disappeared quickly. “Thank you. You ladies come on back and we’ll have some coffee and sample those cookies. I’ve had an awful sweet tooth ever since I got pregnant.”

  “You’re not still riding that bicycle, are you?” Ida Belle asked.

  “No,” Melanie said. “I’m being extra, extra careful. I got rid of it back in the spring. The only exercise I get now is walking and yoga.”

  We stepped into a pretty little kitchen, with light blue walls and white cabinets. Fresh-cut flowers were on the breakfast table and herbs grew in pots in a window above the sink. The room was small, as was the rest of the house, but I could tell care had been taken with its decoration and upkeep. I found the result charming and I rarely found anything charming. Perhaps this was where plain Melanie showed her true colors.

  “I love your kitchen,” I said.

  “Ha.” Ida Belle laughed. “Coming from her, that’s high praise. She probably doesn’t even know how to turn on the stove.”

  “I heat up casseroles,” I said.

  Gertie patted my hand. “That’s the oven.”

  Melanie smiled and served us all coffee, then set a tray of sweetener and cream in the middle of the table. “You must be Fortune,” she said. “We’ve never formally met although I’ve seen you in town a couple times. And, of course, I’ve heard all the gossip but that’s probably not polite to say.”

  I waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m sure everything you’ve heard is true or at least almost.”

  Melanie nodded and took a seat. “You’re going to do well here with that attitude. Can’t stop folks from talking.”

  “Not unless you shoot them,” Gertie said. “And that’s been frowned on for a while now. How are you doing, Melanie? I know you and Venus were close. I hope this hasn’t upset you too m
uch, especially in light of your baby news.”

  Melanie shrugged. “It’s shocking, of course. Would be if it was anyone…you know, a murder and all right here in Sinful. But I guess if I’m being honest, I’m more shocked than surprised. If that makes any sense.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “Given the way Venus chose to live, it does. I think most people feel like you do. They’re just not going to say.”

  “And I know I shouldn’t either,” Melanie said. “Shouldn’t speak ill of the dead and all, but you ladies know the people here better than most, so I know you won’t judge me for dwelling in reality.”

  “Not even a little,” Gertie said. “Had you spent much time with Venus when she returned? I know you were close in high school but wasn’t sure if you’d kept in touch after she left.”

  Melanie shook her head. “She told me she was leaving back then. Said she couldn’t take it here anymore. She called this town the Walking Dead. Said everyone just moved through the motions like zombies and nothing ever happened. Venus was always looking for something to happen. She wasn’t satisfied with regular living.”

  Gertie nodded. “Even when she was a kid, normal things didn’t sit right with her.”

  “They didn’t,” Melanie agreed. “She wanted thrills and excitement, and unless you find breaking a fishing record or a fight at the Swamp Bar exciting, there’s not much of that here. I think that’s why she caused so much trouble. She thought New Orleans would have everything she was looking for.”

  “And did it?” I asked.

  “I have no idea,” Melanie said. “I only heard from her once. Said she’d found a job and a man at a biker bar. That was about a week after she left. Never heard a word again until she knocked on my door in May, telling me she was back.”

  “You never tried to contact her?” I asked.

  “Of course I did,” Melanie said. “But her cell phone account was canceled and I didn’t know the name of the bar or the man. I tried searching online but couldn’t come up with anything. I figured she was putting Sinful in her rearview mirror and me along with it.”

  “Not much else you could have done,” Ida Belle said. “Without access to databases like the police have, it’s hard to find someone that doesn’t want to be found. And Venus wasn’t exactly the type to set up on Facebook or Twitter.”