by Jana DeLeon
“Long-range laser,” I said.
He whistled. “Great hardware but major bucks.”
“It’s a tax deduction,” I said.
He smiled. “That it is. So I’m assuming you’d like me to acquire one for you.”
“You seemed like the most likely person to handle something like that,” I said.
He nodded. “I can probably hook you up. Might take a day or two, though.”
“No worries,” I said. “Do you have an account that I can wire the money to?”
“I’ll collect when I deliver. Do you have a maximum amount to spend?”
“Will thirty-five thousand work?”
“It should. I’ll let you know if that’s not the case. So what lucky city are you off to terrorize?”
“How do you know we’re going anywhere?” Gertie asked.
“Because the camera system here is excellent,” Mannie said. “I spotted the overnight bags in the back of Ida Belle’s SUV when you opened the door.”
“These ladies are taking me to my first official Mardi Gras in New Orleans,” I said.
Mannie raised one eyebrow and I wondered if he was about to go down the same road as Carter. But instead he smiled.
“Are you sure Mardi Gras is ready for the three of you?” he asked.
“We’re about to find out,” I said.
“How did you find a place last-minute?” he asked.
“We didn’t,” Gertie said. “We’re going to wing it. Or sleep in the truck. Or drive back tonight. We’ll figure it out.”
Mannie frowned. “Give me a second.”
He pulled out his phone and sent a text, then motioned to us. “Mr. Hebert is ready to see you now if that works for you.”
I almost laughed at the politeness of the request.
“Has anyone ever said it doesn’t work for them?” I asked.
“Once,” Mannie said.
He walked off without elaborating and based on his expression, I wasn’t sure I wanted him to. We followed him to the elevator and then to Big’s office where the head man was in his usual spot at his desk. But this time Little wasn’t there. Big gave apologies from Little but he had urgent business handling a supply delay. With words like “urgent” and “supply delay” coming from Big Hebert, it probably paid to know as little as possible.
“Ladies,” Big said once we were seated. “Please tell me how I can help you. Are you on a case?”
“Not officially,” I said.
He grinned. “That’s the best kind. So can I assume you’re interested in what happened to Ms. Guillory’s unfortunate friend?”
I nodded. “But with Larry being intel, they’re locked up tighter than Fort Knox. We can’t get the scoop on them through the regular gossip channels and since they’ve only been in Sinful a few years, there’s no background to be had from that source, either.”
“It’s so rare these days for people to not have their lives all over social media that when one doesn’t, it’s automatically suspect,” Big said.
“Are you on social media?” Gertie asked.
“Of course,” Big said. “The way to avoid being suspect is to blend.”
I wasn’t sure that Big Hebert could effectively accomplish blending, but it wasn’t the worst idea I’d heard. Still, I had zero intention of signing up for the parade of idiocy I’d seen online, and if anyone tried to make a cute combination of my name and Carter’s, I was pretty sure someone would have to post bail.
“I’ll have to friend you on Facebook,” Gertie said.
“I look forward to accepting your friend request,” Big said.
I considered this for a minute and then wondered if maybe Gertie wasn’t onto something. If anyone checked her friends and saw Big Hebert there, it might change the way they acted. In a good way. At least, I considered people avoiding me a good thing. And wouldn’t Carter be thrilled if I not only set up a Facebook account but friended Big Hebert? I could just picture his expression. In fact, it might be worth doing just to see his reaction.
“So what can I help you with?” Big asked.
“Natalia Guillory had a sister who was killed in New Orleans three years ago during a mugging,” I said. “Natalia was seriously injured. We found a bare-minimum news story online, but I was wondering if there was any way you could get us a police report.”
“Do you think the two incidences are related?” Big asked.
“I don’t have anything concrete, but two murders surrounding one person is suspect at least. And since there’s so little information available on the family or Katia, we’re going to track down any potential source we can find. Knowing the people involved in a crime is often just as revealing as the details of the crime itself.”
“Very perceptive,” Big said. “And accurate. I do a full background on everyone I do business with. It’s quite interesting what people hide.”
“It is,” I said. “And I have no doubt that the Guillorys—Natalia, at least—could be hiding something about the incident in New Orleans. Whether it’s related to Katia’s murder remains to be seen.”
“I think this is a smart angle to take,” Big said. “I know someone who can probably help. Let me make a call and see what I can do.”
“We really appreciate it,” I said. “At the moment, this is the only angle we have to work.”
“It’s hard to get a feel for someone when their job is secrecy,” Big said. “If you can get me a last name for Katia, I can run her through my own channels.”
“That would be great,” I said. “It’s Grekov. And there’s another guy—Vitali Fedorov. He’s Katia’s emergency contact. Apparently Carter notified him this morning and he’s already in Sinful. Showed up at my house earlier looking for Carter. He claims to just be a friend and coworker and said their boss lent him the company jet because he was so upset about the situation.”
“Your tone says Mr. Fedorov did not pass muster,” Big said.
I shrugged. “I didn’t like him. Not the custom-made black suit or the dark sunglasses or the way he seemed so businesslike about the entire thing. Like he was there to handle a shipping mistake or something. Too slick.”
“It sounds like the Men in Black to me,” Gertie said.
“I don’t think aliens killed Katia,” I said. “But it wouldn’t surprise me if he was here to cover things up.”
Big made some notes on a pad. “I will see what I can find on our friend Mr. Fedorov.” He looked back at us and smiled. “So I understand that in addition to business, you ladies are off to NOLA for a bit of Mardi Gras fun.”
Since we hadn’t offered that information during our chat, I assumed that was the content of the text Mannie had sent earlier.
“That’s right,” I said. “I figure you can’t really claim citizenship here unless you’ve been to Mardi Gras in the French Quarter.”
“Absolutely true,” Big said. “In my younger, fitter days, I never missed. Now I prefer quieter pursuits with smaller crowds.”
Gertie nodded. “Fewer witnesses.”
I inwardly cringed, but Big laughed and I relaxed again, trying to imagine a younger, fitter Big. But the image eluded me.
He reached into his desk and pushed a set of keys across to me. “These are the keys to an apartment I own. Here’s the address.” He passed me a piece of paper to join the keys.
Ida Belle picked up the paper and her jaw dropped. “This is on Saint Charles Avenue. Right on the parade route and just blocks from the French Quarter.”
“Yes,” Big said. “I picked it up for a song from a man who liked to create debt but wasn’t as interested in paying it.”
“We won’t even have to leave the apartment,” Ida Belle said. “We can watch the whole thing from the window. Praise the Lord! We might actually get out of New Orleans without visiting the emergency room.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Gertie asked.
Big chuckled. “I have the utmost faith in you ladies to produce something on YouTube before yo
ur visit is over.”
“We’re attempting a YouTube hiatus,” I said.
“You can attempt it,” Big said and looked at Gertie, “but I wouldn’t bet on it. I’ve already seen the video of the Sinful parade. Nice work blocking the nun. A little aggressive, but since you’re not Catholic, I suppose that gives you a pass.”
“The resulting fallout wasn’t as nice,” Ida Belle said.
“Actually, the runaway truck was quite fun, especially when it sent the funnel cake batter all over that horrible woman that you people insist on keeping alive,” Big said. “The squirrel was just icing on the cake, although I imagine the poor thing will need therapy after being up that woman’s dress. I will say I could have done without the topless finale. That woman needs to remain clothed at all times. Maybe even in the shower.”
“Really?” Gertie asked. “She’s had work done.”
“Not enough,” Big said.
“Interesting,” Gertie said. “I figured all the guys would be celebrating a peek at the goods.”
Big grimaced. “That wasn’t a peek. It was an assault. There’s something to be said for leaving a little mystery in one’s romance.”
Gertie nodded. “That’s why I want to get a tattoo—a sexy tattoo.”
Ida Belle shook her head. “No one wants to think about you in relation to tattoos and definitely not sexy ones. Mr. Hebert, your offer of the absolutely incredible apartment is highly appreciated.”
“Definitely,” I agreed. “Can we pay you something, at least? These two told me that places are rented years in advance and get ten times the usual price for Mardi Gras.”
Big shook his head. “It’s not like I’m giving up profit in order to lend you my place. I only ask that you leave it in the same manner you found it.” He glanced at Gertie. “And if for any reason that isn’t possible, then you can reimburse for damages.”
“Deal,” I said, and rose. “We best get on the road. I have a feeling we’re going to be in for a hike once we find a place to park.”
“I have a reserved parking space in a nearby garage,” Big said. “The address and space number are on the back of the paper.”
“That’s awesome!” I said.
“As long as someone hasn’t already parked in it,” Ida Belle said. “People don’t exactly observe the rules during Mardi Gras, and parking is one of the first ignored.”
Big smiled. “The space has a sign that clearly indicates the owner.”
Ida Belle brightened. “Then we should be fine.”
I had a feeling that even if someone who wasn’t familiar with the Heberts attempted to park in Big’s space, their car would be quickly relocated. Big seemed to have people indebted to him in most places and people who were afraid of him in all places.
“This whole trip has really picked up,” Gertie said as we headed out. “A super awesome apartment right on the parade route, a parking space that only someone with a death wish would attempt to occupy, and I can catch beads without even getting off the balcony.”
I nodded. I had to admit it all sounded perfect.
Which always worried me.
Chapter Ten
As Ida Belle directed her SUV from the service road and onto the highway, a car sped by in the fast lane that looked familiar. I frowned as I recalled where I’d seen it.
“Follow that car,” I said. “But not so close he suspects anything.”
Ida Belle looked a bit surprised but increased speed in order to keep the vehicle in sight.
“Who is it?” Gertie asked.
“I’m pretty sure it’s Fedorov,” I said. “Unless someone has a car just like his and is coming from Sinful.”
“Unlikely,” Ida Belle said. “I assume the car is a rental since he’s from out of state, but most people in Sinful don’t drive a Lexus.”
He continued down the highway at a good clip, then suddenly changed lanes to exit. Ida Belle slowed until he disappeared onto the service road, then followed suit. I recognized the exit as one that housed one of the somewhat seedy motels between Sinful and New Orleans. Surely someone with custom suits and driving a Lexus wasn’t staying in such a sketchy place. But then I remembered it was Mardi Gras. Still, seemed like a decent place could be found closer to New Orleans even if the best hotels were taken.
Ida Belle pointed as he turned under the interstate. “That road only goes to the motel.”
“That Lexus is going to stand out like new money in that parking lot,” Gertie said.
“I know,” I agreed. “I don’t understand why someone with his obvious expensive taste and the means to indulge it would stay somewhere like this. I know New Orleans is pretty booked, but surely he could have found something nicer than this.”
“Maybe he wanted to be close by in case he was needed,” Gertie said.
“Or he wanted to be close by because he’s up to no good,” Ida Belle said.
I nodded. “I have this gut feeling that’s it.”
Ida Belle turned under the interstate and headed for the motel. “I know better than to go against your gut.”
When we got to the motel, we spotted the Lexus parked in front of a unit at the end of the building.
“What now?” Gertie asked. “We can’t exactly knock on the door and ask him what he’s up to.”
“No,” I agreed. “It’s definitely better if he thinks everyone bought his act, so I can’t afford for him to see me.”
Ida Belle parked in front of the office and opened her door. “Then let me go see what I can find out. He’s never seen me. You duck down if he comes out of his room.”
I nodded and Gertie and I kept our eyes glued on the room in front of the Lexus. A couple minutes later, Ida Belle came back out looking like the cat that had swallowed the canary.
“I take it you got something?” I asked.
She started the SUV and left the parking lot. “It’s amazing what a business card with a detective agency logo, a story about a cheating husband, and fifty bucks will get out of a middle-aged, divorced, man-hating clerk.”
“Jackpot,” Gertie said.
“There wasn’t much to tell,” Ida Belle said. “The clerk said he was abrupt and rude and paid with cash.”
Gertie looked disappointed. “That’s it?”
Ida Belle grinned. “He paid with cash yesterday.”
“Oh!” I said. “Now, that is interesting.”
“Looks like your gut is batting a thousand,” Ida Belle said.
“Are you going to tell Carter?” Gertie asked.
“Tell him that we segued on our girls’ trip to interfere with his investigation?” I asked. “Not a chance. I told Carter after Fedorov left this morning not to trust him.”
“Good enough then,” Ida Belle said. “If he chooses to ignore that then it’s his own fault.”
“So what do we do with that information?” Gertie asked.
“Nothing yet,” I said. “Let’s wait and see what Big can dig up on Fedorov and Katia. In the meantime, we’ll see what we can find in New Orleans. And we find something to eat. That whole light lunch thing sounds like a good idea until it’s going to be several hours until food is available again.”
“New Orleans definitely has plenty of food,” Gertie said. “I’m almost as excited to eat as I am to see the parade. I can’t believe we’re going to be right on the parade route.”
“The first hurdle is getting parked,” Ida Belle said. “If we can manage that, then everything else should be easy.”
I nodded, but my thoughts were far away from the parking situation.
Who was Vitali Fedorov? And had he killed Katia? Or was he here to kill Natalia and that’s why he remained?
Thankfully, there was no issue with the parking space. In fact, Big must have called ahead because as we pulled up to the garage, the attendant jumped up and practically ran over to the SUV, ready to assist us with everything from locating the space to removing our bags. His anxiety was a bit funny, but then I had to remind myself th
at the Big Hebert I knew was a totally different person from the one most people knew. And I didn’t presume that our relationship couldn’t be altered, so a certain level of respect was due if I wanted to maintain my status. I knew my cavalier attitude amused Big, but that was only because it was never at his expense.
It was a bit of a hike from the garage to the apartment, but the garage attendant knew a guy, and before we’d even gotten the last bag out of the SUV, a car had pulled up with a driver who looked like an extra from The Sopranos who said he’d be honored to take us as close to the apartment as he could manage and then carry the bags the rest of the way.
A couple minutes later, we were hiking the one block left to Big’s apartment while Mr. Soprano cleared the sidewalk in front of us, carrying all three bags. I’d tried to handle my own but had received a look that told me no way was I touching my bag until I got to the apartment. He was probably afraid that word would get back to Big that he hadn’t followed instructions.
“I could get used to this level of service,” Gertie said as we walked. “Maybe I should go into the godfather business.”
“You looking to be the godmother?” Ida Belle asked and laughed.
Gertie nodded. “If it gets me cool apartments, parking spaces, and baggage hauling everywhere I go, then heck yeah. Sign me up.”
“I don’t know that you’re necessarily suited for that kind of business,” I said. “While Ida Belle and I are distinctly aware of just how threatened our mortality is by proximity to you, others will not necessarily recognize the danger.”
“I could shave my head,” Gertie said. “Get one of those scalp tattoos.”
“It would itch,” Ida Belle said. “And unless you kept it shaved all the time, no one would see the tattoo. And before you ask, I am not shaving your head. Not now and not in a maintenance capacity.”
“Maybe I could just dye it black and wear that dark eyeliner,” Gertie said.
“Are you planning on competing for that girl in Twilight?” Ida Belle said.
“Not like a vampire!” Gertie argued, then frowned. “Okay, maybe it would look a bit like a vampire. Never mind, I’ll figure it out.”