Soul Man

by Shari Hearn

  I’d say I gave it some thought. She’d said there was an opening at the Sinful Library and wondered if I’d consider applying for it and living in Marge’s house. Her words had reminded me that the end of summer was approaching and that soon the real Sandy-Sue would be arriving to claim my house. Her house. No doubt that’s what had led to those troubling dreams all night.

  “I may pass on the librarian’s position, but I can tell you I’m seriously considering moving to Sinful.”

  “Yes!” she said, sticking out her hand to high-five me.

  I held my hand back. “Except, I’m not exactly sure when.”

  She sighed. “You mean you can’t break your contract back at your librarian’s job?”

  “Yeah, something like that.” I was glad I had that lie to fall back on. If Ahmad wasn’t caught by the end of summer, Director Morrow would be forced to relocate me, putting on hold my plans to quit the CIA and relocate to Sinful. Of course, none of this I could share with Ally until Ahmad was caught. Until then, I still had to maintain the lie of being librarian Sandy-Sue Morrow. “Hopefully it won’t be too long after the end of summer.”

  She took a sip of coffee. “I hope so. We haven’t known each other long, but I consider you my BFF.”

  “Same here.” I held up my hand and completed the high-five. Though whether Ally would still consider me her BFF after finding out I’d been lying to her about who I was, remained to be seen.

  “I assume you’ll be keeping your Aunt Marge’s place.”

  “Actually...” I struggled with how to respond.

  “I’m sorry. That was presumptuous. I guess I just assumed you’d want to keep her house in the family. I mean, I always heard she wanted that.” She smiled. “But I get it. You want something of your own.” She drank her coffee and thought a moment. “I know there’s a place on Spring for sale. Might be a good fit. Needs some work, though.”

  I noticed Gertie, Ida Belle and Marie approaching Francine’s door. I glanced up at the clock. The filming was to begin at nine o’clock. It was nine twenty-two. Certainly, the filming wasn’t over by now.

  Gertie stomped in. “Well, that was disappointing.”

  Ida Belle followed right behind. “Ally, you’d better make sure there’s plenty of fresh coffee.”

  “What happened?” I asked. “It’s not over, is it?”

  Marie nodded. “The Size Large Medium got word her flight was canceled and she had to leave for an alternate airport.”

  Francine stepped out from the kitchen. “I got a text from Carla. I heard there’s a crowd heading this way.”

  Gertie nodded. “An angry, bitter crowd.”

  Ally stood. “I’ll get the coffee going.”

  Francine gestured for her to sit back down. “I’ve got two pots started.”

  Ally pulled another table over to make ours a six top. Ida Belle, Gertie and Marie grabbed chairs and sat down with us.

  “Did any spirits show up?” Ally asked.

  Gertie nodded. “Marge did.” She glanced at Ida Belle’s disbelieving face. “The medium mentioned Marge’s Jeep. She was there.”

  “But then one of Celia’s dead friends interrupted,” Marie said, shaking her head angrily.

  Ida Belle held up her hands. “You’re forgetting the best part. The part that proved the Size Large Medium’s a fraud.” She looked at Ally and me. “Right after the medium gets the image of a Jeep, which any imbecile would know probably has been driven by someone in Sinful who died, she mentions magnolias. They’re our state flower. They’re all over the place.”

  “She was just getting warmed up,” Gertie said.

  Ida Belle pointed to Gertie. “Okay, but you’re still forgetting the capper of the morning when she pulled a name out of her butt and it turned out to be someone still alive.”

  Marie lifted her palms in the air. “She could have been overtired.”

  Gertie slammed her fist on the table, causing some of Ally’s coffee to slosh over her cup. “She was starting to talk to Marge. I heard her plain as day.”

  Ally sopped up the spilled coffee with her napkin. “Wait a minute. She said someone was dead who wasn’t?”

  “That won’t help her ratings,” I said, laughing.

  “So who was it?” Ally asked.

  Gertie started to answer, but Ida Belle beat her to it. “Cootie Bates.”

  “Cootie Bates?” Ally said. “He’s not dead. He was in the diner last night. In fact, he slapped my rear when I bent down to clean a table.” She looked at me. “He’s the one I was telling you about.”

  “He’s in his late sixties!” Marie said.

  Ally nodded her head. “When I called him on it, he said it’s just something men of his generation do.”

  Gertie shook her head. “He thinks he’s God’s gift to women because he’s an artist. I think every Sinful Lady has a story of him grabbing onto something. But I had no idea he was going for someone as young as you.”

  “Man has a high opinion of himself, I’ll give him that,” Ida Belle said.

  Several people entered the Café and Ally stood and addressed them. “Have a seat and I’ll be right with you.” She looked back down at us. “I told Cootie last night if he touched my fanny again I’d be sending him to his maker. That man has been getting away with his womanizing for too long around here.”

  I watched Ally walk away and shook my head. “This Cootie guy sounds like a real piece of work.”

  “He is. But Ally’s right,” Gertie said. “He’s a pretty accomplished painter and has a certain good-old-boy charm about him, so we’ve all just let him slide.”

  “Well, he also tagged along with Marge and her buddies to go hunting, so we didn’t want to make waves,” Ida Belle said, “even though she didn’t care much for him.”

  The bell over the door jingled and several more people entered, grumbling about spending hours in line for nothing. The door had almost closed when Carter pushed his way inside. I waved to him and he came to our table and sat.

  “My mom called,” he said, looking from Gertie to Ida Belle. “She told me the Size Large Medium came up with some story about Cootie Bates being dead.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “Of all the people who’ve died in Sinful over the past ten years, she picks a live one.”

  Carter shook his head. “Not anymore. A couple of fishermen found Cootie’s boat drifting in Glass Eye Lake this morning. He was shot in the back.”

  Marie slapped her hand over her mouth.

  “Shot?”

  “He was murdered?”

  Ally wandered over with a mug and a coffeepot. “Coffee?” she asked him.

  “Thanks,” he said as she poured. “Hey, Ally, I heard Cootie Bates was here last night.”

  Ally nodded. “Yep, he was here for dinner before going to the Swamp Bar. He was his typical self.”

  “How so?”

  “You know, coming on to Francine, saying if her husband didn’t watch it he’d steal her away. Then when I bent over to clear a table, he slapped my behind.”

  I didn’t like where this was headed.

  “So other than that, nothing struck you odd about him?”

  Ally whipped around. “Other than that? I don’t see you volunteering to bend over and have him slap your behind.”

  “I’m sorry, no, that’s bad. He shouldn’t have done it.”

  “He won’t do it again, that’s for sure,” Ally said, ignoring the subtle shakes of our heads to stop talking. “I told him if he did it again I’d send him off to meet his maker. And I meant it. So I’m just warning you. Anything happens to Cootie Bates, I did it.”

  “You threatened him?” asked Carter, wincing.

  “Damn right I did. What? Did he complain to you?”

  “No, he went and got himself murdered.”

  Ally’s eyebrows shot up. She took a step back. “Oh.”

  “Coffee over here, Ally,” a man called from another table.

  Ally rushed to go fill his cup.
r />   “You know she wasn’t serious,” I said.

  He sighed. “I know.”

  But the look on his face was etched in worry. There was something more here that he wasn’t saying.

  IDA BELLE SHOOK HER head and whistled as she hung up with Myrtle, our spy in the Sheriff’s Department. Swamp Team 3 had since moved to command central, otherwise known as my kitchen, to discuss Cootie’s murder.

  “Oh boy,” Gertie said. “That was your ‘shit-storm alert’ whistle.”

  “Is it Ally?” I asked. “I knew Carter looked worried. He’s not going to have to investigate her, is he?”

  “He has every reason to be worried. Did you know his Aunt Jo is visiting?”

  I nodded. “Carter wants me to meet her while she’s in town.”

  “What’s this got to do with Jo?” Gertie asked.

  Ida Belle leaned into the table, prompting Gertie and me to lean in as well. “The Mudbug Sheriff called regarding some messages and texts on Cootie’s phone. They faxed a transcript of the messages so Sheriff Lee could give them some background of the local people behind them. One of the messages caught Myrtle’s eye. It was from Jolene Stark.”

  Gertie cocked her head. “What?”

  “Carter’s aunt?” I asked.

  Ida Belle nodded.

  “Did she give you the message Carter’s aunt left?” I asked.

  Ida Belle leaned in again. “She threatened Cootie.”

  Gertie echoed Ida Belle’s shit-storm whistle.

  We were interrupted by a knock at my door.

  “Hey, Fortune, you in there?” It was Carter.

  I got up from the table.

  “Remember,” Ida Belle said, “we don’t know anything about his Aunt Jo’s call to Cootie. I don’t think he even knows about it yet. Myrtle handed the transcripts over to Sheriff Lee just a few minutes ago.”

  I let Carter in and could tell immediately he was in angst. He gave me a quick hug and kiss and asked if I was alone.

  “Ida Belle and Gertie are in the kitchen having some coffee.”

  He nodded. “I thought so. Mind if I join you?”

  We stepped into the kitchen. “Carter’s joining us for a cup.”

  “Sure,” Ida Belle said as Carter took a seat at the kitchen table. I poured some coffee and set it in front of him.

  “Everything okay?” Gertie asked with some trepidation.

  “It’s this case with Cootie. The Mudbug Sheriff’s Department is taking the lead since he was killed in their jurisdiction. They’d like our help in coming up with a list of local suspects. Hopefully someone other than Ally.”

  That drew a vocal response from the three of us.

  “Ally wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

  He held up his hand. “I know that. But the Mudbug deputies are going to investigate the last people who threatened him. Ally works full time and visits her mom in the nursing home in New Orleans. She doesn’t have time or energy to be hounded by the Mudbug Sheriff’s Department.” He took a slug of coffee and addressed his next question to Gertie and Ida Belle. “Is there anyone within the last, oh, year, who might have complained about him to you?”

  Gertie burst out laughing. “You’re kidding, right? For starters, there are the women like Ally who didn’t like him grabbing at them. And let’s not forget that Cootie’s seen plenty of women throughout the years who were married. You can add some angry husbands to your list.”

  I grimaced. “Wait. There are women who WANTED to be with him?”

  Gertie shrugged. “Cootie might have been boorish, but he was... talented in certain areas.”

  I held up my hand. “I get it.”

  Ida Belle cocked a brow at Gertie. “Do you know that firsthand?”

  Gertie sighed. “Once. Bev Comieux’s Halloween Party, 1987.”

  Now we all held up our hands and shook our heads.

  “He sneaked into the party as Darth Vader,” Gertie said, defensively. “I thought it was Doug Pellerin under that mask.” Gertie sighed and stared absently at the wall. “Being a painter, Cootie had great hand-eye coordination.”

  Ida Belle stared at her a moment and then turned to me. “Do you have some bleach I could rinse my ears with?”

  Carter’s phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket and looked at the display. “Mudbug Sheriff’s Department. I’ll take this outside.”

  Chapter Six

  MARGE

  MARGE LEANED AGAINST the fridge, sipping an imaginary cup of coffee, a trick she’d learned recently from the ghost of the Elder Sheriff Lee. He explained that spirits can use the energy of their imaginations to “experience” things they had to give up after they’d crossed over. Things like food, coffee, and in Headless Rob’s case, a parrot on his shoulder.

  She set her imaginary cup on the counter. “Okay, ladies, what are we going to do about this latest development with Jolene?”

  Ida Belle spoke over her. “As I recall, Jolene and Cootie had a fling before she left Sinful.”

  Fortune’s eyes popped. “Carter’s Aunt Jo was with this guy? Was she desperate?”

  Gertie turned and gave Fortune one of her famous finger-thumb twists. “Did you forget the part about me being with Cootie once? I certainly wasn’t desperate. My dance card was always full.”

  Ida Belle and Marge snickered at the same time.

  “Gertie,” Ida Belle said, “the last time your dance card was full, music hadn’t yet been invented.”

  “Word,” Marge said.

  Gertie reached for Ida Belle’s arm with her finger and thumb, but Ida Belle’s steely gaze stopped her. That gal always did have a way with her eyes.

  Ida Belle shook her head. “Jolene could have had any man in town she wanted. But she had a wild streak and always fell for the bad boys, unlike her sister Emmaline. Even into her early twenties Jolene liked to annoy her parents. But I guess we all did back then.”

  Gertie nodded. “And if you really wanted to annoy your parents, you’d bring Cootie Bates home and introduce him as your boyfriend.”

  “Now, that’s just mean.”

  Marge gave a start. The ghost of Cootie Bates stood inside her stove, the top half of him rising above the range top and the bottom half of his ghostly body disappearing down into the oven. Cootie looked down and saw where he had landed and screamed like a little girl.

  “Calm down,” Marge said. “Just step out of it. It’s not like it’s going to hurt you. You’re already dead.”

  Cootie closed his eyes and moved through the oven and into the middle of the kitchen next to the table where Ida Belle, Gertie and Fortune sat, the three oblivious of the fact there were ghosts nearby.

  “What are you doing here?” The last Marge had seen of Cootie he was being guided away from the Sinful Rec Center by Miss Mellette and the other spirits. Miss Mellette could be a pain in the neck and a bit bossy, but she was good about helping new spirits transition and learn the ropes of being dead.

  Cootie shrugged. “Miss Mellette was explaining the whatnots of being a ghost when, bam, I found myself here.” He pointed to the women at the table. “You all were talking about me, weren’t you? That’s why I popped here.”

  Marge nodded. “You’ll find that happens a lot at first, until you learn how to control your energy.”

  Fortune took a sip of coffee. “The message she left must be pretty damning to get to Carter like this. They’re not thinking Carter’s Aunt Jo is a suspect, are they?”

  “It was a threat, so they’d have to look at her,” said Ida Belle glumly.

  “What are they talking about?” Cootie asked. “What is Jo suspected of doing?”

  “Killing you.”

  “Killing me? Who said anything about someone killing me? I thought I keeled over.”

  “We need to talk, Cootie.”

  He just stared at the women. “Did I ever tell you Gertie and I hit it off one night? You know, I would have asked her out for another date if you hadn’t threatened to chop off one of my body parts.�
�� He nodded toward Fortune. “Now, that one. If I were forty years younger. And less dead, of course.”

  Marge signaled him to follow her out the door. “Outside. Away from any distractions.”

  She strode through the back door and noticed Carter standing by her old hammock, talking on the phone. The way his hand ran nervously through his hair indicated the conversation wasn’t going well.

  She looked back and noticed Cootie was still inside, so she slipped her head through the door. Cootie stared at it with a befuddled look on his face. “What are you waiting for?”

  “You expect me to walk through the door?”

  “Being a ghost isn’t for crybabies. Close your eyes if that’ll help.”

  After three false starts, Cootie finally closed his eyes and ran for the door. “Sissy,” Marge murmured.

  Once outside and away from Carter, Marge asked Cootie what he remembered surrounding his death.

  Cootie scratched his head. A panicked look crossed his face. “I didn’t feel that. Dang, Marge, I scratched my head and I didn’t feel a thing. I don’t like being dead.”

  “Nothing I can do about it, Cootie. But I can maybe find out who did this to you. Carter said you were shot. Do you remember that at all?”

  He shook his head. “I felt a pain in my back and then nothing. Then I started having all these weird sensations. Like I said before, I went into a lighted tunnel, clawed my way out, walked around town a bit and then I was at the rec center.”

  “Who’d want to kill you?”

  “No one. Everyone loves me.”

  She lifted her brows. “Cootie, I hate to break it to you, but all the men whose wives and girlfriends ended up in your bed have probably thought seriously about killing you.”

  Cootie smiled and winked. “Cootie Bates has gotten around.”

  “Add to the total all the women who didn’t appreciate the come-ons and slaps on the fanny, and you have one long list of suspects.”

  Cootie waved her off, smiling. “I’m a guy. The ladies know that.” His expression changed to one of worry. “Or at least I was a guy. I’m still a guy, right?” Cootie glanced down at his pants.