Sinful Alibi
Page 7
“You know what she meant,” Beatrice said. “You’re not married.”
Gertie and Marge groaned. Though Ida Belle was keeping her focus on their target, Dolly Harkins, she caught Gertie in her peripheral vision rolling her eyes in her direction, imploring Ida Belle to join in. But they didn’t have time to argue with mothers who would never change their opinions about marriage. Her focus was on another woman. Dolly Harkins. Time to draw her out.
“Getting back to Louanne,” Ida Belle said. “We went to her house to warn her that Sheriff Lee might come to talk to her.”
“Oh, Lord,” Acadia said, “what’s that woman done now?”
Marge sighed. “Nothing. She saw Mr. Guillory last night to convince him to rent to us and now the sheriff has her in his sights for the murder. Even though she was there a good four hours before the law thinks Mr. Guillory was killed.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Acadia said, “Louanne might be a bit off, but she would never hurt anyone. And why would Louanne think she could convince him to rent to you?”
Of course, the mothers knew nothing about the spy notebooks Louanne kept. “She has her way of talking to people,” Ida Belle said, noticing Marge’s lips quivering.
Dolly shook her head as smoke escaped her nostrils. “Deputy No-Brains even came to my house today to quiz me about where I was last night.” Her hand shook as she took another drag off her cigarette. “Look at me, I’m still shaking. I can barely hold my cigarette.” She nodded toward Acadia. “I always need a smoke when I’m nervous.”
So she was, Ida Belle thought. She brought her coffee to the table and sat. “You knew Mr. Guillory, didn’t you, Miss Dolly?”
Dolly frowned. “Yes, in fact I did. I take care of his sick wife, Philomena.”
Beatrice reached over and patted Dolly on the hand. “We all admire you so much. Putting all that difficulty with Wade behind you to make sure Philly is well cared for.”
“Well, I couldn’t do my job effectively without the help of you and Acadia, and all the other women in the Baptist Ladies Auxiliary.” Dolly pulled her attention to Marge and Gertie. “Your mothers contribute an endless stream of casseroles to the Guillory’s.”
Acadia waved her off. “It’s the least we can do. But you could have held a grudge, and you didn’t.”
Though she already knew the answer, Ida Belle asked, “What grudge was that?”
Dolly sighed. “I hired Wade to stuff my Crackers.”
“Her cat,” Acadia said, “not the snack food.”
“I showed Wade the picture of the way I wanted my little Crackers posed and he totally disregarded it. Had her paws crossed the wrong way. When I pointed it out, he refused to return my money.”
“That must have made you mad,” Ida Belle said.
Dolly took a puff of her cigarette and forcefully blew out the smoke. “In life, Crackers never crossed her right leg over her left. Cheese is the one who does that.”
“That’s her dog,” explained Beatrice.
“I had intended on stuffing Cheese when he passes, but now it will just look funny for both of them to have their right legs over their left legs,” said Dolly, shaking her head.
“You live near the rental, don’t you?” Gertie asked.
Dolly tapped more ash into the ashtray. “Why yes I do. On the next street, behind the woods that separate our properties. Unfortunately, if poor Wade was screaming for his life last night, I never would have heard him. I wasn’t fond of him, though I’d made my peace with him after I got to know his wife better.” She looked at Acadia and then at Beatrice and lowered her voice. “If you ask me, it was Bonnie Cotton. I heard she was having an affair with Wade. As for me, I had an alibi for the evening. I was watching the Tuesday Night Movies on TV. The Birds. I only wish my dear sweet Crackers had been alive to watch it with me. She loved to watch the birds in my trees. She would have delighted at the ending. ‘Don’t mess with a cat, that’s all I have to say.’ Yes, very riveting.”
Acadia took a sip of coffee. “You couldn’t pay me to watch that movie. For goodness’ sake, the world is being taken over by hippies. That’s scary enough.”
Beatrice shook her head. “Not my cup of tea, either. But going back to Deputy Broussard. How could he possibly suspect you killed Wade Guillory? Does he know how big that man was? How could a little woman like you subdue a big man like him?”
“Well...” Dolly glanced at Marge. “He said your daughter Marge reminded Sheriff Lee that any woman in Sinful would know how to operate a nail gun and wouldn’t need the strength. A tool, by the way, I don’t know how to operate.”
Acadia and Beatrice shifted their gazes to Marge. “Why would you do such a thing?” asked her mother.
“Um...” Marge looked helplessly at Ida Belle.
“Don’t look at me,” Ida Belle said. “You were the one who went on and on about how any woman in town could have done it.”
“I didn’t like how he was disrespecting women, insinuating we were all frail things.”
Acadia slapped her palm down on the table. “You didn’t have to go so far as to say we could all murder someone. I’ve told you this a million times, but you never listen. The female of the species has to be slightly underhanded in our dealings with men. Letting them know we can do things is guaranteed to work against us.”
“All is not lost,” Beatrice said. “Millie drove by that house last night around that time and saw the back of a man running away.” She looked over at Gertie. “She’s one of our hookers.”
“One of your hookers?” Gertie asked, grimacing.
“Yes, our club, Sinful Hookers,” Beatrice said. “What Millie can do with her hands...” Acadia and Dolly nodded at this. Beatrice continued, “Millie’s one of the most nimble and productive hookers in all Louisiana. She barely finishes one before she’s on to the next one. Yes, she does Sinful Hookers proud.”
Gertie shook her head. “Mama, I think it’s time your organization change its name.”
Beatrice folded her arms. “Perhaps it’s time you get your mind out of the gutter. You know very well I’m talking about our knitting club. Just because some unsavory gals have sullied the good name of hookers everywhere is no reason we should change our name. But my point is, Millie saw a man running from the scene. A MAN. Not Dolly and not Louanne. And Sarah Canard also saw a man running around then.”
Acadia tapped her fingers on the kitchen table, a look of concern spreading across her face. “Yes, but according to Millie, when she was at the station sharing her story, Buster Bussey came in and said that he saw a woman in her fifties driving away from the scene at 10:30 in a convertible.”
“Buster Bussey could have seen the killer make her getaway,” Dolly said. “Which, by the way, was not me.”
“Dolly has a convertible,” Acadia explained to them.
“Given to me by my ex-husband,” Dolly said. “And I hardly drive it, especially at night. And doubly especially when The Birds is on. I explained it all to the deputy.”
“Aunt Louanne drives a convertible,” Marge said, the look of concern on her face matching her mother’s.
Dolly threw her hands in the air. “Well, so does Bonnie Cotton. That’s who that idiot deputy should be talking to. It’s so obvious that’s who Buster saw.”
Ida Belle remembered back to the ride Bonnie had given her, Marge and Gertie to the rental this morning. “Bonnie doesn’t drive a convertible.”
“It’s a hardtop,” Marge said. “Red Plymouth Duster.”
Gertie nodded. “She gave us a ride this morning. Said she bought it from a lot in Lafayette last Saturday and we were the first people outside of her mother to ride in it. Had that new-car smell and everything.”
Dolly’s jaw dropped. “Bonnie bought a new car? But...” She pursed her lips. “That Buster Bussey is a nincompoop! Well, I may own a convertible, but I didn’t do it. Why would I even drive my car to the rental when I live just a five-minute walk through the woods to it?”
“Now, don’t go panicking,” Beatrice said to Dolly. “Just because you drive a convertible doesn’t mean we think you had anything to do with it. Remember, both Millie and Sarah saw a man running around that area at that time as well. That convertible may have nothing to do with anything.”
Dolly snapped her fingers. “The man running from the house was probably one of Bonnie’s many boyfriends. Millie didn’t happen to describe the man, did she?”
Acadia shook her head. “You know how easy Millie gets flustered when speaking with the law. She never saw his face, and she said the deputy got her so confused that she couldn’t remember any other details. As for Sarah, she was driving on another block when she saw him and didn’t get a good look either.”
Dolly tapped her cigarette against the ashtray. “We all know how often Sarah hits the booze. The sheriff may not even think she’s credible.”
Ida Belle shook her head. And she thought Louanne Boudreaux was Sinful’s biggest gossip. These gals made Louanne look like an amateur.
When Ida Belle tuned back in, Beatrice was ranting. “Sarah said that potato-for-brains Broussard said a man running on another street didn’t count. Even though the street in question was on the other side of the woods from the rental.”
That point wasn’t lost on Ida Belle. “Meaning someone could have murdered Mr. Guillory then run through the woods and appeared on the other street.”
Dolly sighed and nodded her head wearily. “I’m afraid both Louanne and I are going to be suspects. Or any woman driving a convertible. Or not driving it, in my case.”
“Maybe we can help,” Marge said.
Acadia rolled her eyes. “Oh, I think you’ve helped enough, Little Miss ‘A Woman Can Murder Too.’”
“I mean, we can help Millie remember everything clearly. We’re very good at helping people remember things.”
“I don’t know,” Acadia said warily.
Ida Belle leaned into the table. “Despite the name of your organization, I’ve always wanted to be a Sinful Hooker.” The words almost caught in her throat. Nothing would be more horrible for Ida Belle than to sit and knit all day long. But a spy has to do what a spy has to do. “While learning how to... hook, Marge and I could cozy up to Millie and Sarah and guide the information from their memories.”
Beatrice dismissed her with a wave of her hand. “How on Earth would you know how to do that?”
Ida Belle forced more noxious words from her lips. “We worked for men in intelligence. We picked up a few things.”
Beatrice cast a hopeful look at her daughter Gertie. “And you’ll be there as well?” Beatrice glanced at Dolly. “Though she got snippy about the name, my Gertie is one of the best young hookers in Sinful. Took to hooking like an alligator to a swamp.”
“I’ll be sitting this one out, Mama. Someone has to talk to Buster and get a firsthand account of what he saw. Or thinks he saw. My job will be to throw his equilibrium off and see if there are any holes to his story. Any inconsistencies.”
Beatrice frowned. “I hope you don’t talk that way around men. Brainiac talk like that is no way to attract an eligible bachelor.”
Gertie shook her head. “Better than telling a prospective date I’m the best young hooker in Sinful.”
“Oh, that’ll get you plenty of men,” Dolly said as she took another drag off her cigarette.
“You suppose Granny Magoo will let me borrow her car?” Gertie asked.
Granny Magoo was Beatrice’s mother, Caroline Mageau, who loved the Mister Magoo cartoon and used to delight the neighborhood kids with her impersonation of him. After a while she began to resemble him.
“Mama won’t let you drive her beloved Rambler,” Beatrice said. “She’ll insist on driving you there. Which is probably a good thing. A young girl like you shouldn’t go knocking on some strange man’s door alone. And Buster is a pretty strange man.”
A knock brought all their attention to the kitchen door. Marie waved through the window while waiting on the back porch.
“The Hookers meet just after supper at Peach’s house,” Beatrice said. “You can drive with us.”
“We’ll be ready,” said Ida Belle. She let Marie inside and was surprised to see another woman standing with her.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I brought my cousin Myrtle.”
“No, of course not.”
After gushing about Marie’s pregnant belly for what seemed an eternity to Ida Belle, Beatrice and Acadia focused on Myrtle.
“Congratulations on your new job at the sheriff’s department,” Beatrice said.
Ida Belle caught Marie’s sly smile and it became clear why Marie had invited Myrtle to join them. She glanced at Gertie and Marge, who were both trying not to look too eager to get out of the kitchen and hear what Myrtle had to share.
“Thank you,” Myrtle said. “I’m now Sinful’s newest dispatcher. And I do light secretarial for Sheriff Lee.”
“I would say that puts you in the thick of things,” Dolly said.
Myrtle nodded. “You might say.”
“Well, you tell that bonehead Deputy Broussard I wasn’t anywhere near that house when Wade was killed. Buster Bussey has the wrong car!”
“I’ll pass that along, Miss Dolly.”
“Well, we should be moving into the living room,” Gertie said, ushering their guests through the door.
“Sheriff Lee really doesn’t suspect Dolly killed him, does he?” Ida Belle whispered as they all moved toward the sofa.
Myrtle shook her head. “Deputy Broussard just had to look like he was out doing his job, but Sheriff Lee has another theory.”
Marie waddled to the sofa. Marge rushed over to help guide her gently down into the cushions. “I’m okay, Marge,” Marie said. “I’ve had a lot of practice getting this big old belly up and down. But, thank you.” She gestured toward Myrtle. “I asked Myrtle to stop by and share a little information about Mr. Guillory’s murder. I assume you’re conducting your own investigation.”
“Why would you say that?” Ida Belle asked, trying to sound innocent.
“Because you never could keep your noses out of things. If something was happening while you were here on leave, you’d always be in the middle of it. And, as I recall, you’d come up with things the sheriff missed.
Myrtle nodded. Gertie sat in a chair opposite the sofa where Myrtle was now taking her seat next to Marie.
“Aren’t you afraid if you share something with us that Sheriff Lee will fire you?”
Myrtle waved her off. “I figure Jesus would want justice to be served. It doesn’t matter to him if a girl solves the case, just that it’s solved. Therefore, I’m doing the Lord’s work. Besides, if the sheriff does find out I squealed, I’ll just put on my best wounded-female face and threaten some tears. You know the Lee men can’t stand when a woman cries.”
“Okay then,” Gertie said, “sock it to us.”
Myrtle leaned forward toward Ida Belle and Gertie. “I have a few tidbits to share, but I’ll get the most important one out of the way.” She focused her attention on Marge, who was standing nervously next to Gertie’s chair.
Ida Belle shook her head, knowing what was coming next. Before Myrtle could utter another word, Marge blurted out, “He thinks my Aunt Louanne is involved.”
Myrtle nodded.
Marge’s face blanched. She turned to Gertie with a determined look on her face. “It’s all because of that damn convertible Buster said he saw.”
“Don’t worry,” Gertie said. “If there are any holes in Buster’s story, I’ll find them. First, I need to go through my secret, hidden-from-mama stash to find the perfect weapon.”
Myrtle put a hand to her mouth. “You’re going to shoot him? That’s a little counterproductive, don’t you think?”
Gertie shook her head. “I’m not going to shoot
him. I need him to be putty in my hands, not dead. And nothing does that to a man like a tube top. The trashier the better.”
Gertie clapped and laughed maniacally.
Ida Belle nodded. Nothing got Gertie more excited than planning the right outfit.
Chapter Eight
GERTIE OPENED THE RICKETY gate, held to the post with only a nail. She lifted it a few inches from the ground so it wouldn’t scrape on the pavement, though a quick glance at the chewed-up wood at the bottom of the gate indicated many years’ worth of scraping.
“What a dump,” her Granny Magoo said loudly behind her.
Gertie turned to face her granny, who held up a shotgun. “What are you doing with that?”
“If the punk’s peeking out, I want him to see I’m armed.” She waved the shotgun in the air. “You mess with my granddaughter and you mess with me!”
Gertie sighed. “I’ll be fine, Granny. Please, wait in the car like I asked.”
Granny shook her head. “You have no clue what men are capable of. If you did, you wouldn’t have worn that strip of stretchy cloth across your bosom.”
“Since you recited a laundry list of the evils men do on the ride over, I now have an encyclopedic knowledge.”
Granny frowned. “What do you want with this fella anyway?”
“Just asking him to verify something I heard, that’s all.” Getting her Granny Magoo involved was something Gertie had wanted to avoid. This woman had an outsized opinion on everything and could veer off into crazy land in an instant.
“You want Buster Bussey to verify something? Did I ever tell you of the shoe thief of 1957?” She pointed to Buster’s house. “It was that boy; I just know it. One time I caught him staring at my shoes in church—”
“Granny. Car. Please. You need to be at the wheel in case we need a quick getaway. Okay?”
“You’re right. If it’s one thing I’m good at, it’s a quick getaway.” Granny turned and limped away, favoring her arthritic left knee. Granny slammed the gate shut behind her, the bottom of the wood screeching as it scraped the concrete. Before slipping inside the driver’s side of the Rambler, she yelled at a small tree in the distance. “What are you gawking at? Mind your own beeswax!” She then reached in her purse and pulled out her glasses and looked again. “Oh, you’re a tree. Forget it.”