by Shari Hearn
She nodded. “Hmm-hmm. I have it with me in my purse. I’m going to take the baseball cap to the St. Charles paper so they can publish a photo of it.”
“What makes you think it has anything to do with Guillory’s murder?” he asked. “Where’d you find it again?”
“I didn’t find it. It’s the cap someone accidentally gave to my Granny Magoo. I don’t remember who she said it was, but last night someone tried to steal it. Nice cap too. Atlanta Braves.”
He frowned. His brows furrowed. He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped himself, his eyes turning upward in thought.
“Watch the road, Gill! Watch the road!”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
MARGE THOUGHT DOLLY was going to jump from the Wienermobile after they had that near collision. She probably would have had a heart attack if she’d known it was her nephew’s car they’d almost slammed into. Lucky for them Ida Belle won the coin toss and drove. Marge was a skilled stunt driver, having to make hasty retreats with her Army Jeep during many a harried covert operation, but no one could finesse a big vehicle like her friend Ida Belle.
“I think I’d like to go home now,” Dolly said, her face tinged with green.
“Oh, of course,” Marge said, giving Dolly a reassuring pat on her back. Ida Belle had always said her calm interrogator manner was chilling, but only because she knew what was coming. For Dolly, though, it was reassuring, and she sighed in relief.
“Ida Belle, honey,” Marge said, adding the ‘honey’ to let Ida Belle know it was time to go full force, “why don’t you find a place ahead to turn around. I think this road is too much for Miss Dolly. Her face has taken on an ugly shade of green.”
“You’re such a good girl,” Dolly whispered to Marge. “I always liked you the best of the three.”
“That’s sweet to hear,” Marge whispered back.
“Will do,” Ida Belle replied. “So did you ask her the question I wanted?”
“Well, I don’t know,” Marge said. “She’s pretty shaken from the drive.”
“I think you should,” Ida Belle said. Marge could tell she’d just increased the speed.
“What is it?” Dolly asked.
Marge sighed. “Ida Belle has this thought that you may know something about the baseball cap worn by Wade Guillory’s killer.”
A look of panic crossed her face. “What would give her that idea?”
“Well, let’s recap. A killer runs into the woods after killing Mr. Guillory. The woods between your house and the crime scene. He had a baseball cap on, then didn’t, which suggests he dropped it. Again, behind your house. We couldn’t find the hat when we went searching for it. Then you left a baseball cap out for Gertie Hebert’s grandmother and then asked for it back. And then last night someone tried to steal it.”
“All coincidence,” she said. “That’s my brother’s cap. I left it out to take to the post office.”
“But it was in a bag, not in a mailing box,” Marge said. “You see how that’s a little odd? And why leave it outside? Ida Belle thinks maybe you left it behind your house for the killer to pick up, but Gertie’s granny picked it up by mistake.”
The Wienermobile’s speed ticked up a notch.
“Why is she going faster?” Dolly asked, her face abandoning green and now going white.
“Ida Belle, honey,” Marge said, calmly. “What’s with the Wienermobile?”
“I’m having a hard time regulating the speed,” Ida Belle answered. “Sometimes the gas pedal seems to stick.”
“Tell her to put on the brakes and stop!”
“She gets a little touchy when you tell her how to drive,” Marge said. “Don’t worry, though, she’s very skilled. Remember how she sped around that car? What was the driver thinking, slowing down like that? We could have smacked right into him.” Marge clapped her hands for emphasis.
Dolly flinched. “Don’t remind me of it.”
“Let’s just chat and take your mind off things, okay? So getting back to the cap. You know what really bugs Ida Belle,” Marge said, whispering, “is how the burglar knew where it was. Gertie watched through the kitchen window and he went right to it. Right where you told her Granny Magoo to leave it. Odd, don’t you think?”
“No, not odd,” she said quickly.
Marge looked at Ida Belle, then back at Dolly. “Do you know Buster Bussey?”
Dolly sputtered. “I... I...”
Ida Belle swerved to the right, knocking Dolly against Marge.
“Yes!” she said. “Everybody does.”
“But some people pay him to lie for them. Dolly, I’m going to be honest with you. I spoke to Buster Bussey.”
Ida Belle increased the speed and swerved again.
“I never paid him to kill Wade,” Dolly blurted out. “Did he say that?”
Now they were getting somewhere, Marge thought. She leaned into Dolly. “Dolly, did you kill Wade Guillory then ask Buster to cast suspicion on my Aunt Louanne?”
Her eyes widened. “Buster’s an idiot!” Dolly slapped her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from spilling more beans. She then removed it and said, “I was home watching The Birds when Wade was killed. Honest!”
“Are you sure you were watching The Birds?” Marge asked.
Dolly nodded. “My favorite movie. It always makes me laugh. I love that last scene with the cat!”
“Dolly,” Marge whispered to her, “The Birds isn’t a comedy.”
Ida Belle increased the speed on the Wienermobile. “I think I’m losing control! If you feel like confessing anything to your maker, now would be the time!”
Dolly screamed.
Marge leaned into Dolly’s ear and whispered. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to confess? Confession is good for the soul. Especially at times like these.”
Dolly swallowed. “We told Buster to make it sound like he saw Bonnie Cotton outside the house. But Buster’s stupid and said he saw a woman leave in a convertible. Bonnie sold her convertible a few days ago, so Sheriff Lee just assumed it was Louanne Boudreaux because she drives one. But that wasn’t our fault. Honest, we never meant to point the finger at your Aunt Louanne. We told Buster to specifically say it was Bonnie. Is it our fault he’s stupid?”
Marge smiled. She just got Dolly to confess that she had an accomplice. Now she needed Dolly to say it was her nephew, Gill. “Are you sure you didn’t do this by yourself? Buster didn’t mention anyone else, Dolly.”
“What? I’m not going to take all the blame!” Dolly directed her words up toward the ceiling of the Wienermobile. “I wasn’t alone in this, Lord! You saw him. He went there that night, same as me.” She looked back at Marge. “But it was an accident!” Dolly looked toward the ceiling again. “And we only shot him in his foot, Lord! You know that as well as I do. How could you let it kill him? How could you do this to me?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
GERTIE AND GILL FINALLY reached the turnout that would allow them to walk through the foliage down to the pond. He appeared rattled as he stepped out of the driver’s side and made his way quickly to the dirt patch on the side of the road.
After revealing the cap in question had been an Atlanta Braves cap, Gertie remained silent, wanting everything to stew in Gill’s head while they were driving.
Gill certainly had plenty to think about. If he were involved with Guillory’s murder, which Gertie was certain of, all this information might present him with a decision to make. Let Gertie take the hat to the newspapers and risk someone recognizing it as his or take care of the situation. In his mind, no one knew that Gertie had the hat or that she was with him today. A perfect opportunity to get rid of her.
And if he tried, she and Eloise were going to be ready for him.
Gertie retrieved the cool chest from behind her seat and handed it to Gill, then took a blanket that Gill had placed on the seat and draped it over her arm. They walked through a grove of cypress trees and soon Branley Road disappeared and gave way t
o a picturesque pond. If this had been a different day with a different guy, it would be romantic.
“You were right,” Gill said, smiling. “This is worth it. I’m feeling some of my tensions melting just looking at it.”
“I hope I didn’t add to your tensions by bringing up the baseball cap,” she said, adding, “the one I have with me in my purse.”
He quickly shook his head. “Why would it? That baseball cap means nothing to me. I don’t even like baseball. We need to forget about baseball caps and the murder and have a nice picnic.” He pointed to a grassy area. “That spot looks nice. You set up and I’ll grab a couple of sodas from the cool chest.”
She spread out the blanket and sat down.
He opened the lid of the cooler. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of choosing cream sodas for our beverages. You seem like a cream soda girl.”
Gertie cringed. She hated cream soda. Cream sodas were for milquetoasts like Gill. “Mmmm. Cream soda. My favorite. Can I ask you a question, Gill?”
“As long as it’s not about anything crime related.”
“Oh, okay. Then I won’t ask what you were doing after you left my house after having dinner with my family. But since that was the night of the murder, I won’t ask.”
He turned from the cool chest and stared at her. “What?”
“I mean, it’s just that I’m surprised that the sheriff hasn’t asked for your alibi, seeing as how you had been in a relationship with Bonnie.”
“Would you stop being jealous of Bonnie? Not that I need an alibi, but mother asked me to stop by after my dinner with you so she could ask how it went. The Birds came on and I couldn’t help myself. I stayed and watched. Bird droppings are one of my specialties. Now, enough, Gertie. Stop talking so I can prove to you that Bonnie and I are truly over.”
She turned her head toward the pond, pretending to stare at the beauty of the willow trees, and how the shadows from the puffy clouds overhead glided across the pond. In reality, though, she was keeping her eye on Gill’s shadow as he bent down and searched through the ice for the sodas.
He sighed. “That’s better. It’s time to enjoy our picnic and the little surprise I have planned for you. Well, two surprises, actually. I have some interesting news about the samples you gave me.”
“And what’s that?”
She could see his shadow as he pulled out the two sodas and closed the chest. He set the sodas down on the lid. “Well, the white hairs we found near the rental house have been treated.”
“Treated? What do you mean?” She turned around and looked at him.
“We’ll talk about that later. Now, turn around and don’t peek. I have something special to give you, and I don’t want talk of baseball caps or animal hairs to spoil the mood. Just look at the beautiful pond and think good thoughts.”
Gertie turned back toward the water and a view of his shadow, which was moving toward her. She noticed he held his hands out in front of him, parallel, several inches apart.
Instead of sodas, he was holding what looked like some kind of garrote.
Gertie stiffened. Dear Lord, she thought, Mr. Milquetoast was planning on strangling her. Luckily, she’d been in plenty of rodeos just like this. Amazing how many times spies are almost strangled in their careers.
“I certainly like surprises,” she said, reaching inside her blouse for her trusty Eloise, ready to give Gill a surprise of her own.
Or maybe not.
The gun had caught on the frayed fabric of her bra pistol holder. She saw his shadow getting closer. She’d have to do this the old-fashioned way. She let go of her grip on the pistol and whipped around, swinging her feet into his knees, bringing him down to the ground. His garrote flew from his hand, landing a few feet away in the grass.
He screamed like a little girl as she threw herself on top of him and brought his arms around to his back. “I’m armed as well. Eloise might be stuck between my boobs, but she can still fire.”
Chapter Thirty
MARGE GAVE DOLLY A few minutes of choking back her sobs and wailing about how everything was an accident.
“We were both yelling at Wade and he was screaming back at us. He was holding the nail gun and before you know it, one of us, and I really don’t think it was me, nudged the nail gun in Wade’s hand and he shot himself in the foot. Yes, there was blood, but it went through his heel. Not enough to kill him. I mean, is it our fault that Wade was so fragile that one little nail would kill him?”
Marge had seen Wade Guillory that morning. There was clearly more than one nail sticking in him. There were many. And not just in the foot. But she let that go for the moment.
“Okay, Miss Dolly,” Marge said calmly, “I want you to start from the beginning. Why did you and Gill go over there in the first place?”
She looked up at Marge, her face glistening with tears. A line of nasal discharge was tickling her lip. “Gill? Who said anything about Gill? He wasn’t there that night. Paul was.”
“Paul?” Ida Belle asked from the front seat. She had since lessened her speed.
“Paul Corbett,” Dolly spit out. “He was there to confront Wade about renting to you three girls instead of to him and Ellie. I was there to give Wade a piece of my mind about him sneaking around and carrying-on with Bonnie Cotton. He denied it, but I knew better. His wife Philomena told me he was seeing her.”
“So you were mad that Mr. Guillory was cheating on his wife?”
“No!” she said, screwing her face at Marge. “I don’t give a damn about him cheating on Philomena. Hell, she’s on her way out anyway. But I told him I wouldn’t stand for him cheating on me.”
Marge could feel her eyebrows lift. “You were having an affair with Wade Guillory?”
“Why do you say it like that? I may be a few years older than Bonnie Cotton, but I’m still a looker. And I didn’t mind obliging Wade on some of his more... oddball requests... sexually.”
Marge prevented her face from cringing. She glanced at the rear-view mirror. Ida Belle did the cringing for her. Marge turned back to Dolly. “Okay, so you went there, and Paul was there.”
Dolly shook her head. “No, I arrived first. And then Paul came in and started yelling at Wade and I said, ‘Hey, wait your turn.’ Wade had the nail gun in his hand, and I pushed Paul away from him, only instead of falling away, Paul fell into him. That caused Wade to shoot himself in the foot. He started screaming. The big baby. He said he was going to go call the sheriff. I said, ‘Go ahead! You do that and I’ll tell the sheriff that you and I are trying to kill your wife.’ Well, that shut him up.”
“Wait. What?” Marge asked. “You and Mr. Guillory were trying to kill Philomena? The woman dying of leukemia?”
Dolly folded her lips into her mouth, took a moment, then said, “I didn’t say that. You heard me wrong.”
Ida Belle pressed on the gas, throwing Dolly back in her seat. “Slow down! Slow down!”
But Ida Belle didn’t. She sped up, aiming for a pothole in the road. The Wienermobile bounced over it. Dolly grabbed onto Marge. “Okay, okay. Wade Guillory and I were having an affair. At first, I hated him for how he stuffed my cat. I told him that Crackers crossed her paws right over left, yet for all eternity my poor little kitty has left over right. Why some people refuse to follow directions is beyond me.”
“Forget your stuffed cat!” Marge said. “Tell me about trying to kill Philomena.”
“Well, at first I hated him, and he hated me, but, you know, that can be a bit of a turn on to some people, myself included, so we started sleeping together. He said he’d marry me after Philomena died. But damn, she had six months left! I’m not getting any younger. So we thought we’d help her go sooner. Her doctor said with her medicine she would have six months. So I took the job as her helper and started putting sugar in all her pills. But so far it hasn’t had any effect. The damn woman still hasn’t died!”
Marge’s jaw dropped.
“You’re not going to mention th
at part of the story to Sheriff Lee, are you?” Dolly asked.
Marge turned away, fighting the urge to strangle her.
“What about Gill?” Ida Belle asked. “Did he know about it?”
“Why would I tell him? He thinks that baseball cap was his uncle’s. I had him go find it for me in the woods, which he did. But that’s all he knows about it.”
Marge turned and stared at her. “Then Gill wasn’t the one who tried to steal it from the Hebert’s back porch?”
“No. That was Paul. What a moron. He didn’t trust me to get it back, so he went himself hours before I was supposed to drop by and pick it up. But then he called and told me Gertie chased him away, so I went there early on my walk and looked in the bushes where he said he threw it.”
Dolly tossed doe eyes at Marge. “Do you think your mama will understand? I’d hate to lose her friendship.”
Marge pulled away from her. “I don’t think someone who’d try to kill a dying woman would top my mama’s list of friends.”
“Oh, crap. Sheriff’s Department,” Ida Belle said, looking in the rear-view mirror. “He’s flashing his lights.”
Ida Belle began to slow her speed, pulling off the highway.
Dolly’s face brightened. “Oh, I get it. You didn’t borrow the Wienermobile. You stole it. Tell you what, I’ll back up whatever story you give him if you forget this little discussion we had.”
Marge leaned into Dolly. “I would happily go to jail for joyriding if it means you are sent to prison for murder and the attempted murder of Philomena Guillory. Maybe they’ll let you knit all the prison uniforms.”
Dolly pulled away from her.
IDA BELLE DREW IN A deep breath and blew it out. She glanced up at the rear-view mirror as the deputy stepped out of the Sheriff’s Department cruiser. She groaned.
“It’s Walter.”
She shook her head as she heard his boots approaching. He stopped at the driver’s side window, which was elevated so that it was level with his shoulders. “Jeez, Ida Belle, if you wanted to see me, you didn’t have to steal a car and get arrested to do it.”