Lethal Bayou Beauty

by Jana DeLeon

  In my past run-ins with Deputy LeBlanc, he’d looked almost amused with my sarcastic wit, but no sign of amusement existed now. I frowned. This visit was about something vastly different from being drunk in public.

  “Where were you yesterday, starting at seven p.m.?”

  I wanted so badly to quiz him before answering, but something in his expression told me now wasn’t the time. He was all business, and he wasn’t happy about whatever business he’d come here over.

  “At seven, I went to the Catholic Church with Ida Belle and Gertie to help with the beauty pageant stuff for festival. We were there about thirty minutes before we were invited to leave.”

  Deputy LeBlanc nodded. “Did you go home after that?”

  “No. That’s where the drinking in public part came in. We went to Francine’s and ate a ton of crawfish and drank cola spiked with Sinful Ladies Society cough syrup.”

  Carter closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, and I knew he was mentally counting to ten. “What time did you leave Francine’s?”

  “About nine o’clock.”

  “And you came straight home and stayed here?”

  Starting to get a little irritated with all the questions and no explanation, my snarky side began to creep out. “Where else is there to go? Everything closes by six except Francine’s.”

  “You were alone?” Carter asked, completely ignoring my tone.

  “I didn’t pick up one of the senior citizens or any of the married men down at Francine’s and haul them home with me, if that’s what you’re asking. You interested in the spot?”

  In the past, Carter had flirted with me when the opportunity had presented itself, but this time, he didn’t show any sign of taking the bait. Instead, he just stood there frowning, studying me. My curiosity piqued. Whatever had him up this early and on my doorstep must be bad.

  “Are you going to tell me why you’re asking these questions?”

  “In a minute. According to one of the pageant workers, you got into a fight with Pansy Arceneaux.”

  “Oh good grief! Is that what this is about? Pansy got her panties in a bunch and you’re going to arrest me? I suppose Lady Gaga makeup is illegal in Sinful.”

  “No. But murder is.”

  “Murder?” A wave of panic ran through me and I forced myself to remain calm. “But who…not…Pansy?”

  Carter nodded. “Celia heard a noise around midnight and went downstairs to check. She found Pansy lying on the kitchen floor, dead.”

  I stared, waiting for the punch line, but one look at Carter’s face and I knew his story was very real. My heart dropped to the bottom of Sinful Bayou. The worst-case scenario had come home to roost. I’d threatened the woman just hours before she was murdered. No way was I ducking out of scrutiny this time.

  “How was she killed?”

  “We’re not releasing that information at this time.”

  Of course they weren’t. Not that it mattered. I’d invented ways to kill people. Sinful couldn’t possibly have come up with a technique I couldn’t master.

  “I don’t know what to say. Yes, I got in a fight with Pansy and threatened her, but I didn’t mean it. It was just something you say in the heat of the moment when someone’s hurling insults at you. Besides, I can’t possibly be the only person in Sinful who’s threatened Pansy.”

  “No, but you’re the most recent. I’ll verify your story with Ida Belle and Gertie, not that I find them particularly trustworthy, but if they can’t vouch for you at midnight, it doesn’t do you a lot of good.”

  I felt a flush run up my face. “You can’t possibly think I did this. I’ve barely been here a week. That’s hardly enough time to develop feelings so strong that I start killing people.”

  “Rationally speaking, you’re right, but what I find interesting is that you didn’t seem shocked when you found out I was investigating a murder. Most people are squeamish about that sort of thing, especially if they knew the victim. Even if they didn’t like them.”

  I scrambled for a suitable reply. The reality was, one more body didn’t really make a big difference in my stats, especially as we were talking about a death I wasn’t responsible for. I’d been directly and indirectly associated with more dead people than I could count.

  “I guess it hasn’t sunk in,” I said, but I could tell my poor, pitiful me statement hadn’t even made a dent. Time to move to the ego strike. “I can’t believe Aunt Marge would bring me down here, knowing how dangerous this place is.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “Oh, we have our share of deaths. Lots of people here have dangerous jobs and even more take unnecessary chances, but the only murders I’ve seen since I’ve been deputy are the two that happened after you showed up in town.”

  I felt a flush run up my neck. “The first guy was dead long before I got here. I hardly think I sneaked down here years ago, killed a perfect stranger, then came back years later to implicate myself by finding the evidence.”

  Carter nodded. “True. But the second one wasn’t dead until last night, and you were the last person to threaten her.”

  “That you’re aware of.” Because I was certain I hadn’t killed Pansy, my mind was already whirling with possibilities—a landlord she’d skipped out on, loan sharks, a pimp, anyone forced to listen to her for more than thirty seconds—the possibilities were endless.

  “Someone could easily have followed her here from Los Angeles,” I pointed out. “Sinful may not be a hotbed of criminal activity, but LA certainly is. Maybe someone should see how Pansy was supporting herself while she was out there, because it only takes minutes for anyone with an Internet connection to find out she wasn’t making it acting. Not any kind of acting she wanted to claim, anyway.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me, and I could tell that one, he didn’t like my assessment, and two, it was something he’d already thought of himself.

  “You,” he said and pointed his finger at me, “will not get involved in this investigation. Playing cop almost got Ida Belle and Gertie killed last week. Next time, it could be you, or all three of you.”

  I smiled. “But if I killed her, I wouldn’t be in any danger if I attempted to investigate, so the fact that you’ve told me to stay out of your case also tells me you don’t think I did it.”

  “Doesn’t matter what I think. It only matters what I can prove, and unfortunately, I can’t prove you didn’t do it. That may be all that the good citizens of Sinful need to rally behind Celia and demand your arrest. Remember, Pansy was the mayor’s niece. This could get very ugly.”

  Holy shit!

  A jolt of fear shot through me like a lightning bolt. I’d completely forgotten to put things in perspective. I wasn’t back in DC, with hundreds of thousands of people and a staff of attorneys at my disposal. I was an outsider in a small bayou town who’d just threatened a dead, politically connected local.

  So much for flying below radar. I’d just blown the whole thing up.

  ###

  After an admonition from Carter not to leave town, I flew upstairs to call Harrison and ensure that my Sandy-Sue cover was shored up from every angle possible. I felt my lower back tighten as I clenched the phone, waiting for him to answer. He was not going to be happy about this turn of events, and Director Morrow was going to flip.

  “What’s wrong?” Harrison sounded half-asleep and half-stressed, well aware that a six a.m. call on a line reserved only for emergencies couldn’t be a good thing.

  I gave him a brief rundown of the situation, leaving out the details about the actual reason for the fight. His responses went from chuckling at my foray into the beauty world to disbelief over the fact that yet another body had racked up on my watch.

  “Jesus, Redding!” he said when I’d finished. “You can handle the most complicated weaponry like you designed it yourself and traverse some of the world’s deadliest terrain like it’s a stroll in the park, but you can’t manage to lay low in some hick town for even a day without landing smack in the middle o
f trouble. I’m beginning to think Morrow is right and you’re the real problem.”

  I clenched my teeth and struggled not to tell him off. It wasn’t totally his fault. You had to actually be in Sinful to figure out it was a whole different level of strange.

  “This town is the most difficult assignment I’ve ever had,” I said. “I’m not trained to be a civilian, and I’m certainly not trained to host beauty pageants. How well would you do in my place?”

  “I’m a guy.”

  “Exactly my point. And for all intents and purposes, so am I, at least from the average female perspective. I am just as lost here as you would be. It’s like Alice in Wonderland. This place is not anything I know or can draw a comparison to from my normal life. What the hell kind of assassin would I be if I was worried about messing up my hair or breaking a nail?”

  He sighed. “Okay, so it’s definitely not the best cover for you, and I’m sure Morrow had no idea that you’d be thrust into the limelight with all your feminine shortcomings up for exposure. But this makes four bodies since you’ve been there.”

  “What can I do about that when they keep popping up? I can’t keep people from being murdered by someone else.”

  “Shit.” Harrison was silent for several seconds, and I knew he was at as much of a loss as I was. “If you hadn’t threatened her, this might not be as serious. What did she do, anyway?”

  “She called me stupid.”

  “Oh.”

  Harrison knew better than anyone how that one word could set me off. People could call me crazy, ugly, emotionally stunted…even fat, although that would be a lie. But no one called me stupid or weak and got away with it.

  “And what did you do to get her to that point?” he asked.

  Crap. I’d been hoping he wouldn’t work around to the details.

  “I didn’t do the kid’s makeup to her standards.”

  “No big surprise there, but a lousy makeup job rarely incites name-calling. What kind of makeup did you do—zombie apocalypse?”

  I sighed. “Lady Gaga.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “She said it was a royal theme. How was I supposed to know that some pop singer is masquerading as royalty?”

  “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Do me a favor, Redding. Open up the curtains on the front of that house so that everyone can see in. Then sit in front of the television and watch anything but CNN for a good twelve hours. You can catch up on what the rest of the world is in on and have witnesses that you were at home in case another dead person turns up.”

  I’d already spent half my night dedicated to learning pop culture, but I saw no reason to admit that to Harrison. “What are you going to tell Morrow?”

  “As little as I can get away with, and even that is likely to send him into cardiac arrest.”

  “He can’t pull me out. It would only make things worse.”

  “I know. That’s the part he’s going to like the least. You know how he hates having no options.”

  “Join the party.”

  “Hang in there, Redding. I’ll do what I can on this end to ensure your cover remains intact. I’ll get back to you when I have information. You stay in plain sight as much as possible. Sit on the corner of Main Street and play the banjo if you have to. But try to have witnesses just in case this beauty queen wasn’t the only one whose number is up.”

  I hung up the phone and walked into the bathroom, my knotted back and neck in desperate need of a hot shower. In reality, I hadn’t been alone often since I’d been in Sinful, but I suspected that Ida Belle and Gertie, with all their shenanigans, weren’t the best of alibis. I hated to drag any of the other residents into my crap, but if I did everything in public, then I supposed that would leave everyone I interacted with off Carter’s hit list.

  I grabbed a handful of hair extensions and clipped them in a wad to the top of my head. It was things like showering that had me longing for my one-inch locks trapped beneath all that fake hair and glue. Some of the long strands escaped my grasp and I grabbed more barrettes to hold them in place.

  The entire process could have been simplified if I’d just use the mirror, but I hadn’t been able to look at myself since we’d returned from New Orleans two days ago. Genesis was a genius, no doubt about that. She’d exposed the delicate bone structure of my face while leaving me looking like I was hardly wearing any makeup at all. The simple, casual look she’d given my hair was no fuss and would be easy for even me to keep up.

  Then she’d spun me around in that chair to see her handiwork in all its glory, and I’d been struck speechless. Genesis, Ida Belle, and Gertie had taken it as my stunned appreciation for Genesis’ extraordinary abilities, but that wasn’t it at all. What had rendered me speechless is that I looked exactly like my mother. Ever since I’d arrived in Sinful—freshly made over to look completely different from my normal self—I’d caught glimpses of her in me. A pitch of the eyebrow, a curve of the lips, but they’d been flashes.

  Like seeing something out of the corner of your eye.

  And I’d made sure I didn’t linger in front of the mirror, allowing the whole view to come into focus. But when I’d seen myself in that beauty shop mirror, it was as if I were looking at a photograph—my favorite photograph of my mother. She was sitting in a lawn chair on the beach at Martha’s Vineyard. We were on family vacation, the last one before she died. Back then, my father was a different man—human even.

  Entire years of my adult life ran together and disappeared into the nothingness of my mind, but I could remember every minute of that summer at the beach. It was absolutely perfect.

  Then she’d died. And nothing had ever been right again.

  Chapter Six

  I’d barely gotten the coffee on before I heard the second set of a.m. pounding on my front door. This time, Ida Belle and Gertie stood on my porch, looking a bit worse for the wear. Ida Belle was in her usual morning-interrupted wear of robe and curlers. Gertie, who’d attempted to dress, had on a purple sweat suit and a giant red headband pulling her unkempt hair off her bloodred face. She was leaning against the doorjamb and wheezing like an asthmatic.

  I peered around her but didn’t see Gertie’s ancient Cadillac parked nearby.

  “Did you run over here?”

  “Someone’s car is out of commission,” Ida Belle said, who surprisingly didn’t even seem winded.

  “And someone won’t take her car out when it’s foggy lest it mar the perfect detail job,” Gertie wheezed.

  “Your car was fine last night,” I said. “What happened?”

  Gertie sucked in a deep breath and her expression shifted to that look she gets when she doesn’t want to admit to something. “I hit a squirrel on the way home from Francine’s.”

  I stared. “Sooooooo? Does Sinful have giant elephant squirrels made of titanium or something?”

  Ida Belle waved a hand and walked past me into the house. “The damn squirrel was in a tree.”

  “Not wearing your glasses again?” I asked.

  “I don’t need glasses!” Gertie protested.

  “Uh-huh,” I said and motioned her inside. “Can you get to the kitchen without breaking the living room furniture?”

  “Smart alecks,” Gertie said as she stalked by. “Both of you.”

  “How come you’re not winded?” I asked Ida Belle. She’d had to jog to my house the week before and had been huffing like a train.

  “I didn’t let myself go as much as Gertie, but that run last week let me know how lazy I’ve been. I’m doing two miles a day on my treadmill. Since I was in reasonably good shape before—unlike some people—my body has responded quickly.”

  As we walked single-file toward the kitchen, Gertie gave Ida Belle’s back the finger.

  “I saw that,” Ida Belle said, without so much as even a slight turn of her head.

  I grinned and followed them into the kitchen, where Ida Belle grabbed the coffeepot. Gertie breath was almost restored, and I gave her outfi
t another assessment.

  “Red Hat Society meets Jersey Shore?” I asked.

  Gertie stopped stirring her coffee. “What?”

  I waved a hand at her. “The look. I thought it was a mash-up. Never mind.”

  Ida Belle raised her eyebrows. “What exactly did you do after we left Francine’s?”

  “I can tell you what I didn’t do—I didn’t kill Pansy Arceneaux.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “We know.”

  “Poor Celia,” Gertie said and sniffed.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “You’re not supposed to outlive your kids, much less find them murdered. I bet she’s a mess.”

  “Beatrice tells us they had to sedate her. One of Celia’s cousins came to get her and took her to New Orleans.”

  Silently, we all took a seat at the kitchen table. By unspoken agreement, no one spoke for the first few sips, then Ida Belle sighed.

  “While I’ve enjoyed a whole two minutes completely free from Gertie’s babble, we have a serious crisis on our hands.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’ve already reported in to my partner at the agency. He’s going to do everything he can to shore up my cover on his end, but if Carter digs too deep, it won’t hold.”

  Gertie’s eyes widened. “Surely, he doesn’t think you did this. Carter is young and not yet up to our standards of stealth and subterfuge, but he’s smart.”

  “Gertie’s right,” Ida Belle said. “You have opportunity and ability, but you really don’t have motive. No one will take that beauty pageant stuff seriously as a reason to kill someone.”

  “People in Sinful might,” I said.

  Gertie’s eyes widened.

  Ida Belle blew out a breath. “Crap. You’re right. No one in Sinful could stand Pansy, but they won’t be willing to admit that one of our own killed her. You’re the easiest scapegoat, and that falling-out last night will only cement it in the majority of their feeble minds.”

  “Not to mention,” Gertie said, “that our idiot mayor will be looking to find a quick solution. It’s an election year. Hard to get votes if you’re letting the people who murder your family members get away.”