miss fortune mystery (ff) - bloodshed in the bayou

by Leslie Langtry

  “I hope you don’t mind,” She said as she stepped onto my porch. “But I made you something. Sorry to hear about your dad.”

  “Thanks. This is really nice of you. You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.” Ally and I knew each other in high school but, like anything else, you kind of drift away from people as you get older.

  She waved me off. “Aunt Celia’s got half the town delivering casseroles to your sister. I’d rather bring you something. Knowing Peggy Sue – I thought you probably needed this more than she did.”

  I got to my feet. “Well come in and let’s have a piece.” There was some small satisfaction in the idea that my twin sister would be insanely jealous that Ally had made me, and not her, something. I let that thought warm my heart as I made my way to the kitchen and dug out plates and my Aunt June’s silver pie server. You weren’t a true southerner if you didn’t have a pie server, especially one kept in the family. They take points off for that.

  “Oh wow.” I moaned after taking a bite. “It’s still warm.” And it was good. No, it was great. The best peach pie I’d ever had. The fruit was ripe and sweet and the crust was just the right kind of flaky.

  Ally nodded. “I haven’t made a peach pie in a while. I should do it more often.”

  We finished our dessert in silent reverence. With pie like that it would be a sacrilege to talk. When we finished, Ally wrapped what was left in aluminum foil and put it away.

  “I’ve got to run.” She said, brushing crumbs from her dress. “Francine’s got me working the dinner shift tonight.”

  I thanked her and watched her go. Francine was the owner of the best southern fried diner in the South. She’d be busy tonight. She was busy every night. I really must go there for dinner more often. Get out once in a while.

  I showered and changed into shorts and a t-shirt, before going into Mom’s old bedroom and pulling a shoebox out from under her bed. I carried it downstairs to the kitchen and removed the lid.

  There was only one photo of my father. Mom had insisted on keeping it even though he’d left us. She said she wanted us to know that we looked like him. And it was true. Hugo had blond hair like Peggy Sue and me. Mom’s hair had been almost black. No way we looked like her.

  It was a strange picture. Dad stared right at you with a slight frown. He was dressed in a suit and standing outside, in back of our house. Mom never explained what was going on there. She just handed us the photo and told us it was our father. We’d press her on the details but they never came.

  The photo was always something kind of mysterious to Peggy Sue and me when we were growing up. Mom made no pretense about it. But every time we looked at it as girls, we imagined that he was really and truly looking at us…watching over us and making sure we were okay. But as the years wore on and we never heard from him, I’d decided he was just an asshole and hadn’t wanted his picture taken that day.

  It took a long time before my twin and I realized he was never coming back. Mom insisted that she’d never heard from him so had no idea where he was. Finally, the summer before college, I’d decided he just didn’t exist, and therefore deserved no place of importance in my mind.

  I turned the photo over in my hands. Nothing had ever been written on the back. It was the only evidence he’d been alive, but even that was weak. I’d wasted too many years on that stupid man. Now he was back.

  As I got ready for bed I realized I wouldn’t have any closure at all until I knew more about what had happened to him. First thing in the morning, I was going down to the Sheriff’s office to find out what they knew. Then once Peggy Sue buried the bastard, I’d be able to be free from the ghost that was my father.

  “I can’t tell you much until the autopsy comes through.” Deputy LeBlanc said as I followed him to the morgue. He frowned as he reached for the door. “Are you sure you want to see the body? We don’t need you to identify it.”

  I nodded. “I don’t have any memory at all of him, Carter. So I would like to see him now.” Face to face. Too bad I couldn’t grill the Bastard on where he’s been all these years, but this would have to do.

  I’d seen bodies before. But only at funerals. Carter had warned me that it wouldn’t be pretty. We walked up to a gurney with a sheet over Dad. I took a deep breath and Carter pulled the sheet back.

  His flesh was very tan. Like he’d worked outside all his life. Maybe he’d been on those oil rigs in the Gulf. The hair was blonde with streaks of gray. His face was passive with its eyes closed. A red hole was in the center of his forehead.

  “He was shot?” I asked a little shakily.

  “Yes.” LeBlanc said quietly. “And I don’t think it was an accident.”

  I looked at the deputy, then back at my father. “Murdered? Are you sure?”

  He nodded and pulled the sheet back over my dad’s head. “Dead center of the forehead indicates execution style. I’m sorry.”

  Murdered. My dad, the man who’d left us. Who’d left my sister and me to deal with a crazy mom, had been murdered.

  “Who did it?” I asked. Too bad it hadn’t been me.

  Carter shook his head. “I wish I knew. I’m investigating.” He touched my elbow and led me out of the morgue and into the hallway. As I sat down on a bench, he brought me a cup of water.

  “I know you and your sister haven’t seen him in years,” Carter sat down beside me as I gulped the water. “But do you have any idea what he was up to? Who would want him dead?”

  I shook my head. “No. Mom never even heard from him. None of us did. And I don’t know what kind of work he did before or after he left. Sorry.”

  Carter nodded. “Okay. I will need to interview your mother.”

  “What? Why? She doesn’t know anything!”

  “It’s just standard procedure.” He said gently.

  “It’s not a good idea. She doesn’t always remember me when I visit her.”

  “Maybe you could go with me, then?” Carter asked.

  I sighed. “Fine. When do you want to go?”

  Immediately, it turned out. So here I was with the Deputy in tow, on my way to see Mom two days in a row. I had no idea how this was going to turn out. Probably not good. But I understood why he had to try.

  Carter was quiet on the drive over, which gave me time to think. Someone had murdered my dad. Not the way I’d imagined him dying. I’d always hope he’d have a slow, painful accident involving an eight foot long alligator and the softer, more tender parts of his flesh, and we’d get a visit from a lawyer who said Dad’s greatest regret was not getting to know his children, and oh, here’s ten million dollars.

  But murder…that meant someone wanted him dead. Someone hated him enough to put a gun to his head, pull the trigger and dump him in the swamp near the town and family he’d abandoned.

  Good people weren’t supposed to get murdered. Bad people are executed all the time by other bad people. Maybe he owed money to the mob, or killed someone, or…

  This was getting me nowhere. I haven’t cared all these years where he was or what he was up to. So why now? This thought floated in my brain like a persistent fog as we pulled into the Sunnyvale nursing home lot.

  “Hey Eleanor.” I said to the receptionist.

  “Back so soon?” Eleanor Woodruff frowned. I was off schedule. People with dementia liked schedules.

  “Sorry.” I said and introduced her to the deputy. “We have to see Mom.”

  “I hope everything’s okay.” The woman chewed her lip. She was nice. Probably the nicest person on the staff. The middle-aged woman had only been here a year, but I really liked her. It was nice to have someone cheerful at a place like this.

  I signed the visitor’s log. “How is she today?”

  Eleanor gave a polite smile. “She seems more like her old self, really. Pretty lucid.”

  “Thanks.” I led Deputy LeBlanc back to the room. Well good. If Mom was lucid, we’d settle this quickly and be on our way.

  “Mom?” I said as I walked into
the room. There was no music playing this time. This time, she was sitting in a chair, staring out the window. She turned as I entered.

  “Margaret? What are you doing here Sweetie?” She smiled. This was a good sign.

  “Mom, this is Deputy LeBlanc. We have some bad news.” I said gently as Carter and I pulled up chairs.

  Mom nodded. “Your father is dead.” She said simply, before turning to stare out the window.

  “How did you know that?” I asked. “Did Peggy Sue call?”

  Mom turned back to me and frowned. “No. She didn’t call. I know because I killed him.”

  Chapter 4

  “That’s impossible. She didn’t do it!” I said, looking at Carter. “You can’t arrest her. She can’t leave here anyway. She’s on lockdown.” But my heart skipped a beat nonetheless. Why would she admit to that? And how did she know in the first place?

  “Mrs. Ancelet,” Carter said gently. “What makes you think Hugo is dead?”

  “Carter LeBlanc!” Mom drew herself up in her chair, “You’ve known me since you were five! Do you think I’m an idiot?”

  I looked at my mother in astonishment. Where had this woman come from? I hadn’t seen her in years.

  “No Ma’am.” Carter shook his head. “I don’t think you’re an idiot. But I don’t think you killed him either.”

  “Just answer the question, Mom.” I said. “How did you know dad was dead?”

  “Because he came to see me two days ago. Because I shot him in the head and dumped him in the swamp near Sinful.” She had a haughty tone in her voice. She really believed she’d done it!

  Deputy LeBlanc looked at her for a few minutes in silence as I tried to understand what I’d just heard. Mom knew details of the case that no one else knew yet. I was the first person Carter had told about the gunshot wound.

  “Could Walter have told people about the gunshot wound?” I asked Carter. His uncle Walter had found the body. Maybe he’d said something, word spread, Peggy Sue told Mom and that’s how Mom knew?

  “No.” the Deputy said. “My uncle knows better than to leak the information about a case. I trust him.”

  He rose to his feet. “Can I talk to you out in the hall please?”

  I nodded and patted Mom’s hand. “We’ll be right back.”

  Once the door closed behind us, Carter looked up and down the hallway. “I might have to arrest her.”

  “What? No! She couldn’t have done it!” I protested.

  “Let me talk to the administrators here. If they can give me proof that she couldn’t get out of here, I’ll let her stay.” He patted me on the arm and took off.

  I went back into the room. “Mom, Dad couldn’t have visited you here. You’re imagining it.”

  Mom shook her head. “No. I remember quite clearly. He came into my room. I shot him. End of story.”

  “Oh really,” I said, folding my arms over my chest. “And how did you get a gun? Why didn’t anyone hear it go off? How did you get out with a body and go all the way to Sinful to dump it, then make it back here without being noticed?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know, but I did.”

  I came over and sat down next to her. “If Dad was here, what did you two talk about that made you want to shoot him?”

  “I don’t remember.” She stared at me without really looking at me. “He just barged in, yelled something, and then he was dead.” Mom smiled. “It’s okay, Margaret. He deserved to die.” She said as if she was talking about why she’d arranged a vase of flowers the way she did. Then she turned to look back out the window.

  “Mom?” I asked. There was no answer. We were done here whether I liked it or not.

  I joined Deputy LeBlanc in the lobby, where he was talking to the receptionist. I waited until he was done.

  “Well,” He said as he walked over to me. “She did have a visitor two days ago. And his name was Hugo Ancelet. The receptionist described him to me and it sounds like him.”

  I stepped backward, grabbing onto a table. “That’s not possible…”

  “On the other hand,” Carter said. “They’re going to check video recordings of the grounds from that day and follow up with the staff who were here when he came by, to see if your mother was missing at any time. Right now they’re searching her room. I’m going to let her stay here until they get back to me with the results.”

  “Okay.” Was all I said. Carter led me out to the car and we got in. The drive back to Sinful was long and very quiet.

  A text from Peggy Sue left me saying goodbye to the deputy to meet my sister at the funeral home. This day was getting better and better.

  “What do you want?” I asked my sister as I found her in the main lobby. A grim, gray looking man with a dour expression stood next to her, groveling at her elbow. Mr. Gracie was the undertaker, as was his father, grandfather, and great grandfather. They were the Catholic funeral home. I suppose they’d take Protestants in a pinch, but no one had ever asked them, since the Baptists had the other Gracie Family Funeral Home.

  Yes, both funeral homes were related to each other. They never spoke because they were still feuding over The War of Northern Aggression (that’s the Civil War to you Yankees, although most folks round here would say there was nothing civil about it). Due to his position as a “Lincoln Man,” Zebediah Gracie refused to work with his Jefferson Davies supporting brother so he converted to maintain the dead people for the Protestants and that was that. Feuds last a long time in the South.

  “I’ll give you a moment,” Mr. Gracie nodded at my sister and me and walked off.

  Peggy Sue led me to a room filled with coffins. “I just wanted to know what you think.” She waved at a huge, ugly, pink metal coffin. “The Heavenly Rest With Jesus is $40,000,” and then she pointed at a pewter colored monstrosity with the word Father in scroll on the side, “Or the Sublime Spirit Of Angels for $50,000.”

  “What? I’m not paying for anything more than a cardboard box for that man!” What was she thinking?

  Peggy Sue’s lips formed a tight, thin line, “Margaret! I cannot bury our Father in something so indecent! What will people think?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not paying one penny for it. And you’re an idiot if you do.”

  My sister sniffed. “Of course, I’ll pay for the whole funeral. You just need to be there looking sufficiently mournful.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. And what are people going to think when Mom’s not there because she’s been arrested for murdering him?”

  That hit just the right nerve. My twin’s face went pale and her eyes grew wide. The flawless veneer was beginning to crack.

  “What on Earth are you talking about? Why would anyone think Mother killed him?”

  I shrugged. “Because that’s what she just told Deputy LeBlanc and me, not one hour ago.”

  Peggy Sue clutched her chest, slightly wrinkling her lavender, linen dress. “My God!” She wailed as she imagined her status in the community losing even one level. “They can’t really believe she did it! Can they?”

  “I wouldn’t think so, but Carter says it’s possible.” I should’ve felt bad, but to be honest, I was really enjoying the show. Of course, I didn’t want Mom arrested any more than my sister did, but it was entertaining watching the wheels turn behind her eyes as she probably wondered what the PEO Secret Society would think.

  She pulled out her cell and began dialing. “I’m calling Sheriff Lee! Huntington and I gave money to his campaign and I’ll be damned if I’ll let him arrest Mother.”

  I left her to it and wandered into the parlor where our dearly departed Father would rest for all the population of Sinful to see. This was ridiculous – thinking of expensive caskets, flowers and making sure you kept your standing in the community over a man like Hugo Ancelet.

  Peggy Sue stalked into the room a few minutes later, nostrils flaring. “Damned fool of a Sheriff! Well I’m not going to give him one dime from here on out!”

  “What did he say?�
�� I asked – even though I knew the answer.

  “That they are pressing charges against Mother tomorrow! Can you believe that?” My sister thundered. “I cannot deal with this right now!”

  “What do you suggest?” I asked.

  “Well obviously,” she looked at me, “You’re going to have to figure something out. You’ll have to solve this so we can clear Mother’s name!”

  “What?” I asked, a bit stunned.

  “Well get on with it, Margaret!” She snapped. “I have to find Mr. Gracie and take care of the funeral. I can’t do everything!”

  As she stormed out, I wondered just what the hell I’d gotten myself into.

  Chapter 5

  Francine’s Diner was packed for lunch but I still managed to score a small table near the back. I was contemplating running away from home as I took my seat and stared at the menu.

  “Hi Margaret!” Ally stood next to my table, order pad in hand. “What can I get you?” When you’re the only restaurant in a small town, people expect you to know what you want before you even hit the door. The menu might be a tad limited, but it was the best food in the state.

  “Sweet tea, chicken fried steak, and a private investigator.” I mumbled. Did I just say that? I couldn’t afford to hire a private detective? I didn’t even know how to hire one.

  “What do you need a detective for?” Ally frowned.

  I told her what had happened and she listened, making supportive sounds as I spoke. “What am I going to do?” I asked her at the end.

  “First off,” Ally said as she looked around. “I’m going to move you to a different table.”

  I got up and followed her to a table with three women sitting at it. I recognized two of them.

  “Hey Gertie, Ida Belle.” I said half-heartedly to the elderly ladies. Seated with them was a stunning, young blonde I’d never seen before.

  “Why Margaret Susan Ancelet!” Ida Belle patted the chair next to her. “I just heard about your father. I’m so sorry!”