by Ellen Byron
Gaynell’s face colored with embarrassment. “I just wanted to talk to him and see if he could help me convince everyone I didn’t kill Pony. He was the only one who was nice to me, and the only one Pony said anything nice about. It was stupid, but I was desperate.”
Maggie put her hands on her friend’s shoulders. “It was not stupid. You had no idea the real killer would go after Bokie.”
“I guess. I need to find Tammy and thank her for what she’s doing. Being mad at her cuz she sang my song seems like such small stuff now.”
Maggie didn’t respond. She distrusted Tammy to the point of wondering if the singer had staged an elaborate plot to ruin Gaynell. Then she shook off the farfetched idea. Tammy had been doing a perfectly good job of making Gaynell’s life miserable before Pony’s death. If she was the killer, taking control of her career made much more sense as a motive.
Gaynell went searching for her “savior,” and Maggie left the courthouse. She texted Bo to meet her at their secret spot. Tomorrow was the final day of Cajun Country Live!, which meant Tammy and her entourage would be departing Pelican on Friday. Pelican PD—and Maggie—were running out of time to zero in on another suspect.
Chapter 18
Maggie once again waited for Bo at their meeting place on the marshy banks of Bayou Beurre. “Did you find out anything about snakes?” she called to him as he wended his way through the thick brush by the bayou.
“And hello to you, too.”
“Sorry. Gaynell’s arraignment—that’s what it’s called, isn’t it? I’ve never been to one before. Whatever it is, it made me nervous. It’s Wednesday, Bo. We don’t even have two full days before Tammy and company head to New Orleans.”
“I’m aware of that. The whole department is.” Bo reached her side. He grimaced and used a leaf to blot a drop of blood from a cut on his arm where a branch had scratched him. “The snake investigation broke down on gender lines. The girls, aka the dancers, all went, ‘Ew, we hate snakes.’ They guys, which would be the musicians, showed some snake love. In East and The Sound’s cases, literally. They both toured with a group called Snake Love, although not at the same time. Uffen had a pet boa constrictor a while. And Toulouse loves all God’s creatures.”
Bo wrapped his arms around Maggie. “It was pretty scary getting that call from Cal. You could have been killed, Maggie. I think that was the intention. Someone knows you’re nosing around. I want to keep an eye on you, not be hunting for ways to avoid you. I’m calling off our breakup charade. It’s too dangerous.”
“Considering I have palpitations every time I even think of that snake, I’m not going to argue with you. We got as much as we could out of that scheme. I got insider intel about pretty much all the musicians and was able to limit my rebound flirting to Uffen, who lost interest so quickly it’s a little insulting.” Maggie brightened. “Oooh, I get to put my engagement ring back on. That’ll get the gossip grapevine going. I’ll find a way to clue in the boys in the band. And those dancers.” She said the last with derision.
Bo laughed. “Was someone a leeetle jealous?”
“No, not at all.”
Bo gave her a You’ve got to be kidding look.
“Maybe a little,” she conceded. “They’re so pretty. And that came out way whinier than I wanted it to.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty. But it would take all their brains put together to form one intelligent sentence.”
Maggie pushed leaves around with the toe of her sneaker. “Were you ever jealous of any of the guys around me?” she said, trying and failing to sound casual.
“Every one of them. Especially that Uffen character. When I saw him coming on to you, I was close to doubling this week’s murder rate.”
“I feel a little guilty for finding that flattering.”
“I’m glad.” Bo bent down and kissed her. “The fact Gaynell was arrested isn’t going to make our killer relax, especially since the judge was clear he thinks it’s a weak case. Stay away from talk about Pony and Bokie. Let people think you’re all about planning our wedding now.”
“Oh, right, that.”
“For your own safety, I’m going to share everything I learn with you. Forget department protocol.”
“When has protocol ever mattered to Captain Rufus Durand? I’ve learned to see that as one of his great strengths.”
Bo kissed her. “I gotta run. Keep an eye out wherever you go and check in with me regularly.”
“Promise.”
The two walked out of the woods together and went their separate ways. First stop for Maggie was the family safe in the manor house. She retrieved her engagement ring and placed it back on her finger. A ray of sunshine lit up the ring, making the topaz-and-chocolate diamond gumbo pot sparkle. “Welcome home,” she said to it with fondness. Then she texted family and friends who were in on the fake breakup that she and Bo were officially “back together,” resulting in a sea of happy faces and confetti emojis.
Next on the agenda was a new batch of pralines. Maggie would be making this round at Bon Bon Sweets, having run out of homes to impose upon. She was driving to the store when her cell rang. She pressed the button on her Bluetooth but couldn’t connect with the call, and it dropped out. “Darn it,” she muttered. She pulled over, took the earpiece off, shook it, then put it back on. Her cell rang again. She saw it was Bo’s ex-wife, Whitney, and pressed the button. This time it worked. “Sorry, I know you tried to reach me a minute ago. My Bluetooth is acting funky.”
“No worries, hi. I wanted to let you know that the adoption is official. Belle and the baby’s father just signed all the necessary paperwork.”
“Whitney, that’s wonderful. Congratulations!”
“It’s an open adoption. Belle and the boy can go on and live their lives, but also have the comfort of knowing they can keep up with their child’s life. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to give up a baby and never know what happened to him or her.” Whitney paused, overcome with emotion. She cleared her throat. “Zach and I can’t find the words to thank you, Maggie. If you hadn’t connected us to Belle, we wouldn’t be sharing this news. So … you’re going to be a stepmom to two kids now. That’s something, huh?”
Maggie picked up the note of underlying concern in Whitney’s voice. “Yes, and I couldn’t be more excited about it.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” The woman’s relief was palpable. “And when you and Bo have your own kids, we’ll all be one big happy, blended family.”
“Until all the kids become teenagers and turn on us.”
Whitney laughed. “Let’s work together to make sure that never happens.”
* * *
Whitney signed off, and Maggie continued driving. She thought about the conversation. The prescription she’d found indicated that Pony Pickner had been battling prostate cancer. If that was the case, would it have caused him to look back on his life and evaluate his legacy? Faced with his own mortality, would he have been motivated to make amends for his dodgy past? Who would inherit his estate, which, given his success, must be substantial? She assumed his will held the answers to some of these questions, but with the manager’s attorney still in rehab, Bo wasn’t having any luck producing the document.
Maggie latched on to an offhand comment from Vanessa—that a child raised by a single mother was better off than one being raised by two people who didn’t belong in a relationship. Had there been women in Pony’s life who would have cut him loose but kept a child their coupling produced? Did he refute a paternity claim and then regret it?
Maggie pulled into the parking lot behind Bon Bon. Instead of getting out of the car, she tapped a number into her cell phone. “Hey, Maggie,” Valeria said upon answering the call.
“Hi. How’s Bokie? Any progress?”
“The doctor says they’re bringing him out of the medically induced coma tomorrow, hopefully. The swelling on his brain’s gone down.”
“That’s very good news. I have a question for you. It’s abo
ut Pony. Were there ever any rumors about him fathering a child?”
“Are you kidding? Sure. There are rumors about that for pretty much everyone in the business. I left town for a few months to take care of my mother in Puerto Rico when she had pneumonia, and a rumor started that I’d gone there to have Prince’s love child. I never even met the man. And leave town to give birth to an illegitimate kid? What is this, the eighteen hundreds? Wait … you think all that’s happened, the murder, Bokie being attacked, has something to do with a Pony lovechild?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m just trying to look under every rock.”
“Interesting. I’ll see what I can find out here.”
“No.” Maggie’s response came out sharper than she intended. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. But please, don’t do anything. One man’s been murdered, another attacked. It’s a very dangerous situation. In fact, don’t tell anyone we had this conversation. Bokie needs you. You have to stay safe, if not for your sake, for his.”
“Okay.” Valeria sounded somber—even scared. “When will this be over, Maggie?”
“I wish I knew. All I can say is that Pelican PD may be small, but it’s excellent. I can’t imagine a better force.”
“Or a cuter detective, huh? Too bad that ended. I sure would be sorry to see that one go.”
“Actually, we got back together. The wedding is on again.”
“Really? Congratulations.”
Was it Maggie’s imagination, or did Valeria sound less than enthusiastic? “Focus on helping Bokie recuperate. But if you do hear anything you think might be helpful, let the police know.” Although maybe not Bo.
Maggie ended the call. She took the box of praline ingredients from the back seat and carried them into Bon Bon’s kitchen. Kyle, Lia’s “tall drink of Texas water,” as she affectionately called him, sat at the candy store’s small office desk typing on a computer keyboard. “Filling online orders?” Maggie asked.
Kyle nodded. He pushed back from the desk, took off his black-rimmed glasses, and cleaned them with the shirttail of his plaid cotton button-down. “Business is pretty brisk, although I’d love to find a way to bring down shipping costs. But sending candy from Humid-siana is tricky. You can’t cheap out on the ice packs.”
He ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, which was growing saltier by the day. Vanessa, who had a part-time job managing the Bruners’ other shop, Fais Dough Dough, came in from the storefront. She wore an apron with the store’s logo on it over her tight top and jeans. “Hey, Maggie, heard your voice. Your ring’s back on. Y’all must be back together.”
“Van, how did you even see my hand at the bottom of this box?”
“I’ve got jewelry radar. Jay-dar.” Vanessa grinned, pleased with her response.
“Yes, Bo and I are back together. The break proved to us that we’re meant to be together.” Both Vanessa and Kyle snorted, annoying Maggie. “What?”
“I never believed you broke up in the first place,” Kyle said. “You were definitely up to something, and I’m sure it has to do with the murder investigation.”
“Oh, I snorted because I still don’t see them making it down the aisle,” Vanessa said to Kyle. “But your idea’s way better. So, Mags, what’d you find out?”
“First of all, a super hard pass on the nickname Mags. Also, I’m not going to gossip about an ongoing investigation.” Maggie dropped her box on the counter with a thud. “I have pralines to make.” Maggie pulled out ingredients, then the pots and bowls she’d need to make the candy. She poured sugar and buttermilk into a large Dutch oven on top of the stove, added butter and baking soda, then turned on the heat. She stirred the praline base. “As soon the festival is over, I’m putting all my attention on wedding plans.”
“Have you picked a date?” Kyle asked.
“No,” Maggie admitted.
“Quenty and I have. The twenty-first day of September. Cuz Quenty just loves that song. He loves it so much that he married his ex-wives on that day, too. I think we’re gonna dance down the aisle to it, like people do in those videos.” Vanessa began singing the song and dancing through the kitchen as if it were a church aisle, much to Kyle and Maggie’s amusement. She suddenly stopped. “Ooh, I just had the best idea of my life. A double wedding.”
“With what other couple?” Maggie asked, dreading the answer.
Vanessa gave her a poke in the ribs. “You, silly.” She began jumping up and down. The old wooden floor vibrated so much, Maggie feared Van might bust through it into the basement. “Say yes, say yes, say yes, say yes …”
“Vanessa, I think that’s something Maggie and Bo need to decide on together,” Kyle said, coming to Maggie’s rescue. “Let her be.”
Vanessa stopped jumping. “Fine,” she said with a pout. “But think about it. Real hard.”
She returned to work at the front of the store. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” Maggie said under her breath to Kyle. “I can’t imagine anything I’d like less than sharing a wedding with Van. I still wake up in a cold sweat remembering the LSU pom-poms and hair bows I had to wear as the maid of honor for her nonwedding to Rufus. Now that she’s marrying a man with a healthy bank account, I can’t imagine her wedding will be less ostentatious. I’ll say this for her, though; what she lacks in taste, she makes up for in enthusiasm.”
“That’s what makes her a surprisingly good store manager. For every ten over-the-top ideas she has, one will be a keeper.”
Kyle went back to filling online orders, leaving Maggie to her candy-making. For the next two hours, she prepared a variety of pralines: plain, rum, traditional chocolate, coconut. Instead of finding the task annoying or a time suck, it provided a much-needed diversion from obsessing about murders and attempted murders. When the candies hardened, she slipped them into individual bags, then boxed them. She said goodbye to Kyle and slipped out the back door, careful to avoid Vanessa and her double-wedding dream.
Back home, she found Gran in the manor house office, formerly the back parlor and gentlemen’s smoking room. Centuries of Crozats had lounged on the ornately carved walnut furniture, discussing local economics and politics as they puffed cigars and swirled homemade brandy in crystal snifters. Although the current Crozats were nonsmokers, they’d kept up the tradition of painting the room in dark colors, maroon and forest green, to hide the tobacco stains of previous generations.
“Entering bookings?” Maggie asked her grand-mère, who was typing on the B and B’s computer.
“No. I mapped the return address on some of the love letter envelopes, but the satellite image shows it’s an empty lot. But I got a much better lead. I found Carina Albieri on Friendspace.”
“Really?” Maggie peered over Gran’s shoulder at a screen devoid of details. “Not much to go on.”
“I know. A few photos, none of people, all of scenery. The only posts are from other people wishing her a happy birthday. It could be her page, it could be her daughter’s, even a granddaughter’s.”
“Might not be a granddaughter’s. The millennials have written off that site and moved on.”
“Then there’s an even better chance that it’s her. I’ll know more when she responds to my message.”
Maggie pulled back. “You messaged her? Gran, are you sure you want to dig deeper into this?”
“Yes.” Gran pushed back from the desk and faced her granddaughter, who saw determination in the older woman’s pale-blue eyes. “Carina and your grandfather were madly in love. I was married to the man for fifty-one years. How could he never mention anything about this? I must find out what happened, why the relationship ended. I need to know. I can’t explain why. I just do.”
Maggie placed a hand on her grand-mère’s shoulder. “You don’t have to explain it. And if you need to talk about whatever you discover, I’m here for you.”
“Thank you, chère. Now, back to death cleaning.”
“Ugh.” Maggie shuddered. “Let’s go back to using the Swe
dish word for it, whatever that was.”
She left for her bedroom, where she changed out of clothes marked with the detritus of praline prep. Her cell rang mid-outfit. Bo’s name flashed on the screen, and she took the call. “Hey, fiancé. Yay, I get to call you that again!”
“I’m looking forward to celebrating our reconciliation.” The sexy undercurrent in Bo’s tone left no doubt of how he’d like to celebrate. “But let’s get through the latest murder crisis first.”
“You know, it just occurred to me that when it comes to the snake in my car, we left someone off the list—Narcisse. He’s a local boy and used to whatever crawls out of the bayou. I know my snake wasn’t native, but if he’s comfortable with reptiles, he could have smuggled it in. Maybe with the help of Gigi, who’s got one foot out the door of Pelican and is determined to complete the exit.”
“I’ll look into it. As long as we’re on the topic of bayou boys, guess who was once arrested for assault?”
“Narcisse? I could see him getting drunk and doing something stupid.”
“No, when it comes to the much more serious charge of domestic violence, we’re talking about Mr. All God’s Creatures himself … Toulouse Delaroux Caresmeadtrand.”
Chapter 19
Maggie was silent for a moment. “Wow. That’s a stunner.”
“Yup,” Bo said. “Four years ago, in Lafayette. The charges were eventually dropped. We tracked down the girl who filed them. Well, she was a girl then; now she’s twenty-one. All she would say is that it was a misunderstanding, they were both drunk, he didn’t mean it. What you sadly hear from a lot of domestic abuse cases. This girl had the good sense to end the relationship. And he moved to Nashville right after.”
“Where he found God.”
“Or appears to.”
“That’s the question.”
Maggie’s phone pinged a text. She checked and saw it was from Clinton Poche, who was at the festival manning Pelican Pralines: YOU COMING? BRIANNA CAN’T, FORGOT SHE HAS TEST TOMORROW.