by Jana DeLeon
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll be happy to tell her this one wasn’t on you. And, of course, place the blame squarely on Celia where it belongs. I’ll need to be out of here first, though. Or have the use of my cell phone again. You know it will take about five seconds for this to sweep through Sinful.”
“I was hoping she would be distracted by Carlos the Wonder Car Salesman and wouldn’t hear right away.”
“Really?”
He sighed. “Yeah, I guess that’s asking too much.” He pulled my cell phone out of his pocket and handed it back to me. “Go ahead. I might as well take the butt-chewing before the state police get here.”
I pulled up Emmaline’s number and dialed. She answered on the first ring.
“Fortune,” she said. “Is there any news on the body? Are you all right? I’ve left a million messages for Carter but he’s not returning my calls.”
“He’s a little swamped at the moment. Things got somewhat out of control.”
“What do you mean? Is he all right? Did something happen?”
“He’s fine. Physically, anyway. But there was a fray at the medical examiner’s office and I can’t really give any details, but it all ended with Celia running her mouth and the state police taking over the investigation. And since I was the woman wielding the hatchet, Carter has been ordered to hold me for questioning.”
“Are you kidding me? Has everyone in this town lost their mind?”
“No, and probably?”
“Unbelievable. What is he thinking? If he keeps throwing you in jail every time someone commits a crime, you’re going to find another guy to date.”
“That will be rather difficult from jail, but I see your point. Unfortunately, he really doesn’t have a choice. And I really don’t want him to have problems now or later. I promise you, I’m fine. I’m hanging out in the break room until the state police show up, then he’ll hustle me to the jail before they see me all free and moving about.”
“You’re sure you’re all right?” she asked, not sounding completely convinced.
“I’ve got television, snacks, and soda. I’ll manage just fine.”
“Well, you let me know if you need anything and I’ll bring it right down. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, can you please hand the phone to Carter? I’d like to have a word or two with my son.”
I held my hand out to Carter. “She’d like a word or two.”
He cringed and headed out the door with the phone. I could hear Emmaline yelling as he walked away.
I slumped back in my chair and let out a breath. What a mess. Jeez, even trying to do a good thing like entertain kids at a local holiday festival turned into me being suspected of some crime. I was beginning to think it was far too dangerous for me to leave my house. This whole PI thing might be an enormous stretch given how quickly things went south when I was involved.
And if I had to guess, my alibi wasn’t going to make much of a difference to the state police either. Ida Belle and Gertie weren’t exactly the best people to corroborate my whereabouts during the festival, given that anything I was up to was usually something they’d put me up to. The state police would simply assume we were all involved, and realistically, I could see their point. It would be hard to believe one person could haul that body around without a dolly or cart, even someone as strong as I was.
As for the body stealing, I was going to guess that it happened late Friday night. My alibi for earlier Friday night was Merlin, my cat, and overnight was Carter. I didn’t see the state police giving either much credence.
I had just snagged a bag of peanuts and a soda when I heard voices up front. Loud voices. And totally expected. I headed down the hall hoping to stop Gertie before she pulled something out of her purse of death and saw Gavin attempting to prevent them from proceeding past the front desk. Two against one was already presenting a problem.
Those two against one was a recipe for failure.
Chapter Six
Ida Belle lunged to the left of his desk and completely dodged him as he sprang to grab her. The right side of the desk was against a half wall, but that didn’t stop Gertie from taking advantage of his left shift. She climbed on top of the desk and crawled over. By the time he whirled around, they were both sprinting down the hall.
I waved them toward the break room and we set off, Gavin still hurrying behind us. When he reached the break room, we were already seated.
“You can’t be in here,” he said. “Carter said absolutely no visitors.”
“We don’t count as visitors,” Gertie said.
“Well, you’re not attorneys,” he said. “And that’s the only people allowed to talk to suspects besides the police.”
“Suspect?” I said. “Really?”
His face turned red and he took a step backward. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, I know you didn’t cut off nobody’s head. Well, I mean, you probably didn’t but I’m guessing you know how. Anyway, they can’t be here.”
“We’re her religious counsel,” Gertie said.
“What?” he asked.
“Religious counsel,” Gertie repeated. “You know, last rites and all. Prisoners have the right to call for religious counsel. Check your handbook.”
He stared at her, completely confused, then looked at me. “Are you ill? Should I call for an ambulance?”
“She’s fine.” Carter stepped up behind Gavin. “Go back to the front. I’ll handle this.”
Gavin shot us one final look of dismay—probably figuring we had gotten him in trouble—then slunk out of the room.
“I’m going to have to ask you ladies to leave,” Carter said.
“We’re not going anywhere,” Gertie said. “I don’t know why you even waste time and words issuing such ridiculous statements. You know we’re not going to listen.”
“Yes,” he said. “We can both agree that you two are the biggest pain in my butt that exists in Sinful. But I’m pretty sure that you don’t want me to lose my job, and that’s exactly what will happen if the state police show up and find the three of you in here having a tea party.”
“What do you think they’re going to do?” Ida Belle asked. “Surround the building and storm in like SWAT? When they get here, we’ll go out the back door and you can haul Fortune to a cell like you were planning to do anyway.”
“Fine,” he said. “But when I give the signal, you two better move. No tripping, no falling, no beheading anyone, and most importantly, no exposed body parts that shouldn’t be exposed.”
“He’s really cramping my style,” Gertie said.
“Remember,” he said, “if I’m out of a job, there’s no one in the sheriff’s department to block for you. Deputy Breaux might want to, but he lacks the strength of will to go through with it.”
“Stop worrying,” Ida Belle said. “No one will know we’re here except the people who already do. We’ll exit like ghosts. It will be like we were never here.”
Carter headed for the door and gave us one last parting look, hopeful but not completely convinced. Then he headed off.
“Any more news on this end?” Ida Belle asked as soon as he was out of earshot.
I shook my head. “I don’t think there’s been so much as a phone call. Well, except for when I gave him my phone to talk to Emmaline.”
“Ha!” Gertie laughed. “There’s a story I’d like to hear.”
“It can wait,” Ida Belle said. “Right now we need to concentrate on making sure Fortune doesn’t spend one more minute here than necessary.”
“Did you find out anything?” I asked.
“More than Carter’s telling,” Ida Belle said.
“Probably more than he knows,” Gertie said. “All this just happened on our drive over here.”
“Stop holding out on me,” I said. “Spill.”
“One of my ladies has a nephew doing an internship at the ME’s office,” Ida Belle said. “Apparently, after Wilkinson had his fit over the severed head and called everyone in the state, he asked to see
the results of the autopsy.”
“And?” I asked.
“There wasn’t one,” Ida Belle said. “Garrett was on heart medication. There was no sign of foul play and it appeared he died of heart failure, so the ME decided no autopsy was necessary.”
“So Wilkinson had another fit,” Gertie said. “He said that the meds had Garrett ticking as perfect as he could be and that there shouldn’t have been any problems as long as he was taking them as prescribed. His wife and daughter both swore he was taking them religiously, so Wilkinson ordered the ME to do an autopsy or said he’d do it himself.”
“But the ME refused,” Ida Belle said. “He told Wilkinson that he didn’t work for him. Took three nurses to keep him from launching on the guy. Then Wilkinson called the governor, who is a personal friend, and now there’s an assistant ME from New Orleans taking over the office until the whole thing can be investigated.”
“It’s a real mess,” Gertie said.
“It sounds like it,” I said. “So what does Wilkinson think happened to Garrett?”
“He didn’t say,” Ida Belle said. “But you can bet he thinks there’s more to Garrett’s death than what went on his death certificate. I don’t know that he’s leaped all the way to murder, but something definitely has his back up.”
“Well, his reputation is at stake,” Gertie said. “People don’t want to go see a heart doctor whose patients drop dead from a heart attack when they’re supposed to be fine.”
“Good point,” I said. “So he’s got a personal beef with the whole matter and he’s smelled something stinky in the process. Carter’s going to have a fit if it turns out someone killed this guy.”
“Especially with the state police taking over,” Ida Belle said. “It’s a bad situation for everyone.”
“It’s worse for Carter than me,” I said. “They don’t have anything on me. And knowing I have the Reaper on speed dial, the DA isn’t going to touch charges against me unless the case is rock solid. Hell, they don’t really have the right to force me to stay here now. I’m just doing it so Carter doesn’t catch more grief.”
Ida Belle nodded. “The state police poking into Sinful business is never a good thing. They don’t know the people here and they’re not interested in getting to know them.”
“Got that right,” Gertie said. “All they’re interested in doing is finding someone to take the rap so they can get back home. They’ll settle on the first person who fits the bill and let it all shake out in court.”
I blew out a breath. “This is all a sharp turn I didn’t see coming. I was still banking on this being someone’s idea of a sick joke.”
“Me too,” Ida Belle said. “And I’d bet that’s what Carter was banking on as well.”
“So what do we do now?” Gertie said. “We barely had time to get the facts on the way over and no time at all to formulate a plan of action. And now that we’re all up to speed, I have to say, I’ve got nothing.”
“Yeah, this one is tricky,” I said. “Usually cause of death helps narrow things down, but in this case, it had to be poison or something else that’s not necessarily obvious. I know the ME is old as Jesus but even he wouldn’t have missed a bullet hole or a stab wound.”
“Or a good crack on the back of the head,” Ida Belle said. “No. I think we can rule out the obvious causes of death, which leaves the sneakier ones.”
“And that usually implicates those with personal access,” I said. “So I guess we start with the family. Looks like Garrett’s money might be important after all.”
“Money always is,” Gertie said. “But finding out who wanted Garrett dead still doesn’t answer the question of who put his body in the maze. Surely it wasn’t the killer. I mean, he would have wanted the body in the ground.”
Ida Belle nodded. “And if someone hadn’t pulled this stunt, that’s exactly what would have happened. She’s right. We have two different crimes and most likely two different perpetrators.”
“With two different motives,” I said. “Good Lord, could this get more convoluted?”
“Oh, certainly,” Gertie said. “And I’m sure it will. It is Sinful, after all.”
The state police arrived about an hour after Gertie and Ida Belle. As promised, they made a dash for the back door as Carter hurried me off toward the cells so he could then pretend to be taking me out. There was a bit of a ruckus in the back, which I chalked up to Gertie because really, most things you didn’t want to happen could be chalked up to Gertie. Carter passed it off as a noisy deliveryman when he brought me into the interrogation room.
Two state police. One younger. One older. Both wearing sourpuss expressions. Clearly unhappy to be here. Young one. Midtwenties. Five foot eleven. One hundred sixty pounds. Previously broken right elbow. A weakness that could be exploited if needed. Older one. Midfifties. Six foot even. Two hundred twenty pounds. More fat than muscle content. No threat at all without a gun.
“That will be all,” the older one told Carter, clearly dismissing him from the room.
Carter started to say something and I gave him a tiny shake of my head. I didn’t need him to come to my defense. It would only cause him more trouble. He gave them a nod and left the room, closing the door behind him.
I took a seat and looked at them. They both sat silently, staring at me.
Already bored, I decided to make the first move. “I’m sure you’ve already heard that I’m former CIA,” I said. “So if you’re waiting on me to flinch, this is going to be a really long day.”
The older one blinked and the younger one glanced at him. The sourpuss expressions had disappeared and been replaced with uncertainty. I held in a smile. What do you know? They hadn’t been told. Hell, this might be fun.
“CIA?” the older one asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I resigned a couple of weeks ago.”
“May I ask what your position with the agency was?” the older one asked.
“I was an agent,” I said. “Most of my work was in the Middle East. The kind of work that’s critical to national security but never makes it into the newspaper. But that’s all in the past.”
“Right,” the older one said. “The past.”
I got the feeling that a couple of weeks wasn’t nearly enough separation for his taste.
“Now I’m a private detective and a newly minted Sinful resident,” I said, completely enjoying their discomfort. “And since living here makes me an honorary Southerner, I’d like for you to introduce yourselves. It’s extremely rude that you haven’t already.”
A slight blush crept up the older one’s face, and the younger one’s eyes widened. This was so not the situation they envisioned when they’d been assigned this case. And I had a feeling they were far less than pleased about any of it.
“I am Officer Davies,” the older one said. “This is Officer Sands.”
“And I’m Fortune Redding,” I said. “So now that the required pleasantries are over, what can I do for you?”
“Ms. Redding, there have been some accusations and we’re here to question you in the matter of Garrett Roth,” Officer Davies said.
“What part of the matter?” I asked. “His death or his post-death festival crashing?”
“We have reason to believe you set up the incident that occurred at the festival,” Officer Davies said.
“Interesting,” I said. “And what reason would that be? I didn’t know Garrett Roth and given my past occupation, I don’t find death that amusing. Besides, even if I were going to play such a joke, why would I choose my own display to do it in? That would be very foolish and I assure you, one does not successfully complete the number of missions I have by being foolish.”
Officer Davies looked down at his phone and pretended to read something on it. “We have reports from concerned citizens. Is it true that you’re dating Deputy LeBlanc?”
“Is that a crime?” I asked.
“No,” Officer Davies said. “But there is concern that if you have a p
ersonal relationship with the deputy, he might not be as diligent about his duties.”
I smiled. “Let me sum this up for you. A local woman named Celia Arceneaux hates me and would do anything to run me out of town. This is her most recent opportunity to take a swing at me, as she is both a patient and friend of Dr. Wilkinson, who is friends with the governor. Am I making sense so far?”
They both nodded.
“The thing is,” I continued, “I didn’t have a reason to play a prank with Garrett Roth’s body. Until the body was identified, I’d never really heard of the guy except for a donation he made to the church, and I’ve never met him. And while the argument could be made that I had the opportunity to position the body in the maze, when did I steal it from the ME’s office?”
“That’s a good question,” Officer Davies said. “Can you tell me where you were Friday night around midnight?”
“I was at home,” I said.
“Can anyone corroborate that?” Officer Davies asked.
“My cat and Deputy LeBlanc,” I said. “Both were there all night.”
“I see,” Officer Davies said.
“Do you?” I asked. “Because you’re being used by a particularly vengeful, small-minded woman who is determined to cause me problems. The thing is, while she’s busy pointing the finger and yelling conspiracy, a very real perpetrator is getting away.”
I rose from my chair. “I have no idea who stole Garrett Roth’s body or why they put it in my display. I just know it wasn’t me. So if we’re done here, I’d like to get home and have some lunch.”
“You’re done when I say you’re done,” Officer Davies said, his anger and frustration starting to show.
“Unless you’re arresting me, the truth is you don’t have any say,” I said. “I stayed here for your questioning to make things easy on Carter. But if you refuse to latch on to logic then we have nothing more to talk about. If you have any more questions, you can direct them to my attorney, Alexander Framingham III.”
Officer Davies’s eyes widened, and he reached for a cup of water as he started coughing. “Alexander…the Grim Reaper? That’s your attorney?”