by Jana DeLeon
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Car wreck up the highway,” Walter said. “The ER doctor is slammed with the four teens who were in the car. Carter’s unhappy that the on-call lives thirty minutes away and is insisting someone look at Emmaline now. He wants them to pull an attending from another ward. If they don’t do it, he might burn the place down. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this upset. Not since his dad died. Not that I blame him.”
“How are you doing?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I’m worried. That’s my baby sister. Hell, I’m old enough to be her father, and sometimes feel like I am. If something happens to her, I’m not sure what I’ll do. What any of us will do.”
Ida Belle and Gertie took seats on each side of him and Ida Belle took his hand in hers. The shouting in the hallway got louder.
“If I’m ever in the hospital, I want Carter as my advocate,” Gertie said.
“The only time you’re in the hospital is when we’re doing crap we can’t tell Carter about,” I said.
“Valid,” Gertie said.
“I’m afraid they’re not doing enough or quick enough for him,” Walter said. “And to be honest, I’ve not been overly impressed myself. They seem to think that because she’s stable and the bleeding stopping that it’s okay for her to languish on that bed like a turkey up for the frying.”
“Did he tell them he was a deputy and that’s his mother?” Gertie asked.
“They know who he is, and they darn sure know she’s his mother,” Walter said. “He’s been announcing it since he came in the door. But it doesn’t seem to be making them move any faster.”
“Let me try.” I headed for the doors.
I pushed the doors open and walked right into the middle of Carter and the two nurses he was arguing with.
“Hello,” I said to the nurses. “I’m his fiancé, and a close personal friend to Big Hebert. If he needs to call in some favors and get this hospital the assistance it needs to treat emergency patients, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to do so. Especially as this is the hospital he would have to use if he had an emergency.”
The word deputy might not have made them move, but the name Big Hebert had them apologizing for their oversight, then one scrambled for the phone while the other claimed she would go personally to drag a doctor out of another ward. Carter’s jaw dropped and he shook his head.
“Unbelievable,” he said. “They couldn’t care less about my being a deputy, but you throw out Big Hebert as a friend and they move like God just burned a bush.”
“You use what you’ve got,” I said. “And don’t think for a minute it was an empty threat. I have no problem calling in a favor.”
Carter wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in close. “I know you don’t. You’ll do anything to protect the people you care about, which is one of the many reasons I love you and am exasperated by you. And selfishly speaking, I wouldn’t have stopped you from calling if it came to that, even though I don’t necessarily approve of the source.”
“It’s Emmaline,” I said. “She’s going to be okay. She’s stabilized now and since the cut stopped bleeding, everything will be fine.”
“Then why hasn’t she regained consciousness?”
“She will.” I said a silent prayer.
Because Carter was right. The fact that Emmaline was still unconscious was the one bad thing.
One very bad thing.
“I have something to tell you,” I said. “Emmaline wasn’t the only victim.”
Carter released me and backed up, still clutching my arms. “What?”
“I realized my wallet was gone after you left, and when I went back inside to retrieve it, I found a body. He was well beyond help.”
“You lost your wallet?”
“That’s the story I’m going with when I have to give my statement.”
He sighed. “You knew I wouldn’t leave if I knew there was another victim.”
“It might have crossed my mind.”
“Well, you’re right, so I’m not going to argue. Who was it?”
I nodded. “No ID on him but according to Ida Belle and Gertie, it was Rupert St. Ives. Do you know him?”
“Good Lord, everyone with hearing probably remembers St. Ives. He gave Celia a run for her money on being the biggest pain in the butt in town. I didn’t know he was back.”
“Ida Belle and Gertie didn’t either.”
“I don’t suppose you got an idea of cause.” He shook his head. “What am I saying? Of course you did.”
I pulled out my phone and went through the photos. “The stab wound is rather obvious. Even with the blood and the clothes, you can still see the edges. It wasn’t a bullet—no exit wound in front and we would have heard it anyway. And whoever did it knew what they were doing. I’d bet money he hit the thoracic aorta.”
“Maybe he got lucky?”
“I’m not a big believer in beginner’s luck when committing a murder. He bled out quickly. If there would have been any question of saving him, I would have said something when the paramedics were there.”
“I know. So someone followed St. Ives into the funhouse and stabbed him, then managed to escape.”
“Seems like. And my guess is Emmaline was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time when our stabber was trying to get away.”
Carter blew out a breath. “I wonder if she saw the guy who killed St. Ives?”
“I don’t know, but I think you need to proceed as if she did.”
He nodded. “Which means I need full-time security detail on her until she regains consciousness. I’ll call in some backup. Hell, I’ll hire someone if I have to.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be as big a problem as you think.”
“I don’t understand.”
“My guess is you’re about to have some free time, at least as far as this case is concerned.”
Carter stared at me for a moment, then cursed. “I’m not going to let someone else handle this.”
“I don’t think you have a choice. You can’t investigate a murder when your mother is also one of the victims.”
“You should listen to your little friend,” a man’s voice sounded behind us.
I turned around and got a look at the guy who went with the voice.
Midthirties. Six foot even. Two hundred thirty pounds, too much of it fat. This guy hadn’t worked out in a while. The only threat was my kicking that smug look off his face and getting arrested for it.
Carter took one look at the man, and I knew it wasn’t going to end well. Clearly, there was history.
“Palmer,” Carter said as the man approached.
“That’s Detective Reed,” he said then gave me an up-and-down appraisal.
Carter put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed, and I wasn’t certain if it was to keep me from clocking Palmer or to keep himself from doing it.
The man extended his hand to me. “I’m Palmer Reed,” he said. “Detective with the state police.”
I smiled as I shook. “Fortune Redding. Former CIA.”
He smirked. “What division?”
“Field,” I said. “Terrorist elimination.”
His eyes widened a tiny bit, but he was trying to stay cool and maintain his upper hand farce.
“Interesting company you keep, LeBlanc,” he said. “I got a call from the ME explaining the situation. I’ll be heading up this investigation and am here to inform you that you have no duties concerning this case. And I’ll need to speak to Mrs. LeBlanc right away.”
Carter stiffened. “She’s not conscious and until she’s been thoroughly checked out and cleared by a doctor, no one is going in that room but family or medical staff.”
“Suit yourself,” Palmer said. “But you and I both know that daylight’s already burning on this one. The sooner I get the facts, the sooner I can put this guy away.”
He looked at me again. “I understand you’re the one who found the second victim. I�
�ll need to schedule some time to speak to you as well. We could talk over dinner.”
“Not unless you want to choke on it,” I said.
Carter didn’t even bother to hide his laugh and Palmer glared.
“Suit yourself,” he said. “I can take your statement tomorrow. I’m sure you don’t know anything that the forensics team won’t tell me.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” I said and smiled, wondering how long it would take him to ID the victim. If St. Ives didn’t have a record, I was going to guess somewhere between never and eternity.
He handed Carter his card. “I expect a phone call as soon as your mother is available for questioning.”
Carter shoved the card in his pocket but didn’t say a word. There was a long, uncomfortable stare-down, and finally, Palmer turned around and walked away.
“What a douche,” I said as he walked through the doors into the lobby. “What’s his problem?”
“His parents divorced when he was a kid and his dad moved to Sinful. He worked the oil field and had been commuting from New Orleans, so he took the opportunity to save on some commute time. Palmer’s mother grew up in Mudbug, and she was known in Sinful mostly as a wild child. The general gossip was that she preferred the nightlife in the city so forced a move shortly after they married.”
“And she wasn’t interested in giving it up after the divorce.”
“Heck, according to rumor, she turned up the dial, but she wasn’t about to give Palmer’s father custody. She wanted to ensure her paychecks, and since his father didn’t seem overly interested in parenting, Palmer didn’t spend a lot of time in Sinful except in the summer. But it was enough time for people to figure out he had some issues and a lot of problems with me. He dragged those issues with him into the Marine Corps, where I had the misfortune to be assigned to the same unit at my first station.”
“Let me guess—he always needs to be right and number one.”
“Something like that. The problem is, he was rarely either. And for whatever reason, he locked in on me as kids and took an immediate disliking to me. I hated when he visited summers. I couldn’t shake him off of me.”
“Jealous, I’m sure. You were the town golden boy.”
“Well, it didn’t get any better with age. When I made Force Recon and he didn’t—like he ever stood a chance—he made up some lies about me and drugs and women to try to get me removed from the unit. It didn’t work and he got transferred, so I thought I was done with him.”
I considered the somewhat flabby man I’d just scrutinized.
“What did they transfer him to? Because he doesn’t look to be in great shape.”
“He never was. He couldn’t make it through any of the fitness tests for Force Recon and couldn’t shoot worth a darn either. Heck, they didn’t even send him to the sandbox. They transferred him to a warehouse stateside and far as I know, all he ever did his entire career was count inventory. Then as luck would have it, we both discharged around the same time and he pushed hard for the deputy position in Sinful.”
“Which you got,” I said. “Did he really think Sheriff Lee would hire him over you? That’s just stupid.”
“He’s got plenty of that to go around. Thank God we have the state police to take on the unqualified.”
I shook my head. “And that’s the guy tasked with finding out who killed St. Ives and attacked Emmaline. We’re doomed.”
“No way I’m leaving this up to that idiot.”
“You don’t have a choice. That guy is just looking for a reason to get one up on you. If you so much as stick an eyelash into his investigation, he’ll have your job and there won’t be a thing you can do about it.”
Carter’s face flashed with frustration and anger and I couldn’t blame him. But he knew I was right. Palmer would be watching his every move—probably in lieu of conducting the investigation, given Carter’s description.
“There’s another way,” Carter said.
“What’s that?” I asked.
He looked me straight in the eyes. “You don’t answer to anyone. He can’t hurt you.”
“That first statement is true, and to the CIA’s dismay, always has been. The second goes without saying in every way possible. But if you’re meaning that I should launch my own investigation, I’m sort of wondering what makes you think I haven’t already?”
He grinned. “Then what are you still doing here? Get those two troublemakers you run with to your house and put on the coffee. You have work to do.”
“Call me as soon as you know anything.”
“Of course.”
I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him tight. “She’s going to be fine.”
I prayed I was right.
Gertie whistled when I finished recounting my and Carter’s exchange with Palmer at the hospital. She shook her head and grabbed another one of the mint cookies Ally had dropped by my house the day before.
“Palmer Reed. No one’s favorite summer visitor,” she said.
“So you know him?” I asked.
“Everyone knew Palmer,” Ida Belle said. “He made sure of it.”
“He TP’d houses, threw eggs on windows, harassed pets, stomped on flowers, and generally made himself a nuisance,” Gertie said. “Got caught several times pilfering through people’s houses when they weren’t home. Items came up missing during his visits and everyone pretty much knew who did it, but without proof they couldn’t do much about it.”
Ida Belle nodded. “Palmer is the reason a lot of people started locking their doors. His visit was the longest month of the year for everyone. The town considered taking up a collection to send his father somewhere on vacation with him for that time.”
“Sounds like it would have been money well spent,” I said.
“It would have been,” Gertie said. “But his father nixed the idea, claiming there was no way he was spending a month locked up in a hotel with ‘that kid.’”
“His own kid?” I asked.
“Some speculation says that’s why he left Palmer’s mother,” Ida Belle said. “She wasn’t ‘into’ discipline and he was tired of fighting her over Palmer’s bad behavior.”
“Not to mention her own,” Gertie said.
“There were rumors,” Ida Belle agreed. “She liked the booze before she was legal age to drink it, and I think she spent more time in NOLA bars than with her husband and son.”
“Until recently,” Gertie said.
“What happened recently?” I asked.
“Marie ran into her at a charity event over in NOLA,” Ida Belle said. “She didn’t even recognize her. Said she’d gotten religion and turned her life around. Took an accounting job with a Baptist church and was busy pushing Jesus on anyone who would listen.”
“It’s a shame it didn’t happen sooner,” I said. “Maybe Palmer wouldn’t be such a douche.”
Gertie nodded. “By the time Palmer hit his teen years, he barely spent a week a year here. The For Sale sign went up on his father’s house his senior year. Rumor is his father had been trying to negotiate an oil job in Venezuela for a while.”
“Probably trying for a viable excuse to not spend time with his son,” Ida Belle said.
“Well, apparently, Palmer hasn’t improved any as an adult,” I said. “Can you believe he hit on me right in front of Carter?”
“Yes.”
They both answered at once.
“All talk of Palmer’s huge personality issues aside,” Ida Belle said, “the bigger problem is that he’s not capable of investigating who drank the last can of soda in his own refrigerator. And I guarantee you he lives alone.”
“Carter asked us to investigate,” I said.
“Like you weren’t already,” Gertie said. “You’ve been on the case ever since you saw Emmaline lying there.”
I nodded. “True. But you see the big advantage here, right? Carter won’t try to prevent us from knowing police business. I know Palmer will be unwilling to let him in on anyth
ing, but since it’s his mother we’re talking about, he can’t necessarily keep him completely in the dark, can he?”
“Sure he can,” Ida Belle said. “He’ll just say that revealing confidential information at this point could jeopardize the investigation, and Carter will have to lump it.”
“That blows,” Gertie said.
“Furthermore,” Ida Belle said, “under normal circumstances, having Carter on our side would be a boon to our investigation because we would be able to tap him for information that he has easy access to and we often struggle to get. But in this case, he won’t be able to so much as breathe a word about this case or Palmer will have him up on charges.”
Gertie sighed. “So no backgrounds. No license plate or driver’s license searches. No ME report. Heck, this is business as usual except the guy we have to avoid this time is an idiot and Fortune’s not dating him. Those are really our only advantages.”
I sighed. “I guess I had hoped that he wouldn’t be so obsessed with getting Carter in trouble and might actually be interested in finding the murderer.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Ida Belle said. “But you can bet the first thing he’s going to do isn’t get the ME report or talk to the forensics team. He’s going to run a background on you.”
Gertie frowned. “He knows you were CIA. When he finds out you’re a PI, you’ll be on his watch list right next to Carter.”
“Fortunately for us, PIs don’t have to follow the same rules,” I said. “And we might not have access to information through usual channels, but we have our own. And my guess is they’ll be the first to volunteer to help with the investigation.”
Ida Belle nodded. “You’re thinking about the Heberts.”
My cell phone rang and I looked at the number and smiled. “Speak of the devil.”
“Do they have this place bugged?” Gertie asked.
I shook my head. “I sweep it weekly.”
Gertie shot me a look of dismay.
I answered the phone and Mannie said a quick hello.
“The Heberts heard what happened to Emmaline and want to know how she is,” Mannie said.