by Jana DeLeon
“Was it the front gate or the back one?” I asked.
“It could have been either,” she said. “Sound echoes when it’s so quiet. People two blocks over complain about my chanting, and don’t even get me started on when I took up the tuba.”
“I promise I won’t,” I said. “Did you hear a boat engine while you were outside?”
She thought for a bit, her brow scrunched. “I think I heard an engine of some sort. But I don’t know what it was.”
“And you didn’t see anyone?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “As soon as I heard the fence, I went in to get my cell phone to call Ida Belle. I didn’t have it on me. No pockets. But I knew Emmaline was in the hospital and even if Carter wasn’t there, I couldn’t come up with a good reason for him to be lurking around her backyard when he could just let himself in the front door. Besides which, there was no vehicle in the driveway.”
I held in a smile. She was crazy but she wasn’t stupid. And she wanted to help, for which I was eternally grateful.
“I’m glad you called,” I said. “And you were absolutely right with your deductions.”
Maisey looked pleased for a moment, then scowled. “Palmer wasn’t as complimentary. He practically accused me of being a nosy old woman. As if I stand out in my yard every night just waiting to hear a gate open.”
“He’s a douche,” Gertie said.
Maisey laughed, then covered her mouth with her hand, as if it wasn’t polite.
“She’s right,” I said. “Don’t worry about him. No one else does.”
Maisey nodded. “Well, the way things turned out with Palmer, I’m doubly glad I called you instead of 911. At least you chased the guy off. The only way that idiot could threaten someone is by pulling his gun. Or throwing toilet paper in their trees.”
“Yeah, we’re not figuring he’s going to make any effort on this,” Ida Belle said, “which is why we’re looking into it.”
Maisey sighed. “I wish I could tell you more, but it was too dark to see anything. And I didn’t think it was a good idea to approach, especially unarmed.”
And unclothed.
“It’s always smarter to call someone trained to handle those situations,” I said.
“I heard he messed up Emmaline’s house pretty bad,” Maisey said. “Why would someone do that? Especially to a lady like Emmaline. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Since I’d seen Emmaline chase a snake off her patio with a gun, I couldn’t agree with the statement verbatim, but I could agree with the sentiment.
“He did make a pretty big mess,” I said.
“But why?” Maisey asked. “Did he steal something?”
“Some cash maybe, but we need Emmaline to look at everything to know for certain,” I said.
“Well, that’s just odd,” Maisey said.
The irony of Maisey calling something odd wasn’t lost on me. The worst part was, she was absolutely correct.
“The other thing we wanted to talk to you about is the man who was murdered at the fair last night,” Ida Belle said.
“Oh, I don’t go to the fair,” Maisey said. “So much noise. It’s impossible for my brain to process it all. I get overwhelmed.”
“It doesn’t matter if you were at the fair,” Ida Belle said. “What matters is that you knew the man who was killed.”
Maisey’s eyes widened. “I did?”
“It was Rupert St. Ives,” Ida Belle said.
Maisey sucked in a breath. “Well, I can’t believe… What in the world? Why is he even here again?”
“Good question,” Ida Belle said. “We were hoping you could tell us something about him. He seems to have been quite the enigma. But since you lived next door…”
Maisey fanned her face with her hand and I could tell she was flustered, but then it wasn’t every day that you found out your former neighbor had been murdered and your current neighbor had been attacked and her house trashed.
“I just can’t imagine what I would know that would matter,” Maisey said. “It’s not like the man spoke to anyone like a normal human being. He was always talking down with that loud voice of his. Always criticizing. He called the cops on me twenty-nine times while he lived here.”
“I thought he was only here for a month,” I said.
She nodded. “I was out of town one weekend.”
“So when he was criticizing, did he ever say anything about his personal life?” I asked.
“Not that I can recall,” Maisey said. “He just called me a loon and complained about my cats walking across his lawn or howling at night. He was always complaining about my practice.”
“Were you doing Wiccan things in the front yard then, too?” I asked.
“No. That was before my transference,” Maisey said. “I was practicing African tribal religion then. The drumbeat is the most essential part of the ceremony.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, not wanting to even imagine living next to Maisey the Tribal Drummer. “So he never said anything about his job, or friends, or family?”
She frowned. “There was this one time—I was practicing a particularly difficult section and I know it was close to midnight, but these things really can’t just be put down when the spirit is within you. He stomped into my yard, yelling about the noise, and said he’d be glad when this job was done so he could get out of this godforsaken heck-hole. Except he didn’t say ‘heck.’”
I frowned. St. Ives was supposed to be retired.
“Did you see him leave the house regularly?” I asked. “Like he was going to work?”
“I almost never saw him leave his house,” Maisey said. “And I don’t sleep much.”
“You should lay off the garlic water and you won’t be up peeing every thirty minutes,” Gertie said.
“Yeah, but then she opens herself up to a vampire attack,” I said.
Maisey looked momentarily confused. Ida Belle kicked me. Gertie snorted.
“I did see him every day when I worked in my garden,” Maisey said. “He would go stand at the window and stare outside. Sometimes he’d sit in the backyard for hours, just staring at the fence. No book, no music, nothing.”
“Maybe he was meditating,” Gertie said.
Maisey shook her head. “People like him never achieve a good enough level of relaxation to meditate. And I doubt he would buy into something like meditation when he called me the crazy woo-woo lady.”
“Maybe he was thinking about work during the day and did it all at night,” I said.
“Like a vampire?” Maisey asked. “But one who sits in sunlight? Maybe my garlic water was keeping him away.”
“See what you started,” Ida Belle grumbled.
“Not exactly like a vampire, but we can roll with that,” I said.
She shrugged. “His lights were all off at night and when he stomped over here that night, he was wearing a robe and slippers. I could see his pajama bottoms peeking out from under the robe. So unless he worked in the dark wearing pajamas, I would assume he was sleeping.”
I frowned, not willing to immediately dismiss the benefits of working at night and in pajamas as I’d done it far more often than I was willing to admit. The stickler was lights. I did prefer to see when I was working and even if you were using a computer, there were still necessary trips to the bathroom and refrigerator.
“Is there anything else you can tell us about him?” I asked. “Did he ever have visitors?”
“Never,” Maisey said. “Not surprising given his personality.”
I nodded and rose from the table. “Well, thank you for talking to us, and we really appreciate you calling last night. I’m afraid to think how much worse things would have been if that guy had more time to work with.”
“You don’t think he’ll try again, do you?” Maisey asked, looking a little scared.
“It would be really stupid to,” I said. “Carter boarded up the patio door until it can be repaired, and Emmaline’s alarm is turned on now. If he tries again, that will alert e
veryone.”
“Oh, that’s good,” Maisey said, looking a bit relieved.
“If you hear or see anything that looks odd, please give us a call,” I said.
“Odd over at Emmaline’s house,” Gertie clarified.
Maisey nodded. “Of course. I hope you can figure this out. Emmaline needs to be safe in her home and the rest of us need to be safe in this town. So much has happened lately…”
“Just a little dusting up while we’re cleaning up,” Ida Belle said. “Look at it this way, Sinful is a much safer place today than it was a year ago now that some questionable people have been removed.”
“I suppose there is that,” Maisey said, but she didn’t look completely convinced.
We said our goodbyes and headed back to the SUV. It was a quick ride to my house, and we settled in our usual discussion perches in the kitchen with some of Ally’s cookies and sweet tea while I typed up some notes from our interviews and my walk through Emmaline’s house.
“From what Maisey said, it doesn’t sound like St. Ives was working,” Gertie said. “And if it was someone else, I might allow as how he could be in advertising or writing a book or something creative that required all that staring and thinking. But this was St. Ives. I just can’t see him being whimsical enough to be a creative.”
“Neither can I,” Ida Belle said. “It looks like we’re going to have to do some more digging into our friend Rupert. It was clear that he hated living in Sinful, so why stay here unless he had no other choice? If he was a programmer or writer or ad executive who could do everything online, it seems he’d pick a place of inspiration or tranquility or both in which to work.”
I nodded. “That comment he made to Maisey does make it sound like being here wasn’t optional.”
Gertie frowned. “Does that make everyone else as uneasy as it does me?”
“Yes,” I said. “Especially since he rented a house right next door to Emmaline, who just happened to be attacked at the same time St. Ives was. I have a feeling it’s all linked. I just don’t know how.”
“I agree,” Ida Belle said.
“Well, if he wasn’t renting something in town this time, where was he staying?” Gertie asked.
“Assuming he was staying,” Ida Belle said. “Maybe he was just here for the night. He could have easily driven in from New Orleans.”
“Which is another thing that doesn’t add up,” I said. “If St. Ives was from New Orleans, then why did he need to live in Sinful to do a job? And if that was true, why didn’t he ever leave the house?”
Ida Belle shook her head. “I think it’s time to call the Heberts.”
I grabbed my phone and dialed, making an appointment to speak to the father-and-son duo in an hour.
“I figured it was bad manners to ask for favors over the phone,” I said.
Ida Belle nodded. “I think it’s good for the Heberts to see you in person. Big really seems to enjoy it, and although I know Carter doesn’t approve of your relationship with them, it’s definitely been a handy one.”
“I don’t think Carter disapproves as much as he knows he’s supposed to disapprove given that he’s law enforcement,” I said. “If he really had doubts about their loyalty, there’s no way he would have left Mannie guarding his mother last night.”
“I wish Mannie would guard me,” Gertie said. “Maybe the next time I do something outrageous and get injured, you can claim I need protection.”
“You mean, like falling out of a tree?” I asked.
“Oh wow,” Gertie said. “I totally missed that opportunity.”
“Let’s try to keep our hospitalizations down to one family member at a time,” Ida Belle said.
“Fine by me,” Gertie said. “I wouldn’t want to miss my dinner tonight with Jeb anyway. I figure I probably have a bit better shot with him than with Mannie.”
I grinned. “A bit.”
Chapter Ten
Mannie let us into the Heberts’ office building, his usual stoic expression in place. I was a bit surprised to see him up, and particularly looking so alert, as I knew he’d spent all night at the hospital.
“I figured you’d be catching some sleep after doing guard duty,” I said.
“I caught an hour after Carter showed up,” he said, as if that explained everything.
I’d been a stellar operative and in fantastically good shape, but no way an hour would have been enough to maintain my energy levels.
Gertie leaned in and whispered, “I told you—he’s a superhero.”
Mannie grinned at her as we got on the elevator. “Flattery like that will buy you the way into a man’s heart.”
“What would buy me into his bedroom?” Gertie asked.
“Good God,” Ida Belle said.
Mannie and I laughed, but I noticed he looked slightly uncomfortable. As if he wasn’t sure if Gertie was joking or not. I was fairly certain she wasn’t, so his discomfort was probably warranted.
“I think you’re asking the wrong question,” I said. “You should be asking what a man can do to buy his way into your bedroom.”
Gertie waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m easy.”
Ida Belle groaned and covered her face with her hands.
“Then how about you take that up with Jeb on your date tonight,” I suggested.
“I’m not sure how much his back has improved,” Gertie said. “Maybe I’ll offer to give him a physical.”
“Can someone please let me out of this elevator?” Ida Belle said. “Maybe this life?”
Mannie gave her a pained look. “It’s been running slow. I’ve called the repairman.”
Mercifully the door opened, and we all headed down the hallway to Big Hebert’s office. Or maybe it was Big and Little’s office. I’d only ever been in the one and Little was usually there, so I wasn’t sure. Big greeted us with a big smile as we walked in and Little immediately set to getting us all something to drink. Being a good host was apparently important to Little. He always seemed anxious if people didn’t want a beverage.
“How is Emmaline?” Big asked.
“As of the text I got from Carter twenty minutes ago, the doctors are saying nothing has changed,” I said.
Big frowned. “Do I need to make some calls to the hospital?”
“Not yet, but I appreciate the offer,” I said. “And I should tell you that I might have invoked your name last night when Carter couldn’t get them to move fast enough.”
Big smiled. “Invoked? I think I like that use of the word.”
“Well, your name does seem magical around these parts,” I said. “And we’re here because we’re hoping you can work some magic on something else.”
“How can I help?” Big asked.
I explained the identity of the dead man and covered the break-in at Emmaline’s house the night before and the strange search of her belongings. They all listened intently, frowning. When I was done, Big shot a look at Little and Mannie, then let out a deep breath.
“I find these things troubling, and I’m sure you do as well or you wouldn’t be here,” he said. “The timing of the break-in at Emmaline’s house is suspicious and while it could be an opportunist, as you’ve pointed out, items of value that were easily accessible weren’t taken. I don’t know this St. Ives at all but if I can’t find out something useful, then I’m not sure who could.”
“We’d really appreciate it,” I said. “So far, the man himself is as big a mystery as his murder.”
“What information do you have on him?” Big asked.
Ida Belle pulled up the email she’d received from Cara and gave him St. Ives’s driver’s license information.
“That’s it?” Big asked. “This Realtor doesn’t ask for much information before she allows someone to take control of another person’s property.”
“She’s a Realtor,” Little said. “You know how they are. Commission is king.”
His tone was dismissive and slightly aggrieved, so I couldn’t help but ask, “P
roblem with a Realtor?”
“Realtors are always a problem,” Little said. “Or were, I should say. We got tired of doing all the work but paying someone else the commission, so I obtained a license. Now I handle our dealings myself. The financial savings is nice but nothing compared to the savings in aggravation. If you’re ever in the market for a commercial property or want to sell your home, I’ll be happy to help you. No hassle included.”
“Thank you,” I said, not that I could see either in my immediate future.
“Is there anything else we can assist you with?” Big asked. “Given this break-in situation, Mannie will be headed back to the hospital this evening. At this juncture, I feel it’s better for her to be covered—something I’m sure Carter would agree with—and I don’t think this state cop can do the job.”
“Something else Carter would agree with,” I said.
“I made a call about his lack of, well, everything,” Big said. “But unfortunately, the state police are shorthanded and no one else wanted this case. Since so many of them are looking to climb the ladder, I presume the death of an unimportant man in a tiny bayou town isn’t big enough to headline their résumé. Couple that with that idiot Palmer asking for the case, and this is what we’re stuck with.”
“I’ll just bet he did,” Ida Belle said.
Big raised an eyebrow.
“Carter and Palmer have history,” I said.
“And Palmer hit on Fortune right in front of Carter,” Gertie said. “At the hospital.”
Mannie whistled. “I’m surprised the dude is still breathing.”
Little wrinkled his nose. “Very distasteful.”
“I saw it as an efficient place to die,” Ida Belle said.
Big frowned. “So I take it that in addition to this Palmer being a state cop—with their general attitude of disdain for the sheriff’s department—and adding in the fact that he sees Carter as a rival and has obviously come up short, he won’t be focusing on the investigation much.”
“He could focus until his head burst and that idiot still wouldn’t be able to solve this case,” Gertie said. “That rivalry is all in Palmer’s head. He was never in Carter’s league and never will be.”