Fortune Funhouse (Miss Fortune Mysteries Book 19)

by Jana DeLeon

  “That lady,” he said, “the one who got hurt. Is she going to be all right?”

  “We don’t know yet,” I said. “She’s still unconscious.”

  Something flashed across his expression—a mixture of sadness and anger, maybe.

  “It’s not right,” he said. “Hitting ladies.”

  “No, it’s not,” I agreed. “Take my card, and if you can think of anything that can help us, give me a call.”

  He took the card and shoved it in his pocket, then stood with his hands in both pockets, staring at the ground. “You’re not going to tell my boss, are you?”

  “Who’s your boss?” I asked.

  “Stan is the big boss, I guess,” he said. “But this guy called Whiplash sorta tells everyone what to do when Stan isn’t here.”

  “Is Stan gone a lot?” Ida Belle asked.

  He shrugged. “I haven’t seen him for a while.”

  “Vacation?” I asked.

  “No one knows,” he said. “Rumor is he just poofed.”

  “People don’t just poof,” Ida Belle said.

  “They do in this business,” he said.

  “And when did your boss disappear?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Yesterday? The day before? I just heard he’s gone. So are you going to tell him about the john thing when he turns back up?”

  “I don’t see any reason to,” I said. “If you notice anything odd or another worker mentions something about this, I’d like to know. That lady is my boyfriend’s mother and a beloved resident of the town. Her son is also a cop. The entire town won’t rest until the guy who hurt her is arrested.”

  He nodded, a slightly fearful expression on his face, and we headed off as a group of giggling teens made their way forward.

  “So?” Ida Belle asked as we walked off.

  “Good question,” I said. “I think some of what he said was truthful, but he’s not telling the whole truth.”

  “About which part?” Gertie asked.

  “For starters, about using the john,” I said. “Maybe he was just goofing off or smoking or drinking or something else that would get him fired. But he wasn’t taking a leak.”

  “The johns are behind the funhouse,” Ida Belle said. “He could have gone in the back door and killed St. Ives, then slipped back out front to take tickets again.”

  “But what about Emmaline?” Gertie asked. “St. Ives was behind her so if he came in and was going to exit by the back door, then why attack Emmaline at all?”

  “She wasn’t that far from St. Ives,” I said. “My guess is she heard or saw something damaging, or at least he was afraid she had.”

  Gertie sighed. “Which puts us back to thinking Emmaline is in danger.”

  “Maybe not,” Ida Belle said. “She might not have seen enough to ID him. It was dark in there. More likely, he popped her just in case or to keep her from sounding the alarm before he could get away.”

  I shook my head. “Maybe we’re overthinking it.”

  “Well, Brandon definitely had opportunity,” Ida Belle said. “But what’s the motive?”

  “Heck if I know,” I said. “Sometimes motive just isn’t apparent until the last minute.”

  “I don’t know,” Gertie said. “He did look serious with his statement about hitting ladies not being right.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “Could be he had a mother or sister or some other woman he cared about that got knocked around.”

  “And could be that he did it but wasn’t happy about having to,” I said.

  “What does your gut tell you?” Ida Belle asked.

  I sighed. “That I don’t know. I get too many mixed signals from the guy.”

  “So we’ll dig into his past and present,” Ida Belle said. “But he stays on the list. Near the top, given his access.”

  “Um,” Gertie said. “We don’t have anyone else on the list.”

  “Then we work on that next,” I said.

  “How?” Gertie asked.

  I sighed again. “I don’t know. Jeez, this would be a lot easier if we had access to the police database.”

  “You think he gave us his real name?” Ida Belle asked.

  “Maybe…probably not,” I said. “I don’t know. But I bet the cops have his ID. And we know they have his prints. If he wasn’t lying about being in trouble before, he’ll be in the system.”

  “The system we have no access to,” Ida Belle said.

  Gertie shook her head. “It’s one thing to get dirt on someone who lives in Sinful. Heck, half the time or better, we already have the dirt. But a stranger passing through with no fixed address and no family is a lot harder to pin down.”

  “Where are they staying?” I asked. “They don’t pitch tents here or something, do they?”

  Ida Belle shook her head. “The majority have travel trailers, campers, that sort of thing. There’s a tree line behind the last row. They usually park them back there. Gives them a bit of privacy, I guess.”

  “I doubt Brandon has the cash for a travel trailer,” I said.

  “Could be bunking with someone else for a fee,” Ida Belle said.

  I nodded. “Then I guess we’re going to have to head back tonight and see where Brandon lives. I’d like to take a look at his belongings.”

  Gertie stopped walking and put her hands on her hips. “No fair! You two can’t go breaking and entering without me.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” I said. “You’ve got a date. I’m sorry, but I don’t think this should wait.”

  “I don’t think my date should either,” Gertie said. “We might be working on borrowed time.”

  “Finally, she sees the light,” Ida Belle said.

  “I meant Jeb’s time,” Gertie said. “Not mine. I’m good.”

  “I don’t think you need to reschedule,” I said. “Go ahead with your date and Ida Belle and I will check things out. If it’s just a travel trailer or camper, there wouldn’t be room for all of us to search anyway. I’ll leave Ida Belle on lookout, do my thing, and then we’ll jet.”

  “What if someone sees and comes after you?” Gertie asked.

  “You’ve seen these people,” Ida Belle said. “Did a single one of them look like they could outrun Fortune or me?”

  “Hmmm,” Gertie said. “I guess not. At least you’re not going to the motel without me. I wouldn’t want to miss out on that. The best things happen at the motel.”

  “I keep running into the same naked guy at the motel,” I said. “And as he can’t possibly look good in clothes, I wouldn’t call seeing him without them the ‘best thing.’”

  “Hearing about it is the best thing for me,” Gertie said. “And besides, I usually get to blow something up there.”

  “If we blow up anything else at that motel, that desk clerk is going to need therapy,” Ida Belle said.

  “Okay, then,” Gertie said. “I will continue with my plans to seduce Jeb with my feminine wiles. I even bought thong underwear.”

  “You’ll be picking at your butt the entire dinner,” Ida Belle said.

  Gertie frowned. “That’s not a good look, especially when you’re eating.” She brightened. “I’ll just go commando.”

  “I’m not hearing any of this,” Ida Belle said.

  “I’d rather hear about it before than after,” I said.

  “Can I opt out of both?” Ida Belle asked.

  “No,” Gertie said. “It’s best friend code. You not only have to listen, you have to ask questions and show excitement.”

  “I only show excitement over hunting season opening and when the price of gas drops,” Ida Belle said.

  “Don’t look at me,” I said. “I don’t know anything about that girlie excitement you’re always pushing on Hallmark. I suppose I could muster up some clapping and a high five.”

  “You two overwhelm me with your emotion sometimes,” Gertie said.

  “That’s what friends are for,” Ida Belle said.

  Gertie narrowed her
eyes at us. “I suppose I could be talked into giving you the short rendition of my night with Jeb, if you did something for me.”

  “We’re going to have to move,” Ida Belle said to me.

  “Little said he’d help sell our houses,” I said.

  Gertie sighed. “All I want is just one little ride on the Zipper.”

  “Is that the thing that goes way up and flings you around while spinning you?” Ida Belle asked.

  “That’s the one,” Gertie said. “Come on, we’re already here. It won’t take another ten minutes, but it could save you an hour of listening to me retell, in exacting detail, my night with Jeb.”

  “I’m up for spinning around for a couple minutes,” I said.

  Ida Belle eyed Gertie, clearly suspicious. “It seems too easy.”

  Gertie shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”

  “We’re taking it,” I said and tugged on Ida Belle’s sleeve. Gertie went running ahead, looking back at us occasionally and grinning.

  “You know she’s just saying that to get up on that ride,” Ida Belle said. “Then we’ll still have to hear about every freckle on Jeb’s body.”

  “Every time she gets going on it, we’ll remind her of the deal,” I said.

  “You place a lot of faith in her ability to contain herself,” Ida Belle said. “I’m running on a lifetime of experience.”

  “You’re probably right, but hey, it can’t be any worse than riding in a fighter jet,” I said.

  “You’ve been in a fighter jet?” Ida Belle said. “Man, that must have been cool.”

  “It was cool once the missiles couldn’t reach us,” I said.

  “If I would have been born a boy, I would have been a fighter pilot,” Ida Belle said.

  “I can totally see that.”

  Given that her SUV went so fast I sometimes thought it might lift off, she definitely had the rush-of-speed bug that pilots required.

  “Here we go!” Gertie yelled, holding up three tickets.

  We headed over to the Zipper and gave our tickets to a half-asleep man at the gate. I said a brief prayer that the mechanics who worked the carnival were more alert than the operators.

  “It says two people per cage,” I said.

  “Can all three of us go in one cage?” Gertie asked the operator. “We’ll fit?”

  “I don’t care,” the operator said.

  I studied the contraption. “Shouldn’t there be weight limits and balancing sort of stuff going on here?”

  “Weight limit is five hundred pounds per cage,” Gertie said. “I looked it up.”

  “Did you weigh everyone?” Ida Belle asked. “Because not all of us are working out.”

  “Just get on,” Gertie said. “You know all those things like weight limits and expiration dates are purely optional.”

  It wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement but since I ate expired food all the time and hadn’t died yet, I figured she was probably onto something. Ida Belle and I automatically maneuvered so that Gertie was in the middle, and I couldn’t help but think it was like two parents and a child. I had no idea what we would do if the Zipper malfunctioned, and I was certain Ida Belle didn’t either, but at that point, it was all instinct.

  The operator made sure we were secure and then pressed the button to move the thing forward. We inched upward and waited a minute or so while he loaded two more cages, then I saw him close off the entry and I knew it was game time. Gertie clapped her hands, as giddy as a child, and I couldn’t help but envy her just a little. I’d lost part of my childhood after my mom died and I’d never been able to regain that joy of simple things until I’d come to Sinful. But for me, it was still something I had to think about. It didn’t just flow naturally.

  All of a sudden, the cage soared up and when we reached the top the entire structure paused for just a second, preparing for the big spin. I looked down and saw Palmer talking to Brandon, and neither of them looked happy.

  “We’ve got the death car!” Gertie yelled.

  Chapter Twelve

  I had no idea what that meant, but based on the excitement in her voice, it must have been a good thing. The structure holding the dangling cars hurled forward with its first revolution. Our car was at the very top when the whole thing flung itself toward the ground in an accelerated spin, which meant we got the full force of the spin. The car flew out and down at a speed I hadn’t anticipated and just when I thought we were going to slam into the ground, the cage did a complete flip and we sped back up.

  Gertie was yelling so loudly I was afraid for our eardrums.

  The cage went back up and down, spinning around on the belt and the giant belt spinning around as well, but nothing was as exciting as that first revolution had been. Finally the ride was over and we waited our turn to exit. Gertie stepped off and pitched right into the ticket booth, tipping the entire thing over. Ida Belle and I apologized to the much-aggrieved operator, pulled Gertie up, and hustled her off, each of us holding one of her arms.

  “I guess I got a little dizzy,” she said as we exited the attraction. “I think I’m good now.”

  We released her and I nodded in the opposite direction. “Let’s go this way.”

  “But the parking lot’s in the other direction,” Gertie said.

  “I know,” I said. “But right before we went hurtling to the ground, I saw Palmer talking to Brandon, and neither of them looked happy. I thought I might be able to pick up some of the conversation.”

  “It’s definitely worth a try,” Ida Belle said.

  We headed back toward the House of Mirrors but before we got close enough for them to spot us, I ducked next to a snow-cone stand. Palmer’s back was to me but Brandon was facing me. Unfortunately, people were walking down the row, and every time they passed, they disrupted my view. But I did the best I could. When Palmer turned around and started walking in our direction, I yanked Gertie and Ida Belle behind the stand and then we doubled back in the opposite direction before crisscrossing our way back to the parking lot.

  “I don’t see Palmer anywhere,” Ida Belle said as she pulled away.

  “Probably stopped off to talk to someone else,” Gertie said and pointed to a state police car near the entrance as we drove by. “Man, I wish we had the same information that idiot does. We could actually do something with it.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “Did you get anything from Brandon and Palmer’s conversation?”

  “Nothing of merit,” I said. “I only got words here and there when people weren’t blocking me, but I managed to fill in the blanks for a sentence, not that it helps. Basically, Brandon said, ‘I already told those other cops I didn’t see anyone go in after that guy.’ Then Palmer said something, and Brandon said, ‘I can’t tell’ and that’s all I got of that sentence before Palmer headed our direction.”

  “That’s it?” Gertie asked.

  “I’m afraid so,” I said and frowned. Something about the exchange bothered me, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.

  My cell phone rang and I checked the display. Mannie.

  “You’re on speaker,” I said. “That way I don’t have to repeat everything.”

  “Got some information on St. Ives,” he said. “But you’re not going to like it.”

  “Lay it on me,” I said.

  “He doesn’t exist,” Mannie said. “The name is fake. The address is a tattoo parlor and the guy who owns it lives in the apartment above it and has never heard of St. Ives or know anyone of his description.”

  “You think he’s telling the truth?” I asked.

  “He got a loan from the Heberts to open the place and he knows my affiliation, so yeah,” Mannie said. “I’m going to ask around among some of our more questionable acquaintances. If the man didn’t want to be known in the normal world then there’s a reason. I’m about to run in and talk to someone else. I’ll let you know if I come up with anything.”

  He disconnected.

  “That was one I didn’t see comin
g,” Ida Belle said.

  “Me either,” I said. “And it’s a twist we don’t need. Now we have an unknown victim sitting in the morgue. How the heck are we supposed to figure out who killed him if we don’t even know who he is?”

  “Shades of dead Santa,” Gertie said.

  I nodded. Last year, Santa had turned up dead in his chair at the annual Christmas Gala. Then when the beard had come off, everyone had realized that it wasn’t even the guy it was supposed to be. His identity and his murder had led us on a merry chase, but we’d finally sorted it all out.

  “Let’s hope this investigation goes smoother than that one,” Ida Belle said.

  “I always hope for that,” I said. “And then…”

  “Yeah, it’s Sinful,” Gertie said. “We’re nothing if not unpredictable. So if St. Ives didn’t live in New Orleans, then do you think he was staying nearby?”

  “Who knows?” I said. “He might have lived in the same house for forty years for all we know, and it could be in New Orleans or Portland.”

  Ida Belle shook her head. “We don’t even know enough about the guy to know where to start. No name, no address, no place of employment, no friends or family. And even if his prints pop on the police database, we’re not going to hear about it. Not as long as Palmer is running the show.”

  “Yeah, I have to admit, I’m stumped,” I said. “There’s nothing else we can do right now. We have plans to follow Brandon tonight, but we’ve already talked to everyone who might have information.”

  “Except Emmaline,” Gertie said. “Maybe she’ll wake up and be able to tell us something.”

  “Unless she saw who attacked her, I’m not betting on it,” Ida Belle said.

  “Well, St. Ives—or whoever the heck he was—lived next door to her for a month,” Gertie said. “Maybe she can tell us something about the man. Something that gives us another avenue to check out.”

  I nodded. “Maybe. In the meantime, we’ll just hope Mannie turns up something under one of the rocks he’s peering beneath.”

  Gertie pursed her lips. “There’s always Palmer’s reports.”

  “No way,” Ida Belle said. “We are not breaking into the state police headquarters. They have better security than the governor’s mansion.”