Fortune Funhouse (Miss Fortune Mysteries Book 19)

by Jana DeLeon

  “Probably worried it could happen to him,” I said.

  “I’m sure, especially if he’s into the same shady kind of PI work that it appears St. Ives was into,” Mannie said.

  He knocked on the door and we heard a man yell for us to come in. We entered a small but neat living room with old leather furniture and a television that was almost as big as the wall. A couple seconds later, a man entered from a door at the far end.

  Fiftysomething. Six foot four. Two hundred sixty pounds. Old gunshot wound on his biceps. Limp on the right leg. Threat level probably decent several years back or if he was packing. No threat at all to me, Mannie, Ida Belle, and Gertie’s purse.

  “I’m Fortune Redding,” I said and stepped forward with my hand out. “Thank you for agreeing to talk to me.”

  He eyed me for several seconds, then glanced at Mannie, who nodded, then finally took my hand.

  “You don’t look at all like what I was expecting,” he said.

  “That tends to work to my advantage,” I said.

  “I can see that. You people want to sit?”

  He flopped into a recliner and we all perched on furniture around the room.

  “I hear you’re the one who found St. Ives,” he said.

  “Well, technically another woman tripped over him before I found him, but she knocked herself out trying to flee, so she didn’t really get the credit,” I said.

  “And the cops don’t know what happened?”

  “Let’s just say that unless someone walks into the state police office and confesses, the cop assigned to this case will never figure out what happened,” I said. “I’m pretty sure he didn’t even know St. Ives’s identity until a couple hours ago when we told him just to piss him off.”

  Shadow’s eyes widened. “Can I ask how you knew?”

  I pointed to Ida Belle and Gertie. “Because my assistants are from Sinful and St. Ives was on a job there for a month about a year and a half ago. He was so unpleasant, everyone knew him. But the interesting thing is that if you try to find something on him, Rupert St. Ives doesn’t exist.”

  Shadow frowned. “That’s the name I knew him by, but lots of people in our line of work don’t give their legal names, so I guess that doesn’t surprise me.”

  “And your line of work is unlicensed investigation, right?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I find out stuff.”

  “But you don’t act on what you find?” I asked.

  His jaw flexed and I knew he got the implication. “I don’t whack people, if that’s what you’re asking. I just observe and report. Far as I know, St. Ives was the same.”

  “How did you know him?” I asked.

  “There’s a bar in NOLA where guys like us hang out,” he said. “We used to talk over drinks a couple times a month. We’d bitch about cheap clients and how boring the job was…the usual stuff.”

  “Did he live in the city?” I asked.

  “No idea,” he said. “He wasn’t exactly a regular but then St. Ives wasn’t all that big into talking, either. And I’m one of the few that could take him for more than a couple minutes.”

  “Did he ever talk about his job in Sinful?” I asked.

  He nodded. “That’s why I agreed to talk to you when I heard someone whacked him. There’s lines, you know? Even for those of us that don’t necessarily color in them.”

  “Oh, trust me, I’m a completely out-of-the-lines colorer,” I said. “I’m already in trouble for being in the middle of a state police investigation, but the woman who was injured after St. Ives was killed is my boyfriend’s mother. St. Ives was trailing her that night and I’m certain she’s who he was investigating when he was in Sinful. I want to know why, especially if it means she’s in danger.”

  “I get that, and that’s why I agreed to talk to you,” he said. “It isn’t a lot, but I remember St. Ives complaining about the Sinful job after he did it, saying how it was an infuriating place to have to live but at least it paid the bills. Mind you, I didn’t know what he was doing there exactly and didn’t pay much attention to his grousing because St. Ives didn’t like most things.”

  “You can say that again,” Gertie said.

  “Anyway,” Shadow said, “the day he was killed, I was in the bar and St. Ives came in and he looked different. I mean, he usually had this same disgruntled expression all the time, but this time, he looked almost worried and mad. So I asked him what was up.”

  “And what did he say?” I asked.

  “He said that he’d found out a client had misrepresented why he wanted information.”

  “Not for nothing, but that can’t be uncommon in your line of work,” I said.

  “It’s not and I pointed that out,” he said. “But he said the problem was the client had also misrepresented himself. Said by random chance he found out the guy wasn’t who he said he was. He told me he’d always thought the point of the job in Sinful was weak, especially for the cost. But after he realized the guy had lied about who he was, he did some nosing around—and figured out the guy was up to no good and had used St. Ives to move his plan along.”

  “Did he tell you what he found?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “He just said the client was going to ruin someone’s life and for the first time in his career, he felt he had to do something.”

  “Did he tell you where he nosed around?” I asked.

  “He didn’t say and I didn’t ask,” Shadow said. “But I got the impression he’d been poking around in the client’s personal effects, so it could have been anywhere the client kept them—home, office, vehicle…”

  “Then why didn’t he just show up at her house and tell her what was going on?” I asked. “Or give her a call.”

  “For starters, he’d just found out what the client was up to the day before he died,” Shadow said. “So it wasn’t like he’d been sitting on it for a while. And my guess is it wasn’t the sort of thing he wanted to do over the phone as he probably had proof to show her. As to why he didn’t just go to her house, I don’t know. He did say he was afraid the client knew St. Ives was onto him and that things could go really bad for him if that was the case.”

  “Maybe he thought he was being watched,” Ida Belle said. “And if this client is who killed St. Ives, then he clearly had a reason to be careful. If he’d just shown up at her house, it might have put both of them in danger.”

  Shadow nodded. “Could be. People like us usually get a feeling when there’s eyes on us.”

  “So you think he followed her to the fair?” Gertie asked.

  Ida Belle shook her head. “I doubt it. More likely he read her social media and knew she was going to be there. She posted about it earlier that day.”

  Shadow let out a single laugh. “Sometimes social media is better than a GPS tracker.”

  I nodded. “So he went to the fair and followed her into the funhouse, thinking he’d find an opportunity to talk to her without anyone seeing them.”

  “But the client was onto St. Ives and followed him into the funhouse,” Gertie said.

  Ida Belle nodded. “Which puts us right back onto Brandon.”

  “But St. Ives would have recognized the ticket taker as his client,” I said. “He wouldn’t have gone into the funhouse then.”

  “Unless Brandon lied and shut the attraction down after Emmaline went in,” Ida Belle said. “We only have his word that he let St. Ives in, then left. But he could have slipped away right after he let Emmaline in, planning to go in the back entrance and accost her. Meanwhile, St. Ives could have gone under the rope and followed her in, effectively getting in the way and bringing on his own demise.”

  “True,” I said and looked back at Shadow. “Did St. Ives tell you anything else about this client? Anything that would help us identify him?”

  “No,” he said. “I wish to God he would have. Look, St. Ives wasn’t the greatest guy to be around, and I’m guessing there’s few to no one missing him now that he’s gone. But when the r
ubber hit the road, he was trying to do the right thing. No one deserves to die for that.”

  “I agree.” I rose from my chair and handed him my card. “I really appreciate you talking to me. If you can think of anything else or you hear any buzz in your circles, please give me a call.”

  “You gonna figure out who did this?” he asked.

  “Oh yeah,” I said. “And then I’m going to make sure they pay.”

  He gave me a single nod. “Do me a favor—when you get that payment, let me know.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  We stopped on the sidewalk outside and I thanked Mannie for running down Shadow.

  “No problem,” he said. “I’ll let you know when I get something on Whiplash. I have some calls out.”

  “There’s one more thing,” I said and told him Walter’s story and my theory.

  He whistled. “That would be a game changer if true. You want me to run down the family tree?”

  I nodded. “I figure you can get the information faster than me and without having to make a trip for it.”

  “Definitely,” he said. “I’ll get on that right away. You guys watch your back.”

  We climbed into the SUV and were all silent until Ida Belle merged onto the highway, then finally, Gertie broke the quiet.

  “So what the heck do we think?” Gertie asked. “Because I’m all over the place.”

  I nodded. “I am as well. Too many options.”

  “So let’s work through them,” Ida Belle said. “Let’s start with Brandon being the killer and closing the attraction right after Emmaline went in, then heading for the rear entrance to attempt to accost her.”

  “But if St. Ives got in first, then wouldn’t there have been a confrontation?” Gertie asked. “Would Brandon have just walked up behind St. Ives and stabbed him without a word? And if there was a confrontation, then Emmaline would have heard something.”

  “Maybe she did,” I said. “She doesn’t remember the fair yet.”

  “But if she did overhear a confrontation,” Ida Belle said, “then that means she could also identify the killer.”

  “I don’t like that theory,” Gertie said. “But it would fit with Brandon going to the hospital to sneak into Emmaline’s room.”

  “It would,” Ida Belle agreed. “But we’re still back to why St. Ives had to die. What did St. Ives discover that was worth killing him over? And remember, we’re talking about a man who appeared to care about nothing but his profit, but whatever this was pushed a man with a questionable moral code to the point of being outraged enough to tattle.”

  “That’s a good point,” I said. “Brandon’s whole story is the father thing, and I can’t see St. Ives caring that some woman’s husband had a side fling that produced a child. Unfortunately, that’s not exactly a unique story and affairs are one of the most common types of PI work when you’re working with individuals.”

  “But we’ve never thought the father thing was all there was to it,” Ida Belle said. “Brandon has an angle. Maybe St. Ives discovered what it was and that’s where Brandon went over the line of what St. Ives was willing to be party to.”

  “But could Brandon even afford St. Ives in the first place?” Gertie said. “Shadow said that St. Ives found out the client wasn’t who he said he was and his reason for hiring St. Ives was a lie as well. Do we really see Brandon fooling someone like St. Ives? He didn’t fool Fortune. She knows his story doesn’t add up.”

  “Okay, so if St. Ives’s client was someone else, then who?” Ida Belle asked. “And what did they want from Emmaline? If it’s not about Brandon being Cam’s son, then I’ve got nothing. Emmaline is a wonderful person but hardly up to the sort of thing that gets the interest of private investigators.”

  “Brandon said he’d never seen St. Ives before that night,” Gertie said to me. “Do you think he was telling the truth?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I get the impression that Brandon is telling the truth and lying, or maybe all of it is half-truth. But I can’t figure out what is what.”

  “And then there’s the other thing,” Ida Belle said. “If it turns out that Cam has a brother no one knew about and Brandon is Carter’s cousin instead of his half brother, then what was the point of claiming Cam as his father?”

  “From what Walter overheard, it sounds like the guy Cam’s father fought with wasn’t a desirable person,” Gertie said. “Maybe it’s as simple as Brandon’s mother lying to hide her poor choice.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “If she’d go off and leave her kid, she doesn’t sound like the kind of person who cared much what other people thought.”

  “Okay, so take the other route,” Ida Belle said. “She didn’t lie and Brandon knows Cam isn’t his father. So why is he here claiming that Cam is? Hell, say Cam is his father—what does he get out of it? Because there’s nothing financial to gain and I don’t buy for a minute that he’s looking for a family to be part of.”

  Gertie groaned. “My head hurts.”

  “So does mine,” I said.

  “So what do we tackle next?” Gertie asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “I need a long hot shower, then I’m going to makes some notes, and sit out back with a beer and figure out what all of this means.”

  “Maybe Mannie will come up with something on that guy Walter saw,” Ida Belle said.

  “Or Emmaline will remember that night,” Gertie said.

  My cell phone rang and Deputy Breaux’s number came up in the display.

  “Hi, Deputy,” I said. “What’s up?”

  “Carter’s been in an accident,” Deputy Breaux said. “He’s all right but his truck is totaled.”

  “Where is he?” I asked. “What happened?”

  “He’s on the highway between Sinful and the hospital. Someone ran him off the road. He’s refusing medical attention on sight, claiming he was on his way to the hospital anyway.” Deputy Breaux blew out a breath. “I’ve never seen him this upset. I need to get information but I don’t even know how to handle him like this.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “We’re probably fifteen minutes away. Just photograph the scene and call the tow truck.”

  Gertie leaned forward and Ida Belle cast me a nervous glance when I disconnected. I filled them in and Ida Belle floored it.

  “What the heck is going on?” Gertie said.

  I shook my head.

  I didn’t know what was going on, but I felt positive that this ‘accident’ of Carter’s was anything but.

  Carter was pacing on the side of the road, hands in the air. Deputy Breaux was following behind him, trying to make notes. He looked as though he’d rather be subjected to Maisey drumming naked. I couldn’t say that I blamed him. Carter looked as mad as I’d ever seen him. As I approached, he looked over at me and then pointed to his truck, which was upside down in the ditch on the side of the highway.

  “Can you believe that?” he asked. “That cannot be fixed. And I just paid it off.”

  Ida Belle stared at the truck, looking more upset at the totaled vehicle than she had when we’d found St. Ives. Gertie just stood shaking her head.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Some crazy in a black pickup truck came roaring up behind me,” he said. “I was in the right lane and the left was clear, so I figured he’d go around. He waited until the last minute then swung into the left lane but then swerved right into me just when he was pulling ahead.”

  “Drunk?” I asked.

  “I don’t think so,” he said. “Even drunks react by swerving the opposite direction when they connect with something. This guy just floored it and twisted the wheel more to the right. As soon as I flew off the side of the highway, I heard him accelerating.”

  I glanced over at Ida Belle and Gertie, who both looked as worried as I felt.

  “Do you need medical attention?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “But the guy that did this is going to as soon as I catch him. I need to ge
t to the hospital and check on my mom. Can you guys take me? Deputy Breaux can handle things here.”

  “You need to go home and stay there,” I said.

  His eyes widened and he stared at me as if I’d lost my mind.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You said yourself this was intentional,” I said. “How long have you lived here? Been a deputy here? How many times has someone run you off the road? Whatever is going on here, you’re in the line of fire. The last place you need to be is near your mom.”

  Carter’s face flushed red and he let out a stream of cussing worthy of his former Marine status.

  “Shoot your truck,” Gertie said and pulled a pistol out of her purse.

  Carter took the gun and unloaded five rounds into the side of the vehicle then passed it back to Gertie.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “I have a larger caliber if you need more,” she said.

  Ida Belle and I stared at her.

  “What?” she asked. “He needed to get it out, the truck is already totaled, and he can’t just go around firing his issued weapon without having to account for it, so…”

  “She’s right,” Carter said. “And so are you. But I’m not going home and sitting on my hands. Take me to the sheriff’s department. I’m past caring what Palmer thinks. If he was doing his job, none of this would be happening.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But the three of us need to talk to you.”

  “About what?” he asked.

  “Everything you could possibly imagine and more.”

  I finally made it into bed around midnight. We’d spent hours at the sheriff’s department bringing Carter up to speed on everything. His obvious optimism about the whole secret brother thing was apparent and I really hoped that panned out. The situation had taken an obvious toll on him. I didn’t even want to think about what it would do to Emmaline.

  He had removed the dashcam from his truck before crawling out and got the license plate of the truck that had run him off the road. We’d all watched the footage and Carter had been absolutely correct—it was definitely intentional. Unfortunately, the truck had been reported stolen, so we were faced with yet another dead end. Ida Belle, Gertie, and I had finally headed out, leaving him to his thoughts. I’d called Mannie and filled him in earlier on the situation and he’d said to tell Carter not to worry. That Emmaline would be covered. I wondered again when he slept.