Louisiana Longshot

by Jana DeLeon

  “He didn’t treat you well. And that made her mad.”

  “Yes. She tried to get me to leave him, even offered me a place to live and money, but she didn’t have enough to cover Charlie’s expenses. And besides, I couldn’t take from her, knowing how she felt. It wouldn’t have been right.”

  I tried to imagine how Marie felt, trapped with a mean man, dependent on him to take care of her only immediate family, but I couldn’t begin to understand the depth of her despair. I was too independent—too self-sufficient—and it just couldn’t compute.

  No more than I could understand how Marge must have felt, loving someone all those years, knowing she was being mistreated, and unable to do anything about the love or the mistreatment. Although, I guess ultimately she did do something about the mistreatment, which is why we were all in this mess now.

  “Okay, I get that Marge wouldn’t have liked how you were treated, but she sat and watched it for a lot of years. What makes you think she finally killed him?”

  “I’d been down with the flu for a couple of days. Marge was bringing me over a casserole so that Harvey would have his dinner on time. She wasn’t the best cook, but Harvey had no taste anyway. He didn’t care as long as food was on the table. But then Bones had an accident and broke his leg, and she had to rush him to the vet before she could deliver the food.”

  “And Harvey got mad?”

  Marie nodded. “Harvey expected things to be as he wanted them all of the time. I could have been dead and he would have still expected dinner at five o’clock.” She cocked her head to the side and scrunched her brow. “You know, since Harvey disappeared, I haven’t eaten supper at five? Not one single day. I either eat early or much later. I never thought about it until now, but I suppose my subconscious did.”

  “Makes sense. So what happened?”

  Marie frowned and looked down again. “He hit me, like he always did when he thought I’d screwed up. But this time, he hit me across the face. He usually only left marks on my body so I could hide them. Marge had walked across the backyards and was standing at the screen door in the kitchen when he did it. She saw it all.”

  “Did she kill him in your house?”

  “No. She burst into the kitchen and threw the casserole in his face. Then she yelled at him to get out before she called the police. I knew she wouldn’t because it would only makes things worse for me, but Harvey believed her. He stomped out, threatening to kill me and her.”

  A rush of anger washed over me. Beaten over a casserole being late? I probably would have killed him myself if I’d been there. “So, what happened next?”

  “Marge helped me clean the cut. He’d split the skin at my eyebrow. I had a black eye for a while, but since I was sick, I’d managed to avoid most people for a couple of days. Gertie and Ida Belle helped me cover it with makeup after that, enough so I could go to church on Sunday.”

  “Is church that important around here?”

  Marie looked up at me. “It was then. You see, Harvey had already disappeared, and Ida Belle and Gertie were afraid if people knew he’d hit me that I would have been suspected of killing him. They also set up a bank account in the Bahamas and had me use Harvey’s password to transfer money there so people would think he’d run off with one of his whores.”

  “Really?”

  Ida Belle and Gertie had left out quite a bit of their part in the Harvey-disappearing story. No wonder they were so desperate to find another suspect. They knew if everyone found out Harvey had beaten Marie right before he disappeared that she’d be convicted before she was even tried. And since part of his body had turned up, it wasn’t likely that Harvey had been the one moving money around, which left only Marie, with Gertie and Ida Belle in it up to their necks.

  “So you’ve left the money sitting there all this time?” I asked.

  “No. Ida Belle said we had to make it look like Harvey moved the money somewhere else, but do it in a way where it couldn’t be traced. There was some complicated maneuvering from country to country, and a couple of those sketchy-looking lawyers got involved, but eventually, I used the money to buy a beach house in Tahiti.”

  “You're kidding.”

  “Not at all. Gertie, Ida Belle, and I go there every year for a month. We tell everyone else we're doing missions work in South America. We needed a reason to explain the tans.”

  “Of course.”

  Marie gave me a sheepish look. “I guess they didn’t tell you all this.”

  “No. They left a couple of things out. Mostly, all the things that make them look bad.”

  Huge! They owed me huge for all the underhandedness. I started making a mental list. Gertie would owe me a pound cake every other day for my entire stay. Ida Belle was going to let me borrow her car.

  “So, I take it the police bought off on Harvey running?” I asked, something about the entire thing still not making sense to me.

  Marie nodded.

  All of a sudden, it hit me. “Did you tell Ida Belle and Gertie about what Marge saw?”

  “No. She asked me not to, and until today, I’ve kept her secret.”

  I stared, the entire mess starting to click together. “So all this time, Gertie and Ida Belle have really thought you killed Harvey?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t want to betray Marge. After a while, the whole thing became old news and there wasn’t any reason to revisit it. Besides, Marge was protecting me. I couldn’t put her at risk.”

  “Until now. You know the truth is going to have to come out.”

  “I know, but I’m afraid after all the lies, no one’s going to believe me.”

  I blew out a breath. “Me, too.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Despite being roused out of bed, Gertie and Ida Belle made it to my house within minutes of my phone call. They both wore bathrobes and slippers, and Ida Belle had a head full of rollers, but they were wide awake and clearly stunned at the turn of events.

  It took a bit to explain everything to Gertie and Ida Belle, who flopped back and forth between being thrilled Marie was all right, shocked that she hadn’t actually killed Harvey, and nonplussed that Marge had been in love with Marie and apparently done the deed.

  “It all makes sense now,” Ida Belle said, “but who would have figured?”

  Gertie shook her head. “I am so sorry, Marie. All these years, we’ve thought you were the one that killed him.”

  “It’s all right. I knew that’s what you thought when you helped me with the offshore bank.”

  “But why didn’t you tell us?” Gertie asked.

  “She was protecting Marge,” I said.

  Marie nodded. “She killed Harvey to protect me. How could I let her take the fall for something I should have handled years ago myself? Especially knowing how she felt about me. It would have been a knife in her heart and her back.”

  “It was a big risk,” Ida Belle said. “If Harvey’s body had turned up before Marge died, you would have had to choose.”

  “I doubt it,” I said. “My guess is that if Marge were still alive, she would have confessed. She’d never have let Marie go to prison. In fact, from Marie’s standpoint, she’d be much better off if Marge were still here to confess. Given all the subterfuge, it’s going to be hard to get people to buy off on this.”

  “You’re probably right.” Ida Belle sighed. “If only we had a way to prove all of it. Proof that a jury couldn’t overlook.”

  Suddenly, a thought flashed through my mind. I jumped up from my chair, startling the three of them.

  “Marge’s estate attorney called me earlier this week. He said he had a letter that was to be delivered to me on Marge’s death.” I clenched Gertie’s shoulder. “What if she left a confession, just in case the whole thing blew up after she died?”

  Three hopeful expressions stared back at me.

  “It would be just like Marge to do something like that,” Gertie said. “Honor was a way of life with her.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “So,
when can you get this letter?”

  I checked my watch. “Their office opens in a couple of hours. I figure we have time to get dressed, grab some breakfast and haul butt to New Orleans to be there when it does.”

  Ida Belle and Gertie jumped up from their chairs.

  “It’s a plan,” Gertie said. “We can take my car now that it’s been fumigating for a day.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “Marie, you better stick around here. No one’s caught on to your hiding place yet.” She shot me a derisive look. “Including the person living in the house. You should be safe here as long as you stay out of sight. Melvin already has some misconceptions about Fortune’s role here. I don’t want him to catch a glimpse of you when he’s sneaking around.”

  “I’ll be back in the attic before daylight,” Marie promised. “I’m just going to get a quick shower and change clothes. It will be nice to take my time in the bathroom. I’ve been rushing down when you left, hoping you wouldn’t catch me.”

  Gertie frowned. “She doesn’t need to hide in the attic any longer, does she?”

  “It’s okay,” Marie said. “I’ll feel safer there until y’all return. Just in case.”

  “She’s right,” I said. “I’d like to think Melvin isn’t stupid enough to break into the house in broad daylight, but as I’ve spoken with him, I can’t guarantee anything.”

  Gertie patted Marie’s arm. “As soon as we get back with that letter, we’re going to pick you up and go straight to see the sheriff. We’re going to put this entire mess to bed once and for all.”

  I felt my back and neck tense up. There was a lot riding on a letter that we weren’t even sure existed.

  I hoped Gertie’s prophecy was right.

  ***

  It took every ounce of self-control I had to smile politely at Mr. Worley and appear patient as he regaled me with tales about the woman he thought was my aunt. All of a sudden, it seemed things were actually taking on that slow pace everyone claimed for small-town living. Of course, it happened at the exact time I wanted everything to move at lightning speed. Well, now and during the sermon on Sunday.

  He sat across from me, in that giant leather chair that seemed to swallow up all one hundred forty-six pounds of him, holding the sacred envelop in his hand, and showing no signs of running out of things to say. I was almost ready to create an accident with my coffee so that he’d cut things off, when the receptionist poked her head in his office to tell him his next appointment had arrived. He looked at his watch in surprise, then pushed a piece of paper across the desk to me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “We’ve been having such a great conversation that I didn’t realize how much time had passed.”

  Fifty-six minutes. Ten seconds. Eleven. Twelve.

  “That’s all right,” I said and took the pen he was offering to sign the receipt document.

  I pushed the paper back across to him and rose from my chair. He jumped up as well, handed me the letter, and then shook my hand for what felt like another five minutes. By the time I got out of the office, my pulse was at heart attack level. I practically ran to the curb and jumped in the back of Gertie’s Cadillac.

  Both ladies turned around to give me expectant stares.

  “Well?” Ida Belle asked.

  “I don’t know yet,” I said as I tore open the envelope. “He wouldn’t shut up.”

  “Hurry up,” Gertie instructed, her hands clenched together on top of the front seat.

  “I’m hurrying,” I muttered as I pulled the letter from the envelope and unfolded it.

  Ida Belle blew out a breath as she saw the scrawl. “Thank God, she wrote it longhand. The handwriting can be verified.”

  “Read it already!” Gertie yelled.

  I took a deep breath and started to read out loud.

  Sandy-Sue,

  Before I get to the point of this letter, I want to apologize for leaving this on your shoulders. If you stick around long enough to find out the particulars of the situation, you’ll understand why I couldn’t get any of my friends in Sinful involved.

  I killed Harvey Chicoron.

  When I was delivering a casserole, I saw him hit his wife, Marie. I’d always suspected that was the case, but I’d never had proof. Once I did, I saw red. I made a promise to myself that Harvey would never strike Marie again.

  I knew Marie didn’t have options for leaving. Without Harvey’s money, she wouldn’t be able to continue caring for her brother, and I knew Marie would endure any level of indignity to preserve her brother’s care.

  So I killed him and made it look like he’d disappeared with another woman. I knew it was the only way Marie would get the money and the quiet she deserved to live out the rest of her life.

  I am sorry if my actions caused grief for anyone in Sinful after my demise, but I am not sorry for what I did.

  Please show this letter to the sheriff so that suspicion no longer falls on Marie, but instead, blame is finally placed where it belongs.

  Your loving aunt,

  Marge

  We were all silent for several minutes. Tears pooled in Gertie’s eyes, and she sniffed, then rubbed the bottom of her nose with her finger. Ida Belle stared down at the floorboard, her grief so clear despite how hard she worked to control it.

  A wave of guilt washed over me for pretending to be the family of a woman who was so clearly missed. All this time, the situation with Marie and Harvey had been like a game to me—a puzzle that needed solving. I hadn’t stopped to think about the loss that had occurred to precipitate my arrival in Sinful, or how much it was still affecting these women, even though they didn’t show it.

  Then I felt sad. Sad for Ida Belle, Gertie, and Marie, and all the other women who’d considered Marge a neighbor and friend. Her dedication to protecting the freedom of others who couldn’t protect themselves had extended far beyond her military service. I regretted that I’d never gotten to meet her when she was alive. I think I would have liked her. I already knew I respected her.

  “Well,” Ida Belle said, then went silent again.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t know her better,” I said. “And I’m sorry all of you lost such a great friend.”

  A single tear ran out of Gertie’s eye and onto her cheek. She swiped it away with her finger and then smiled at me. “She would have loved you. All that worrying she did over how you’d turn out. I think she would have been surprised and very pleased.”

  I felt my heart ache just a bit. Sure, I was pretending to be Marge’s niece, but they didn’t know that. The fact that Gertie thought Marge would have been pleased touched me. It was the first time since my mom passed that someone had given me a genuine compliment. I’d forgotten what it felt like.

  “I guess we don’t have to worry about Marie going to jail any longer,” Gertie said.

  “No,” I agreed, but at the moment, it seemed small consolation.

  ***

  The drive from New Orleans back to Sinful was a sober one, none of us having much to say. No one had thought to leave Marie a cell phone, so she wouldn’t know what we’d found until we got back to Marge’s house. I figured it was just as well. To read the letter over a cell phone seemed rude. It was the sort of thing that really needed to be done in person.

  My thoughts whirled around on all the twists these few short days in Sinful had taken and marveled at the strength of the women I’d met and the one who had already passed. Which got me right back to the dread I felt at showing the letter to Marie, who would probably feel guilty about it all.

  It was a little after noon when we got back to Marge’s house. Marie was peeking down the stairs when we walked in and hurried down to join us as soon as Ida Belle closed the blinds. The anxiety in her expression made my heart clench just a bit. How must she feel—with her freedom and her brother’s financial and medical security riding on her dear friend admitting to a horrible crime? How had she lived all these years, seeing Marge every day, and both of them pretending nothing was out of sorts?


  “We got it,” Gertie said. “Let’s have some coffee and talk.”

  Coffee in the afternoon sounded a bit odd with the heat of the Louisiana summer, but we’d made a single stop on our return from New Orleans to pick up a bottle of bourbon. I figured a heavy dose was going straight into Marie’s cup, which certainly wasn’t the worst idea I’d heard, and noticed that Gertie pulled out the decaffeinated coffee instead of the regular.

  “Have you eaten today?” Gertie asked Marie after she put the coffee on to brew.

  “I had a glass of orange juice,” Marie said.

  Gertie gave her a single nod. “I’ll make some dry toast. You need to eat something. You getting sick won’t help anyone.”

  Bones woke up and stretched, then walked over to where Marie sat, and nudged her hand. She scratched him behind the ears, and he put his chin on her leg, looking up at her with those big, sad, hound eyes.

  “What’s going to happen to Bones?” I asked.

  Marie’s eyes widened. “Well, that’s up to you. You inherited him along with the rest of Marge’s estate.”

  I flopped into a chair across the table from Marie. “Oh. I hadn’t even thought about it that way.” Especially as I wasn’t Sandy-Sue and hadn’t really inherited anything. But despite all the legalities, I was about to make an executive decision about someone else’s property.

  “I wouldn’t dream of taking him away from here,” I said. “I can’t imagine he’d be happy in the city.”

  I looked over at Marie. “Do you want to take him?”

  Marie looked down at the old hound dog and smiled. “I’d love to have him. Bones is the best man I’ve ever lived with.”

  “Got that right,” Ida Belle said. “And let that be a lesson. Five more years and you’re in the Sinful Ladies Society. Stick to Bones and knitting. It’s safer.”

  I swear, the old hound must be part human, because he walked under the table and licked my hand before going back to curl up in his corner bed. I smiled, feeling better that Marie wouldn’t be alone anymore. Ida Belle gave me an approving nod, and Gertie sniffed, then pretended her nose itched as she placed the dry toast in front of Marie.