"And he wanted you," Fortune supplied.
I nodded. "His father, Boris Sidorov, believed that Misha had executed someone and that I was a witness." I'd told them all this before. "So if he could force me to marry Misha, then it would kill two birds with one stone." I grimaced at my poor choice of words.
"Right, he thought that you'd be immune from testifying against your husband should this come to trial," Aunt Ida Bella said. "And if you married Misha, Boris' precious little boy would get just what he wanted."
I sighed. "Exactly."
"Was there bad blood between them?" Gertie asked. "Any chance that Boris ordered a hit on his son?"
"Zero. Boris loves all of his sons, especially Misha. He couldn't do anything wrong in his father's eyes."
"So who would want Misha dead?" Gertie asked.
"And who would want to steal his body?" Aunt Ida Belle asked.
"That's what we're about to find out." Fortune motioned to the warehouse with her head. The door was open and the gigantic guard stood in the doorway. "Let's go."
We were granted access to the warehouse and ushered up the stairs to a suite of offices. I looked around as we headed upstairs, but the interior gave me no clue as to what sort of business this was. We stopped in front of a closed door and waited while the guard rapped on the door.
The door swung open and a man of incredibly short stature greeted us with a smile. "Welcome, ladies."
My companions greeted him as we shuffled in. My eyes swept the office and stopped when I saw another man sitting behind a desk. This man was enormous, by far the largest human being I'd ever encountered. He had to weigh five hundred pounds if he weighed one. His black eyes were locked on to me with an unnerving intensity.
"Hello," I said, knowing that it was rude to stare. "I'm Stephanie St. James."
"I know who you are, Miss Prim and Proper."
I blinked in surprise. "How do you know about that?"
"I am an avid reader of your column." He gestured to the other man in the room. "It's safe to say that we have both learned quite a bit about etiquette from you."
I was flattered, I'll admit it. "Thank you. That's so kind of you to say."
He pointed to a chair in front of his desk. "Sit. We have to talk."
I sat.
His eyes were locked onto mine. "I believe I have something you might be looking for."
Chapter Ten
"But first, allow me to introduce myself," the man said. "I'm Big."
My eyes widened. That was certainly stating the obvious.
"I'm Big Hebert and this is my son, Little." He motioned for the smaller man to come forward and greet me.
After we shook hands, Little went to stand behind his father. Gertie, Ida Belle, and Fortune gathered behind my chair. My heart beat in my chest at four times its normal rate. I'd never witnessed a sit-down before, let alone participated in one.
Something in the way that Big held court reminded me of Boris Sidorov. He spoke with an air of authority, and there was an inherent expectation in his manner that he would be obeyed. The bulky guards outside the door were another not so subtle tip-off.
It was obvious Big Hebert had mob connections. So why were we here?
"You mentioned that you have something of mine?" I asked.
Big shook his head. "No, I said I have something you might be looking for."
I swore, softly and in French, but still I swore. It was hardly a ladylike reaction, but I have to think that under these circumstances, it could be excused. At least that's what I would tell my dear readers. The truth was, I swore because I felt like the quicksand went from my knees to my waist. I was sinking fast.
"Something I might be looking for?" I repeated, thinking it wise to tap dance around Misha's name.
Big nodded. "I'm referring to a certain someone." He laid extra emphasis on the last word. So Big could tap dance too. This shouldn't surprise me, not considering his line of work.
"He means Misha," Gertie blurted out, plowing in where angels knew not to tread.
Again, Big nodded. "He's downstairs."
My hand went to my throat and I clutched my pearls as if they were a lifeline. "You mean, his body is downstairs?"
"It is." Big gave me a moment to compose myself before he continued. "I can confirm that Mr. Sidorov has met with an untimely passing. The question now becomes how to dispose of his body. I thought of you, naturally."
Naturally.
"Wait," Fortune spoke before I could think of what to say. "Let's back this up. How did you get Misha's body out of my kitchen so quickly?"
"Back up even further. How did you know he died?" Gertie demanded.
Big held his hands out in front of him, palms facing upward. His shrug was elegant. "I have sources."
"Buddy McBride," I said aloud. It made sense, in an odd sort of way. Buddy found the body, and even though he told Fortune that he called her immediately after calling the police, he could have contacted the Heberts before anyone else. But why would he? He hardly seemed like the type to be a mob informant. However, maybe that worked in his favor because no one would suspect he was on the take just by looking at him. "Why would you care what happened to Misha?"
Gertie waved her hands wildly. "Hold up, now. Are you telling me that Buddy McBride, poor, clueless, always trying to keep up Buddy, works for you?"
"We're not at liberty to discuss that with you ladies, and you're certainly not at liberty to discuss it with anyone else," Little said. "Do we understand each other?"
We nodded our agreement.
"Good. Now, it doesn't matter precisely when we got the call, but there's a body downstairs that needs to be removed from our premises. Pronto."
"But I don't want Misha's body," I blurted out. "You took it, you keep it."
Big's eyebrows rose. "Now, Miss Prim and Proper, that hardly strikes me as an appropriate response after we've done you a favor."
"Some favor." I could hear how ill-mannered I sounded, but that was the least of my problems right now. "I didn't want Misha when he was alive. I certainly don't want him now."
Big shook his head ruefully, as if he were disappointed in me. He turned his attention to my great-aunt. "As the senior stateswoman in the group, I assume you can understand why we need you to remove the body. Tonight."
Aunt Ida Belle put a hand on my shoulder, which I took as a warning to be silent and trust she knew what she was doing. "We're certainly open to considering that, but we need to know why you swooped in and took the body in the first place. And as you reminded us, so shall I remind you, time's a'wastin'."
Big sat back and somehow managed to lace his fingers together over his corpulent stomach. "It came to our attention, and please don't ask how because I won't tell you, that Misha Sidorov was in town looking for your great-niece. It also came to our attention that his older brother, Vladimir, followed him down here and arranged to have Misha poisoned. Seeing as how my son and I are fans of Miss St. James, the least we could do was move the body. This gave us time to warn her because Deputy LeBlanc can't arrest her for murder without a victim. We've also had the opportunity to tip off Boris Sidorov that Mikhail was killed. Now that you know the stakes, our work is done."
Vladimir? I shuddered. I'd never liked Misha's oldest brother. In fact, I found him downright creepy. He'd always struck me as someone with a cruel side. But to murder his own brother? I couldn't find the words to describe how heinous that was. "And why here in Sinful? Couldn't he have done that in Boston and left us out of it?"
Big looked at Little, his amusement clear. "She's a real innocent, this one."
Little nodded his agreement.
I swiveled around to look at my companions. They wore pitying expressions.
"Stephanie, we discussed this back at my house, remember?" Gertie asked.
"Yes, but it didn't sound right back at the house and it still doesn't. It's too far-fetched."
"You need to believe us, Stephanie," Fortune said. "We've all co
me to the same conclusion. Think it through. It makes sense. We can't know for sure, but the most obvious reason that Vladimir would kill Misha here in Sinful is so that a connection would eventually be made between you and Misha."
"A connection?"
"Oh, Lawdy Miss Clawdy, just spell it out for her," Gertie all but shouted.
"Stephanie," my great-aunt said, her voice far more in control than Gertie's, "Vladimir Sidorov wants to pin his brother's murder on you. He set it up to look like Misha followed you here and you killed him. Even the method of murder points to you."
I frowned. "It does?"
Fortune nodded. "It does. If you were going to kill someone, how would you do it?"
"I've never thought about it," I replied, more than a little offended.
"Aw, come on. Confess." Gertie gave my shoulder a playful punch. "We've all thought about murdering someone." She looked around for support. "Haven't we?"
To a one, each person nodded their agreement. I had the most uncomfortable feeling that several of the people I was sitting with probably had committed a murder. I was so out of my element with this crowd. "Well, I guess I'd smother someone with a soft pillow while they were sleeping. Poison would work, too, if it were fast acting."
My great-aunt patted my shoulder. "Good girl."
"So you can see why people would be far more likely to believe that you'd poison Misha rather than gun him down in cold blood," Fortune said.
The mention of guns sparked a question in my mind. What did the Heberts know about the shooting at Fortune's house? I asked them.
"Ah, yes, we heard about that," Big said. "Such a shame."
Little nodded his agreement. "Quite regrettable."
"Did you have anything to do with the shooting?"
I could have sworn that Big's eyes narrowed just the tiniest bit. Not surprisingly, he didn't like being challenged.
Well, I didn't like being framed for a murder I didn't commit.
"I will make an allowance for your confusion," Big said. "And, just for the record, I'll state the obvious. We had nothing to do with the shooting."
"But why would anyone shoot up Fortune's kitchen like that?" I persisted. "Someone could have gotten hurt."
Little's smile was indulgent. "Rest assured, whoever orchestrated the shooting didn't want to cause injuries. If they had, one or all of you ladies wouldn't be sitting here today. No, my guess would be that they simply wanted to establish your presence in Sinful."
"Establish my presence?" It sounded like English but I had no idea what he meant.
"Your friends in law enforcement certainly learned of it, didn't they? Deputy LeBlanc came out and connected you with the ensuing chaos. You're now on the sheriff's radar. Ergo, their mission was accomplished."
I got to my feet. I'd heard all I wanted to hear. My head was about to burst. "Thank you both for the explanation, but I'll decline your offer to release Misha's body to me. I want nothing to do with it."
Big leaned forward. "Your wishes are irrelevant, Miss St. James. I understand if you're still too confused to thank us properly for removing Misha's body, but that doesn't change the fact that it's now time for you to escort your former associate to the morgue."
"Escort?" Gertie asked. "You've got a hearse parked somewhere around here?"
Little shook his head. "No, but we've got an airboat. As we speak, our associates are loading the body onto it and it will carry Misha down the bayou. The plan is for you and your friends to meet the boat at the mortuary. We'll unload the body onto a gurney for you but our involvement ends there."
"So all we have to do is break into the mortuary and get the body inside?" Gertie asked. "That's do-able."
Big smile's was enigmatic. "Yes, it is. By tomorrow morning, this will be the sheriff's problem. Not yours. Not ours."
"But what if we get caught with Misha's body?" I could see flashing red and blue police lights in my mind's eye and I could hear the clink of the jail cell door closing behind me. "The police will think we killed Misha."
"Very true." Big motioned to his hulking associate to open the doors. It was clear the interview was over. "So I suggest you don't get caught."
Chapter Eleven
We climbed back into Gertie's Cadillac and began the trek back to Sinful. My mind was awhirl with jumbled thoughts as we bumped along the darkened back roads. I desperately wanted someone to reassure me that the Heberts were flat out crazy and we were simply going to ignore them.
But no one said a word.
Once we were on the highway, I decided I might as well be the one to initiate the discussion. Somebody had to say something. Besides, perhaps conversation would distract Gertie enough that she'd stay within twenty miles of the speed limit. "So Big and Little certainly were talking crazy back there, weren't they?"
Still, no one said anything. I was quickly learning that silence wasn't golden with these ladies. It was downright dangerous, because it meant they were hatching a plan. One I doubted I was going to like.
"I have an idea," I tried again. "Why don't we call the sheriff's office and leave an anonymous tip telling them where Misha's body is? That way they can retrieve it and send it home."
"No way, no how," Gertie said over her shoulder.
"Why?"
"Because ticking off the Heberts is a very bad idea."
"Are you afraid of them?"
Aunt Ida Belle turned to look at me. In the darkness I could only see enough of her face to see that she wasn't pleased by my question. "Of course not. But we're not fools, and we have a healthy respect for their position in the community. For their connections, if you will. Besides, I'm thinking that maybe their plan isn't so very farfetched."
"I'm thinking the same thing," Fortune concurred.
I stared at them. "I'm thinking that you're both crazy."
"We've been accused of worse." Gertie flashed me a thumbs up from the front seat.
Well, at least I hadn't offended her.
"I'm so confused," I said. "Why would Mr. Hebert swoop in and 'help' by taking Misha's body but now refuse to 'help' return it?"
"He accomplished what he wanted by taking the body. He was able to stick it to the Sidorovs by delivering the news of Misha's death, and he thought he was helping you. But now he's ready to wash his hands of the whole affair." Fortune's voice was calm and thoughtful, but it didn't escape my notice that she was clinging to the car door as if her life depended on it. "Big might well say that he took Misha as a favor to you so that you wouldn't be incriminated, but there's more to it than that. There always is with people like the Heberts."
This little lesson I'd learned courtesy of the Sidorovs. "So what was in it for him?"
Fortune shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe a cat and mouse game with the Sidorovs? Can you imagine how Vladimir reacted to the news that the police didn't find his brother's body? He's probably having fits."
Yeah, fits of rage that would be directed at me once he found me. I suddenly wished Gertie could keep driving on the highway, right past the Sinful exit. "So why can't Mr. Hebert just make the body disappear? He's probably slowed people down from connecting me to Misha, but once the body's found and identified, someone can still finger me for the murder."
"Whoo hoo, listen to your niece, Ida Belle," Gertie sounded downright gleeful. "'Finger me for the murder'. She's really picking up the lingo."
But Aunt Ida Belle didn't appear to share any of Gertie's delight. "My niece is still in the hot seat. Vladimir is going to need somewhere to direct his anger when he sees that his plan's been thwarted. Stephanie's gonna be his target. She's in worse trouble now than if Carter had found the body on the kitchen floor."
"Not necessarily," Fortune said. "I don't think it's very sporting of Big and Little to just dump the body on us, but we can still turn this to our advantage."
"How?" I asked.
"We get the body back into the morgue, and we leave a note with it. So when the mortician calls Carter about the body that mysteriously
showed up overnight, they can pass along the contact information for Vladimir."
Aunt Ida Belle nodded. "That puts Vladimir in the line of fire of police questioning. Good. Hopefully, he won't have a ready alibi."
"He will," I said. "The Sidorovs aren't stupid. Vladimir will have his tracks covered."
"And we'll cover yours," Gertie said. "After all, we haven't let you out of our sight since you arrived in Sinful, so you can't have been the one to poison Misha. We'll be your alibi."
"I don't want to sound rude, or ungrateful, but I think you're all underestimating Misha's family."
"And I think you're underestimating us," Aunt Ida Belle said. "We've got this covered."
Fortune and Gertie appeared to be in complete agreement. I kept my thousand and one concerns and objections to myself, and didn't say anything.
Gertie turned off the highway and headed toward Sinful. I still wasn't familiar with the layout of the town, especially in the dark, but it seemed we were heading in a different direction than we'd gone before.
"Where are we going?" I asked, not sure I really wanted to hear the answer.
"The morgue," Gertie answered. She glanced in the rear-view mirror and must have seen the shock on my face. "Now, don't you worry about a thing. We'll zip in, recover Misha's body, slip him into the morgue with a note, and be back home in our flannel pajamas in no time. It'll be smooth sailing."
Smooth sailing? Funny, because I had a sinking feeling that we were about to go down with the ship.
***
Fontenot's Mortuary and Memorial Chapel sat on the very edge of Sinful's town limits, almost as if it wanted to keep a respectful distance from the part of town where the living spent their days. The parking lot was dark and the premises appeared to be deserted.
Gertie parked in a wooded lot next to the mortuary so that her car wouldn't be visible to anyone passing by. She backed in, she told us, so that we could make a quick get-away.
"Why don't we go back to the house and talk about this?" I half asked, half pleaded.
The Miss Fortune Series: Summer in the Bayou (Kindle Worlds Novella) (A Miss Prim & Proper Mystery Book 1) Page 5