All Hats on Deck

by Sandra Bretting

  “Anyone else get creeped out by that call?” I finally asked.

  “Uh, yeah,” Ambrose said. “No one wants to be watched.”

  When Hollis didn’t answer, I turned to look at him. He sat with his chin on his chest, as if he was either thinking or he’d fallen fast asleep.

  “Everything okay, Hollis?” I gently asked. I didn’t want to wake him if he’d fallen asleep, but something told me he hadn’t.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” He lifted his head again. “I’m just glad you guys are with me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if that guy had called when I was all alone.”

  “Good thing you don’t have to worry about that. Let’s hope Lance can trace the call.”

  I spun around and began to study the scenery again. Every once in a while, the hedge outside my window gave way to another view of the water and a stand of tupelos on the opposite shore. Soon the trees would shed their leaves, but for now they provided a webbed canopy of army-green leaves above the marshy ground.

  After a minute or two, we passed an even larger gap in the brush. As we moved past it, I spied something strange, something totally unexpected. A boater had taken an airboat out on the river, and it kept pace with us on the water.

  Not just any airboat, either. Painted black, the side bore the multicolored logo for BLEW-BY-YOU Boat Tours. It was hard to miss, since a giant alligator grinned at me from under a jaunty sailor’s cap.

  “Look…” My voice trailed off. There, in the driver’s seat, perched high above the deck, sat Remy Gaudet. He was all alone in the boat, and every time he hit a rough patch, the empty seats below him bounced up and down. He steered the boat parallel to our car, but I couldn’t hear the noise of the motor because of the air-conditioning vent in front of me.

  All at once, I forgot where I was. Instead of the front seat of Ambrose’s car, I found myself back in the parking lot at the Factory. Now my feet touched hard asphalt, instead of a carpeted floorboard. Across my lap, I felt my scratchy wool skirt, instead of the smooth nylon of Lululemon yoga pants.

  I’d been in a hurry yesterday; that much I remembered. Lured by a gentle breeze and a few precious hours away from the shop. So preoccupied, I almost bumped into Remy Gaudet when we passed each other in the parking lot at the Factory.

  He seemed antsy when I spoke to him. Almost eager to get away from me. Especially when I mentioned the bag in his hand.

  It was a plastic bag from the Shoprite Deluxe. With a sticky note attached that read Suite 221. That was the mayor’s address. Could the package have contained the leftover Xanax, which I’d found in the overturned trash can?

  Someone had to use the medicine. Was it Remy Gaudet who spiked Ruby’s drink and then made sure she ended up facedown in the river?

  If so, why would he return an almost-empty pill bottle to the mayor’s office? To get rid of it? Or to prove what he’d done, even though a police diver had found Ruby’s body by then?

  Come to think of it…maybe my theory wasn’t so crazy, after all. Like wayward pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, I began to link one scene with another, even if they looked totally incompatible at first. It was an incomplete picture to start, but it solidified as I added more and more details.

  For starters, Remy couldn’t hear a thing without his hearing aids, and he wouldn’t turn them up unless someone asked him to. Was that why a neighbor heard a commotion the morning Ruby was killed? Did Jacques sneak up on Remy? The dog could have ambushed him from behind since Remy couldn’t hear the click-clack of canine toenails against hardwood planks.

  Come to think of it, I’d noticed a limp when Remy walked away from me yesterday. Did Jacques take a bite out of the man’s leg, which would make Remy holler even louder? A scream of surprise could travel for miles out here, with nothing to block it but a holey curtain of kudzu and some randomly spaced trees.

  “What’s wrong?” Ambrose’s voice brought me back to the present. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  All at once, the soft breeze of the bayou changed to the cool flow of manufactured air as I returned to the front seat of the Audi. Instead of a wool skirt scratching my legs, I once more felt the slick nylon of yoga pants.

  “Missy?”

  “I haven’t seen a ghost. Something worse. I think I know who killed Ruby.”

  Chapter 24

  Hollis immediately reacted to the news. “Whoa! What did you say?” He lurched forward from the back seat of the car and squeezed into the space between Ambrose and me.

  “I think Remy Gaudet killed your grandmother. And now he’s following us. Look.” I quickly pointed out the window, but we’d come to another thick patch of emerald kudzu and it blocked our view of the river.

  “Are you sure?” Ambrose said. “I don’t see anything.” He cut his gaze from the road to the river, but only for an instant. “That sounds kinda crazy, Missy.”

  “Just watch.” I waited until the car moved past the hedge and another gap appeared. “There. Look now.”

  Sure enough, once the kudzu parted, we had a clear shot of Remy and his airboat. And while we studied him, he watched us through a pair of oversized binoculars, which he held in one hand while he grasped the boat’s steering mechanism with the other.

  “What’s he doing out there?” Hollis spat the words, clearly incensed.

  “I think he wants to stop us,” I said. “He’s probably afraid we figured everything out.”

  The minute I said that, though, I paused. Is it really possible? Did Remy Gaudet kill Ruby and then make threatening phone calls to Hollis from his business? Maybe he thought we’d stumbled across the truth and now we were headed for the police station to alert Lance. We couldn’t simply call Lance with a cell, not with the iffy phone service out here, so maybe he worried we were on our way to the police station to deliver the news in person.

  Is that why he was following us…to stop us, before it was too late?

  “I still think it’s far-fetched,” Ambrose said. “Isn’t it?”

  “Maybe, but maybe not,” I answered. “Maybe he knows we figured it out. And he wants to make sure we don’t tell anyone else.”

  “I still don’t get it, Miss DuBois.” Hollis sat so close, his breath tickled my ear. “How do you know for sure he killed my grandma?”

  “Because he’s the one who got the medicine from the pharmacy. And somehow all those pills disappeared in three days. Plus, he’s practically deaf without his hearing aids, and I think that’s why Jacques was able to surprise him on the dock. Look…you can see for yourself he’s trying to flag us down.”

  One glance out the window confirmed it. Instead of watching us through the binoculars, now Remy waved them at us, as if he wanted us to pull over and meet with him.

  Fat chance of that.

  “But why would he do it?” Hollis still sounded incredulous, and incredibly angry.

  “For your property, of course. He thought he’d go about it the right way and present your grandmother with that letter of intent. But when she ignored it, he got so mad he probably couldn’t see straight. That’s when he must’ve decided to get rid of her.”

  Only one piece of the puzzle remained, something that had bothered me from the start. “Now I need to figure out how Remy scraped together enough money to make a real estate offer. Lance told me all the swamp tour operators out here are suffering. Since he brought the used prescription bottle to the mayor’s office, maybe it was the mayor who gave it to him.”

  “Whoa. Hold on.” Once more, Ambrose shifted his gaze from the road to the river, but only for a second. “Now you’re talking crazy. You think the mayor’s involved in this?”

  Before I could answer him, though, our car skidded to a stop. We’d reached a fork in the road, and both paths looked promising.

  “I forgot the best way to get out of here,” Ambrose said.

  “Beats me.”
I gave him a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know the roads out here.”

  Unlike Ambrose and me, though, Hollis didn’t hesitate. “Go right.”

  Ambrose jerked the steering wheel right, and we bumped onto a different, thinner surface road that took us along the river.

  “We’ll go down here for about a half mile.” Hollis barked the directions from his spot between us. “The road’s kinda rough, but it’s the best way.”

  I was about to ask him, “the way to what?” but I didn’t bother. I was too busy searching for another hole in the kudzu so I could keep my eye on Remy.

  Unfortunately, the hedge grew thick and tall here. I rolled down the passenger window to see whether I could hear the airboat engine, and soon the buzz of spinning metal reached me. The fan blades sounded like a giant cicada that’d landed on the roof of our car and decided to stay there.

  “Turn left here.” It was Hollis again, his voice as firm as before.

  I closed the passenger window and withdrew my cell phone from my pocket. “I definitely need to call Lance. Maybe I’ll finally get a good connection.”

  It took a second for the call to link me with Lance’s cell, once I pressed the number on my speed dial. The moment it went through, though, Lance answered it.

  “Hiya, Missy. I was just about—”

  “No time, Lance. I think I know who killed Ruby.”

  While I didn’t relish the thought of rehashing everything in front of Hollis again—he already sounded livid—it couldn’t be helped. So, I quickly told Lance all about the package from the Shoprite Deluxe, the way Jacques must’ve attacked Remy on the dock, and how Remy had jumped into his airboat to follow us once we left the property.

  The moment I finished, Lance gave a long, low whistle. “That sounds about right. We got a positive ID on the phone call just now. It came from Remy’s landline…the one licensed to BLEW-BY-YOU Boat Tours.”

  “I knew it!” While I didn’t enjoy being right—who would’ve thought the elderly swamp boat captain was capable of murdering Ruby—it felt good to know I wasn’t grasping at straws. Speaking of which…

  “There’s more, Lance. I think the mayor could be involved.”

  “The mayor? Hold on a sec. I need to turn on my siren.”

  After a moment, the high-pitched whine of a police siren sounded over the other end of the phone.

  “You’re already in your car?” I asked.

  “Of course. The minute I found out who made the phone call, I left headquarters. I’ll be at Remy’s boat slip in a few minutes.”

  I placed my palm over the phone so I could speak with Ambrose. “Lance knows it was Remy who killed her, and he’s headed out here.”

  “Missy!” Lance’s voice sounded through the gaps in my fingers.

  “Sorry, Lance.” I quickly removed my hand. “I wanted to tell Ambrose what’s going on.”

  “Now, repeat what you just said. You think the mayor’s involved?”

  “I do. Remember the prescription bottle I found in Mayor Turcott’s office? Why would Remy return the bottle there unless the mayor was in on it? Maybe they thought no one would ever check the mayor’s trash, but they weren’t too sure about Remy’s property.”

  “I get that,” Lance said. The staccato sound of a siren in the background underscored his words. “But why would the mayor help out Remy? What did he have to gain?”

  “You said the tour operators around here were having a hard time. But Zephirin Turcott is loaded with cash. Just look at the man’s clothes and that fancy car. And he’s smart. He’s probably charging Remy an arm and a leg to loan him the money. I know for a fact the guy doesn’t have any morals. He proved it when he gave Antonella Goode a pass on the building code just because her parents helped fund his election campaign.”

  “Hold on a sec,” Lance said. “I have to process everything. Okay, then. Here’s the deal.” He’d hardened his voice, which gave me a sneaky suspicion of what he was about to say next. “I don’t want you going anywhere near Remy’s property right now. I’m serious this time.”

  “What makes you think—”

  “Save it, Missy. I know you. Please stay away from it.”

  Before I could defend myself, he hung up.

  “Of all the nerve!” I reluctantly lowered my cell phone. “He hung up on me. Can you believe it?”

  “Actually,” Ambrose said, “I can believe it. At some point, you’re going to have to back off from these police investigations. No one wants you to get hurt.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I tried to sound sincere, although I knew exactly what he was talking about.

  It all started a few years ago, when I first moved to Bleu Bayou. Somehow, I developed a strange knack for figuring out who killed the victims in a series of high-profile crimes. Now Lance called me whenever he had an unsolved crime and a passel of likely suspects. Was it my fault I’d discovered a hidden talent? It was one I didn’t ask for, and I’d certainly love to be free of it.

  “…police do their job.” Apparently, Ambrose was still talking, so I pretended I’d been listening all along.

  “Um-hmmm,” I murmured. “But it’s not my fault I happen to be in the thick of things whenever criminals get caught. You know Lance sometimes acts like I’m his pesky kid sister. Like I purposefully try to insert myself into these cases, which couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  “Uh, Missy?”

  Something in Ambrose’s voice made me shut up. He was staring out the windshield, so I followed his gaze to see what was so intriguing.

  We’d come to another bend in the road, only this one didn’t have any shrubs or trees or kudzu to block the view. This time, a building stood front and center on the shoreline. A weathered wood building with a corrugated tin roof and a battered neon sign. I watched Remy angle his airboat toward the property and gun the motor, as he headed straight for the property’s timeworn dock.

  Meanwhile, Ambrose cut his eyes to the rearview mirror. “Hollis, what’ve you done? This isn’t a backdoor way to the police station.”

  “I…I…” Hollis slowly pulled away from the front seat, as if he wanted to put as much distance as possible between him and Ambrose.

  I finally realized what they were talking about. The fluorescent letters in the neon sign spelled out BLEW-BY-YOU Boat Tours, which was clearly visible, even in daylight.

  “Hollis,” I said. “Why did you bring us here?”

  “Because he’s guilty! You said so yourself.” Although he’d pulled away from the front seat, his voice came through loud and clear. “I don’t want him to get away with it.”

  “No one’s getting away with anything.” I spoke gently, but firmly. “Lance will be here in a second. He needs to be the one to take Remy into custody. Not you, and not me.”

  By now, Remy’s airboat had reached the dock. Once he pulled alongside the planks, he scrambled off the sky-high seat and quickly tossed a length of rope over the side of the boat. The cord caught around one of a half-dozen cleats soldered to the planks, and the boat jerked to a stop.

  “What does he think he’s doing?” I watched him head for the wood shack, my heartbeat quickening in my chest.

  Thankfully, I didn’t have to wonder for long. At that moment, a white police cruiser skidded onto the riverbank, its lights flashing and siren wailing. The pretty Latino policewoman from before jumped out of the car when it stopped, and then she trained her Glock on Remy, who instantly froze.

  “Look!” I said. “Lance must’ve radioed his backup.”

  We all watched Remy slowly lift his arms to the sky. He held them there until the policewoman reached his side and slapped a pair of glossy handcuffs around his wrists. Then, she pushed him forward, and he began to walk stiff-legged to the edge of the dock.

  “Let’s go down there, Bo,” I said. “It’s
okay now.”

  Thankfully, he agreed with me, and he quickly shifted the Audi back into Drive. By the time we arrived at the dock, we were joined by Lance, who zoomed onto the property in his mud-splattered Buick Oldsmobile. A temporary light bar on the Buick’s roof cast candy-cane swirls of red and white against the inky black of the airboat.

  “Lance!” I shouted, as soon the car stopped, and it was safe to jump outside.

  My friend met me by the hood of his Buick, and then we headed for the dock, where the policewoman was reading Remy his Miranda rights.

  To look at the swamp boat captain now, it was hard to imagine I’d ever been afraid of the man. That first time on Ruby’s dock, when he’d brandished a heavy metal flashlight overhead, I thought he could use it against Hollis, and that frightened me.

  Now, though, his head lolled against his chest, and his shoulders sagged forward miserably. He only glanced up when he heard Lance and me approach, and then he quickly straightened.

  “I’m not da one ya want,” he snapped.

  The policewoman tried to silence him, but he ignored her.

  “Ya tink I done all dis by myself?”

  “Time to start talking, then.” Lance gave a casual shrug, as if he had all the time in the world to hear Remy out.

  “It’s da mayor ya want, not me,” Remy said.

  “Of course it is. We knew that all along.” Lance was bluffing, since we didn’t know for sure the mayor was involved, but Remy didn’t know that. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “It was Turcott’s idea.” Remy spat the words, as if he couldn’t spew them out fast enough. “He gave me a hundred grand cash money. Said it’d be easy. Said no one would ever care about an ol’ lady.”

  “Why, you—” Hollis spun out from behind Lance.

  I had no idea he’d even left Ambrose’s car, let alone followed us to the dock. The moment he shot past us, though, Lance lurched forward and grabbed him by the arms.