by Jana DeLeon
Our discussion couldn’t wait.
Chapter Five
Ida Belle immediately went for the coffeepot when we got to my house, and Gertie pulled leftover blueberry pie out of the refrigerator and started cutting pieces to heat. I had to smile. These girls really knew me. I headed to my office to shed my tennis shoes and bra and grab my laptop. By the time I got back to the kitchen, we were all set up at the table and ready for a meeting of the investigative minds.
Gertie stabbed a big piece of pie and started talking with her mouth full. “Spill. I know that look.”
Ida Belle nodded. “Yep. Get to talking. You would have left basic curiosity until tomorrow, which means you saw something.”
“We can start with, that shot wasn’t an accident,” I said.
Gertie’s eyes widened. “Seriously? I thought it was an accident and you figured out which one of those yahoos fired in the wrong direction. I mean, no one in Sinful even knows Natalia’s friend. Why would someone shoot her?”
“You’re assuming it was someone from Sinful,” Ida Belle said, then looked back at me. “What makes you sure it wasn’t an accident? Trajectory?”
I nodded. “I would have liked a closer look without the shirt but since Carter was in professional mode, I have to go with my basic assessment. The angle wasn’t right. Not for a bullet shot into the air and descending.”
“You think she was shot point-blank?” Gertie asked. “Jesus, I know most people were drunk and there was a ton of noise and milling around, but wouldn’t someone have noticed?”
“It wasn’t point-blank or the damage would have been different,” I said. “And yeah, one would assume that Katia, at the very least, would have noticed someone approaching her with a handgun pointed at her chest.”
“So where did the shot come from?” Gertie asked.
“My opinion—and this is based on a very cursory look at that entry wound—is that it came from above.”
“So roof height?” Ida Belle asked.
“Or a pole or tree,” I said. “Even on top of the cab of one of those ridiculous pickups some drive would probably have given enough clearance.”
“But it wouldn’t have given them the skill set,” Ida Belle said.
“No,” I agreed. “And either someone with decent ability took a heck of a chance…”
“Or someone with excellent ability took advantage of an opportunity,” Ida Belle finished.
“Katia has never visited Sinful that I’m aware of,” Gertie said. “So whoever killed her must have followed her here. Maybe that’s why she pulled a surprise visit. She was on the run from the Russian mob.”
“Or she wasn’t the intended target,” I said.
Ida Belle and Gertie both froze and stared at me.
“Why would you say that?” Gertie asked.
“Because Katia and Natalia look very similar. Ida Belle thought they were related when we first met Katia. And when Katia was shot, she was wearing a black jacket, just like Natalia. She wasn’t wearing it when we were at the booth. She had it tied around her waist.”
“But the wind picked up before the fireworks, especially down by the bank,” Ida Belle said.
I nodded. “So a tall, fit woman with a blond ponytail, wearing a black jacket, holding Lina’s hand, and standing in questionable light would look like…?”
Gertie gasped. “It would look like Natalia. But who would want to kill her?”
“That’s something you guys would have to tell me,” I said. “I don’t know anything about her. I only officially met her tonight.”
Ida Belle frowned. “I don’t think anyone knows much about her. She keeps to herself. Hasn’t taken up with the local mommies with kids Lina’s age, but then, she also homeschools the girl, so that’s part of it, I suppose.”
“Homeschools? In Sinful?” I asked. “I figured that was for cities where the schools were sketchy or the kids were picked on or whatever.”
“And that’s often the case,” Gertie said. “But not here. Sinful has a really good school system and teachers who want to teach and have been dedicating their lives to it for years, sometimes decades. I haven’t been around Lina much, but she seems to be a normal child, just a bit shy.”
“So you can’t see any problem with her mixing with the other kids?” I asked.
Gertie shook her head. “I’ve seen her talking to other children downtown in the General Store while her mother shopped. Lina was smiling and appeared to be having a good time.”
“What about church?” I asked. “Don’t tell me there’s a family of atheists in Sinful.”
“Probably plenty of them,” Ida Belle said. “But they’re still sitting in church on Sunday.”
“Larry is Catholic,” Gertie said. “They go to church but I’ve never seen Natalia volunteering at any of the joint functions we do. Of course, I can’t speak to the Catholic-only functions. For all we know, she might be really active in those.”
“I don’t think so,” Ida Belle said. “But Beatrice will know.”
Beatrice Paulson was a member of Celia’s group, God’s Wives, and Ida Belle’s secret spy within the competing organization. She would be able to provide the insider Catholic view on the situation, at least.
“So why does Natalia keep to herself so much?” I asked. “I mean, I noticed the Russian accent, of course. Is there prejudice here about that kind of thing?”
“I wouldn’t think her country of origin is as much a talking point as the age difference between her and Larry,” Gertie said.
“What’s he got—fifteen, twenty years on her?” I asked.
“I’d guess somewhere in that range,” Ida Belle said. “It also doesn’t help that Natalia is a looker and Larry is a geeky, balding bore.”
“He’s in good shape, though,” Gertie said. “I was in the park last week working on some tricks with Francis and saw him running. He was wearing baggy sweats—he never wears things very fitted—but he pulled up the bottom of his shirt to get something out of his eye and he has abs.”
“We all have abs,” Ida Belle said.
“Yeah, but I could see his,” Gertie said. “And I wasn’t standing all that close.”
“And since she hasn’t updated her prescription glasses in about a hundred years, that means dude is better built than most guys his age,” I said.
“Especially in Sinful,” Gertie said. “Beer tends to catch up quickly around here.”
“While the abs are somewhat interesting,” I said, “I still don’t think it’s a good reason to hook up with a guy. What else can you tell me about Larry?”
“Not as much as you’d like,” Ida Belle said. “He’s not a Sinful native. He inherited the house from a great-aunt of his and moved here about three years ago. Claims he’s semiretired.”
“Why do you say ‘claims’?” I asked.
“Because he leaves town most weeks and is usually gone for several days,” Ida Belle said. “Sometimes even a week or two at a time.”
“And you know this how?” I asked.
“Phyllis LaFont lives next door,” Ida Belle said. “She’s convinced he’s got another family somewhere—an older first wife. Grown children.”
“That’s a very specific idea,” I said.
Ida Belle shrugged. “Phyllis’s first husband left her for a much younger woman so there’s a bit of personalization in her assessment.”
“You think?” Gertie said. “If I see Phyllis coming when I’m downtown, I’ll duck in anywhere to avoid another comprehensive review of all her ex’s sins. Last week, the only option was the porta-john they’d brought in for the parade. I was stuck in that thing for ten minutes while she bent Marie’s ear about that man.”
“You voluntarily spent ten minutes in a porta-john?” I asked, cringing.
“You’ve never met Phyllis,” Gertie said. “Trust me, it was the better alternative.”
Ida Belle shook her head. “Mind you, her first husband set out of here twenty years ago. It amazes m
e that in two decades the woman hasn’t found something else to complain about, even though she remarried after he left. But there you have it. If you want to know the comings and goings of Larry Guillory, Phyllis can tell you.”
“So what kind of work is he supposed to have done?” I asked. “He’s sorta young for retirement.”
“Government, which accounts for the early retirement age,” Gertie said. “Supposed to be some kind of computer guy. That’s the buzz, anyway. I’ve never asked. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ve exchanged much more than pleasantries with the man in all the time he’s been here. He’s not much for talking.”
Ida Belle nodded. “Walter says the same thing and if Walter can’t get something out of a person, no one else in Sinful stands a chance.”
“Interesting,” I said.
The lack of general information on a family who’d lived in Sinful for three years had my spidey sense going off. People could hide the fact that they were a serial killer for an entire lifetime in a city, but it was hard to hide a hangnail in a place like Sinful, unless they were exceptionally crafty.
“I don’t buy into the starter-family conspiracy,” Ida Belle said, “but if he was really a techie guy, then he might be doing some government contracting, especially if he had anything to do with security. Likely, it’s all innocuous. But given Phyllis’s particular bent, she would create drama around it.”
“If it was internet security, it’s definitely a great skill set for postretirement work,” I said. “So he could be contracting for the government or making ten times that working for the security companies that former military special forces have started. It seems a popular work choice when they’re done with the service.”
“Well, they’re not exactly trained to do your taxes,” Gertie said.
“There is that,” I said. “So if we assume Larry doesn’t have another wife who is also an Olympic-level sharpshooter, then what else do we have? Anyone know how he met his wife? Where they moved from? And why Sinful since his ties to the town were slim at best?”
“My guess is because he’s cheap,” Ida Belle said. “He inherited the house free and clear, and it’s not a big place so it can’t be expensive to maintain. But Walter says every time Larry comes in the General Store, he complains about the upcharge on the items in the store.”
“Then he could hike his happy butt up the highway to the big-box stores,” I said.
“Which is exactly what Walter tells him,” Ida Belle said. “But he tells Walter he doesn’t want to put more miles on his car—also inherited. Natalia has an econobox. Probably can barely fit a child seat in it.”
Gertie nodded. “Phyllis also said he replaced most of his backyard grass with deck and a rock garden. He told her he was appalled at the watering costs to keep up the lawn so he just left a little spot for Lina to play in. Phyllis scored some good bushes out of the deal, though. Apparently, shrubbery uses too much water as well.”
“Walter said Larry told him one day that the only reason he was willing to pay the upcharge for the box of tinfoil he was buying was that the gas to buy one item would outweigh the savings and he needed the tinfoil that day,” Ida Belle said. “Larry also said that he wouldn’t be needing another for a while as he washes and reuses it.”
“Alrighty then,” I said. “He moved his family here because a free house and car dropped in his lap. So far, I see a couple reasons why people might want Larry to disappear, but I don’t see anything sinister about his wife.”
“Maybe she eats too much or uses too much toilet paper,” Gertie said.
I shook my head. “You know, in any other place, I’d take that as a joke, but in Sinful…”
“Looks like we’re going to have to go back to basics on this one,” Gertie said.
“What one?” Ida Belle asked. “This isn’t our case. In fact, Carter is probably at the crime scene right now fuming because he knows we’re here discussing official police business. He’s not going to let us stroll into his investigation.”
“She’s right,” I said. “And since I can’t see cheap Larry hiring us to work for him, I think we might have to stay on the sidelines speculating.”
Gertie’s disappointment was obvious. “Then why are we talking about it at all?”
I stared. “Because we’re all nosy and like a puzzle.”
“Oh yeah.” She nodded. “That makes sense. But I still don’t see any reason why we can’t take a casserole to their house tomorrow and if we happen to, chat a bit. That’s just the proper Southern thing to do.”
“That comment Larry made—‘we’ve dealt with worse’—I would love to know what that meant,” I said.
“Me too,” Ida Belle said. “And Gertie’s right. Carter can’t complain about people following good manners. We won’t be the only people delivering food there tomorrow.”
I grinned. “You mean we’re not the only nosy ones in town?”
“No,” Ida Belle said. “We’re just the best at it.”
Chapter Six
It was well after 2:00 a.m. before Ida Belle and Gertie headed out and I went up to bed. I hadn’t heard a peep from Carter but I hadn’t really expected to. I knew he’d be working the crime scene for hours and he had to get his observations down while they were fresh. Not to mention that he knew making contact with me would prompt questions he couldn’t answer, and he probably didn’t want to revisit the same tired old ground even though he knew it was bound to happen again unless one of us died.
I hadn’t told Ida Belle and Gertie about Mannie’s information, either. We’d had entirely too much stimulus already and I wanted to go over everything when we weren’t as tired and drunk on sugar. I figured I’d hit that bit of news the next morning when we met up. I knew it would worry them and they’d both be ready to play bodyguard. At least waiting gave them and me one more night of decent sleep before they insisted on being with me 24-7. We’d all already decided to forgo church, figuring Gertie was going to be stiff as heck and no one was going to be in the mood for joyful singing. Besides, with all the baking the café did for the parade, there wouldn’t be any banana pudding this week, which was the real reason I got out on Sunday mornings.
I had just finished showering and put on my Carter’s-not-staying-over sleepwear when I heard a sound downstairs. Merlin was already sound asleep on my pillow so it couldn’t be him and really, unless he’d figured out how to pop the tab on a beer, he wasn’t the best bet, anyway. Carter wasn’t foolish enough to come enter my house without announcing himself. But there was one person who was brave enough to plop down in my kitchen with a beer and wait for me to show up.
Mannie.
I pulled on clothes appropriate for viewing, checked my weapon for readiness, just in case someone who wasn’t welcome had developed a steel backbone or had gone temporarily insane, and headed downstairs. As soon as my feet hit the first-floor hardwood, I heard a chair scrape across my kitchen floor. I headed in, gun drawn, and spotted a smiling Mannie sitting at the table.
“Took you long enough to get down here,” he said. “Were you naked?”
“At some point,” I said. “Most people are when they shower. How did you get past my alarm system?”
“Magic?”
I raised one eyebrow.
“You didn’t turn it on,” he said and frowned. “That’s really careless given the circumstances.”
“Crap! I knew I was forgetting something.”
“Too much to drink?”
“More like too many things to ponder. Were you still downtown when the shooting happened?”
“No. Mr. Hebert doesn’t find fireworks entertaining and he finds standing in a crowd of people even less so. We packed up and left after the runaway-truck, chest-flashing part of the night.”
“But you heard about it.”
“Of course. Why do you think I’m here?”
“Oh!” I stared for a moment. This was totally unexpected. “Do you have information?”
He smiled. “I
wouldn’t be here otherwise. I try not to make breaking into women’s homes a habit. Yours comes with even more concerns than most.”
“So what do you know? Is that first-family speculation about Larry true?”
“I hadn’t heard that rumor and to the best of my knowledge, it has no validity. What I do know is that Larry claims to be a retired government keyboard jockey but he’s neither retired nor a simple computer tech.”
“Really? So what does Larry do?”
“According to my sources—intel.”
I perked up. That put an entirely different slant on things.
“So is he working in an office out of New Orleans?” I asked.
“No. Larry leaves New Orleans on military transport, usually bound for DC.”
“Why all the cloak-and-dagger then? I asked. “Why doesn’t he just live in DC and go into the office every day like a good little government soldier?”
“That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it?”
“I’ll bet the answer is really good.”
“So do I, which is why I’m hoping you can ferret it out. I’m afraid business has been rather tame lately and Big has latched onto this bit of intrigue. He’s hoping, since you were there, that you have some theories on the matter.”
“Well, I can tell you what I think about that bullet hole. It wasn’t a random shot in the air by one of the locals that took her out.”
I filled him in on the trajectory, as best as I could determine, and what it would take to make that kind of shot. He nodded when I finished.
“So it was murder,” he said. “I thought Big was probably making drama out of par for the course for Sinful but I shouldn’t have been so skeptical. That man has a sixth sense about things. He zeroed in on it as being out of balance, so to speak. Any theories on why someone would want to murder this friend of the wife’s?”
“All I know is that the friend paid a surprise visit and based on accent, both she and Larry’s wife are Russian. Maybe the friend was into something and thought she’d lie low in Sinful for a bit.”