by Jana DeLeon
“Who?” Gertie asked.
“Mannie,” I said.
“Ohhhhh!” Gertie’s eyes widened. “I really love that guy. Really love him.”
“We know,” Ida Belle said. “You’re going to say if only you were twenty years younger, then I’ll say you’d still be old enough to be his great-grandmother, then you’ll give me the finger, then we can get on with business. So now that I’ve done the play-by-play, we can just move to the getting on with business part.”
“If only I were twenty years younger,” Gertie said.
Ida Belle groaned and I had to laugh.
“That whole ‘love is in the air in spring’ thing must be true,” I said. “At the parade, Big Hebert asked me about Carter and I finally realized he was fishing to see if I was available to be set up with Mannie.”
Ida Belle and Gertie both looked a little surprised.
“Really?” Gertie asked. “I never took Big as one for having an interest in the romantic entanglements of other people.”
“I think he wants Mannie happy,” I said.
“And he thinks a woman is the answer?” Ida Belle said. “He should just give him a raise and a really cool new firearm. That’s a much safer bet.”
“Probably accurate,” I said. “The whole relationship thing is a crapshoot. I’ve got a good one and even I can see that. But anyway, back to business. I think with Mannie’s former military connections, he can probably acquire the laser.”
“Great!” Ida Belle said. “So the laser is now part of the plan, but what do we do in the meantime?”
“Well, the only personal thing we know about Natalia is the attack on her in New Orleans,” I said.
“Yeah, but that news article didn’t tell us much,” Gertie said. “And my guess is a police report wouldn’t tell much more, assuming you could even get your hands on it. That crap is so common down there, they probably fill in the blanks and it becomes yet another unsolved tragedy.”
“I might be able to get the police report,” I said.
“This I’ve got to hear,” Ida Belle said. “Because no way is Carter going to indulge you and I know you’re not crazy enough to try to steal it from the New Orleans Police Department. If it was Gertie, sure, but you’re not that crazy.”
“I prefer whimsical,” Gertie said.
“No breaking into police departments,” I said. “But I think the Heberts might have a connection there. The case was probably shelved as unsolved ages ago and since it didn’t involve people important to the city, I’ll bet any contact they have there wouldn’t blink at getting them a copy.”
“For cash, of course,” Gertie said.
“I have no idea what kind of arrangements the Heberts have with the people they get information from and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know,” I said.
“So all of these big-ticket requests probably rate a personal visit rather than a phone call,” Ida Belle said.
“Agreed,” I said. “So pack a bag.”
They both stared.
“Why?” Gertie asked.
“Because whether or not we get that police report, the next place to go poking around for information is New Orleans,” I said. “Maybe we can luck out and find an ER nurse who cared for Natalia. Maybe Natalia talks in her sleep.”
They both continued to stare.
“What?” I asked. “I know it’s thin but if you want to move on this, then we have to work with what we have. They can’t all be as simple as missing cats and fake ghosts.”
“But you want to go to New Orleans?” Ida Belle asked. “Today?”
“Yeah,” I said, not getting the problem. Then it hit me.
Mardi Gras!
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to descend on NOLA on the busiest weekend of the year. But then, on the other hand, maybe it wasn’t the worst idea. If we could actually run down someone who dealt with Natalia after the mugging, they might be so distracted or possibly drunk that they’d offer up more than they otherwise would.
“I assume there’s no hope of acquiring a place to stay anywhere near the French Quarter,” I said.
“Does sleeping under a bridge count?” Gertie asked.
“Depends on how nice the bridge is,” I said. “I’ve slept in worse places.”
“This isn’t the sandbox,” Ida Belle said. “We don’t sleep on the ground here. But I do agree that tracking down info on the mugging is the only thing we have to go on at the moment.”
“Okay, so pack a bag just in case we can find somewhere to stay,” I said. “If not, then we’ll just drive back to Sinful. It will be a long night of coffee and Red Bull.”
Gertie started clapping. “Road trip! And Mardi Gras! The last time I was at Mardi Gras in New Orleans, I met the hottest sailor with the most incredible stamina.”
Ida Belle grimaced. “If that sailor is still alive, I’m sure his stamina isn’t what it used to be.”
“Oh, I’d find me a much younger one,” Gertie said.
“That would make sense if your stamina was what it used to be,” Ida Belle said. “Besides, this is a business trip. No hot sailors. No talk of stamina. And no running in the street for beads. If you get run over, they’ll leave you right there until the end of the parade.”
“We can’t have just a little bit of fun?” Gertie asked.
“Only if we finish up the business,” I said. “And only if the fun isn’t life-threatening. Unless you’re talking to Carter. Then we’re headed down there to party until we can’t walk straight.”
“Ha!” Ida Belle said. “Poking your nose into his investigation and going to NOLA for Mardi Gras are probably a close match as far as things Carter won’t be thrilled with you doing are concerned.”
“Well, he can get over it,” I said.
“Anyone home?” Carter’s voice sounded from the front door.
“Speak of the devil,” Gertie said.
Ida Belle rose from the table. “Let’s head out and pack a bag.”
“You always want to leave when things are going to get interesting,” Gertie pouted.
“Back here,” I called out as Ida Belle ushered Gertie down the hall. A couple seconds later, Carter walked in.
“Where were the troublesome twosome off to in such a hurry?” he asked.
“They’re off to pack their bags.”
“Are they taking a vacation?” His voice contained way too much excitement over the thought.
“No. The three of us are taking a short girls’ trip, though.”
His excitement instantly waned. “A trip where?”
“New Orleans.” I leaned back in my chair and waited for the explosion.
“You’re going to Mardi Gras? Have you lost your mind?”
“I’m a newly minted Louisiana resident. I’m pretty sure attending at least one New Orleans Mardi Gras during your lifetime is required.”
He shook his head. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it can be?”
“I was a CIA assassin in the sandbox.”
“The French Quarter during Mardi Gras has a lot more variables and way more alcohol.”
“I’m taking backup.”
“Those two are not backup. They’re accelerant.”
I smiled. “I just figured you’re going to be busy for a while with this murder case and you’d actually appreciate us not being here trying to get in your business.”
He frowned and I could tell he was weighing the benefits of our being gone against the potential dangers of a big party night in the French Quarter. I also noted that he didn’t even bother to deny that Katia’s death was a murder, which meant the medical examiner had already confirmed what I’d observed. But then, my guess was Carter had known it as well, which was why he moved people away from the crime scene so quickly.
“It is a murder, isn’t it?” I couldn’t help goading him just a tiny bit.
“You know I can’t talk about an active investigation.”
“You don’t have to. I know a
thing or two about trajectory.”
He sighed. “Can you please keep this to yourself? And the other two, who I’m sure already know your thoughts on the matter.”
“We’re detectives, not gossips. I mean, at least when it comes to crime. I mean, serious crime. Not illegal booze or breaking one of Sinful’s many oddball laws like you can’t wear black ball caps in August.”
“Too many people were passing out from the heat.”
I shook my head. “And you really think a parade and a bunch of bead-flinging drunks are a bigger threat than living here for decades? The mental stress of trying to remember all those stupid laws is enough to send anyone over the edge.”
His lower lip quivered and finally he smiled. “Stop pretending you even bother to try following the rules.”
“I do the important ones.”
“Like what?”
“I’m a big fan of the no-public-nudity rule. I wish everyone else was.”
“Yeah, there’s been a lot of that over the past year. More than I recall happening before.”
I put my hands up. “That’s not on me. You seem to have a problem with your aging population and their ability to purchase clothes that remain in place.”
“I think the real problem is that our aging population is refusing to age and do things cute little old ladies are supposed to do—like sit pleasantly and knit.”
“Gertie knits.”
“Not full time, or things would be easier around here.”
“But not nearly as interesting.”
“You’re really going to do this—go to that party zone with those two?”
“It sounds like fun. I want to see it and I’m bored here. I don’t have any cases and you know what happens when I’m bored.”
He sighed. “I thought I’d fallen in love with a nice librarian.”
“Did you really? I mean, come on. Before the great reveal, you had to know that there was more than met the eye with me. No use playing dumb now when we both know better.”
He shrugged. “Maybe it was wishful thinking.”
“You’d be bored out of your mind with some normal woman who shuffled books all day long. What would you talk about at night—the Dewey decimal system?”
He pulled me up from my chair and gave me a kiss. “I don’t have to tell you to be careful, right? And you’ll be armed.”
“I’m armed in the shower.”
He grinned. “Not when you’re in there with me. Then I’m the one who’s armed.”
“No. Actually, I am then as well. Marge had this sneaky secret tile fixed up. Fits a nine-millimeter behind it perfectly.”
“How in the world did you find it?”
“Merlin came running into the bathroom to complain about his breakfast being late and jumped on the toilet. He had a little too much speed and shot off the seat and into the shower with me. Chaos ensued and it all ended with scratches on my legs, the tile dislodged, and the urgent need for a new shower curtain.”
“So that’s why you changed it. I thought for a minute you’d had a domestic twinge.”
“You should have known better. Hey, speaking of domestics, will you feed Merlin while I’m gone? Ally would do it but I don’t want her here alone, not even for a minute.”
“Sure, but I’m not hanging out with him. He’s a butthole.” He kissed me again. “I have to go. Call me when you get there. Send me a text often so I know you’re still alive.”
“You’re being very dramatic.”
“I’m just taking history into account. Do you have a place to stay?”
“No. If we can’t find something close to the city, we’ll probably end up driving back after the festivities tonight and then you’re off cat-feeding duty. Don’t worry. I don’t plan on drinking. It slows my reaction time. Ida Belle is the same way.”
“Can you get Gertie so drunk it stops her reaction time completely?”
“Probably not. Gertie is all about collecting those beads that cost a penny and that you can buy online by the boxful. There should be a psychological study done on that, you know.”
“I’m sure plenty have studied it. I’m just not so sure they came up with answers. Text me.”
I could tell his worry was genuine and I had to admit, it felt good. Carter was a great guy and, in some ways, being my boyfriend was probably the hardest thing he’d ever done. God knows, I didn’t make it any easier on him but that wasn’t likely to change. I had to do me. It had taken me a long time to figure out exactly who I was and then a little longer to accept it. Now that I was perfectly happy with the fine balance I’d established between regular joe and trained killer, I wasn’t willing to attempt a gear shift.
I followed him to the front door and as he stepped out onto the porch, a car I didn’t recognize pulled up to the curb. A man got out and started walking our direction.
Midthirties. Six foot two. A hundred ninety pounds. Excellent muscle tone. Dark sunglasses. Black suit. Suit wasn’t off the rack. Definitely not a Fed.
“Deputy LeBlanc?” the man asked as he approached.
“Yes,” Carter said, looking as confused as I was.
“I’m Vitali Fedorov,” the man said, and extended his hand. “We spoke this morning concerning Katia Grekov.”
“Yes, of course. Katia’s emergency contact. You got here fast.”
“My employer was upset about the situation,” Vitali said. “He arranged for the use of the company jet.”
“He must have really valued Katia as an employee,” Carter said. “Can’t be cheap to fly here from New York even if you own the plane.”
Vitali smiled and it made my skin crawl. “Katia was a very important and highly regarded member of an elite marketing team. I imagine her loss will be felt for years to come.”
“Were you and Katia…” Carter’s voice trailed off.
“Involved?” Vitali asked. “No. But we were friends.”
Carter nodded. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Vitali nodded. “Can you tell me anything about her death? Is there anything I can assist with? My employer has authorized me to remain here as long as needed.”
Carter glanced at me, then looked back at Vitali. “Let’s go back to the sheriff’s department, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” Vitali said. “I’m sorry to have interrupted you but your deputy told me I could find you here. I would have waited but he thought you had other business outside of the office and I’m not good at sitting around. I truly apologize for the inconvenience.”
“It’s no problem at all,” Carter said. “Small-town people don’t see interruptions at the same level of rudeness as big-city folk do.”
I nodded. “Interruption in a small town is the only way to get a word in. I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Fedorov.”
“Thank you, Ms. Redding. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
Vitali headed back to his car and Carter turned back to look at me.
“I don’t like him,” I said.
“You don’t even know him,” Carter said.
“Doesn’t matter. Take my word on this—don’t trust a thing he says.”
Carter watched as Vitali pulled away and frowned. He gave me a nod and a quick kiss, then hurried off to his truck. I watched until Vitali’s car disappeared and shook my head. I had no idea why Katia had him down as her emergency contact, but Vitali Fedorov was not being truthful.
I stepped back inside, locked the door, and pulled the dead bolt behind me. At least this trip would accomplish a couple things—I wouldn’t be as easy to locate, and hopefully, we’d track down someone who could shed more light on what happened to Natalia’s sister. I ran upstairs to pack an overnight bag, happy that all my clothes were designed to stay in place, no matter what kind of nonsense I got up to.
I called Mannie once we hit the highway and told him I needed a quick consultation about something important. He put me on hold for a second, then told me to stop by whenever I could. He didn’t so much as raise a
n eyebrow when he opened the door and let us inside. I wasn’t sure how he managed that completely uninterested look. I would be practically hopping, wanting to know what was going on.
“Mr. Hebert is happy to speak with you, as always,” Mannie said. “He’s on a call and as soon as he finishes, he’ll make himself available.”
“That’s great,” I said. “But actually, I needed to talk business with you first.”
He raised one eyebrow before waving us across the lobby. I assumed that was as much of a show of interest as I was going to get out of him. We headed to a small room on the back side of the first floor that contained a table and four chairs and we all took a seat. Then I explained the situation with Larry and our inability to gain information through the regular gossip train.
He nodded. “Given his profession, his dedication to privacy isn’t surprising. And it sounds like his wife is on board with the whole hermit thing. So what did you have in mind? I don’t know that we could get away with a listening device. If Larry isn’t sweeping for them, his employer might be. Assuming they aren’t already listening.”
Gertie shook her head. “Does the government listen in on all their employees?”
“If they’re intel, probably,” I said. “My apartment in DC was bugged. I knew the location of all of them but didn’t bother taking them out. Sometimes, when I was bored, I’d pretend to let someone in, say something sketchy, then crank up the music really loud. Before a neighbor could even lodge a complaint, I’d get a call from headquarters with some lame question.”
“So you’d turn the music down,” Mannie said.
“Exactly,” I said. “If I was feeling especially punchy, I’d crank it back up, then refuse to answer the phone.”
“And did that get rid of them?” Gertie asked.
“No. Then they started texting, requesting I call. We didn’t exactly have the option of being out of reach unless we were at a critical point in a mission. Anyway, eventually, I’d get bored and just leave the apartment.”
“What exactly are they listening for?” Gertie asked.
I shrugged. “Relaying confidential information, talking trash about your boss, Aunt Sharon’s lemon pie recipe? Who the heck knows? They’re paranoid.”