Hair Extensions & Homicide / Supernatural Sinful Box Set
Page 5
“Tell you what?” Gertie asked innocently.
“Whatever it was that you don’t tell outsiders.”
“The Rougarou,” Ida Belle said. “The half human half beast.”
“That’s your big secret? You told me that already.”
“I knew it was safe to tell her,” Gertie said. “See? She doesn’t even believe it.”
“And you become one if you don’t observe Lent,” I said. “I remember.”
“I believe the thing about Lent is just a myth,” Gertie said.
“You think?”
Gertie ignored me.
“It’s either blood or bite. Blood is when you’re born with it. And bite is when you get changed.”
“Really. Changed into what, exactly?” I figured I’d humor Gertie; this was probably something she had to do for her creative writing class. Ida Belle snorted and dug into her chicken fried steak.
“It’s impossible to predict what animal you’ll become when you make the change,” Gertie said. “It’s not like you get bitten by a wolf, you necessarily turn into a wolf. Some people think the animal you become has to do with what you’ve been eating, where you’ve been living, your personality and temperament, or where your ancestors come from. There was a Russian fur trader back in the thirties who got bitten by a gator and turned into a bear.”
A querulous voice nearly made me jump out of my seat.
“It was a cougar!” Celia Arceneaux exclaimed, from a few booths over.
For a mad moment I wondered if Celia had been following us and had seen our hasty retreat from the run-down cabin in Perd’ Espoir. But why would she be discussing it with a balding little man with a notepad?
The little man was saying something now, but his voice didn’t project as well as that of our mayor-elect. I motioned to Ida Belle and she took out one of the hearing amplifiers from her purse and passed it to me from under the table. I quickly hooked the gadget onto my ear and covered it with my hair extensions.
“...middle of a nasty custody battle over their four children,” the unidentified man was saying. “Don’t you think that’s real convenient timing?”
“You call yourself a reporter?” Celia sneered. “For your information, Thelma and LeRoy each wanted the other one to take the kids. Thelma was as sad as anyone when they found LeRoy’s body. Anyway, I thought you were here to ask me about the Annual Sinful Nutria Jamboree. We’re going to do it up right this year, Mister Santiago. I suggest you take notes.”
Celia then described at length all of the cooking contests and fireworks displays and other unique features of the upcoming Festival that, except for the swamp rat theme, sounded just like all of Sinful’s other summertime festivals. I saw the little man dutifully transcribing in his notepad. I removed my earpiece.
“That man’s a reporter. Celia invited a reporter here.” I slipped the hearing aid back to Ida Belle under the table.
“Not really what you want when you’re undercover,” Gertie observed.
“No. It’s not.”
That morning I’d gotten an email update from Harrison, my CIA handler.
Hoping for a break in the weather, but nothing yet. Dad’s doing OK. Hope you’re not having too much fun without me.
Someone who intercepted the message wouldn’t get much useful intelligence from it. I knew how to read Harrison’s communications, though:
No progress on tracking down Ahmad; Director Morrow is doing fine, no news about him; and keep your head down and stay out of trouble.
So the latest news was that Ahmad was still at large. With newspapers all online now, and everyone armed with a camera-equipped cell phone, it was a lot harder to stay incognito. And a lot easier to stalk someone using only a laptop, an internet connection, and some basic facial recognition software.
The diner door opened with a jingle. Justin Lao came in and beelined over to us. At least the cougar hadn’t gotten him. Ida Belle scooted in to make room for him.
“I got some news,” he said eagerly.
“Ally tells me you had a big date today,” I said.
Justin’s face fell. Did I say something wrong? I really wasn’t good at this casual small talk thing, was I?
“Oh yeah. I met Desiree’s family.”
I wondered if something bad had happened after we left, or if he had just been generally creeped out.
“So what’s your news, dear?” Gertie asked.
“Oh. Aunty Ida Belle. I know you said no visitors, but Toby LaRoquette wants to come talk story, about that specimen I found. I don’t gotta car, so he’s gotta drive out here. Is that okay? Oh, he’s the one I was telling you about, from the School of Medicine.”
I rested my forehead in my hand. Sinful, Louisiana Site of the Latest Big Scientific Discovery. I imagined reporters and scientists streaming in from every corner of the state. No, the world. Paparazzi would be swarming all over Sinful looking for photo opportunities. Celia Arceneaux would probably get herself interviewed by Ira Flatow on Science Friday.
“I suppose that’s all right,” Ida Belle said. “But if you invite him over, you have to clean up after him.”
“Are you hungry?” Gertie asked. “We just ordered. We can go tell Francine to put on another fried fish plate.”
“Nah, thanks Aunty. I gotta get back to work.”
Justin sprang up and sprinted out of the diner.
“He’s more excited about his research than he is about his new girlfriend,” Ida Belle said.
“Maybe Ally still has a shot,” Gertie said.
“I don’t think so. I know they’re cute together, but Ally told me she didn’t want to get emotionally attached to someone who’s just going to leave.”
“Well you’re going to leave,” Gertie said. “And you’re probably the best friend she has.”
“Why’d you go and say that, Gertie? Now you made her feel bad. Cheer up, Fortune. You might end up here longer than you planned.”
Chapter 7
The next day I was relaxing in Marge’s library again, curled up with a cup of coffee and a reference book on Louisiana wildlife, when my phone rang.
“Your house in good shape?” Ida Belle demanded. “We’re coming over.”
“Who? You and Gertie?”
“Not Gertie. Me, plus two more. Justin’s professor friend is gonna be here in ten minutes.”
“Why are you coming here? What’s wrong with your house?”
“We’re bottling a batch of Sinful Ladies Cough Syrup.”
“You only found that out this morning?”
“Forgot to check my calendar. Anyway, Gertie has to supervise, so we can’t use her place, cause she won’t be there. That leaves Marge’s house.”
The production schedule of Sinful Ladies’ Cough Syrup was not to be messed with. Sinful was a dry town, which meant that the men usually traveled outside city limits to the Swamp Bar to drink, while most of Sinful’s ladies kept a blameless bottle of cough syrup in their handbags. Of course the gender lines weren’t drawn that firmly. The Swamp Bar had its share of female clientele. And our postman was one of the Ladies’ best customers. In any event, a shortage of cough syrup could cause a riot.
“Fine,” I said. “I guess this means I have to brush my teeth and put on pants. But I’m not cooking. And don’t count on me for small talk.”
“I’m thinking if we run out of conversation we can show ‘em Marge’s library,” Ida Belle said. “Justin’s professor friend would like that.”
“Good thinking,” I said. “Who wouldn’t like Marge’s library?”
I don’t know what I was expecting a distinguished professor from one of the nation’s top medical schools to look like. But it wasn’t this.
Mid Thirties. Five eleven, one eighty. Excellent physical condition. Short scar on the left cheek that looks like a dimple. Brown hair, hazel eyes, wicked smile, no wedding ring. Minimal threat, except to my virtue.
I stood at the door and gaped at Professor Toby LaRoquette.
“Come in,” I managed to say, finally. I wished I’d worn something nicer than sweats and a tee shirt. My good camo pants, at least.
Over a lunch of reheated gumbo (Ally had left a big pot of it in the fridge) we chatted about this and that, mostly food. Unlike many of the accomplished men I’d shared a meal with, Professor LaRoquette wasn’t one of those blowhards who is the hero of every story he tells. Instead, he admired our new rice cooker, asked about life in Sinful, and genuinely seemed interested in what Justin, Ida Belle, and I had to say. And all of that charming conversation was delivered with a Cajun lilt.
“So Professor, are you married?” I heard someone say, and too late realized with horror that I was the one who said it.
Toby smiled easily, as if he’d fielded this question many times before. Well, of course he had. He was handsome, accomplished, intelligent, and charming, in a place where the bar for eligible bachelor was having a steady job and most of your teeth.
“I’m afraid work keeps me so busy I don’t really have time for that kind of thing,” he laughed.
Behind him, Gertie mouthed at me: “GAY.”
I gave her a nod. Good. A little disappointing, but fewer complications for me.
Even Merlin, my cat, adored Toby. From the moment Toby arrived, Merlin had been doing blissed-out figure-eights around Toby’s ankles.
After dinner I showed everyone around Marge’s house. It was sparkling clean, as I had little else to do all day but tidy up. Ida Belle had seen it all before, of course, but she didn’t want to be left out. I couldn’t help but notice how gracefully Professor LaRoquette mounted the stairs. Too bad he—well never mind. He must have some great workout routine. Probably did a lot of Zumba or something.
The last stop was Marge’s library. I saw LaRoquette’s pupils dilate at the sight of the walls of books—not that I’d been staring at those hazel eyes or anything. But he obviously liked what he saw. That made two of us.
“Why Fortune,” he said, “this is really something.” He walked over to a shelf and ran a finger down the spine of a volume on plant-derived poisons. Lucky book.
“You spend a lot of time in here?” he was still gazing at the shelves.
“It’s my favorite part of the house,” I said.
“Probably because she’s a librarian,” Ida Belle added, helpfully reinforcing my cover story.
“I thought you and Justin could have your meeting here,” I said. “Take as long as you like, Professor.”
“Please, call me Toby.” He flashed me a smile that I’d remember for a long time.
“Well, I gotta get back to the ladies,” Ida Belle said. “That cough syrup’s not gonna bottle itself.”
“Want to try some brownies before you go? Ally made these a couple of days ago and she said she wanted me to finish them so she wouldn’t be tempted to.”
“Do they have swamp rat in them?” Ida Belle asked, but she was already sitting back down at the table.
“I don’t think so.” I brought a plate covered with a checkered dishtowel over to the table and whisked off the towel. The chocolate smell bloomed, and Ida Belle and I attacked the plate.
“The gumbo had swamp rat in it, you know,” Ida Belle said, her mouth still full.
“What? We just ate swamp rat?”
“You didn’t realize, did you? That means the recipe’s a success. That’s good for Ally. Tell her congratulations if you see her before I do.”
“It did taste a little gamy,” I said. “That’s okay. I’ve eaten worse. You ever have snake?”
“Sure. You ever eat dog? Gertie and I did.”
Our conversation was interrupted by raised voices from upstairs.
“Are they okay?” I asked. “Should we check on them?”
The voices quieted down. Justin and Toby came down the stairs shortly after that.
“Think about what I said,” Toby was saying to Justin. “I know you want to go where the evidence takes you, but you gotta think about your career. Listen, stay in touch. Uh, Fortune? Ida Belle? I wonder if there’s a convenience store close by. I’d like to get a Coke or something for the drive back.”
“I’ll walk you over,” I said.
“I have to get going,” Ida Belle said, and I noticed she tipped the entire plate of brownies into her purse as she stood up.
“Me too,” Justin mumbled. “Eh, thanks for coming out, Toby. Too bad it wasn’t better news.”
“Don’t get discouraged,” Toby said. “Just stay focused. Stick to the coypu.”
“The what?” I asked.
“It’s the scientific name for swamp rat,” Justin said. “Nutria. Okay, thanks, ah? Safe drive back to New Orleans.”
Justin and Ida Belle left together. Ida Belle was in a considerably better mood than her renter. The poor kid seemed deflated.
“We can walk down to the General Store.” Gay or not, I relished the prospect of a pleasant stroll with Professor Dreamy. The fact that Walter, the General Store’s proprietor, happened to be Deputy Carter LeBlanc’s uncle bothered me less than it should have.
“I’d love a walk.” His smile activated the dimple on his cheek. “I’m gonna be sitting for two hours in the car.”
The afternoon Louisiana humidity hit me like a giant wet sock as soon as we stepped outside, making me feel like a contestant in the world’s least sexy wet t-shirt contest. Toby LaRoquette and I crunched our way down the shell-and-gravel-covered road to Walter’s General Store.
“So Justin’s discovery?” I asked. “Did you ever find out what it was?”
“A nonviable felid neonate,” he said. “A stillbirth. Poor Justin, thought he’d discovered a new species or something.”
“Felid? So something in the cat family?”
“That’s right.”
“Justin seemed so disappointed after he talked to you.”
“Well, he had this whole theory cooked up about the hydrocarbons and the dispersants accelerating evolution. Sure, that’d be an exciting discovery and all, but…” he swept his arm out, indicating the neat little row of shops on Main Street, the bayou beyond, and the green-gray summer sky. “This isn’t a laboratory. You can’t control all the variables.”
“No argument there.” I considered the events of the past few weeks. “Just out of curiosity, though, is it possible Justin is right? Do you think the spill could have affected the wildlife here?”
“It’s impossible to tell. There’s no evidence for it so far. And we researchers, we don’t usually come out and say something is ‘true’ or ‘false’. We’ll say the evidence supports it, or it doesn’t. And in this case, it really doesn’t. Not at this point, anyway.”
“That’s why he seemed so discouraged?”
“Well, there was something else. I felt like I had to be honest about this, cause the boy’s not from around here and he probably doesn’t know. If Justin publishes anything that makes the oil companies look bad, well, N’Awlins is a bit of a company town. If we’re fixin’ to publish something that’s gonna get us on the wrong side of one of our trustees, we better double check and triple check beforehand and make sure our evidence is solid. For someone like Justin, he’s still getting his degree—he doesn’t even have a job yet. I told him to save the risky stuff until his position’s more secure. I’d hate for him to kill his career before it even starts.”
“I didn’t realize your job was so political.”
“Name me a job that isn’t,” he laughed. “When I was just out of high school, I worked out on an oil rig. You’d think no one would have time for all of that mess out there. But that political stuff, the cliques, and the boss playing favorites,
people ready to stab you in the back, I believe you’ll find that just about everywhere. Probably even here in Sinful.”
“It’s true. Our last mayoral election, for example. They’re still auditing the results, but you wouldn’t believe the lengths people will go to for the chance to run a two hundred-something person town.”
“I believe I saw something in the paper about Sinful’s mayoral race.” His teasing grin reminded me that the main city paper seemed to delight in publishing stories that made bayou folk look like savages. That girl out in Mudbug who made it to the statewide spelling championship? That story was tucked into the back of the lifestyle section. But the bayou meth lab that blew up and showered the neighborhood with body parts? That got on the front page.
“You like it here, Fortune?”
“Oh, sure. I’ve made some nice friends, and I enjoy learning about new places.” How’s that for staying in character? A real former beauty queen couldn’t have done better. “For example, I thought you guys already had your hands full here with the copperheads and the alligators, but I just found out you have cougars around here too. I actually saw one.”
Toby flashed me that dimpled smile and touched my shoulder, setting a pleasant shiver running from his fingers down to the tips of my toes. “You gotta be careful, Fortune. Louisiana has some dangerous wildlife.”
I looked down and the gravel and broken shells crunching beneath my feet. Indeed, Professor LaRoquette, I thought. Indeed.
Chapter 8
Walter looked a little surprised when I walked into his General Store accompanied by the handsomest man in the parish.
“Hi Walter,” I said, before he could ask me anything embarrassing, like what’s going on with you and my nephew Carter? “This is Professor Toby LaRoquette. He came out here to see Justin, the grad student who’s staying with Ida Belle. He wanted to get something for the drive back to New Orleans. Toby, Walter.”
Walter rubbed his hands on his overalls and shook Toby’s hand.
“A pleasure,” both men said at the same time.