We discussed the case on the drive to the Swamp Bar. Gertie thought the man who threatened Brock at the hotel could be Cecil Tassin and the woman was RJ, figuring she lied to Celia about knowing where Brock was and had thrown something at him when they fought, but just didn’t know he was dead when she and Celia were looking at the float. And it could have happened that way.
Ida Belle said the woman could have just as easily been Gina because if Brock had screwed anyone over, it was her. Since his late-night visitors were why I wanted to talk to Whiskey, I wasn’t casting my vote yet. The reality was, it could have been Cecil, and Gina or RJ, or it could have been someone else completely. Like the mystery man at the parade.
“For all we know, someone could have followed Brock to Sinful, just like he followed RJ,” Ida Belle said. “I doubt Brock offended fewer people in Tennessee than he did here.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” I said. “I wish we knew someone, besides Sawyer, who knew what they were up to in Tennessee.”
Ida Belle nodded. “It does seem like we’re missing half the information if we don’t know what’s been going on since they left, but honestly, I can’t imagine RJ shared the kind of things that would matter to the case with her mother. I’m pretty sure she started lying to her in the crib. Sawyer always thought RJ was a perfect angel.”
“Ha!” Gertie said. “Sawyer’s an idiot. But unfortunately, Ida Belle is right. The only person RJ would have spilled the dirt to was Pansy.”
“I don’t guess Christina Forrester would know anything,” I said.
“Can’t imagine she would,” Ida Belle said. “RJ and Brock took off shortly after that car wreck, and with Marigold being nonverbal, it makes things hard. Not to mention, I can’t see Christina caring enough to ask about them.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“She never said anything, mind you, but Ida Belle and I always wondered if Christina blamed RJ and Brock for the accident,” Gertie said. “Marigold was driving but the car belonged to Brock’s father. I guess she figures that if RJ and Brock hadn’t been drinking, then Marigold wouldn’t have felt she had to drive. She never liked driving after dark unless it was in town. Bad night vision.”
“Where were they?” I asked.
“They claimed they’d met up with some other teens in the woods—had a bonfire and all that mess,” Ida Belle said. “The wreck was on the service road up the highway. They ran off into one of those big drainage ditches. Lucky it wasn’t full of water at the time.”
“A couple driving by on the highway pulled over when they saw the fire and called for help,” Gertie said. “Brock and RJ had crawled out of the car, but Marigold was still inside when it caught fire. The couple got her out before the fire reached her but just barely.”
“You think that’s why RJ never visited Marigold after the accident?” I asked. “Guilt?”
“Please,” Ida Belle said. “That girl has never felt guilty about anything her entire life. My guess is she stayed away because she didn’t want to be blamed.”
“There was still talk about the drinking, of course,” Gertie said. “It’s Sinful, after all.”
“But then RJ and Brock cut out of town shortly after,” I said.
“Leaving it conveniently all behind,” Gertie said.
“You guys were planning on checking in on Christina and Marigold sometime today, right?” I asked.
Gertie nodded. “The least we could do is take them a casserole and some of Ally’s cookies. I set one out to thaw last night, so all we have to do is pick it up and go.”
“Good,” I said. “After we pay Whiskey a visit, then we’ll grab the casserole and that will be our last stop of the day. Before the party, I mean.”
“You thinking Christina might talk after this latest crisis?” Ida Belle asked.
I nodded. “I think the parade fire brought back the car accident to Marigold. Some of that blame and anger you guys think Christina has might show itself.”
We pulled into the Swamp Bar parking lot, which was basically a big space consisting of dirt, weeds, and gravel, and pulled up right to the front of the bar. There were only two other vehicles and I recognized one of them as Whiskey’s. I didn’t recognize the other, but it wasn’t RJ’s ancient Chevy, so that was good.
We headed inside, and I heard Whiskey’s voice yell from the kitchen.
“We’re not open until six!”
“Good thing we’re not here to drink!” I yelled back.
A couple seconds later, Whiskey walked out and grinned when he caught sight of me. “I knew I recognized that voice,” he said. “Are you here to collect your winnings?”
Gertie immediately broke into a celebration dance and Ida Belle gave Whiskey a high five.
“I won? Really?” I asked.
After seeing RJ in her dress and knowing she’d been pushing her wares at the Swamp Bar the last couple days, I was a little surprised.
“It was no contest,” Whiskey said. “You pulled in eighty percent of the vote. That’s the biggest margin ever. So congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I said.
Whiskey grinned again. “Quite frankly, I was surprised you agreed to do it, but you looked fantastic. Several of my regulars had video footage and I have to say, if you weren’t already hooked up with Carter, I’d be getting a lien on my boat to take a run at you.”
“That boat isn’t worth a pair of movie tickets,” Ida Belle said.
“Hey, it’s worth the tickets,” Whiskey said. “Just probably not popcorn. Anyway, I just finished the tally about ten minutes ago and hadn’t gotten a chance to make the calls yet.”
“Now you have one less to make,” Gertie said and gave me a thumbs-up. “See, I told you that RJ flashing her goods over here wouldn’t make a difference.”
“Oh, it made a difference,” Whiskey said. “If you mean that drink sales went up until the point where bar fights doubled.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t go right to the source and offer up a bribe in exchange for a count in her favor,” Gertie said, shooting me a glance.
“She did,” Whiskey said. “More than once and in fact, the last time was about an hour ago. But I don’t want anything that girl is peddling. She always was trouble, and it doesn’t appear anything has changed except she has a valid ID now.”
“She used to come here in high school?” I asked.
“She tried,” Whiskey said. “Made it in a couple times when someone new and stupid was running the door. All the bartenders knew better than to serve her, but it wasn’t like she was buying her own anyway. She’d make out pretty good before an employee who knew better caught her.”
“Or someone’s wife or girlfriend,” Gertie said.
“That too,” Whiskey said.
“She wasn’t here the night of that car wreck back in high school, was she?” I asked.
Whiskey frowned. “No. Thank God. I don’t need that kind of trouble. Best I know, they never gave the actual location.”
“It was one of those well-kept secrets,” Ida Belle said. “And for Sinful, that’s saying a lot.”
“No one wanted to be on the hook for what happened,” Whiskey said. “The kids were covering for someone. So somebody old enough either bought them the alcohol or brought it to the party.”
“Or one or more of the kids lifted it from their parents’ stash,” Ida Belle said.
“And borrowed the keys to a parent’s camp because no one is buying that bonfire story,” Whiskey said, then shook his head. “Regardless, people weren’t going to own up to being the source of the booze or the location that ultimately left a girl disabled. It’s crap, but it doesn’t surprise me. So don’t tell me you drove all the way out here just to check on the vote count.”
“No,” I said. “Actually, I wanted to ask you about Brock Benoit.”
“Yeah, I heard he was found dead at the motel and Carter was asking questions,” Whiskey said.
“Had he been to the bar?” I asked.
“No way!” Whiskey said. “RJ stirred up enough mess with her flirting for votes, but letting Brock in here would have caused trouble even I couldn’t have handled.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Several of my regulars hated the guy,” Whiskey said.
“Why?” Ida Belle asked.
“All different reasons,” Whiskey said. “He borrowed money from a couple of ’em and never paid it back. Borrowed girlfriends from more than a couple. Wrecked a guy’s truck that he took without asking. Sank a guy’s boat—same deal. Trust me, there is no shortage of people who will be not-so-silently toasting his passage tonight.”
“He accomplished a lot considering he left here right after graduating from high school,” I said. “You think people are still holding a grudge this many years later?”
“If you’re asking would any of them have still taken a swipe at him if he was standing in front of them, then I’d say every one of them would have, which is exactly why I didn’t want him in my bar,” Whiskey said. “If you’re asking if any of them were mad enough to kill him, then I’d have to go with no. Murder is an extreme solution to a high school grudge.”
“But not unheard of,” Gertie said.
“True,” Whiskey agreed. “I’ve seen it on enough of those documentaries my dad loves so much.”
He frowned.
“You thinking of someone in particular?” I asked.
He hesitated, then shook his head. “I don’t want to speculate on someone. I know firsthand what that kind of talk does.”
Not so long ago, Whiskey had been suspected of murder and had hired me to clear his name. I’d found the real killer, but during the investigation, Whiskey had to deal with plenty of negative talk, so I could see where he wouldn’t be a fan of gossiping about something like this.
“I know how it goes,” I said. “But your speculation wouldn’t go any further than us, and you know that too. Our only interest in gossip and rumor is using it to figure out who needs help because someone else committed a crime. It’s not sport for us.”
“That’s true,” he agreed. “And God knows, you got me out of the hot seat. If I had to put someone at the top of the list, I’d say Cooper Guidry is the one I’d pick.”
“Any relation to Floyd?” I asked.
Floyd Guidry had been Ally’s next-door neighbor before he’d gotten himself murdered. He was an angry criminal with a bad gambling problem and generally disliked by everyone who’d ever met him.
“A cousin,” Whiskey said. “But nothing like Floyd or he wouldn’t be allowed in my bar.”
“If he’s nothing like Floyd, why is he your first pick?” I asked.
I’d only met Cooper once when he delivered some parts for my air conditioner. I knew he was a hotshot driver and lived just outside of town. He was young with a scrawny build and had stared at the ground the entire time I was signing for the delivery. I was having a hard time picturing him as a killer.
“He dated Gina Tassin after high school,” Whiskey said. “Probably wanted to during, but she was tangled up with Brock. Cooper wanted the whole house-with-a-picket-fence thing, but she shot him down.”
“Interesting,” Ida Belle said. “Most men don’t go around sharing that sort of thing.”
“He didn’t volunteer it so much as I hit on it accidentally,” Whiskey said. “He came in here one night when things were slow, looking like someone had kicked his dog, and proceeded to blow through a couple drinks like they were water. He was never much of a drinker, so I started watering them down and figured if I couldn’t find someone to take him home, I’d do it after I closed up.”
I nodded, not even remotely surprised. Whiskey was a good guy. Just rough around the edges.
“Anyway, we were headed out about midnight, and he stumbled and this ring box fell out of his pocket. I picked it up and looked and it was an engagement ring. When I handed it back to him, the floodgates opened, and he didn’t stop talking until I pulled into his driveway. He said he’d asked Gina to marry him, but she said she couldn’t. He never told me why but said the whole thing was Brock Benoit’s fault. That he’d ruined any chance they had of a future together.”
“Was Gina still in love with Brock?” Gertie asked.
Whiskey shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t see how she would be, especially after Brock ran off with her pregnant. And he never has supported the kid in any way. Cooper isn’t going to set the world on fire, but he’s a good guy and has steady work. Pays his bills, doesn’t cause trouble. She could do a heck of a lot worse, but when I asked a few questions, he just got out of the car and went inside.”
“Maybe she doesn’t trust herself to have another relationship,” Ida Belle said. “Brock totally took her for a ride and everyone knew it but her.”
“Maybe,” Whiskey said. “But Cooper wouldn’t hurt a fly, and he really loves her and her boy. I could hear it in his voice. Anyway, that’s why I’d pick him as the regular with the biggest grudge and the most recent.”
“Was he here last night?” I asked.
“Yeah. I served him a couple times myself,” Whiskey said.
“What time did he leave?” I asked.
“No idea,” Whiskey said. “This place was shoulder to shoulder until after midnight. But I can’t even see Cooper confronting Brock, much less killing him. He just doesn’t have it in him.”
“What about a non-regular?” I asked.
“You got someone specific in mind?” Whiskey asked.
“Is your dad still playing poker when he’s feeling up to it?” I asked.
Whiskey nodded, then his eyes widened. “You’re thinking of Cecil.”
“Did your dad play with Cecil last night?” I asked.
“Let me make a call,” Whiskey said and pulled out his phone.
I gathered from Whiskey’s end of the conversation that his father had already heard about Brock’s death and the cops asking questions. I could hear his voice increasing in octave and volume as he talked, and when Whiskey disconnected, he was frowning.
“The game started around six,” Whiskey said. “Cecil cut out around eleven. The rest of the guys stayed on until one or so.”
“Did your dad say why Cecil left early?” I asked.
“Said he kept making stupid plays and went through his chips,” Whiskey said. “That’s not like Cecil. He’s a conservative bettor and a first-rate player.”
“He was distracted,” Ida Belle said. “Everyone knew RJ was back in town, but I wonder if Cecil knew Brock was back as well.”
Whiskey shook his head. “If he did, he didn’t say so to my dad or I’d have gotten a warning call to look out for Brock at the bar. And RJ sure as heck didn’t breathe a word about it. I didn’t know until this morning when Carter called me asking if I’d seen or heard anything.”
“Brock was at the parade,” I said.
Whiskey’s eyes widened. “Really? Then why didn’t I hear about it sooner?”
“Because people would have had to take a hard look to recognize him,” Gertie said and pulled out her phone. “I took this picture and didn’t even realize it was him until I was asked if it could be.”
Whiskey studied the picture and shook his head. “Wow. I see it because you said so, but I would have walked right by the guy without realizing it. Man, he looks like he’s forty years old.”
“Drugs will do that to you,” Ida Belle said.
“Drugs?” Whiskey asked. “Well, can’t say that surprises me. He was always one to try anything regardless of risk. Thrill seeker. But not in a good way.”
“I know the type,” I said.
Whiskey laughed. “You are the type.”
“But in a good way,” I said.
“I suppose,” he said. “If chasing criminals and skirting the law while you’re hooked up with the local deputy is a good way, then you’re solid.”
“Details,” I said and grinned. “I know you’ve got to set up for the big throwdown tonight, so we’ll get out of your way.”
“But not before we collect our winnings,” Gertie said.
“Oh yeah!” Whiskey headed for the kitchen. “Let me get it out of the safe and count out your share.”
A couple minutes later, he came back with a thick envelope and handed it to Ida Belle. “There you go,” he said. “Seven thousand four hundred thirty-six dollars. Best turnout we’ve ever had, and I chalk that up to Fortune being in the running against the returning prodigal daughter.”
“Woot!” Gertie yelled.
“Thanks, Whiskey,” Ida Belle said.
He gave us a nod and looked at me. “If you hear anything on Brock, let me know. If you can. Man, I hate thinking that someone I know and like could have been involved in his death.”
“Me too,” I said. “Hey, I don’t suppose you know anyone in the music scene in Nashville, do you?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “You think maybe trouble followed him here?”
“Seems he was gifted at making enemies, so…”
He nodded. “I have to say, I like that solution, but I don’t know anyone in that line of work. You know who probably does, though—Big Hebert. Years ago, rumor was he had some money in producing a country singer from New Orleans.”
“Really?” I said, perking up some with this news. “That’s great. I’ll check with him. Thanks.”
Whiskey laughed. “You’re probably the only person in Sinful who looks happy when they hear they need to talk to the Heberts.”
“We have a business arrangement,” I said.
Whiskey shook his head. “Big Hebert doesn’t do favors for people unless they’re family. That man treats you like a daughter, which isn’t a bad thing.”
“Tell that to Carter,” I said.
“Ha!” Whiskey said. “Yeah, well, I can appreciate his dilemma, but I wouldn’t ever complain about someone like the Heberts having my woman’s back. You ladies try to stay out of trouble tonight.”
“We should be telling you that,” I said. “This place will be a zoo.”
“Nah,” Whiskey said. “They’ll be drunk, but they won’t be any problem. Finale of Yellowstone is Sunday night, and no one will want to be in jail.”
We headed out, Ida Belle still smiling.
“I can’t believe it,” she said and shook the envelope.
“Hey, where’s your faith?” I groused.
“Sorry, but since you weren’t in the goodies-flashing business and with men being men, I was a little worried,” Ida Belle said.
“Well, apparently taste in Sinful isn’t as bad as we thought,” Gertie said.
“That YouTube push probably didn’t hurt things,” Ida Belle said.
“Don’t remind me,” I said.
I’d already gotten a text from my former partner at the CIA, and I could practically hear him laughing with every word. Granted, he’d seen me all dressed up before, but it was usually to go kill someone. Being a holiday queen—without a target attached—was something he never thought he’d see in a hundred lifetimes.
Gertie pulled out her cell phone. “I can’t wait to start the bragging. Who do you want to text first?”
“Celia.”
Ida Belle and I answered at the same time.
Gertie was practically giggling as she typed her message. “I’m thanking her for running a clean campaign and wishing her better luck next year.”
“That’s polite as heck,” I said.
Gertie nodded. “It’s really going to hack her off.”
I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Carter.
Just talked to Whiskey. I am Sinful’s Official New Year’s Queen.
Of course you are. Do you still have that dress because I was thinking…
About cause of death?
That dress qualifies.
“You texting Carter?” Gertie asked.
I nodded and showed her my phone. She read the exchange and rolled her eyes. “Men are so easy. How is it that they ran the world for so long?”
“They thought they were running the world,” Ida Belle said. “I sent Christina a text. She and Marigold are at home. You want to head over there now?”
I nodded. Given Gertie and Ida Belle’s suspicion that Christina might blame RJ and Brock for the car wreck, I wanted to see if this recent event would have her talking more freely. The more stories I heard about RJ and Brock, the more I formed a picture.
And those pictures helped solve crimes.