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CARTER AVOIDED THE nurse’s death glare and ducked out to the main waiting area. He was not surprised to see Fortune and her three elderly co-conspirators waiting for him. They were sitting in a row on the fiberglass chairs. Gertie was knitting, Ida Belle was reading a copy of Guns & Ammo, and Mary-Alice was writing in a notebook using a pen topped with a gigantic fake sunflower. Fortune was dozing, her arms crossed over her chest and her long legs sticking out in front of her. She opened her eyes as he approached.
“We just saved you some time,” she said. “You’re welcome.”
“Uh-huh.” He took the seat next to Fortune. “How’s that?”
“We found out when Harriet checked in.” Gertie set down her knitting. “Eleven oh three p.m. Monday night. How’s that jibe with Deale’s estimated time of death?”
Carter opened his mouth to reply.
“Check for yourself if you don’t believe us,” Fortune said. “But Harriet couldn’t have shot Deale.”
“Remember, that’s when she was brought here.” Ida Belle spoke from behind her Guns & Ammo. “She still had to get in the accident, wait for someone to call an ambulance, wait for the ambulance, and ride in the ambulance. She left Sinful much earlier.”
Carter stared at the specks in the linoleum floor, elbows resting on his knees.
“No, you’re right. It couldn’t have been Harriet. Unless she hired someone.”
“Does that look like the work of a professional to you?” Fortune pulled her legs in and sat up straight. “Wrapping the vic in a nightie that belonged to the person who hired you? Leaving his blood and one of his shoes in her apartment?”
“Fortune, Harriet does have a motive. Both the store and the apartment are rented from Deale. If he kicked her out she’d lose her business and her home. And I’m sure I’m not telling you anything you don’t know here—we think Harriet’s apartment was where Deale was shot.”
“We kind of figured that out when you two were talking about the bloodstains,” Ida Belle remarked from behind her magazine.
“So what’s next?” Fortune asked.
“I’m going to check Harriet’s place out again,” Carter said. “Notice I said I, not we.”
“I heard you,” Fortune replied. “Mind telling me what you’re looking for?”
“Oh, come on,” Ida Belle said. “Throw us a bone here.”
“We found Harriet for you,” Gertie wheedled.
“Fine,” Carter relented. “Anything that connects this with Florentin Menard. I don’t know what his deal is, but if he’s mixed up in this, he may have hidden something in Harriet’s shop. Or even...in her apartment.”
“Her apartment?” Gertie scolded. “Carter, honestly, what a dirty mind you have.”
“As an employee of the property manager, Menard would have access to the keys.”
“I knew that,” Gertie retorted.
On the drive home, Mary-Alice called Harriet’s mother to tell her where her daughter was, and spent some time assuring her that Harriet was going to be just fine.
“It’s funny,” Mary-Alice said as she disconnected the call. “Miss Harriet’s mama and Sheriff Carter have both mentioned Florentin Menard. And Harriet seemed awfully protective of him. Do you suppose Mr. Menard was sweet on Miss Harriet?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me a bit,” Gertie said. “Everyone likes Harriet.”
“It sure gives Menard a motive to kill Deale,” Ida Belle mused. “Defending his lady’s honor.”
“It’ll be interesting to see what Carter finds,” Fortune said.
But they were not going to have the chance.