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Chapter Sixteen

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DEPUTY BREAUX DROVE back to the hospital to deliver the news to Carter, and the ladies repaired to Mary-Alice’s house.  In the excitement over the explosion at McIlvaney and Pine, they had forgotten about the notebooks they’d found hidden under Menard’s mattress. But now it was time to see what lay within.

Mary-Alice set out iced tea and Gertie pulled the books out of her purse and stacked them on the table. They were of high quality, with velvety black covers and thick, creamy paper.

Gertie cracked open the top book, and immediately exclaimed,

“Oh!”

“What is it?” Ida Belle asked.

“These aren’t Florentin Menard’s notebooks.”

Ida Belle grabbed another book from the stack, cracked it open, and quickly paged to the front.

“Well I’ll be,” she marveled. “Ladies, it seems we are in possession of the diaries of the late Buford Fontleroy Deale.”

They quickly split the books up, with each woman getting two or three. Mary-Alice brought out a lined pad and pencil for each of them, in case they wanted to follow her example and make notes.

“A Study in Leadership,” Fortune read. She had happened to get the first volume of the series. “The life and times of Buford Fontleroy Deale, the Third.”

“Leadership,” Ida Belle scoffed. “I guess that’s what he calls taking a multimillion-dollar inheritance and parlaying it into a fortune worth thousands.”

“Oh dear,” Mary-Alice directed a disapproving look at the pages before her. “‘As a young man, his beefy good looks and talent on the gridiron made him the never-ending object of female attention. He could feel their eyes walking out of the locker room after a game.’ Mr. Deale certainly was not hindered by an overabundance of modesty, I will say that for him.”

“Good heavens, misplaced modifiers everywhere,” Gertie exclaimed. “It’s been decades since I’ve graded a paper, but my goodness, do I ever feel like reaching for the red pen.”

I feel like reaching for a barf bag,” Ida Belle countered.

“Well, this isn’t going to be fun,” Fortune said, “but I think we need to read all of it.”

“I believe we’ll need something to make this afternoon’s work a little more pleasant.” Mary-Alice stood up and went to the kitchen, returning with a tray of peanut butter brownies. “Boon was planning to come over after church tomorrow, but I’ll bake another batch tonight or just get something over at Francine’s.”

The ladies read, drank tea, and munched brownies, careful not to get grease or crumbs on the pages.

“He should’ve called it A Study in Delusional Narcissism,” Ida Belle remarked at one point. “Listen to what he wrote about Harriet: ‘She wanted him, although she was afraid to say so. Probably knew he was out of her league. If only she knew the feeling was mutual. She was a little past her prime, but still sensuous. There was something about her...he couldn’t stop thinking about her.’”

“Thank you for sharing that,” Fortune said. “Now I have to go take a Silkwood shower.”

“I’m reading the part where she rejected him,” Mary-Alice said. “He certainly didn’t take it well. Oh, and here he is complaining to that young handyman, Adam Sampson. ‘I told him about Harriet. If I’m honest, I may have exaggerated just a bit, but in the scheme of things, I was truthful. I offered her my most precious gift. She reacted with humiliation and cruelty.’ My goodness, that’s nothing at all like Harriet. What a peculiar view of the world this man had.”

“Is there any more?” Fortune asked.

“Just a bit. He says, ‘I will give Harriet one more chance. She’s had time to think things over. If she comes around, good. But if not, I know that Adam adores me. My word is gospel to him.  My enemies are his enemies. All I need to do is plant the seed. Adam will do the rest.’ That’s the end of it. The rest are blank pages.”

“Oh-oh,” Gertie said. “That’s not good.”

“I’ll try to track down Sampson,” Fortune said immediately. “When is Harriet getting released?”

“I was going to pick her up this afternoon,” Gertie said. “The doctor said she can rest at home, and she’ll able to get around on crutches soon.”

“Okay.” Fortune had taken on that commanding tone she used when things got sticky. “You do that, Gertie, and Ida Belle, you go with her. Mary-Alice, I want you to go over to the hospital—our hospital, where Carter is. Tell him what we’ve found out so far.”

“Me?” Mary-Alice placed a neatly-manicured hand to her chest. “But Miss Fortune, he’ll be furious when he finds out we broke into Menard’s house and took Mr. Deale’s diaries. And there’s not going to be anyone there for him to yell at except for me!”

“Exactly. I owe you, Mary-Alice.” Fortune popped an entire brownie into her mouth and made a quick exit.