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DR. STEWART RELEASED Deputy Sheriff Carter LeBlanc from the hospital Monday morning. He agreed to join Fortune and her friends at Francine’s for a celebratory breakfast.
“So we’re good?” Fortune asked sweetly. “No warnings about messing with police business? Or lectures about not listening to the warnings? Not even a little interrogation?”
Carter smiled and dug in to his breakfast. He’d ordered Francine’s Seven Deadly Sins: Eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits, gravy, fried potatoes, and pancakes. It was a welcome change from the doll-sized meals he’d been getting at the hospital.
“I’m off duty. In any case, I believe I’ve done enough lecturing for the time being. My apologies, Miss Mary-Alice.” He nodded in her direction.
“Not at all, Deputy,” she replied brightly. “I’m just glad you caught the murderer.”
“I’m not sure ‘caught’ is the right word,” Carter said. “We found him hogtied on the front doorstep of the sheriff’s station. Kind of a mystery in itself.”
“Oh well, I guess we’ll never know exactly what happened. That’s how it goes, I guess.” Ida Belle signaled the waitress. “Anyone besides me need more coffee?”
“Oh, I think we’re starting to piece it together,” Carter said.
“You are?” Gertie looked up.
“We had reports of a black, souped-up SUV chasing a white Buick Regal through the back roads of the bayous.” Ida Belle concentrated on drinking her coffee as Carter continued. “We also had a call from a convenience-store owner, who reported a black SUV pulling up behind a white sedan in his parking lot. He reported that two old ladies and a tall skinny boy in a baseball cap came out of the SUV, opened the back door of the sedan, and hauled something out of the back seat that looked like a body.”
“Oh, that was just Harriet—” Mary-Alice began, and then clapped her hand over her mouth.
“Then he said the ‘boy’ got into the back seat of the sedan,” Carter went on. “The caller thought it looked suspicious, so he wrote down the license plates of both vehicles. Turned out the sedan had been stolen from the parking lot of West Calcasieu Cameron Hospital. And the SUV...” Carter paused. “Well, I haven’t gotten around to looking it up yet. But from what Harriet tells me—”
“We found Harriet by the side of the road and rescued her,” Ida Belle insisted. “If she tries to tell you any different, remember, she’s on painkillers for her broken leg.”
“Whatever the details,” Carter said evenly, “I believe you saved her life. That’s all I need to know.”
“Well now, maybe you don’t need to know any more,” Gertie objected, “but I believe I’d like to find out a little bit more. What about Mr. Florentin Menard’s vehicle being seen behind Harriet’s place?”
“Menard went to call on Harriet just after she’d gone,” Carter said. “When he found she wasn’t there, he left. That’s all there was to that. It’s too bad. I could tell there was some real affection between Menard and Harriet. But he’s a criminal. Harriet deserves better.”
“So how did Deale end up shot with a pajama top tied around him?” Fortune asked.
“I’m not sure I should give out details on an ongoing—”
“How about this?” Ida Belle interrupted. “We’ll tell you, and you can blink twice if we get something wrong.”
Before Carter could object, Ida Belle plowed on. “We think it happened like this. When Harriet Hamilton rejected Deale’s advances, Deale’s pride was hurt, and he wanted revenge. He convinced his handyman, Adam Sampson, to plant stolen locks in Harriet’s shop. The plan was to frame Harriet for theft, or fraud, or something. That would give Deale an excuse to evict her and ruin her business. But thanks to Harriet’s helpful friends—” here Carter suppressed a smile as he listened— “that particular plan failed. Adam Sampson was chased off.”
“That was fun,” Gertie said. “But that wasn’t the end of it. Sampson didn’t want to disappoint Deale, so he came back later that night to Harriet’s apartment. Are we missing anything so far?”
Carter relented.
“Sampson let himself into the shop first and dusted a synthetic opioid on the light switch. He knew that the first person who touched that switch could experience behavior changes, nausea, loss of consciousness, etcetera. I believe the idea was to get her to act erratically. Unfortunately, I was the one who got the dose, because Harriet had already left town and locked up.”
“That’s what put you in the hospital?” Fortune exclaimed.
Carter nodded.
“And then what?” Mary-Alice asked, rapt.
“After that, Sampson proceeded to Harriet’s apartment. He had a gun with him, one he’d found behind a potted plant in Deale’s office.”
“My gun,” Gertie interjected.
“Told you something bad was gonna happen if you didn’t replace that old bag,” Ida Belle interjected.
“There’s one old bag I’d like to replace,” Gertie shot back.
“I’m listening,” Fortune told Carter pointedly.
“Sampson was about to make another try at planting ‘evidence’, this time in Harriet’s bedroom. He heard someone come in, panicked, and fired.”
“Who was it?” Mary-Alice asked.
“It was Deale. He’d have a key, of course.”
“What was he planning to do?” Fortune asked.
Carter shrugged. “Whatever his plan was, it died with him.”
“So Adam Sampson shot Deale by accident,” Gertie said.
“When he realized what he’d done, Sampson tried to save Deale,” Carter replied. “He grabbed the closest thing he could find to stop the bleeding. Turned out it was one of Harriet’s pajama tops. He got Deale as far as downstairs, intending to drive him to the hospital. But by then it was obvious Deale was already dead. Sampson panicked and left the dead man in front of Harriet’s shop. Deale had lost one of his shoes when he was shot. That’s how he came to be found wrapped in a pajama top and wearing one shoe.”
“I can’t believe Adam Sampson blamed Harriet for the fact he was such a bad shot.” Ida Belle exclaimed.
“Well, Harriet’s safe,” Carter replied. “Where Sampson’s going, he won’t be able to get to Harriet or anyone else for a long, long time.”
“What about the bookkeeper?” Fortune asked.
“Arson, reckless endangerment, obstruction—he’ll be out of circulation for a while too.”
“Well now, what about Adam Sampson’s poor mama?” Mary-Alice asked.
“What about her?” Carter replied warily.
“We already figured it out,” Gertie assured him. “Regina Strathairn, the receptionist, is Sampson’s mama. Right?”
“So we figured Buford Fontleroy Deale must’ve been his daddy,” Ida Belle added. “There’s no other explanation for Deale taking such an interest in the boy.”
Carter nodded reluctantly.
“Right. Deale had married well and hoped to make his way in society. Impregnating his receptionist would’ve gotten in the way of his ambitions. Regina didn’t need the scarlet letter either. So Deale gave Regina, and later, Adam, guaranteed employment and a good paycheck. In exchange, Regina kept her mouth shut.”
“Deale’s married?” Gertie exclaimed.
“Was married,” Carter said. “Divorced now. And Regina was married briefly, which is why she has a different last name from her son.”
“Does Adam Sampson know Deale was his biological father?” Ida Belle asked. Carter shook his head.
“She’s managed to keep it quiet. She’ll tell him when she’s ready. She’s got enough to deal with right now.”
“Oh, the poor thing,” Mary-Alice exclaimed. “With her son going to prison, and her having to go find herself another job.”
“She’ll be okay,” Carter replied as he resumed attacking his breakfast plate. “Deale didn’t leave a will. So by law his business would go to his only child, Adam Sampson. But with Sampson’s incarceration—”
“Miss Regina inherits the company?” Gertie interrupted.
Carter nodded. “Harriet has a new landlord. Excuse me, landlady. And McIlvaney and Pine had good insurance, so they’re already rebuilding. Things will be back to normal before we know it.”
“Normal,” Fortune mused. “You really think so?”
“Nope.” Carter stood, pulled out his wallet, and counted out bills until there was enough to cover everyone’s breakfast plus a generous tip. “Not for a second. But a guy can dream. I’m going back to work now. Thanks for the company. If you find any dead bodies between now and lunchtime, you know where to find me.”