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“Fortune? Fortune?” Ida Belle’s voice held rising panic. “Where are you?”
I kept my eyes on a row of oak trees, nestled next to the house across the street. I remained quiet, not because I wanted to scare my senior friend, but because I knew Ida Belle.
She’d find me soon enough.
In fact, if any of Celia’s guests left the backyard, they’d surely see me. I was squatted next to Gertie’s car, using her rear tire for cover.
“What on earth are you doing?” Ida Belle said, walking toward me with that noticeable limp.
“Get down,” I snapped, keeping my focus on point. “Someone was here.”
“Here, as in the party, or here as in someone tried to steal Gertie’s car?” She scoffed. “To be fair, if they wanted her car, they could have it. The keys are in the ignition.”
I shot her a quick glance. “I think someone was casing out the place.”
“Think about that for a second. Who would want to care out Celia’s house?”
“Someone,” I said. “But I didn’t get a good view of them.”
“Height or hair color?”
“No.” I grimaced, knowing my next statement would leave me looking paranoid. “I didn’t see anyone. It was only a strange feeling. When I looked up, I saw leaves and flowers swaying as if someone had brushed up against them in passing.”
“Could be nothing,” Ida Belle said.
“Then why is Carter here?” I asked, not buying his excuse of stopping by to keep the peace between Ida Belle and Celia.
“You never know about that boy,” Ida Belle said. “His uncle was always a little strange when it came to keeping tabs on me.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with me.” I’d seen Carter in action. When it came to watching out for Sinful’s residents, he was there. Sometimes, he looked out of place, but his gut rarely led him astray. “There’s a threat.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I just don’t know what.”
“Did someone say there’s a threat?” Gertie talked as she joined us. “Let me guess. Celia poisoned the green beans?”
“If that were the case, would we be hunkered down next to your car?” Ida Belle asked.
Gertie fell in behind Ida Belle and peered around to look at me. “What do we know?”
I glanced back at my senior friends. Ida Belle and Gertie were covert operatives and wartime veterans. They were ready for anything on a moment’s notice.
“The two widest oaks,” I whispered slowly removing a palm pistol from my ankle boots.
About that time, a tall man emerged. His lazy gait suggested he knew where he was headed, but not in a particular hurry to get there.
“Great,” Gertie said, keeping her voice low. “Just what we need.”
“Do you know him?” I asked, holding the small gun at my hip.
“I don’t have to know him to know his type,” she fired back.
Five-foot-eleven, dark natural tan, sun-bleached vanilla blonde hair. Walks with a cocksure attitude in spite of his slower gait. He assumes women of all ages swoon with one hint of a smile.
A slow grin formed on his full lips.
I don’t swoon, buddy.
As soon as he spotted us, he tossed his head back in an attempt to keep his hair out of those electric-blue eyes.
“Good heavens,” Gertie said, fanning her face. “If he’s new in town, I’ll offer guided bayou tours.”
“I’ll handle this,” Ida Belle said, quickly rising to her feet. “Are you lost?”
“Got to hand it to her,” Gertie whispered. “She goes out of her way to make someone feel welcome.”
“I’m looking for someone who lives here,” he said, peering around Ida Belle.
“You’re looking for Celia?” Gertie scrambled to stand, but tripped.
He attempted to brace the fall which only made matters worse. He lunged forward while Gertie pulled back. He leaned with her weight, trying to keep her from collapsing, but down they went. She landed on top of him with a thud.
Ida Belle and I stared down at them. Until we could make sure she was okay, we held in any laughter, but that slow-motion fall was straight out of the movies.
Once Gertie started stammering around, I fought to contain my laughter while helping Ida Belle pull Gertie to her feet.
She blushed as if she were fourteen and waiting for her first game of spin-the-bottle. Of course that only made things that much worse. The twenty-something year old surfer-type went from amused and gracious to cocky and standoffish.
“Ladies, I need to speak with the homeowner.” He directed his conversation to me. “It’s kind of important.”
“She’s throwing a party for the neighborhood. Are you new in town? We’d love to introduce you to everyone.” Gertie batted her eyelashes. “We know people.”
I groaned at her mob-style remarks.
“I’m okay on the introductions.” Hair-flip. “Just need to see the owner.” Hair-flip.
“I’m so sorry about that fall,” Gertie said, rambling. “But you definitely provided a hard place to land.”
“Straighten up,” Ida Belle said underneath her breath.
“I meant his arms and stomach. Like landing on metal.”
“Which is anything but a soft landing, mam,” he said. “I need to see Mrs. Arceneaux.”
“And you are?”
“Landry Winfield. I’m friends with Pansy. We go way back. Celia’s her mother?”
Ida Belle, Gertie, and I stood shoulder to shoulder. Before I could determine how to answer, Ida Belle said, “Landry? Well, of course you are. Pansy’s told us so much about you.”
“Go with it,” Gertie whispered, apparently catching my dismayed look.
“So you’re from California?” Ida Belle asked.
“Santa Monica. I’ve lived all over though. Pansy and I met on location.”
“What location?” Gertie asked, lifting a brow.
“Oh, uh, I mean, we were filming on location in San Francisco.”
“Interesting,” I said, just to be part of the conversation.
Ida Belle looked at me and rolled her eyes.
“Was Celia expecting you?” Gertie asked, studying her fingernails.
“I don’t think so,” he said.
“How about Pansy?” Ida Belle dropped her voice. “Was she expecting you?”
“That’s just it. I haven’t seen her in a while.” He looked too jittery. “I’ve been worried about her.”
“She must’ve owed you money,” Ida Belle said pointedly.
“Well, I’d feel more comfortable taking it up with her.”
“I bet you would.” Ida Belle stepped into the man’s personal space and he grew more anxious. She didn’t budge. “When’s the last time you spoke with her?”
“Couldn’t say for sure, but probably a couple of weeks ago,” he said.
“Hmm, how about that,” Gertie said, baffled. “He spoke to Pansy a couple of weeks ago.”
“That’s what I said.” He frowned. “What am I missing here, ladies?”
Gertie sighed. “For starters, you couldn’t have spoken to her a few weeks ago.”
“What she said.” I jabbed my finger in her direction, just to be part of the conversation. I was getting a little anxious because Ida Belle and Gertie wanted to drill the guy and he only directed his conversation and answers to me.
“It may have been longer than a couple of weeks,” he said. “I’ve been out of the country.”
“Malibu?” Gertie asked.
“That’s California,” Ida Belle said.
“Depends on who you ask,” she whispered. “There’s a Malibu Village overseas. I read about it once.”
Ida Belle elbowed her and she stopped chattering. “Tell you what we’ll do for you, Landry. Why don’t you come around back and let me introduce you to Celia, Pansy’s mom. Maybe she can better direct you so you can find Pansy.”
“Thank you. That would be lovely.”
“This way,” I said, pointing to the shrubs at the side of Celia’s house.
That’s when it hit me. My friends might have had a lifelong dispute with Celia, but they weren’t cruel. They were about to act on her behalf.
Ready for anything, I took the last right to head for the backyard. That’s when everything happened quicker than I’d anticipated.
Gertie tripped him. Ida Belle pivoted and stepped on his chest. And surfer boy looked up with a very different expression.
“What are you doing here?” Ida Belle asked.
“I told you. I’m here to see Pansy.”
“She’s dead,” Ida Belle said. “And her mother is holding an Easter picnic.”
“Go find Carter,” Gertie whispered.
Without awaiting further instructions, I headed for the crowd now gathering around the dessert table. Behind me, I heard Ida Belle say, “Look, you blond-haired buffoon, Celia isn’t my favorite person, but her daughter was her only joy. I don’t know who called you and told you they were Pansy, but unless you got a call from another world, you’re lying. I want to know why.”
“She had something that belongs to me.”
I stopped. Intrigued, I strained to hear the rest of the story.
“Oh yeah? What?” Ida Belle sounded bored.
“My son.”