| |
MARY-ALICE AND BOON met at Mass the next morning. They took their usual seats, side-by-side in the back pew. Mary-Alice fanned herself with the program, while Boone endured the heat with manly stoicism. Mary-Alice’s cousin, Mayor Celia Arceneaux, sat up front with her friends. As soon as Mass was over, Celia and her crew jumped to their feet. They were out the door before Father Michael had finished saying “Amen.”
“Do you want to catch up, Miss Mary-Alice?” Boon asked.
“I've decided to be a conscientious objector in the Banana Pudding War.” Mary-Alice smiled at Boon. “But I wouldn't mind walking down to Francine's for a glass of tea.”
The Banana Pudding War was how the locals described the after-church race to Francine's diner. The warring factions were the Catholics and the Baptists (whose church was across the road). The plunder was Francine's limited supply of banana pudding. Celia Arceneaux led the Catholic faction; Fortune, Gertie, and Ida Belle were with the Baptists.
Mary-Alice’s divided loyalties made it awkward to choose a side. And as divine as Francine’s banana pudding was, Mary-Alice never enjoyed winning if it meant someone else had to lose. (In this way she was the opposite of her cousin Celia, who relished making other people miserable even when doing so made her own life no better.)
“Celia and them are only a little way ahead of us yet,” Mary-Alice observed as she and Boon started down the road. After the closeness of the church, even the sluggish breeze felt refreshing. “But I don’t see the Baptists anywhere.”
“Ever since the Baptists got Marge Boudreaux’s niece, they’ve been unbeatable. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Baptists were already down at Francine’s Diner, enjoying their banana pudding.”
“But Celia’s team hasn’t given up,” Mary-Alice said.
“Nope. And they get madder every time they lose. Peculiar way to spend the Sabbath, if you ask me.”
The peaceful morning was pierced by profane yelling. Mary-Alice stopped and placed a hand on Boon’s arm.
“Boon, that sounds like Ida Belle.”
They turned back to see a knot of people at the front door of the Baptist church. Deputy Breaux was depositing a white-haired woman into the back of a sheriff’s car. “It is Miss Ida Belle,” Boon said. “Why would Deputy Breaux be arresting her?”
“Well, I cannot imagine. There must be some mistake.”
They rushed back to the Baptist church and got there just as the sheriff’s car pulled away. Gertie stood at the edge of the road, staring at the departing vehicle.
“Mary-Alice!” Gertie exclaimed. “Did you see what just happened? Deputy Breaux arrested Ida Belle!”
“We saw the whole thing,” Mary-Alice gasped, winded from sprinting across the road. “Didn’t we, Boon?”
“I surely would not have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”
“This is Celia’s doing,” Gertie fumed.
“Now I know Mayor Celia isn’t Miss Ida Belle’s biggest fan,” Boon said, “but this is still America. You can’t be locking people up just because they stole your high school sweetheart and ate your banana pudding.”
“Ida Belle stole Celia’s high school sweetheart?” Mary-Alice asked.
“Now, Boon, I believe you are confused. He wasn’t Celia’s high school sweetheart. What happened was Celia...oh, it’s not important right now. What’s important is that Ida Belle has just been arrested for murder.”
“But how?” Mary-Alice asked. “The body was missing!”
“Body?” Boon exclaimed. “What body might that be?”
“No, no, Boon, darlin’, she said the body was missing,” Gertie reassured him. “That means there wasn’t a body. Now if you don’t mind, we’d like to borrow Miss Mary-Alice.”
Boon took in the women’s worried expressions.
“It appears your friends need you, Miss Mary-Alice.”
“I’m ever so sorry, Boon,” Mary-Alice said. “Maybe some other time?”
“I understand. I’ll be seeing you bright and early tomorrow, in any case. Is there anything that I can do to help y’all in the meantime?”
“Yes, there is,” Gertie said. “You head straight down to Francine’s and snatch Celia’s banana pudding, and then give her a good kick in the shins.”
“Sure thing, Miss Gertie.” Boon laughed and planted a kiss on Mary-Alice’s powdered cheek, and ambled off.
“Are we going to the sheriff’s station?” Mary-Alice asked. “It looked like that’s where Deputy Breaux was headed with Ida Belle.”
Fortune ran up, out of breath.
“Don’t tell me you’ve already run down to the sheriff’s station and back,” Gertie exclaimed.
Fortune shrugged.
“It’s not that far. Anyway, it’ll take a while to process Ida Belle and set bail. In the meantime, we need to figure out how to pay bail. Come on, let’s—”
“I can’t believe Celia and her henchwomen are down there eating our banana pudding,” Gertie grumbled.
“They haven’t gotten there yet if that makes it any better,” Fortune said. “Gertie, let them have the banana pudding this time. We have more important things to worry about right now.”
Gertie’s shoulders slumped. “They don’t deserve it.”
“Gertie, for heaven’s sakes,” Mary-Alice exclaimed, “would you really enjoy eating that banana pudding knowing Ida Belle was in jail and couldn’t have any herself?”
“I suppose not,” Gertie admitted. “Fine. See y’all over at Fortune’s place.”
Mary-Alice pulled up to Fortune’s house only to find Deputy Sheriff Carter LeBlanc’s gigantic truck parked outside. And it was Carter LeBlanc himself who opened the door when she rang. Mary-Alice felt a surge of anxiety. Had she obstructed the course of justice when she helped Ida Belle tidy up her garage? Would she be the next one to get hauled off to jail?
Fortune joined Carter at the door, shot him a death glare, and then turned to Mary-Alice.
“Mary-Alice, Deputy Sheriff LeBlanc has decided to pay us a call. Please come in and join us. I have sweet tea and shortbread cookies on the kitchen table. It’s the purest coincidence, I’m sure, that this is all happening on Sunday, right after Ida Belle’s unconstitutional arrest and detainment.”
“Why Sunday?” Mary-Alice asked as she followed Fortune and Carter back to the kitchen.
“Deputy LeBlanc has contrived to take advantage of a poor old woman and her harmless foibles,” Fortune replied, to Carter rather than to Mary-Alice. “He knows about Gertie’s no-lying-on-Sunday rule.
“By the way, Fortune, darling,” Mary-Alice whispered, “it’s just tea.”
“Sorry?”
“We don’t call it sweet tea. We simply call it tea. Just as you wouldn’t call it ‘sweet Coke.’ It’s already sweet.”
Carter turned back.
“Are you ladies coming?”
“Right behind you,” Fortune said. “So Mary-Alice, what do you ask for when you want unsweetened tea?”
Mary-Alice had no idea how to answer that. Fortune may as well have asked what to say when you want someone to drop scorpions into your tea and then pour it in your lap.
They entered the kitchen to find Gertie seated at the table, her face set in a scowl.
“Gertie, is it true?” Mary-Alice asked. “Do you really have a no-lying-on-Sunday rule?”
Gertie nodded, her eyes fixed on her folded hands.
Mary-Alice did not have any such rule, for she believed lying was always wrong. There were times, of course, when one had to manage the facts to put someone’s mind at ease, but that was different. Like when Beulah Monroe got that perm. Or when the police came by asking all those questions right after Joe died.
“Ladies,” Carter said. “I just want to get to the bottom of this, as I’m sure you all y’all do.”
“The bottom of what?” Fortune asked. “There was no crime committed.”
“Well, now, I'm not so sure about that.” Carter pulled out a chair and sat down without being invited. Mary-Alice sat down too, but Fortune continued to pace. “Victorin Lowery’s mama’s reported him missing.”
Everyone was quiet for a moment.
Carter wiped his hand across his forehead.
“What I do know is, an intruder shot Ida Belle. Someone called in and reported it. But by the time Deputy Breaux got to it, somebody’d already messed with the scene. Miss Ida Belle herself told Deputy Breaux that she shot Victorin Lowery.”
“Blabbermouth,” Gertie muttered.
“If we were trying to cover something up, why would we call it in in the first place?” Fortune demanded.
“A man is missing, Fortune. He's either in danger or he's already dead. Ida Belle won't tell us where he is. That’s why she's being held without bail.”
“No bail?” Mary-Alice exclaimed. She had already been trying to calculate how much equity she could shake loose from the old Cooper Place.
Fortune burst out with a few words that Mary-Alice would never have guessed were in the vocabulary of a children’s librarian.
Celia’s behind this, isn’t she?” Gertie said, forgetting about her temporary vow of silence.
Carter looked pained.
“The mayor—”
“Who is not supposed to interfere with the activities of law enforcement,” Fortune interrupted.
“Who also happens to be my boss’s boss,” Carter retorted, “is understandably concerned when someone in Sinful confesses to shooting someone dead, and then that someone turns up missing.”
“What about the girlfriend?” Fortune asked. “What was her name? Gertie, you were her teacher.”
“Leonie Blanchard,” Gertie muttered, still trying to say as few words as possible.
“That’s right, they were fighting,” Mary-Alice said. “That’s what Deputy Breaux told us.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Carter said. “According to witnesses, she threatened his life.”
“And?” Fortune prodded.
“Leonie spent that night and a lot of the next day in the drunk tank,” Carter said. “She wasn’t released until well after you called in the incident. Unless she can turn invisible and walk through walls, she’s got a pretty good alibi.”
“Mister Lowery was a large man,” Mary-Alice said. “I saw him in Francine's Diner yesterday morning. Ida Belle may be in good health, but I don’t believe she’d be able to move a body that size.”
“You’re right, Miss Mary-Alice. Lowery’s six and a half foot, and probably closer to three hundred than two hundred pounds.” Carter cast an appraising look at Fortune. “It would take at least two people to move him. And at least one of them would have to be pretty strong.”
“Hey, I’ll admit I'm in good shape,” Fortune retorted, “but I'm not a superhero. You think I disposed of a three-hundred-pound corpse and magically got rid of all the bloodstains too?”
“What do you know about bloodstains?” Carter asked.
“I know there weren’t any,” Fortune replied. “How do you explain that?”
“Now, Fortune,” Carter said, “I don't like the situation any more than you do. I’m trying to help here. But Ida Belle won’t tell us where Lowery is. If you have any information at all—”
“Oh, well now that you’ve asked nicely,” Fortune said bitterly, “He’s right over there, tied up in my pantry. Come on, Carter, don’t you think we’d have already told you if we knew anything that could help Ida Belle?”
Carter stood up. “Something's not adding up here, and I want to get to the bottom of it. If you see or hear anything that could possibly be helpful, I expect y’all to let me know. Right away. And—I shouldn’t even have to say this—please do not try to investigate this yourselves.”
“We hear you loud and clear,” Fortune folded her arms. “You know your way out, Deputy.”
Carter nodded and left.
As soon as Carter had closed the door behind him, the tension in the room eased.
“Well,” Gertie said, no longer on her guard, “I guess there's nothing to do now but stay put and let the authorities handle it.”
To Mary-Alice’s puzzlement, Gertie and Fortune burst out laughing.
“Now, Mary-Alice, don't go looking so shocked,” Gertie said as she wiped her eyes. “You know the Sinful Ladies' Society does more than sell cough syrup at the fair. We work behind the scenes to make sure justice is done in this town. Been doing it for the past fifty years.”
Mary-Alice nodded. “And I intend to help.”
“Good, we're all on the same page.” Fortune picked up a pen and drew a firm line on the pad in front of her. “We can cross off Item One for now. Raise bail money. Replace it with Find Victorin Lowery. Gertie, you think you can get any information out of the girlfriend?”
“Yes, ma’am, I can have a little talk with Miss Leonie.”
“But Deputy LeBlanc told us Miss Leonie was in jail all night,” Mary-Alice said.
“She still might know a little something,” Gertie said. “She might’ve even ordered a hit from jail. That’s how the Mafia guys do it.”
“Okay, Gertie,” Fortune said, “how about you go down to the Swamp Bar and see whether Leonie has a new boyfriend. If so, he’d be a suspect.”
“Certainly,” Gertie said. “Now, I might have to have a drink or two. Just so I blend in and get people to trust me and all, you understand. So Fortune, you’ll have to be the designated driver.”
“Not me. I’m not going to the Swamp Bar.”
“I’m sure no one remembers the wet t-shirt contest,” Gertie chided.
“Everyone remembers the wet t-shirt contest,” Fortune shot back.
“What about me?” Mary-Alice asked. “What shall I do?”
Gertie and Fortune turned to look at her.
“Well, why shouldn’t I do something to help? I could come along if Fortune’s opposed to going.”
“You know,” Gertie said, “that’s not a bad idea. Fresh meat. What do you think, Fortune?”
“I don’t know. Mary-Alice, have you been to the Swamp Bar?”
“Well, not exactly. But I believe I've heard of it.”
What Mary-Alice had heard was that “decent women” didn't go there. But Mary-Alice was willing to brave the Swamp Bar to help Ida Belle. And her curiosity egged her on; she had never been anywhere disreputable.
“Sure,” Fortune said, finally. “You're just gathering information. How dangerous could it be?”
“We have our plan, then,” Gertie said. “Mary-Alice, stop by my house tonight around nine. We’ll get dressed and go from there.”
Nine? Mary-Alice was usually asleep by nine. But it was too late to back out now.