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BOON AND MARY-ALICE speculated excitedly on the drive back to Sinful. If the man was telling the truth, Celia had visited Lafitte. And she had been well enough to hurl verbal abuse at a stranger, and then kick him. Had he fought back?
But surely the spectacle of Celia Arceneaux brawling with a homeless man would have attracted some attention, Boon pointed out, and Miss Viola at the Dixie Diner would have recalled it. Someone like Miss Viola would certainly be at the hub of Lafitte gossip.
“Now Boon,” Mary-Alice countered, “she may well have heard of such a thing, but if she didn’t see Celia with her own eyes, why, she’d never put the two together.”
“Well now you have a point there, Mary-Alice,” he conceded. “If Celia got her injuries from fighting with that man, I believe we’ve solved the mystery.”
“Goodness gracious, I hope we’re wrong,” Mary-Alice exclaimed.
“You hope we’re wrong?” Boon seemed incredulous. “But we just spent the entire afternoon figuring out what happened to Celia.”
“I mean to say, I’ve no illusions about Celia. She certainly isn’t perfect. But such a spectacle...I don’t like to think of it, Boon.”
“I imagine Ida Belle and Gertie won’t have a problem with it,” Boon chuckled as he pulled up in front of the Baptist church. “Well, here’s your car, Mary-Alice. We’ll take a rain check on dinner tonight so you can report back to headquarters.”
Boon got out and walked around the truck to help Mary-Alice down. Boon was not merely being chivalrous. The truck’s cab was high enough that the petite Mary-Alice probably couldn’t have dismounted safely without assistance.
Mary-Alice drove the short distance back to her house with a song in her heart. Her misgivings about putting Celia in a bad light were fading as she imagined telling Fortune, Ida Belle, and Gertie how she and Boon had solved the mystery. But as Mary-Alice turned down her driveway, she realized something was wrong. Who were all of those people milling around the house? What were all of these cars doing here? And was that a news van? Just as Mary-Alice realized what was going on, she was spotted. Someone yelled, “That’s her!” and the reporters rushed up the driveway toward Mary-Alice’s car. She threw the Oldsmobile into reverse and backed all the way out with the pedal to the floor, outdistancing the reporters. At the top of the driveway she shifted gears and sped the short distance to the sheriff’s station. She parked behind the building and ran inside.
Mary-Alice vaguely recognized the young woman behind the desk.
“Can I help you, Miss Mary-Alice?” The young woman asked.
“Well, I certainly hope so, darlin’,” Mary-Alice panted. “There is a mob down at the Old Cooper Place, and they seem quite intent on running me to ground. I find it quite distressing, to be honest.”
The young woman nodded and pressed a button on her headset. Moments later, Deputy Sheriff Carter LeBlanc emerged from the back, hatless and drinking coffee from a Styrofoam cup.
Mary-Alice explained the situation to an increasingly dismayed Carter. He ducked back into the hallway and emerged seconds later sans coffee, wearing his campaign hat.
Mary-Alice was ready to walk with Carter the short distance back to her house, but Carter said,
“I’ll drive you home, Miss Mary-Alice. You’ll be safe inside the truck.”
The sight of the Sheriff’s truck making its slow way down Mary-Alice’s curving driveway did not deter the crowd. They surged to the sides of the truck shouting questions.
Mary-Alice looked out the window at the eager faces. Most of them were brandishing cell phones, rather than proper cameras or microphones, and she didn’t see anyone she recognized from television.
“I’m sorry this is happening to you,” Carter said once they were safely inside Mary-Alice’s garage. For now, try to wait it out and don’t respond. And whatever you do, please don’t get Gertie and Ida Belle involved. I don’t need them to come over and start blowing things up with dynamite or whatever. That turned out to be a good idea to enclose the carport. Although I’m certain you never anticipated anything like this happening.”
“To be perfectly honest,” Mary-Alice confessed as Carter helped her down from the passenger side of his monstrous truck, “the credit should go to Ida Belle. Enclosing the carport was mostly her idea.”
“Hm. Probably planning to make moonshine in here.”
Mary-Alice said nothing, as Carter had guessed correctly.
As Carter climbed back into his truck, Mary-Alice briefly considered telling him that she and Boon had found Celia’s attacker down in Lafitte. But something stopped her. She still had some unanswered questions, and didn’t want to share a theory that might be half-baked.
Once Carter had disappeared up the driveway and Mary-Alice was certain all of her shades were closed, she picked up the phone and dialed Gertie’s number.
But before she could tell Gertie what she’d found out, Gertie surprised Mary-Alice with some news of her own.