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MARY-ALICE’S PHONE started ringing as soon as she exited the sheriff’s station.
“Walk over to your house,” Ida Belle’s voice commanded.
“Why Ida Belle, the deputy sheriff told me you bailed me out. I hardly know what to say—”
“Don’t dawdle,” Ida Belle interrupted. “We’re out back.”
Mary-Alice found Fortune, Ida Belle, and Gertie out on her back porch, just as Ida Belle had said. The broad bayou sparkled in the early-morning light, and the temperature was still cool. The low outdoor table held a platter of brownies, as well as pitchers of hot coffee and cold sweet tea. But the women were not enjoying a leisurely breakfast on the water. Ida Belle and Fortune were peering at the screen of an open laptop, and Gertie was tapping on her phone.
“Well here’s our jailbird now,” Gertie exclaimed cheerfully. “Have a brownie. I made ‘em myself. What’s in the bag?”
Now that Mary-Alice was home, she wanted nothing more than a shower and a nap in her own comfortable bed. But everyone had come out to welcome her, to say nothing of the fact that they’d paid her bail as well. She pulled up a wicker chair and helped herself to a brownie and a glass of tea.
“They’re books,” Mary-Alice said. “Celia’s roommate at the hospital, Wanda, heard I was in jail and came by to lend them to me. It was awfully thoughtful of her to go out of her way—”
“Let’s see ‘em.” Ida Belle had a gloved hand out. Mary-Alice hesitantly handed her the bag.
Fortune wrote on a slip of paper and held it up.
WHOEVER GAVE THESE TO YOU MIGHT BE WORKING WITH CELIA.
Fortune then wrote another line.
BOOKS MIGHT HAVE LISTENING DEVICES.
Mary-Alice nodded to show she understood. She watched as Ida Belle cracked each of the books and pressed the pages flat, scraping the glue between the pages with something that looked like a steel letter-opener. In addition to Tassels: A Stripper Romance, Wanda had brought three volumes that seemed to be from the same series: Drilled! Pumped! And Fracked! Each featured a shirtless man posed in front of machinery, his face hidden by a hard hat.
“Yeah, looks clean,” Ida Belle announced finally.
“Not the word I’d choose,” Gertie remarked.
Ida Belle stacked the books neatly and pushed them to the side.
“We still have no leads at all,” she said. “That witness in Lafitte was a total bust. Not your fault, Mary-Alice. It was worth following up.”
“Did you find out anything while you were in jail?” Gertie asked.
Mary-Alice told them what she’d learned from Wanda: Miss Cookie was not only the person who had found Celia and called for the sheriff, but she might have been the cause of at least some of Celia’s injuries.
“That’s good to know,” Fortune said. “So Celia wasn’t that badly hurt before she ran into Miss Cookie. She was walking just fine until Miss Cookie tripped her.”
“But we still don’t know why she looked all banged-up in the first place,” Ida Belle reminded them. “Or where she was before she ran into Miss Cookie. Or where she was headed, for that matter.”
“Who would want to beat Celia up?” Fortune mused. “Besides all of us, of course?”
“Oh my goodness, Miss Fortune,” Mary-Alice exclaimed, “I hope you don’t believe that I want to beat Celia up! Celia’s falsely accusing me is wrong, of course, but violence is most certainly the answer.”
“Sometimes it is,” Fortune replied. “Depending on what the question was.”
A speedboat tore past, ripping a zipper-shaped wake on the bayou and quieting the conversation for a moment.
“I’m trying to count up everyone I can think of who Celia’s ever dissed, dismissed, or double-crossed,” Gertie said. “I probably don’t know the half of it. Like the story you told us, Mary-Alice, about Celia ruining your husband’s sister’s wedding photos.”
“Poor Jolene,” Mary-Alice sighed. “We all felt terrible for her.”
Fortune perked up.
“Mary-Alice, how long has it been since you’ve seen Jolene?”
“Oh, it’s been years,” Mary-Alice said.
“Would you recognize her if you saw her today?”
“Why, certainly.”
“Are you sure?” Fortune persisted. “Any chance this woman who was sharing Celia’s hospital room is really Jolene? Maybe she’s the one who beat Celia up, and then she followed Celia to the hospital, but didn’t have an opportunity to attack her again.”
“I like it!” Gertie exclaimed. Ida Belle watched Mary-Alice expectantly.
Mary-Alice shook her head.
“I only just met Miss Wanda in Celia’s hospital room. Fortune, that’s a good idea you came up with, but the two don’t look alike at all.”
Fortune stood and began pacing.
“Celia’s email was a complete bust,” she said. “We have that one email indicating that she was planning to be out of town by Friday, but we don’t know where she was going or what she was doing.”
“What we really want is her phone,” Ida Belle said. “We could see her text messages and her phone calls. What do you think, Gertie? Gertie?”
Gertie started and dropped the copy of Tassels: A Stripper Romance.
“Sure,” she said. “Whatever you say, Ida Belle.”
“Gertie, what on earth has got you so distracted?” Ida Belle picked up the book, examined it briefly, and put it back down again. “If you would kindly get your mind off male strippers for just a moment, Gertie, maybe we could—”
“Male strippers!” Fortune stopped in mid-pace. “That’s how we can get Celia’s phone!”
The three other women paused to stare at her.
“Celia’s in the hospital, right?”
The women nodded.
“So. Instead of a get-well card or a fruit basket, we send her a get-well strip-a-gram. That’s a real thing, right?”
“It sure is,” Gertie exclaimed. “We hired a pair for Beatrice’s birthday. Fortune, this was before you came to Sinful, otherwise we would’ve invited you.”
“Understood. No hard feelings,” Fortune assured Gertie.
“Remember, Ida Belle? K-9 and Hercules. Such nice young men.”
“What Gertie’s not telling you is that ‘Hercules’ recognized her,” Ida Belle said. “Because she had been his third-grade teacher.”
“Now Ida Belle, I’d managed to forget about that part.”
“Not me,” Ida Belle said. “Remember when he thanked you for making it rain, because he had the two kids to support, and was having trouble to adjusting to civilian life and holding down a regular job?”
“Well now it’s coming back to me, Ida Belle,” Gertie retorted. “I helped a man who had served his country to support his family. Sue me.”
“If you don’t mind,” Fortune interrupted, “We need to get access to Celia’s phone, and I think we have a way to do it. Gertie, do you still have the contact information for whoever set up this performance?”