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LOUANNE’S VOICE CALLED out from the women’s cell around the corner. “Present and accounted for.”
The three sped past the men’s cells and turned the corner, rushing down the hall to the large cell where Louanne stretched out on a bunk reading a book.
“Aunt Louanne!” Marge leaned into the bars to the deluxe cell. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, though I could use a refill.” She held up a coffee cup as Walter unlocked the cell door.
“Be a doll and fill this up for me, would you please, Walter?”
“Sure, Miss Louanne.”
He scooted in and took the cup as the three women entered the cell.
“Anyone else want coffee?” Walter asked.
Gertie nodded. “I’ll have mine black with one sugar and a shot of hooch. And if you don’t have any on hand, just ask Sheriff Lee if he can go to his still, which is illegal by the way, and fill up a bottle.”
“I’ll skip the coffee and just take the hooch,” Marge said.
“Marge will have hers with cream,” Ida Belle said. “As for me—”
Walter smiled and cut her off. “One sugar and just a touch of cream. A gentle touch. A touch that teases but doesn’t try to overpower the coffee. Because it can’t. Because the coffee is strong, though once in a while even strong coffee fancies the right, gentle touch.”
Ida Belle felt a flush spreading on her face. The other three women stared at Walter, stunned looks on their faces.
“Holy cow,” Gertie said, coming out of her shock and holding back a snicker. “We can all leave if you two want some privacy.”
She looked at Marge and they broke out in laughter. Ida Belle cast her steely gaze at them, then turned to Walter. “Skip the coffee. I’ll have water.”
“But no ice,” Marge said to Gertie, a dreamy tone to her voice.
Gertie nodded, and replied breathily, “Room temperature, like the temperature of sweat as it glistens on Ida Belle’s skin.”
“All right already,” Ida Belle said to them, her face growing hotter. “I’m not thirsty. Would you leave, please?”
Walter stepped outside the cell door and locked it. “I’ll be right back.”
Louanne watched him walk away. “He is totally in love with you, Ida Belle. Reminds me a little of Brock Hendrix in this romance I’m reading. Whoever read it before me took the liberty of underlining all the sexy parts.” She put the book down and looked at Gertie, shaking her head. “I don’t have to guess what you were arrested for.”
“I rode Buck at the Swamp Bar.”
“Ahhh,” Louanne said. “Looks like you made out well.”
Gertie pulled the bills from her crop top and counted the money and smiled. “Fifty bucks! You know, if I did this five nights a week I could—”
“Lose your dignity,” Marge said.
Gertie lifted her brows. “Don’t look now, Marge, but your face looks like a gang of first graders attacked you with their crayons. I’d say your dignity is suffering a bit tonight as well.”
Marge wiped at her face. “Hard to clean off when you’re busy running from the law.”
“So what are you all in for?” Louanne asked.
Ida Belle plopped down on the bunk opposite Louanne’s. “Me for speeding on the water, Gertie for indecent exposure and Marge for clown impersonation.”
Marge sat down next to her aunt, concern washing over her smeared face. “You haven’t been arrested for murder, have you?”
Louanne reached out to tuck a wedge of Marge’s teased hair back into place. “No. I was in earlier today to give a statement and I cussed at Deputy Broussard. He arrested me for threatening an officer.”
“He has his nerve,” Gertie said. “You have to obey the law while he plays an illegal game of cards at the Swamp Bar.”
Louanne opened her purse and pulled out a tissue, spit on it, then tried to wipe the makeup off Marge’s face. “Oh, my,” she said, “spit proof. What were you all doing at the Swamp Bar?”
“Gathering intel,” Ida Belle said. “To try to prove it wasn’t you who killed Mr. Guillory because you refuse to let Gabby alibi you.”
Louanne shook her head. “You girls shouldn’t have gone out on a limb for me. The only so-called evidence they have is Buster Bussey said he saw someone who looked like me run from the house and drive away in a convertible. We all know how unreliable he is. My attorney will rip him to shreds.” She glanced at Gertie. “I assume your Granny Magoo hasn’t gone to the sheriff about the woman and the dog.”
Gertie shook her head. “Not until we can find evidence of the woman’s identity.”
“That’s why we went to the Swamp Bar,” Marge said. She filled her aunt in on all they’d learned the past couple of days, including the fact that Deputy Broussard was Bonnie’s new mystery man. Louanne’s face lit up at that.
“Do you think Broussard has a connection to Buster?”
Marge shrugged. “Maybe. I cozied up to Buster and found out a woman paid him to make up a story about what he saw that night, but now that woman wants him to call the sheriff and change his story.”
Louanne glanced at Marge’s jeans and T-shirt. “I hope you didn’t go looking like that.”
Marge shook her head. “No, I brought out the big guns. Pink skirt.”
Louanne smiled. “The pink skirt never lets a spy down. Do you know what Buster was asked to add to his statement?”
Marge shook her head. “Before I could get it out of him, he realized I wasn’t who he thought I was and clammed up.”
Louanne rubbed her chin. “So there’s definitely a woman involved.”
Gertie sat next to Ida Belle. “And a man. Remember, the guy with the baseball cap. My money’s on Bonnie and Broussard.”
“I take it you haven’t found that cap,” Louanne said.
“No,” Gertie said. “But get this, Dolly Harkins gave my Granny Magoo a baseball cap.”
Louanne shrugged. “Dolly is a junk collector. Eventually she gives it all away to whoever will take it. Could be a coincidence.”
“That Dolly’s peculiar,” Marge said. “If you ask me, she found it behind her property.”
“I’d mention it to Sheriff Lee, except my granny would have a conniption,” said Gertie.
Ida Belle threw her hands in the air. “Not that he’d check up on anything we tell him. Every time we tried to tell him about Broussard being in the bar and his connection to Bonnie, he stuck his fingers in his ears and hummed. He said if we spoke to him one more word about Bonnie Cotton, he was going to charge us with interference in a criminal matter.”
“I’m just wondering how Gill fits in to all this,” Gertie said.
“Gill?” Louanne asked.
Gertie filled her in on the underwear with Gill’s initials that Marge had discovered folded in Bonnie’s freshly laundered clothes pile.
Louanne’s brows lifted. “Hmm, that is interesting.”
Marge nodded.
“I’m betting Broussard helped Bonnie kill Guillory,” Ida Belle said. “Gill just seems too much of a marshmallow to kill someone.”
“Even marshmallows can be deadly if they’re driven by passion,” Gertie said.
“Marshmallows?” The man’s voice sounded ancient. They looked over and found Elder Sheriff Lee leaning against the wall outside their cell. “That’s what female prisoners talk about when they get together?”
Elder Sheriff Lee must have been in his 70s by now, Ida Belle figured, having retired as sheriff just after the three of them joined the Army. He was tall and lean and gray, eyes as well as hair. Before they’d left for Vietnam, they’d butted heads with Elder Sheriff more times than she could count. Unfortunately, it seemed his son, Sheriff Robert E. Lee, was aiming to be just as pigheaded, if not more so.
“No,” Ida Belle answered him. “When we get together in a jail cell, unjustly thrown in here I might add, we talk about what we discovered about the murder of Wade Guillory. We’d share this information with the current sheriff, your son, but he said he’d arrest us all over again if we opened our mouths.”
“Maybe that’s because you’re not supposed to be investigating something that doesn’t concern you,” Elder Sheriff said.
Louanne stood from her bunk. “Oh, come on, you ask for the public’s help all the time. Buster Bussey and a couple other witnesses have come forward to tell the sheriff what they saw that night. They’re not in jail.”
“Buster was paid to come forward with a story,” Marge said. “He admitted that to me tonight when he thought I was the woman who’d originally hired him.”
Elder Sheriff Lee’s brow raised as he considered this. “And what would Buster say if my son asked him about it?”
Marge rolled her eyes. “I expect he’d say he never said it.”
“Then it’s just your word against his,” Elder Sheriff Lee responded.
Gertie stormed up to the cell bars and pointed her finger at Elder Sheriff. “And I guess it would be my word against Deputy Broussard’s word if I told you that I saw him tonight in the poker room. Last I remembered, the law took a dim view of gambling.”
“Club room,” Elder Sheriff said. “It’s a club room.”
“It’s a poker room,” Gertie said. “And one of your son’s deputies was in it. The lead deputy on Guillory’s murder investigation. Yet, he would rather keep focused on Louanne Boudreaux for the crime rather than his girlfriend Bonnie Cotton, whose hair clip Marge found at the murder scene.”
“It was?”
Walter appeared behind Elder Sheriff, carrying a tray of coffee cups and a glass of water, as well as a vase and a single rose. Elder Sheriff rolled his eyes when he saw it.
“Boy, this ain’t some fancy hotel.”
“A happy prisoner is a cooperative prisoner,” Walter said.
“And a boy handing a lady a single rose in a vase is a prisoner of love,” he said, causing Walter to blush.
“Mrs. Lee brought a bunch of her roses in. I thought they would brighten the ladies’ evening.” Walter looked puzzled at Gertie. “What hair clip are you talking about? I had to catalogue all the crime-scene evidence. I don’t remember seeing anything belonging to Bonnie Cotton.”
Marge glanced at Gertie, then Ida Belle. “I didn’t exactly tell the sheriff I found it.”
“And why not?” Elder Sheriff asked.
Gertie leaned in between the bars, getting as close to Elder Sheriff’s face as she could. “Because Bonnie saw it in Marge’s hand and took it, that’s why. And then acted all nervous.”
Ida Belle stood from the bunk. “I was going to put it back where Marge found it. In retrospect maybe we should have told your son about it.”
“Maybe you should have,” Elder Sheriff said, reaching in his pocket and producing a key. He opened the cell door so Walter could enter with the beverages. As Walter passed by, Elder Sheriff glanced at the tray and lifted his brows. “Does that water have a lemon slice in it?”
Walter blushed again. “Mrs. Lee brought some lemons in from her tree. I thought it would be impolite not to use them.” He presented the glass of water and lemon slice to Ida Belle as the old man watched and shook his head.
Elder Sheriff refocused his attention toward Ida Belle. “I want you to forget about Bonnie Cotton being a suspect.”
“Why?” Gertie asked. “Because Deputy Broussard is dating her? Or didn’t you know that?”
“In fact, I did.”
Ida Belle put her water glass on a side table and charged over to the bars. “So that’s what’s going on. One of the deputies is dating her, so no one will even look at her for this crime.”
“No,” Elder Sheriff said. “Because I know she didn’t do it. I caught her and Broussard out on Island Number Three on my way to my still that night.”
“Are you sure?” Marge asked, stunned.
He nodded. “Shined my light right on ‘em. And they was in a most compromised position. It was 10:00. Around that time Wade Guillory was being murdered. Between ten and ten fifteen, a man was seen running from the direction of the house. And Buster saw a woman leave the scene in a convertible.”
“He was paid to come up with that story,” Marge said.
Elder Sheriff swatted at the air. “Probably so, but even Buster can be honest once in a while. I’m sure Buster’s reputation is something my son is taking into consideration. My point is, Bonnie wasn’t anywhere near the crime scene when Wade Guillory was murdered. And neither was Deputy Broussard. They couldn’t have been in two places at once. Neither one of them had anything to do with it.” He jabbed his finger at them. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t go around barking about Broussard and Bonnie. Broussard’s divorce isn’t final yet. If his wife finds out, she’ll raise a stink.”
Marge took a breath. She glanced back at her Aunt Louanne, who had since settled back in the bunk, sipping her coffee. “That still doesn’t mean my aunt did it.”
Walter handed the last mug of coffee to Marge. “I don’t think I want it anymore,” she said with a defeated tone in her voice, handing it back.
“We’ll find who did it,” Ida Belle said to her.
“You should stay out of it,” Elder Sheriff said.
“Why?” Marge asked. “So your son and Deputy Broussard can pin it on my aunt?”
Louanne sighed deeply. “He’s not trying to pin it on me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t even think it’s me.”
That was news to Ida Belle and based on the looks on Marge’s and Gertie’s faces, it was news to them as well.
“Is that true?” Ida Belle asked Elder Sheriff.
He glared at Louanne. “What were you really doing that night you paid Wade Guillory a visit?”
“Last I checked, Elder Sheriff, you are no longer a lawman,” Louanne said, picking up the romance novel.
“Humor me,” he said. “I won’t tell. And young Walter was just leaving, weren’t you, son?”
“I guess I was,” he said, scooting outside the cell door and past Elder Sheriff, holding Marge’s cup of coffee and tucking the tray under his arm.
Once Walter had exited the cell block, Louanne stood and walked over to the bars. Her face was now several inches away from his. “If you must know, I was there to blackmail him.”
Elder Sheriff pursed his lips. “According to the case file, you said you were there extolling the virtues of your niece and her friends so he would rent to them.”
“Blackmail was just the part I left out,” Louanne said. “I had photos of Wade gambling at the Swamp Bar, something he told Philomena he’d stopped doing. I said I’d share those photos with her unless he rented to the three girls. Of course, I had no intention of doing so, but it worked. He agreed. So why would I go back and kill him?”
“Where were you at ten o’clock? Do you have an alibi?”
“No. I was alone.
“That’s not true!” Marge said. “You weren’t alone.”
“Yes, I was.”
“Alone?” he asked. “Or were you with your prisoner?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sandra is not my prisoner.”
He rolled his eyes, his lazy eye taking the scenic route. That eye of his always gave Ida Belle the willies. “Louanne, you may not know this, but I like you.” He glanced at Ida Belle and her friends. “And I like them too when they’re not spouting off about women’s lib. But I do not like the career path you’ve chosen.”
“I can’t help that,” Louanne said.
“Your boat was spotted on the bayou that night, Louanne.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Is it? Not only did I see Deputy Broussard that night sowing his oats with Bonnie Cotton, but I also saw your boat. I saw a lady and a white dog. I didn’t get a good look at you. Coulda been you, but I wasn’t sure.”
“Yes. That was me, and I was bringing in a derelict crab trap I spotted earlier in the evening. I didn’t have time to get it during the day, so I took the boat out that night.”
Ida Belle could tell Louanne was lying.
He sighed and shook his head. “Y’all are free to go,” he said, gesturing with his hand toward the opened cell door.
Ida Belle threw up her hands. “Says who? You’re no longer sheriff.”
“No, but I’m the father of the sheriff and I said so. Now, git before I change my mind.”
The four filed out of the cell and started walking toward the exit.
“And, Louanne?” Elder Sheriff said, stopping them. “I don’t think you’re the murdering type and if I had to guess I’d say it wasn’t you in your boat. But I probably wasn’t the only one to see your boat and your dog out that night. I’d think long and hard before protecting a criminal.”
Louanne stared at Elder Sheriff. “I did not kill Wade Guillory. And there is no proof I did. And any attorney I hire will rip your department to shreds.”
He nodded. “You’re probably right. But why put yourself through having to hire a lawyer and proving yourself innocent?”
“Goodnight, Elder Sheriff.”
Once outside the three descended on Louanne, demanding to know what the sheriff was talking about.
“Are you under suspicion, or not?” Marge asked.
She shook her head. “Sheriff Lee Jr. is just trying to pressure me to turn on Gabby, that’s all. He suspects she’s wanted for something, so why not try to pin another crime on her?”
“Hm,” Ida Belle said, nodding.
“And before you say it, no, Gabby did not take my boat and Patton and go kill Wade Guillory.”
“Well, what was she doing in that boat?” Marge asked.
Louanne sighed. “She took Patton out on the boat and was pulling in several of the crab traps. I had fully intended on doing it, but The Birds was the Tuesday Night Movie of the week. My favorite movie. So Gabby said she’d go out. Truthfully, I was hoping she’d take the opportunity to escape, although I was looking forward to crab cakes the next morning. She makes the best crab cakes. But Patton followed her out and jumped from the dock into the boat. I knew she’d never abandon my dog somewhere and take off.”
“How long did it take her to check the traps?” Ida Belle asked.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I was involved in the movie. But she didn’t do it. She didn’t even know Wade. What would be her motive?”
“Did you mention to Gabby that you were blackmailing Guillory because he was lying to his wife, gambling and cheating behind her back?” Marge asked. “She might have wanted to hurt someone who reminded her of her husband.”
Louanne smiled. “Nice try. But Gabby’s just not that type of person. Yes, she knew about my dealings with Wade Guillory that night. In fact, she was with me when I went to his place at six. She stayed out of sight.”
Ida Belle blew out a breath. “She knew where to find him.”
“Again, you’re barking up the wrong tree. It was Gabby in my boat that night with Patton, but she didn’t kill Guillory.”
“But unless you admit to the sheriff it was her in that boat and not you,” Marge said, “you’re still suspect number one.”
“I can’t turn on her,” Louanne said. “She put up with a monster husband for twenty years. I just won’t do it. Tomorrow I’ll call a lawyer in New Orleans. Former Army buddy. He’ll take care of the Sinful Sheriff’s Department. As for you three, take some time to just relax, would you?”
Marge watched as Louanne took off in her Mustang convertible. “I hope she’s right about Gabby.” She turned to Ida Belle and Gertie. “With Bonnie out of the picture, I guess Gill is now out as a suspect.”
Ida Belle shook her head. “Not necessarily. It just means Bonnie wasn’t involved. Gill could have still done it. Maybe he found out about Bonnie’s affair with Broussard and was enraged with her. So he goes over and kills Guillory and tries to pin it on her by getting Buster to lie about seeing a woman and a convertible. Only, he realizes that Bonnie sold her convertible and now has to get Buster to change his story.”
Gertie nodded. “I think that could be likely. Gill’s hiding something.”
“Okay,” Marge agreed, “but remember, Buster thought I was the woman who called him to change his story. If Gill’s involved, then he’s working with another woman. One who was outside the rental that night smoking and with a big, white dog. If not Bonnie or Gabby, who is that woman?”
“There must be a ton of white dogs around Sinful,” said Ida Belle. “Tomorrow we’ll go down every alley, look in every backyard and knock on every door until we find it.”
“Well...” Gertie began.
Ida Belle lifted her brows at her friend. She’d known Gertie long enough to know she had a wacky theory brewing in her head. “Out with it.”
“Gill’s mother... she really hates Bonnie.”
“Are you insinuating Gill’s mother is the woman Granny Magoo saw with the dog?” Marge asked. “Mother/son partners in crime?”
Gertie chewed on her bottom lip. “My first thought is no. I mean, Gill’s mom is short and the woman Granny Magoo saw was tall, like Louanne and Bonnie. And I never saw a dog at Gill’s house. But, then again, maybe from a distance she looked tall to Granny Magoo. And just because I didn’t see a dog at Mrs. Girard’s house tonight, doesn’t mean she doesn’t have one. It could have been sleeping in the backyard.”
Ida Belle considered it. It was a little farfetched, but it wouldn’t be the first time that a mother and son committed a crime together. Ma Barker for starters. “What would be good is if one of us cozied up to Gill and got him talking about his true feelings for Bonnie Cotton. I mean, really talking. Get through his defenses.”
“And by ‘one of us,’ you mean me,” Gertie said.
Ida Belle grinned. “He is taken with you.”
“Fine, I’ll call him tomorrow and ask to see him.”
“When you do, go armed,” Marge said. “If he’s the type of man we think he is, he doesn’t take rejection well.”