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GERTIE AND IDA BELLE stood at the grieving widow’s front door, loaded with a casserole dish, pan of cornbread and their condolences. Guilt washed over Gertie as she remembered their primary purpose in visiting was to gather intel.
The door opened and she had to suppress a gasp. Philomena Guillory was ashen. The paisley dress she wore appeared two sizes too large for her body and stood in stark contrast with her perfectly coiffed, blonde wig. Her illness had taken a toll on her. Her husband’s murder must be adding enormously to her misery. He may have been a gambler and a philanderer, but he was still her husband.
“I’m Gertie and this is Ida Belle,” Gertie said. “My mother, Beatrice Hebert, is coming over later with her own casserole, but Ida Belle and I thought we’d stop by with one of my creations and offer our condolences.”
Ida Belle held up the pan of cornbread. “I made some cornbread to go with it.”
Gertie had made the cornbread. To actually offer something that Ida Belle had made would just be cruel, Gertie thought. Not that Ida Belle was the worst cook in the world. That distinction would go to Marge.
Philomena nodded and smiled. “I remember both of you from church.”
Ida Belle nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Would you like us to set these inside your kitchen for you, Mrs. Guillory?” Gertie asked. Philomena appeared so drawn and tired that Gertie was sure she’d have no strength to carry either one of the dishes.
“That would be nice, thank you,” Philomena said, stepping back so Gertie and Ida Belle could enter.
A man in a suit sat on the sofa writing on a small pad of paper.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ida Belle said. “We didn’t realize you had company.”
“This is Dr. Lansing, my physician,” Philomena said.
The man stood. Handsome, square face. Brown hair, brown eyes. Appeared to be in his late thirties or forties.
“Nice meeting you,” he said, tearing off a sheet from the notepad. “I thought it best to look in on Mrs. Guillory.” He pulled a small prescription bottle from his jacket pocket. “Take one every four hours for nerves. If you need more, I wrote you a refill.” He handed the bottle and prescription to Philomena.
She nodded.
He held his hands out and addressed Ida Belle and Gertie. “Would you like me to put those in the kitchen so you three can visit?”
“That would be nice, thank you,” Gertie said as she handed the casserole dish to him. He held onto it with one hand and took the cornbread pan with the other, then disappeared into the kitchen.
Philomena gestured to the sofa. “Please sit.” She then shuffled to the leather recliner and dropped into it.
“We’re so sorry about your husband, Mrs. Guillory,” Gertie said as she and Ida Belle sat on the sofa. “If there’s anything we can do. Cleaning, cooking, shopping. Just let me know. I’m staying at my parents’ house. I think you have that number.”
Philomena nodded. “Thank you. Dolly Harkins is still in my employ, so I think I have my bases covered. In fact, she made some sweet tea if you’d like to help yourselves. She left a big batch in the fridge.”
Both Gertie and Ida Belle declined. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as Philomena shifted in her chair. “The sheriff said you found him,” Philomena said, her gaze steady onto the coffee table.
Ida Belle nodded. “Marge and I did, yes.”
Dr. Lansing entered from the kitchen. “I best be running along, Mrs. Guillory. I have a full patient load this afternoon, but if you like, I can call tomorrow and check on you.”
Philomena pulled her head up and glanced at him before returning her gaze to the coffee table. “No need. It’s enough you come all the way from Lafayette to see me. You need to spend time with your family. If anything, the past day has taught me that every day with loved ones is precious.”
He nodded. “Well, once you move to your mother’s house, you’ll only be five minutes from my office. I’ll be able to look in on you with more regularity.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Remember your appointment at the clinic the day after tomorrow.”
“It’s on Dolly’s calendar,” she said, glancing back at him. “You tell your wife thanks for the casserole.”
“I’ll do that.” He tipped his head at Ida Belle and Gertie. “It was nice meeting you two.”
They both nodded as Dr. Lansing opened the door and gave a parting reminder to Philomena to eat.
Philomena said she would, though Gertie could tell she had no interest in food. Gertie felt a wave of sadness as the thought occurred to her that had Mr. Guillory not been murdered, she would have been bringing a casserole over to him in several months’ time. If Dolly Harkins’ calculations were correct, Philomena only had two or three months left on this Earth.
Philomena waited until Dr. Lansing was halfway down her walk before she spoke again. “I’m sorry you had to be a witness to such a tragedy.”
“Mrs. Guillory,” Ida Belle said, her eyes a bit misty as she leaned toward the recliner, “don’t you be sorry for us. We’re sorry this happened to your husband. To you. Do you have any idea who would want to hurt him?”
“Certainly not Louanne Boudreaux,” she said firmly, making eye contact with Ida Belle. “And you tell your friend Marge that I said so.”
Gertie leaned in as well. “That’s good to know. Marge was wondering how you would feel if she came by and offered her condolences.”
“That would be fine,” Philomena said. “Wade had no beef with Louanne. I know she went over and talked to him about you three staying at the rental. And I have no doubt that she used something as leverage. I know Louanne well enough to know she gets in people’s business. And I also know my husband.” She stopped and took a breath. “Knew my husband. I guess I have to get used to saying things in the past tense when it comes to Wade. I knew my husband was gambling again. He didn’t know I knew, but I did. And I had a strong feeling he was seeing someone else. And it wouldn’t have been the first time.”
“I’m sorry for that as well,” Gertie said. She was so mad at Wade Guillory now, what he’d put Philomena through. If he hadn’t been murdered, she’d be tempted to murder him herself. “I hate to ask, but... Do you think maybe that woman had something to do with it? The woman you think he was seeing?” Gertie asked. “Or, if that woman had a boyfriend, maybe he got jealous and decided to take matters in his own hands?”
Philomena nodded. “I’ll bet that’s exactly what happened.” She drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. “Wade was no Boy Scout, I understand that. But I know how precious life is. Looking at a calendar and seeing a future you won’t be part of makes you see that. And someone took his. And took it violently. I know I should be angry with him for the gambling and the running around with other women. But he had his good parts. He has cared for me since I got sick. And now I have his funeral to plan.”
“If we can help with any of that,” Gertie said, before being cut off by Philomena, whose gaze bore into her.
“You know how you can help? Find out who did it.”
“Excuse me?” Ida Belle asked.
“I remember when you three were home on leave last year and you found some evidence that helped solve a crime. Why? Because you took an old widow seriously. I remember hearing that from Kitty at the salon. Sheriff Lee thought the old woman was senile. You three actually listened to her.”
Ida Belle and Gertie glanced at one another, both nodding before Ida Belle returned her gaze toward Philomena. “You’ll need to be totally forthcoming with us about your husband’s gambling and skirt chasing,” Ida Belle said.
“In the drawer of the secretary,” Philomena said, pointing to an oak secretary desk. “You’ll find a few letters. Threatening letters addressed to Wade. Not signed and no return address. I found them when I was trying to find the deed to the house.”
Ida Belle got up and rushed over to the desk and pulled out a small bundle of envelopes tied together by twine. She caught Gertie’s eyes and ticked her head toward a stuffed dog standing rigidly beside the desk. A white dog, the same type of dog that Louanne Boudreaux had.
“Was this your dog?” Ida Belle asked.
Philomena nodded. “We called him Archie, after that comic book character. He was from a litter owned by Mr. and Mrs. Leger over on Cheval Street. Litter of six and our poor little Archie had to be the one with a bad heart. He died last summer. Wade insisted on stuffing him.” She sighed. “I can’t believe that I’m the only one left from our little family.”
Gertie got up from the sofa and grabbed a box of tissues from the coffee table, pulling one from the box and handing it to Philomena. “I’m really sorry about all this, Mrs. Guillory.”
Gertie glanced back at the stuffed dog. “Was Archie the only white one of the litter?”
Philomena shook her head. “Two were a darker yellow, one was a pale yellow, and three were on the whiter side. They’re all technically yellow labs. Louanne Boudreaux got one of the whiter ones and so did Bonnie Cotton. Used to break my heart every time I would see Bonnie out walking hers. I’d think it was Archie.”
Gertie glanced at Ida Belle and lifted her brows. Gill had said the dog hairs were straight, not curly. Philomena had just now confirmed that Bonnie Cotton’s dog had straight, white hair. But then, so did Louanne’s.
Ida Belle returned to the sofa and untied the string binding the three letters together. “Let’s take a look at these.” She sat next to Gertie and they read the first letter. Typewritten on white letter paper. Short. One letter had one sentence. Keep your hands off her or there will be hell to pay. Another said, Wonder what your wife would say about your latest rendezvous at the Sinful Motel. The third revealed a little something about the letter writer. She’s mine, it said. Keep your hands off her or I’ll be forced to act.
Philomena sighed. “Not a wonderful thing to discover about your recently murdered husband. I mean, I suspected he was seeing someone else, but this...” She dabbed at her eyes again.
Ida Belle looked up from the letters. “These sound as if they were written by the woman’s boyfriend.”
Philomena nodded. “A woman who had another man was like a challenge to Wade, I suppose.” Her forehead crinkled. “I can’t help but wonder if the boyfriend went over to the rental that night and they argued, and he killed him. Maybe with the woman’s help, if who Buster Bussey saw leaving the rental was involved in Wade’s murder.”
“You need to take these letters to the Sheriff,” Gertie said.
“Deputy Broussard has seen them. There was a fourth one and he took it,” she said, giving a slight shudder. “That stupid Deputy Broussard thought they could have been written by Louanne Boudreaux’s boyfriend.”
“Cole?”
“That’s nuts!”
Philomena nodded. “You haven’t heard the half of it. Here’s what he thinks happened. Louanne goes over to the rental to ask Wade about renting to you three. He says yes, but it will cost her another visit to the Sinful Motel with him. She agrees. Later she realizes she can’t continue seeing him and either she comes back and kills him or gets someone to do it. Maybe her boyfriend. Or an associate of hers.”
Philomena coughed. Took a deep breath and continued, “I don’t believe any of that, especially that Louanne Boudreaux would have spent time in an intimate situation with Wade at the Sinful Motel. Louanne has visited me throughout my illness. I would know if she had been having an affair with Wade. A wife just knows these things.”
Ida Belle leaned into Louanne. “You said a wife knows these things. Any guess who he was currently having an affair with?”
Gertie held up the letters. “One with a boyfriend who may have written these?”
Philomena sighed and closed her eyes. “Forgive me. I tire easily these days.”
Gertie reached over and patted Philomena’s knee. “Take your time.”
“Some say Bonnie Cotton once had an affair with your husband,” Ida Belle said.
Philomena opened her eyes. “Yes. A couple of years ago. And I suspected that Wade may have used his position as her boss to pressure her. He denied it at the time, of course. When Bonnie called last night before dinner, I spoke with her briefly before handing the phone to Wade. We had a pleasant exchange. She said she was spending time alone watching The Birds.”
“From what I heard,” Gertie said, “Half of Sinful was watching The Birds last night.”
Philomena rolled her eyes. “I was not among them. I read a book instead.” She took a beat and shook her head. “When Wade spoke with her, I detected something in his voice. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it reminded me of the times he spoke with Bonnie on the phone while they were having their affair. It’s just a feeling, however. Nothing concrete.”
Philomena dropped her chin to her chest and pulled in a couple of deep breaths before lifting her head. “I’ll be frank with you girls. I don’t have much time left. I know the sheriff is wrong about Louanne. But I don’t have the strength to fight him or his deputy on it. But I believe you three never back away from a fight. I’d appreciate it if you did it again. For my sake, and for Louanne’s. I need to know who killed Wade.”
“Trust me,” Gertie said, “there’s nothing we’d like more than to help steer the law away from Miss Louanne. Because she did not do this.”
Ida Belle nodded. “We’ll do what we can.”
They said their goodbyes to Philomena and let themselves out.
“I’ll bet you anything that was Bonnie Cotton my Granny Magoo saw,” Gertie said as they made their way down Philomena’s walk.
“Okay, I’m becoming more convinced,” Ida Belle said. “We need to find out who Bonnie is seeing. He may be the man with the baseball hat seen running from the rental. Although, one thing does puzzle me about the whole timeline.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, the man was seen around 9:45. The woman with the dog who was hiding by the downed branch was seen watching the house around 10:15. What happened in between?”
Gertie shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe Bonnie came by just to make sure her boyfriend really killed him. But I think we have enough suspicions to collect the samples from Bonnie’s dog and have them compared with the samples from last night.”
Ida Belle nodded. “Let’s round up Marge. It’s time to pay a visit to Bonnie.”
* * * * *
BONNIE HANDED MARGE a cup of coffee, then sat next to her on the harvest-colored sofa that was the centerpiece in Bonnie’s living room.
Marge thanked Bonnie and took a sip. “I appreciate your allowing me to come over here today.” She set the cup on the coffee table, next to a sheet of typewritten paper containing several addresses.
“Sorry I wasn’t in the office,” Bonnie said, her eyes misting. “But seeing Mr. Guillory’s empty chair made me so sad I had to come home.”
“Don’t you worry about it. At least you left a sign on the door with your phone number.”
Having Bonnie home today did complicate things. The plan had been for Marge to keep Bonnie occupied at her office while Ida Belle and Gertie came over and collected samples from Bonnie’s dog. Marge glanced at Whitey through the sliding glass door as he slept next to his doghouse in Bonnie’s backyard.
“I don’t blame you for taking some time off,” Marge said. “It was quite a shock finding Mr. Guillory’s body.”
“Yes, it was.” Bonnie wrapped her arms around herself as her body shivered. “But I hope to be back in the office tomorrow. I owe that to Mrs. Guillory. Though, to be honest, it doesn’t seem as if she has much time left. She said she was going to go live with her mother.”
“I hear you were the one who recommended her doctor,” Marge said, marking time until Gertie and Ida Belle showed up in the alley. They were late, having missed a great opportunity to collect the samples while Bonnie fetched Marge some coffee soon after she’d arrived.
Bonnie nodded. “I never met him, but I heard from a friend in Lafayette that he had helped her brother. Though, to be honest, I think Mrs. Guillory’s beyond hope. Sad, too.” Bonnie took a sip of coffee. “So how can I help you today, Marge? I assume you’re still looking for a place to live.”
Marge tapped her coffee cup. “I hope that doesn’t seem insensitive of me, what with the tragedy and all.”
Bonnie waved her off. “No, I understand. Y’all can’t be living with your parents much longer. You need to spread your wings.” She gestured to the piece of paper. “Luckily I brought all the real estate files home in case anyone called about a rental. For the time being, I’m filling in as the manager for the properties until the individual owners can make other arrangements.”
Bonnie pulled in a deep breath and blew it out. She picked up the sheet of paper from her coffee table. “Here are all the properties that Mr. Guillory managed. You can see there is a two-bedroom on the west side of Sinful.” She pointed to one address on the list. “This is a three-bedroom about a half-hour south of here, along the highway to Mudbug. This particular owner lives in New Orleans, so I’ll show you the property and if you like it, you can connect with him directly. He may accept a three-month lease.”
Whitey began to bark, bringing Bonnie’s attention to the window. Marge glanced out and saw two older women searching a garbage can across the alley and one house over.
“Looks like my Granny Boudreaux and Gertie’s Granny Magoo,” Marge said, although the two women were really Gertie and Ida Belle in granny disguises. Marge pointed to the sheet of paper. “This one might do.”
But Bonnie kept her eye on the alley. “I thought they usually went through stuff on Mondays, just before the trash is collected.” Both grandmothers were fixtures around Sinful, taking great joy in finding that diamond in the rough in people’s trash.
“I heard my grandma say she wants to mix it up a bit,” Marge said.
“I don’t know about the one bending over and going through the can, but the other one looks a bit tall to be one of the old gals.”
Marge was impressed with Bonnie’s observational skills. She’d always thought of Bonnie as a bit vapid. But she was indeed correct. In retrospect, it probably should have been Marge portraying one of the grannies, since she’s shorter. But she won the coin toss, so here she was on distraction detail.
“My Granny’s been trying to improve her posture,” Marge said as she watched Gertie and Ida Belle walking toward Bonnie’s trash cans. “Maybe standing straighter added some inches on her.”
“Hmmmm,” Bonnie said, as if considering it. “That Whitey, he sure loves barking at the grannies. I hope they remembered to bring him a dog biscuit.” Bonnie rose from the sofa and walked to the sliding glass door. She sighed as she continued staring outside.