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GILL’S KNUCKLES WERE white as they gripped the steering wheel.
Disneyland had the Matterhorn, Coney Island the Cyclone and Sinful had Branley Road. The real rollercoasters might have had the long climbs and steep drops, but Branley Road had the obstacles, either from ruts in the road, downed branches due to tropical storms, or the occasional alligator who decided to cross the road. A driver had to be on his or her toes at all times.
Branley Road also attracted the cute hot-rodders, such as the one passing them now in his Stingray convertible, his dark hair blowing wildly in the wind. Gertie imagined sitting next to him, his muscular arm reaching out and pulling her close. She frowned as Gill’s nasally voice brought her back to reality.
“Show boater. He must be going at least eighty,” Gill hissed. “I hope this picnic spot of yours is worth taking this road.”
Gertie wiped the frown from her face and reached over to touch Gill’s shoulder. “I promise I will make this worth your while.”
She must have succeeded at sounding sexy because Gill lifted his brows and his lips turned up slightly. “Why, Gertie, what do you have in—”
“Watch out for the pothole!” she screamed.
His face paled as he hit the brakes and swerved to miss the pit in the asphalt. The squeal of his tires, as well as his scream, pierced her ears.
“Don’t hit the brakes!” she yelled as his car slid to the right, then the left, before coming to a complete stop on the roadway. She turned in her seat and looked behind them, fearing they were about to be plowed into. And they were. By the Wienermobile.
She felt her heart stop then restart as Ida Belle sped around them without so much as stepping on her brakes. Gertie let out a huge breath.
“Dear Lord!” Gill said, panting. “We could have gotten killed.”
“That can still happen,” Gertie said. “Step on it.”
He pressed his foot to the gas and continued on. She noted his pulsating neck veins. With his heart rate up and his nerves on edge, Gertie thought now would be a good time to rattle him even further.
She gave him a minute to catch his breath before saying, “Gill, I’ve been wondering. Maybe you’re right about biting off more than I can chew by looking into Mr. Guillory’s murder.”
“You definitely are,” he said, his knuckles turning white once again as he gripped the steering wheel.
“But it’s just so intriguing,” she said. “Want to hear my latest theory?”
“Gertie, we almost just got killed. Can we maybe talk about something more pleasant?”
“Please.”
He sighed and nodded. “Okay, fine. What is your theory?”
“I’m thinking the killer is someone Bonnie Cotton had a tryst with lately.”
“What?” he said, momentarily losing his grip on the wheel. He gasped as the car drifted left. Yanking the steering wheel to the right, he was able to pull the car back into their lane.
Gertie nodded. “I think a man she had a tryst with recently may have killed Wade Guillory because he was angry with Bonnie and wanted to frame her for the crime.”
“That’s crazy thinking,” he said, his breathing still deep, but not as rapid. “You should stop thinking it. Besides, weren’t you the one who thought Bonnie committed the crime herself?”
“Turns out she had an alibi,” Gertie said, watching his reaction with interest.
“What kind of an alibi?”
“She was on a date with Deputy Broussard.”
His eyes grew wide. He turned and looked at her. “What?”
“Downed tree limb!” Gertie screamed.
Gill screamed as well and swerved on the shoulder to avoid hitting the huge tree limb lying in the middle of the road. He pulled back onto the pavement and continued to drive, although at a much slower pace.
“Really?” he asked, his face getting red.
Gertie nodded.
He pursed his lips. “Mother says that deputy is a real playboy.”
“Yeah, he seems that way,” Gertie said. “I hope I didn’t upset you. I thought you were totally over her.”
“Yes, of course I am. I’m not upset at all.” He took a calming breath. “You, Gertie. You’re the girl for me. Not some tramp like Bonnie. You’re classy.”
“I’m glad you can see that, Gill,” Gertie said, holding in a laugh. If by “classy” he meant fooling around with her Kung Fu instructor in a coat closet while the rest of her martial arts class was busy doing drills, then, yes, by all means, she had lots of class.
“By the way, my friends Ida Belle and Marge don’t know I’m here,” Gertie said. “They think I’m fishing today. I didn’t want them to be jealous about my having a picnic with you.”
There was no reaction from him about that. In fact, he seemed a mile away in his thoughts. Probably still fuming inside about Bonnie dating Deputy Broussard. Gertie decided to further throw him out of kilter. “And I’m not telling them that I’m taking the baseball cap to the newspaper in St. Charles so they can publish a photo of it.”
He frowned.
“That’s just between you and me.” She sighed. “Yep, nobody knows I’m here.” She emphasized that point again. If he were a cold-blooded murderer and desperate to prevent Gertie from publicizing the baseball cap, it would be easier to dispose of her if no one knew they were together. At least she was hoping he would try to kill her. Attempted murder would add years onto his sentence.
“Did you say something about that baseball cap?” he asked, as if he’d suddenly ‘come to.’
She nodded. “Hmm-hmm. I have it with me in my purse. I’m going to take the baseball cap to the St. Charles paper so they can publish a photo of it.”
“What makes you think it has anything to do with Guillory’s murder?” he asked. “Where’d you find it again?”
“I didn’t find it. It’s the cap someone accidentally gave to my Granny Magoo. I don’t remember who she said it was, but last night someone tried to steal it. Nice cap too. Atlanta Braves.”
He frowned. His brows furrowed. He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped himself, his eyes turning upward in thought.
“Watch the road, Gill! Watch the road!”