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THE THREE OF US WERE striding up Ida Belle’s walkway when we heard a noise from the bushes to the right of the door. Ida Belle and I had our weapons drawn from our waistbands before Gertie even unclasped her purse.
“Whoever you are, come on out,” Ida Belle said.
I glanced at Gertie. “You need to put your gun in your waistband.”
Gertie shook her head as she pulled her gun from her purse. “That’s how my butt crack almost became a butt gorge in 2005.”
“Don’t shoot, it’s just me.” A woman stepped out from her perch inside the bushes. “I didn’t want anyone to see me waiting at your house.”
Midsixties, with Carter’s beautiful eyes, Walter’s mouth and Emmaline’s nose. Tanned, shoulder-length blonde hair. Could be a poster child for active senior living. And eyeing me as if my threat level were off the charts.
“Who’s this?” Jo asked.
I stuck out my hand to shake. “I’m Fortune. Sandy-Sue Morrow.”
“My nephew’s girlfriend?” She looked at Ida Belle in shock. “Are you serious? I didn’t want Carter to know I was here.”
“And he won’t,” Gertie said. “Fortune helps us get things done. She knows how to be discreet.”
“We want to help you,” Ida Belle said. “But Fortune has to be in on it.”
Jo scrutinized me. “You’re Marge’s replacement?”
Gertie shook her head. “No one can ever replace Marge, but you can’t have a Swamp Team Three without a third wheel.”
“Fine,” she said. “Let’s hurry and get inside. The last thing I need is for a snoopy neighbor to see me visiting the Geritol Mafia.”
Ida Belle held the door open for Jo and she slipped inside. Gertie shook her head. “One time. One time I hit the Geritol and now that’s all people can think of.”
Jolene and I sat opposite one another in the living room, she in a chair and I on the sofa, as Gertie and Ida Belle went into the kitchen to fetch cookies and sweet tea.
She fiddled with the purse in her lap. Finally, she looked up at me and smiled. “I’m sorry I was rude back there. It’s just... my nephew shouldn’t know I was here. I don’t want any of what I’m going to say to get out, especially to his mother, Emmaline.”
“No, I get it. He won’t know.”
She cocked her head. “You’re certainly everything my nephew said you were. He described you to a ‘T,’ right down to your beautiful blue eyes.”
I felt myself blushing.
“When Miss Gertie said you help them ‘get things done,’ I take it Carter isn’t privy to your help.”
I shifted on the sofa. “Well, he knows we—”
“—Stick your noses into things that don’t concern you?” She smiled. “Though I moved away long ago, I’ve kept up with the gossip from friends. I’ve heard stories about those two and your Great-Aunt Marge through the years. In fact, I may have heard you connected to a story or two within the past few weeks, so seeing you here doesn’t surprise me. But I can’t imagine my nephew is oblivious.”
“Let’s just say we have an unspoken agreement. For the sake of his sanity he thinks we bake a lot of cookies together.”
“Is he a party to this unspoken agreement?”
I gave her one of those ‘so-so’ shakes of my hand. She smiled. “I like you.”
I grimaced. Lying to Carter wasn’t something I was proud of. But he was a dedicated lawman. I was just protecting him by giving him plausible deniability. And yes, protecting his sanity.
Jolene read my face. She gave a wave of her hand. “Listen, honey, the men in our lives don’t have to know everything we do. My late husband Stan gave some real stinkers for sermons, but I told him I loved every one of them. And I told him I loved his favorite tie and the way he combed his hair over to hide his bald spot. He didn’t need to know how I really felt or the times I spent with my girlfriends playing poker. Best he thought I was attending a weekly book club.”
“I like you too,” I said.
Ida Belle came out with a pitcher of sweet tea, followed by Gertie who held a tray with glasses and cookies.
Gertie set the tray on the coffee table between the sofa and chairs. “You two sound like you’re getting along.”
“Let’s just say I like my nephew’s taste in women.”
I scooted to the end of the sofa, allowing room for Gertie. Ida Belle poured a glass of tea and handed it to Jo, then took a seat in the chair next to her.
“You’re looking great,” Ida Belle said. “Atlanta agrees with you.”
Jo held the glass to cool her forehead. “Thank you. I joined a gym and a hiking club.” She looked from Ida Belle to Gertie. “It’s been, what, five years since I’ve seen you two?”
“Right,” Gertie said. “A year before Stan died.”
Jo nodded. “My sources say you two have been causing mischief.”
Ida Belle took a sip of tea. “Our mischief comes in handy at times. I assume that’s why you wanted to meet us in secret.”
Jo pulled in a deep breath. “It’s well known Cootie Bates and I were an item some time ago.”
Ida Belle and Gertie both nodded.
“Wasn’t the best choice I ever made, but we had fun. Fun’s what I wanted back then.”
“If it helps,” Gertie said, “Cootie and I had... fun once.”
Jo smiled. “Well, Cootie was a ladies’ man.” Her smile disappeared. “I can’t believe he’s dead.” Her eyes reddened, and a tear fell. Gertie retrieved a tissue box from a side table and held it out to her. Jo took a sheet and blotted her eyes with it. “Thanks. That man has always been a complication in my life. He was crude and unrefined, but at times he was sweet. At least to me, before I caught him eyeing another woman. Then another. Then another. So I broke it off and left. I’ve never regretted my decision, either. Stan was a wonderful man and I have three wonderful children and two fantastic grandchildren. Having said that, I don’t regret MOST of the times Cootie and I spent together.”
I filled a glass with sweet tea. “Would one of the times you regret be the reason for your visit?”
Jo pointed at me and looked from Gertie to Ida Belle. “That one’s sharp.” She looked back at me. “Let me back up. It all started when I needed some spending money while I was in college. My parents helped with some, and I got scholarship money, but it wasn’t enough. One day in the cafeteria I overheard several students talking about opportunities in art modeling and how well it paid.”
“As in nude modeling?” I asked.
She smiled. “Well, you don’t beat around the bush.” She looked at Ida Belle and then Gertie. “As you can imagine, my parents would have thrown a fit.”
Ida Belle’s eyes widened. “Your daddy was the choir director in church. Your mama was my Sunday School teacher. A fit is putting it mildly.”
“Everything I did was totally legitimate,” Jo said. “Art classes on college campuses always need human models to pose nude. So I applied. I attended college in New Orleans, so I chose a school one town over. And there I was, buck naked on my first assignment with none other than Cootie Bates sitting at an easel. He was getting his masters at the time.”
“Of course, Cootie was in a class drawing nudes,” Gertie said.
“He was the best in the class,” Jo said. “Remember, Cootie might be a good old boy, but he’s had paintings shown in some pretty prestigious galleries. He could have made it in the art scene in New York, but he liked painting Louisiana and the people in it.”
She took another sip of tea. “Now, I admit, I didn’t like him when I knew him in Sinful, and I wasn’t wild about him seeing me naked, but then I got to know him better.” She pulled in a breath and slowly let it out. “Then I posed privately for him. Nude. On a horse.”
Tea sprayed from Gertie’s nose. When her coughing fit finally subsided, Gertie looked at Jo and said, “A horse? Continue.”
Jo cleared her throat. “And then we got involved. When I came back home for the summer, he was back in Sinful and we continued our relationship. Drove my parents wild. Which, you know, I didn’t mind. I liked to let them know I was independent. But I still didn’t want them knowing about my nude modeling.”
“Not to mention on a horse,” Gertie muttered. “Your parents had horses, right?”
Jo nodded. “When I found Cootie interested in other women, I called it off and asked for the nude drawing he did in class and the painting. He gave me the drawing, which I destroyed, but he wouldn’t let go of the painting. Said it was the best thing he’d painted so far. He did promise he wouldn’t display it or show it to anyone.”
“Except, now he’s dead,” Fortune said.
Jo nodded. “Which is horrible, of course. I still can’t get over it. But my past with nude modeling is something I don’t want Walter and Emmaline to find out. Not to mention my kids and grandkids.”
“We heard there was phone communication between you and Cootie recently,” Ida Belle said.
Jo nodded. “He texted me and said he had something I wanted. Said he had a proposition for me. I knew he was talking about that painting.”
“Proposition?” I said. That didn’t sound good. “What was your response?”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “‘I’m coming to Sinful. We need to settle this once and for all.’”
Ida Belle looked down at a sheet of paper with the text of their interaction, as provided by Myrtle. “He wrote back, ‘Once again you’ve underestimated me.’”
Jo’s eyes widened. “Dang, you are the Geritol Mafia. How’d you find out?”
“We have our sources,” Gertie said.
“Carter said you left early this morning to go photograph the sunrise over Atchafalaya,” Ida Belle said.
Jo nodded. “I can prove it. I have the photos on my camera.”
Ida Belle smiled. “I’m sure you do. Make any stops before going there?”
Jo gestured toward the paper Ida Belle held. “If you have the content of the texts, you’ll know Cootie invited me to go fishing at Glass Eye Lake with him and a friend of his, Redneck. He gave me the location where they would be parked. You’ll see I declined, saying I would meet him at the Mudbug Diner at one.”
“But you changed your mind,” I said.
“I wanted to get it over with. I’d hoped to get there before he went out on the boat. I was going to demand he give me the key to his place so I could go in, get the painting and leave his key in his mailbox. When I got there, I saw he’d already left.”
“Any other cars around?” I asked.
She shook her head. “After that, I went to the Refuge and took photographs. When I got back to Emmaline’s house I discovered Cootie had been found dead.” Tears streamed out of her eyes. Gertie grabbed the tissue box and pulled out several and gave them to Jo. “For all his faults, we did have fun together.”
“Did Cootie ever want to get back with you? After your husband died?” I asked.
She blew her nose. “Sure. He waited a couple of years, I’ll give him some credit. He called to see if I might like to have dinner with him. I declined. He called a few more times the past three years. I declined all his invitations. This last one, though, it sounded like a threat. I knew I had to nip it in the bud. But you know I’d never kill him.”
“Of course, we do,” Ida Belle said. “I assume you didn’t ask us to meet you just so you could spill your guts.”
She gazed at Ida Belle, then Gertie, before landing at me. Her eyes bore into me. Carter’s eyes. “I want that painting back.” Jo’s phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her purse and looked at the display. “Sinful Sheriff’s Department.” She sighed, put the phone back in her purse. “You don’t have to do much. Just stand guard while I break in his house and try to find it. I can’t pay much, but—”
Ida Belle interrupted her. “We wouldn’t accept money and you know it. And we won’t stand guard while you go inside.”
Jo quickly stood. “I’m sorry, it was too much to ask. I’ll have to do it without a lookout.”
Ida Belle stood as well. “That’s not what I meant. We’ll go inside.”
“I can’t ask you to break the law.”
I had to stop myself from laughing. If she only knew the places we’d broken into since I’d come to Sinful. It could read like a Dr. Seuss book for budding criminals. We’d title it Oh the Places You’ll Break Into. I could picture the illustrations. Me dressed like a hooker and Gertie falling out of a tree.
“We insist,” Gertie said. “Besides, we might be more... skilled at it than you are.”
Jo shook her head. “I can’t ask you to do that. Just stand watch and I’ll do it.”
I held up my hand. “What we’re trying to say is, we don’t want you to screw it up and get us all arrested. In fact, we want you as far away from Cootie’s house while we’re there.”
Jo looked at me, a little taken aback. After a moment, she smiled. “Why couldn’t MY son meet someone like you?” She stood. “Well, okay, I heard if anyone could get things done in this town it was the Godmothers of Sinful.” She picked up her purse. “Thank you so much for this and for the tea. So I’ll call you tomorrow?”
Ida Belle shook her head. “If Mudbug is looking at your cell phone calls, we might want to avoid any further phone communication.”
“How will I know if you found my painting?”
“We heard Redneck is having a memorial for Cootie tomorrow at the rec center,” I said. “We’ll meet there and ‘bump into’ one another.”
Jo nodded and then made her way to the front door and peered outside, casting a furtive glance to the right, then the left. When she was satisfied there were no snoops watching, she raced out the door and hurried down the sidewalk.
* * * * *
WHILE IDA BELLE, GERTIE and I lived west of downtown Sinful, Cootie’s house, what Ida Belle referred to as “Creole cottage” style, was located on the eastern edge of town. The house itself (blue clapboard with white trim and red shutters) was raised above ground level, as were many of the homes in Sinful, and appeared to be one story with an attic/loft. A red picket fence surrounded the property. I had to smile at the whimsical statue in the front yard of a man pushing a lawn mower, pointed directly at the flower beds.
We sat in Ida Belle’s parked SUV, five houses away from Cootie’s. A Mudbug Sheriff’s SUV and Deputy Breaux’s SUV were parked in front of the house.
“They’re coming out now,” Gertie said, watching through a pair of binoculars. “One of the Mudbug deputies has a couple of small evidence bags. Another one has a larger bag, maybe the size of a laptop. Deputy Breaux is carrying a few hunting rifles.” She lowered the binoculars.
The Mudbug deputies were probably there to gather any information about possible suspects they might glean from notepads sitting by the phone, a messaging machine, if he used one, calendar pages, laptops, computers, those sorts of things. Deputy Breaux was most likely clearing the house of any weapons, the same thing Carter had done with Marge’s house after she’d died, in case anyone had the bad idea of going inside and stealing some weaponry. Of course, Carter didn’t know about the secret gun vault built into the back of Marge’s bedroom closet. I intended to keep it that way.
“The good news is they’re not hauling out any nude paintings,” I said.
“I’m sure if the deputies saw it, they stopped and gawked at it a moment.” Ida Belle rolled her eyes. “They’re men, after all. But they wouldn’t have known it was a painting of one of their ‘persons of interest.’”
Gertie nodded. “Luckily it wasn’t Carter who went in there. He’s probably seen photos of his Aunt Jo as a young woman, so he’d at least know what her face looked like.”
We watched as the Mudbug Sheriff’s Department vehicle pulled away, leaving Deputy Breaux to string several feet of ‘Do Not Cross’ tape across the door. Minutes later, he hopped in his SUV and drove off.
I directed my binoculars toward the side of Cootie’s house and noticed how the thick branches of the neighbor’s tree reached right up to the attic window. I was greeted with a surprise. “It looks like Cootie left the side window open. Easy access from a neighbor’s tree.” I lowered the binoculars. “I say two of us go in through the neighbor’s backyard while one of us keeps the neighbor occupied.”
Ida Belle frowned as if I’d said she had to wade across a field of cow dung to get inside.
“What’s wrong?”
“That house belongs to Barb Geroux.”
Barb Geroux happened to be one of the most disliked women in Sinful. Same age as Ida Belle and Gertie. In fact, she’d gone to school with them and had always been in competition with Marge, losing to her in school elections, talent contests and fencing tournaments. We’d invited her to Marge’s posthumous birthday party a week ago to pump her for information on a series of crimes we’d been investigating. The woman had perfected the art of the insult, and she seemed to enjoy watching someone’s face when she cut them down to size.
A master ventriloquist, Barb often used her sock puppet to do the insulting, as if that let her off the hook.
“The least amount of contact I have with Barb Geroux the better,” Ida Belle said.
I agreed. “I’m certainly not going to be the one to distract her. She’s not too fond of my Yankeeness. She’ll slam the door in my face. I think it should be the one who’s had a bad history with climbing trees.”
Ida Belle and I looked at Gertie. She folded her arms. “You fall out of a tree once and—”
“Three times.”
“Twenty-nine. I’ve known her longer,” Ida Belle said.
“Fine,” Gertie hissed. “I’ve been wanting to get back in contact with Barb anyway. See if I can catch her talking to any dead people.”
Ida Belle glanced at me with raised brows.
“I see that look,” Gertie said.
Several people around town had reported hearing Barb addressing empty space with names of people who’d died, convincing Gertie that Barb could communicate with spirits. Ida Belle was a bit more skeptical. Not that I was a big believer in ghosts, but Barb HAD argued with some unseen person at the party, referring to the person as a “cheater,” something she’d accused Marge of being.
“Barb Geroux is a crazy, annoying puppet lady who talks to herself,” Ida Belle said. “She’s not a medium.”
“I think she’s crazy, annoying AND a medium,” Gertie countered. “She can be both. Nope, she’s communicating with ghosts and I’m going to catch her in the act and get her to contact Marge.”
Ida Belle threw her hands in the air. “I give up. While you’re at it, get Barb to ask Cootie who shot him.”
“Maybe I will. But first, I need cookies to get my foot in the door.”