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THE MAN TOSSED ANOTHER log onto the concrete slab and swung again, splitting it in two.
“Maybe Lucette didn’t forgive and forget,” I said. “Maybe she hired someone to do her dirty work for her.”
“You think Bunny may have mistaken this guy for Andre?” Ida Belle asked. “The only thing this guy and Andre have in common is they’re both black. Don’t get me wrong. Andre’s a handsome young man, but this guy...”
Gertie finished the thought. “He’s hot and hunky.”
“I’m just saying he’s awfully good with that axe, and he works for a woman who has a reason to hate Bunny.”
“He looks nothing like Andre, though, and that’s who Bunny said it was,” Ida Belle said.
I nodded. “But Bunny also said she didn’t get a good look at his face. It all happened so fast and she was in a state of shock. She has it out for Andre, so probably any black guy she would see she would say was Andre.”
Gertie stared at him for a moment as he stood straight and wiped the sweat from his brow and grinned at us again. “Wait a minute. That’s Dexter Wilson,” Gertie said.
“Frank Wilson’s grandson?” Ida Belle asked.
“I’m sure of it. I haven’t seen him since he graduated from high school and his family moved to New Orleans, but I think that’s him. He was a scrawny little guy back then, but that’s his smile.” Gertie bowed her head. “Dear Lord. Please strike that ‘hot and hunky’ comment I made about one of my former students. Amen.”
We got out of the car and Dexter gazed at us. After a moment his face brightened. “Miss Hebert?” he called out.
“Hi, Dexter,” Gertie said, waving. “Oh my goodness. You’ve... grown.”
Dexter set down the axe and joined us. “You still have the same Cadillac?”
“She still works,” Gertie said.
“Best reason to keep it then.” He pointed to Ida Belle. “Miss Boudreau?”
Ida Belle shook her head. “You’re thinking about Marge. She died several months ago. I’m Ida Belle.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear about her passing.”
Dexter gave me a sideways glance and raised his eyebrows in a greeting.
“This is Fortune,” Gertie said. “Marge’s great-niece. She’s here in Sinful to settle her estate.”
He took my hand in his. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” I said. “You work here?”
Dexter shook his head. “Not really. I have a catering business and traveling restaurant in New Orleans. I come here once a week for the best organic fruits and vegetables around. Only the best for my customers.”
“That’s right,” Gertie said. “I remember your granddaddy said something about you going to culinary school. He said you were top off your class.”
“He does like to brag.”
“You swing a mean axe,” I said pointing to the wood and axe.
“A few times a year Ms. Boule hires me to cater a seasonal menu featuring her produce. Tonight I’m preparing a special wood-grilled quail with bourbon-pepper jelly glaze. I like to chop my own pieces of wood. Helps keep me in shape.”
He grinned at me and I could tell he was flexing his muscles for my benefit. I noticed he was checking mine out as well. Crap, did I just flex my right arm?
“You don’t play baseball anymore?” Ida Belle asked. “As I recall, you were handy with a bat.”
He pointed his finger at Ida Belle and flashed her a huge grin. “Now I remember you. Ida Belle. The leader of the Geritol Mafia.”
“Just for the record,” Gertie said. “I don’t take Geritol. I find eating right and regular exercise keeps me young and toned.”
Ida Belle stared at Gertie.
Gertie lifted her eyebrows. “You might want to try it sometime, Ida Belle.”
Dexter gestured toward the barn. “You’re welcome to help yourselves to the produce. Ms. Boule should be back soon. But if you’re ready to leave before she gets back, I can always ring you up. And be sure to take a flyer for upcoming Bayou Bounty dinners.”
“We’ll do that,” I said.
We started for the produce stalls. Dexter stopped us. “Oh, and I’ll be opening a permanent restaurant in two weeks. Delia’s on Charles Street. Half off for you three lovely ladies.”
“Delia’s?” Gertie asked. “After your mama?”
Dexter nodded.
Gertie held her hand to her chest. I thought she was going to cry. “She would have loved that.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dexter said.
“Damn,” I whispered to Ida Belle. “Could this guy be any more perfect? He looks like that AND he names a restaurant after his deceased mother?”
“We’re here to find evidence that would lead to someone other than Andre,” Ida Belle said, then added for emphasis, “Edilia’s grandson.” She glanced back at Dexter as he tossed another log on the concrete slab. “Dear Lord. Let’s get away from him before he says he rescues puppies.”
We entered the fruit stand and meandered through the rows of fruits, vegetables and fresh herbs. Thirty minutes later Gertie had filled three straw baskets with ears of corn, cucumbers, and several types of tomatoes.
Gertie held up one of the orange tomatoes. “Have you ever seen a better-looking Carolina Gold in your life?”
“It’s a tomato,” Ida Belle and I both said at once.
“Fine,” she huffed. “Then I’ll eat them all myself and give you the tasteless ones I bought in Mudbug.”
The sounds of tires on gravel shifted our attention to the parking lot. We hurried to the entrance of the fruit stand and watched as an older woman got out of a late-model SUV.
“You are going to love these birds,” she called out to Dexter. “It was worth the drive to Woodlake.”
He slammed the axe into one of the logs, hard enough to keep the axe inside the log, but not hard enough to split the log in two. He lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. Gertie’s face blanched.
“He sure lost his scrawniness,” she said, looking away. I noticed her bow her head briefly, apologizing again to Jesus.
I didn’t look away. His chest reminded me a lot of Carter’s. They were both fine specimens of men and I wasn’t the least bit shy about staring.
Ida Belle pinched my arm.
“Hey,” I said. “That’s usually Gertie’s move.”
“Just because he’s handsome doesn’t mean he couldn’t have attacked Bunny.”
“You’re right,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean I’m blind.”
Lucette opened the rear door of her SUV and Dexter pulled out a large ice chest.
“You have some customers,” he told her.
She scrutinized us as I was scrutinizing her.
Mid-seventies. Five-foot-five. Short, wavy, white hair. Tanned, indicating lots of work tending the garden outside. A bit of a belly, indicating the berries she grows often end up as pies. Threat level: Given her history with Bunny—High.
“Hello,” she said, waving. “Welcome to Bayou Bounty.” She trudged across the gravel parking lot toward us and stopped a few feet away, staring at Ida Belle and Gertie. “You’re those two from the Sinful Ladies Society.”
“I’m Gertie and this is Ida Belle,” Gertie said. “And this is our friend, Fortune.”
“I don’t make it much into Sinful, but I’ve seen you when I’ve delivered produce to Francine’s and the General Store,” Lucette said. “I don’t believe we’ve ever been formally introduced.”
“I’ve been out here buying produce,” Gertie said, “but I’ve never seen you here.”
“I’m not much of a people person,” Lucette said. “I have two ladies who usually tend to the produce stand but one’s on vacation. Otherwise you wouldn’t be seeing me here today. Although, I never miss a dinner when Dexter is cooking.” She looked at the baskets of produce we were holding.
“Good choices. You might want to also check out the cantaloupe. They’re outstanding this year.”
“We haven’t gotten that far,” Gertie said.
“Produce shopping with Gertie is like shopping for a mattress,” Ida Belle said. “‘This one’s too firm.’ ‘Nope. Too squishy.’”
Lucette arched her eyebrows. “Too squishy?”
“There was one tomato,” Gertie said. “I’m sure it just got overlooked.”
“I think shopping is secondary for them,” Dexter said. “I think their real purpose is to snoop around a little. Am I right, ladies?”
Dexter hoisted the ice chest on his shoulders. Show-off.
Lucette crossed her arms. “For Pete’s sake. This is about Bunny getting attacked.”
“I didn’t do it,” Dexter said.
“Neither did I,” Lucette said. “And I didn’t hire anyone to do it either. Besides, I heard a fellow named Andre is liked for that one.”
“You seem to know a lot about this case for someone who’s not a people person and busies herself in the garden,” I said.
“I’ve got a telephone and old friends who love to gossip. And Bunny LeBeau getting whacked qualifies as major gossip.”
“You have any idea who could’ve done it or who would’ve done it?” I asked.
Lucette shrugged. “Bunny left many bitter women in her wake. But most of her home wrecking occurred years and decades ago. Someone would have to have a lot of patience to wait this long to do it. And it’s my guess this Andre they’re trying to pin it on didn’t do it either.”
Dexter shook his head. “Andre is a few years younger than me, so I didn’t know him very well. But I played on a summer baseball league with him one year, and he never struck me as anyone who would try to kill someone.”
“Do you think it has anything to do with the Gascon family?” Ida Belle asked.
Lucette smiled wearily. “I’ve spent the last thirty years removed from that family. They don’t bother me, and I don’t bother them.”
“Do you know where the family resettled after the Heberts drove them out of Mudbug?” I asked.
“I heard a rumor it was Georgia. But like I said, I stay out of their business and they stay out of mine.”
Lucette ambled toward the fruit stand. Dexter followed her with the ice chest. We followed as well.
“Do you know how I’ve gotten to be this successful?” she asked once we entered the shade. “Sure, I’m a good businesswoman and I have a green thumb and some of the best soil around.” She stopped at a refrigerated case along a wall. “I’ve been able to lead the life I want and have this successful business because I decided early on to stay out of the way of the Gascons. Because if you stick your nose in that family where it doesn’t belong, it never ends well. They may not be as powerful as they once were, but they can still do damage.”
“Do you think Bunny stuck her nose where it didn’t belong?”
Lucette opened the refrigerated case. “You’d have to ask her that. Now, I have quail to tend to.”
Dexter set the cool chest on the ground and Lucette transferred packages of quail to the refrigerated case. She smiled at us. “Do check out those cantaloupe.”
Gertie signaled to leave Lucette alone. We turned to finish our tour of the produce. I remembered the question that most intrigued me and turned back to Lucette. “Was Tilma also dating one of the Gascon brothers?”
A sly smile crept over her face, which she quickly wiped away. “You’ll find the cantaloupe in the last row.”
“Did you know that someone’s writing a book on the Gascons?”
She cast her eyes on me. They were hard to read. Was she amused? Annoyed? Was she trying to say ‘yes’ without actually saying so? This was one woman I wouldn’t want to play poker with.
“Last row,” she said finally.
While Gertie was thumping every cantaloupe to pick the perfect ones, I snooped around the barn and gardens, acting as if I was interested in organic farming. Lucette wasn’t buying it and followed my every move. She and Andre were the ones with the motives. I didn’t believe Andre committed the crime. Lucette could be a suspect. They say revenge is a dish served cold. Maybe she wanted her revenge against Bunny as cold as she could get it. I was hoping Dexter wasn’t the guy she hired to attack Bunny, though. Not only was he Carter-level hot, but he let us sample the deserts he was going to serve tonight. They were phenomenal. I hated the thought of him cooking slop in the state prison. But he was opening a restaurant soon and that takes money, something Lucette could’ve given him for attacking Bunny.
A half hour and three bags of produce later, we finished our business at Bayou Bounty and drove back to Sinful. Since we were spending the evening with Lila Rose and Janice, we stopped at our homes to pack overnight bags. First stop, Gertie’s.
“I still don’t believe it’s Dexter,” Gertie said as she tossed her bag next to me in the back seat of her Cadillac.
Ida Belle plopped into the passenger side of the front seat and buckled her seat belt. “That’s his key lime pie talking.”
“Or the crème brûlée,” I said.
Gertie climbed into the front seat and started the engine. “Wasn’t that heavenly? But it’s not that, and it’s not the rose-water madeleines. It’s just... I knew Dexter when he was a scrawny little student of mine. He always seemed like a good kid.”
“People can change.” Ida Belle said.
I leaned forward between Ida Belle and Gertie. “But think about it. He has a connection to Lucette who has a connection to the Gascons who have a connection to Bunny. And he used to play baseball on the Sinful team, so he’d know where the bats were stored. Maybe he was trying to pin it on someone from Sinful. And the way he was swinging that axe, he has a lot of power in his arms.”
“Are we going to share this information with the Mudbug police?” Gertie asked. “I’d hate to send that horrible Deputy Vachon on a witch hunt unless we’re sure that Lucette hired him. She seemed pretty adamant that she wanted to stay out of Gascon’s business. Would she want to stir things up by murdering Bunny? And why would she wait this long?”
All good questions.
“We don’t want to send someone else down the river to take the heat off Andre,” Gertie said.
Ida Belle sighed. “Of course we’re not. I just know Andre didn’t do it.”
“I don’t think he did either,” Gertie said. “But I’m just as sure Dexter didn’t.”
After picking up my overnight bag we drove to Ida Belle’s, where we ran into another wrinkle. A Mudbug Sheriff’s Department SUV was parked in front of her house.
Ida Belle leaned forward and gazed out the Cadillac’s windshield. “What the hell? That’s not parked at my house, is it?”
Gertie swerved into Ida Belle’s driveway and slammed on the brakes. Just as we were getting out of the car, I noticed Carter’s truck also speeding toward the house. His tires squealed as he screeched to a stop behind the Mudbug Sheriff’s SUV. Carter jumped out of his truck and joined us.
“Do you know what this is all about?” Ida Belle asked.
“Deputy Vachon,” Carter said. “Your neighbor called me and said he was fishing something out of your trash.”
Shortly, Deputy Vachon appeared at the side gate that led to Ida Belle’s backyard. He was wearing latex gloves and held a large paper bag.
He opened the gate and stepped into the front yard. “Well, I see you’re home.”
“What’s this all about?” Ida Belle asked.
“And why wasn’t my office alerted you were here?” Carter added.
Deputy Vachon sauntered over. He tried to puff himself up to appear more imposing than Carter, but no amount of air he sucked into his skinny frame was going to do that. He finally exhaled. “I don’t have to inform your office. I have jurisdiction because she’s now a person of interest in my case.”
Ida Belle cocked her head. “Person of interest?”
He sneered as he opened the bag, slowly unrolling the top of it for effect. In what seemed like slow motion, he stuck his hands in the bag and pulled out three magazines. “I just found these in your trash. Care to tell me how they got there?”
“I don’t even know what they are.” Ida Belle reached out to take one of the magazines and Deputy Vachon yanked them from her grasp.
“No no, these are evidence. I wouldn’t want you to touch them and then claim later that’s how your fingerprints got on them.”
He held them up, fanning them so Ida Belle could see which magazines they were.
Ida Belle shook her head. “Bon Appétit, Good Housekeeping, and Guns & Ammo. I’ve never read a Bon Appétit or Good Housekeeping. Guns & Ammo? Yes, I subscribe. But I’m not done reading this month’s issue, so there’s no way my copy would’ve ever ended up in my trash.”
Gertie leaned in and looked at the Good Housekeeping. “10 Uses for Used Toilet Paper Rolls.”
“What exactly is this evidence of?” Ida Belle asked.
“Other than poor taste?” Gertie added. She looked at Ida Belle. “Remember when Bea had all the Sinful Ladies for dinner and the napkin rings were made from used toilet paper rolls?” She looked at me. “I had to pretend I had stomach cramps and go home. Just didn’t seem right to have used toilet paper rolls anywhere near food.”
Deputy Vachon’s face was turning red. “You ladies know what this is evidence of.”
“Enlighten us, then,” Carter said, “because Ida Belle said those magazines aren’t hers.”
“All of these magazines have letters cut out,” Deputy Vachon said pointedly to Carter. “All I need to do is take them back to the station and compare them with the threatening letters received by two members of the Mudbuggers skating team.”
“That wouldn’t prove a thing,” Carter said.
“Hell if it wouldn’t,” Deputy Vachon shot back.
“You can go ahead and check those all you want,” Ida Belle said, “because I didn’t cut any letters out of any magazines, and I certainly wouldn’t have thrown them in my own trash if I did.”
Cries of “Ida Belle! Ida Belle!” erupted from Ida Belle’s next-door neighbor, Midge. She scurried down her front steps and across her lawn.
“Midge,” Ida Belle said, “I’m kinda busy here.”
Midge joined us, doubling over and panting. She nodded her head and then stood straight. “I know,” she said, still breathing heavily. “The magazines. I told him what I saw, but he just pooh-poohed me.”
“Did you see who left the magazines in Ida Belle’s trash, Miss Allair?” Carter asked.
“Yeah, an old lady.” Deputy Vachon glared at Ida Belle. “Like the one I’m staring at right now.”
Carter raised his hand to quiet Deputy Vachon. He looked at Midge. “What did you see, Miss Allair?”
“Well, I was washing out Lula Mae’s catbox. I like to wash it outside because it can be a little messy to clean inside in the bathtub. You don’t want that clumping sand to get in your drains.”
Carter nodded. “And then what?”
“Well, if clumping sand got in your drain the water would make it bloat and everything would back up.”
Deputy Vachon rolled his eyes.
“There you go rolling your eyes at me again,” Midge said. “I’d like to see you standing in the shower when that clumpy kitty litter balls up and won’t allow the water to drain. You won’t be rolling your eyes then.”
“Midge,” Gertie said, “forget about the kitty litter. What did you see?”
“I saw an older gal, like us, and a little taller than Ida Belle throwing something away in her garbage can.”
“Who was she?” Ida Belle asked.
Midge shrugged. “How would I know? I called out, ‘Hey, Ida Belle,’ but all she did was wave at me without even turning around. I told this clown that the notion that it was you was just bull pucky. Because when you throw things away, you come out of your back gate and go back to your house through your back gate, and this old gal wandered down the alley. Then about an hour after she threw something in the trash, HE shows up,” she said pointing to Deputy Vachon, “rolling his eyes around in his head like he’s doing now.”
Deputy Vachon turned to Carter. “I explained to her that we received an anonymous tip. As for the claim that the old lady walked down the alley and not through the gate, I would like to remind you that the witness is a friend of the accused and a Sinful Slider. I would say she’s biased.”
“The accused?” Ida Belle said. “So now I’m the accused? You think maybe I’m in league with Andre to hurt Bunny?”
“I’m saying the magazines were found in your trash.”
“And Miss Allair said the lady walked down the alley and not through the gate,” Carter said. “That says to me it wasn’t Ida Belle. That and the anonymous tip you received could also say to me that someone wanted you to think it was Ida Belle.”
I turned to Midge. “When did you see this woman put the magazines in her trash?”
“Well, let me think. I was watching a repeat of one of those Tiny Houses episodes. Honestly, I can’t imagine living in one of those things. I’ve bought cat condos for my precious Lula Mae that were bigger than those things. This episode focused on a couple in Colorado Springs. A couple. Can you imagine? What is a couple going to do in one of those tiny things? Well, there’s only one thing they can do and there’s barely room enough for that.”
“What time, Midge?” Ida Belle asked.
“About an hour, hour and a half ago. And don’t worry, honey, I was going to mention it to you when you got home. I thought it odd that someone threw something in your trash, but I didn’t think it would lead to Deputy HooHaw here accusing you of attacking Bunny.”
Ida Belle looked at Deputy Vachon and shrugged. “We were at Bayou Bounty on the outskirts of Sinful an hour to an hour and a half ago. So there’s no way that could’ve been me.”
“And I’m sure these are your witnesses,” Deputy Vachon said, waving his hand between Gertie and me.
“Damn straight,” Gertie said. “And we have three bags full of produce to prove it.”
“We also have a witness at Bayou Bounty.” I turned to Carter. “Dexter Wilson. He’s a chef based in New Orleans.”
Carter nodded, then looked at Gertie. “Is he that skinny kid? A few years younger than me? Used to live near the high school?”
Gertie’s eyes widened. She took a deep breath and nodded. “He’s filled out a bit since then.”
Carter shrugged. “Okay.”
“Well, now, don’t get all jealous,” Gertie said. “Fortune’s not blind, you know.”
Carter flashed me a confused look.
Ida Belle stepped in. “Dexter was there preparing for a dinner Lucette’s throwing tonight. Lucette arrived a bit later. So she can vouch for us as well.”
Deputy Vachon folded the top of the evidence bag with several turns and said to Ida Belle, “I need to ask you to stay in the area for the next few days.”
“Go ahead and ask,” Ida Belle said, “but I can go anywhere I darn well please.”
Carter placed his hand on Ida Belle’s shoulder. “Don’t do this, Ida Belle.”
“Or, I can just go ahead and arrest you right now,” Deputy Vachon said.
“On what grounds?” Carter asked. “A lawyer would get her out in two seconds.”
Deputy Vachon nodded. “Maybe, but she’d have to go to the station, and I’m sure she wouldn’t want to be inconvenienced with that. And then she’d have to pay a lawyer...”
Ida Belle cursed under her breath.
Deputy Vachon sucked something out of his teeth, then said, “Stay close by. Depending on what I find on these magazines, I may need to get your fingerprints.” He then nodded his head at us. “Have a nice day, ladies.”
As he walked away, Midge scurried alongside him, badgering him about what a poor excuse for a lawman he was.
“Okay,” Carter said. “What were you doing at Bayou Bounty?”
“Do you know who owns Bayou Bounty?” I asked.
Carter shook his head. “I know my Uncle Walter sells produce and stuff from there, but I don’t know who owns it.”
“Lucette Boule,” Gertie said. “Formally Lucette Gascon. The same Lucette whose husband cheated on her with Bunny LeBeau more than thirty years ago.”
Carter’s eyebrows rose as he considered this new information. “Why would she wait this long to try to kill Bunny?”
“Maybe she has the patience of Job,” Gertie said. “She’s an organic farmer. They’re used to waiting for things to happen.”
“I’m going to pack my overnight bag,” Ida Belle said. “And I bet you anything my Guns & Ammo is sitting right on my coffee table where I left it.”
Ida Belle stormed off. Gertie said, “Maybe Fortune can fill you in on what we were thinking.” She pointed at me. “But I don’t think Dexter’s involved.”
She turned and rushed after Ida Belle.
Carter peered at me. “You have a theory?”
I told him about Lucette and how she arrived a half hour after we got there. “She picked up an order of quail in Woodlake. Sinful’s right off the highway on her way back to her farm.”
“So she had time to stop by and throw the magazines into Ida Belle’s trash,” Carter said.
I nodded. “From behind she and Ida Belle could look alike I guess.”
“You said Dexter was there?” Carter asked.
I nodded again. “Gertie doesn’t think there’s any way Dexter could have harmed Bunny, but he’ll be opening a restaurant and that takes money. Plus, a Bon Appétit magazine was found in Ida Belle’s trash. And the way he was swinging that axe when he was chopping wood. That guy is ripped. I mean, he must work out all the time.”
Carter folded his arms. “Yeah, I get it.”
“I think Gertie may have mentioned I’m not blind.”
Carter raised an eyebrow. “I knew Dexter growing up as well. I agree with Gertie. He doesn’t seem like the kinda guy to do that. But, then, it’s been a while. People change.” He suppressed a smile. “Maybe becoming ‘ripped’ messed with his head.” Then Carter grinned. “You know, in a way I’m glad.”
“About what?”
“That you got involved in the investigation.”
That I wasn’t expecting. “You are?”
He shrugged. “Hey, it’s not MY investigation. Seriously, I don’t want Vachon railroading anyone, and that’s what I’m afraid he’s going to do. Meanwhile, the real perp gets away with it. And who knows if this person’s going to try to finish the job.” He cocked his head. “I can’t interfere in the investigation of another jurisdiction’s law-enforcement agency...”
There was a moment of silence between us. Something unspoken. “So... what I think you’re saying...”
He pointed his finger at me. “Promise me you won’t do anything illegal.”
I shrugged. “Define illegal.”
He sighed. “You know what I mean.” He ran his hand through my hair. “Please don’t do anything that puts you three in danger.”
“Define danger.”
He pursed his lips and stared at me.
I touched his shoulder. “Look, the three of us have encountered many dangerous things in our careers.”
“They’re seventy-two. It’s been decades since they’ve had their careers.”
“Really? Do you believe that? You saw what a crack shot Ida Belle was in New Orleans. And me... You’ve seen me in action.” I then ran my hand through his hair. “We were all made for this sort of thing and we both know it.”
He grimaced. He knew it and he hated it. But he had said he couldn’t bear losing me when we were apart for those few days. And that meant that if he wanted me, he’d have to let me be me. But it wasn’t one sided. I would have to compromise some, too, I knew that.
“If I feel it’s more danger than I can handle, I’ll pull back.”
He frowned. “Just stay alert.”
Now it was me frowning. “You act as if I haven’t faced danger before. Trust me, on a scale of one to ten of dangerous things I've done in my life, investigating a coward who attacks an old woman with a bat is probably a minus ten.”
He sighed. “But, you know, some of the biggest dangers are those you'd never expect. I can't tell you how many times I've heard of a soldier coming home on leave from Iraq and getting killed in a bar fight or a drive-by shooting. And I'm sure all of them would've said they considered going to a bar in their hometown as a minus ten on the danger scale.”
He gently stroked my cheek. “Please promise me you’ll be alert at all times.”
I kissed him on the lips and whispered, “I promise.”