miss fortune mystery (ff) - bayou bubba (6 page)

“Did he fill out a report?”

Sheriff Lee hocked a lugey and launched it to the ground on the other side of his half dead horse. I closed my eyes, praying for a merciful end to the interview.

“S’pose he did. Carter keeps everything close though.”

I could tell that even the intrepid Cal was losing patience. “Can I get access to the report?”

The sheriff leaned forward, resting an age-speckled forearm across the saddle. The leather creaked ominously. “You got a license, boy?”

Cal’s sexy jaw tightened but he pulled his laminated PI’s license out and showed it to the sheriff.

For the third time since we’d stopped him on the street.

Apparently the ancient lawman had the memory retention of an undersized flea.

The sheriff peered down at the license and straightened, launching another lugey into the street.

If lugeys were bullets Sheriff Robert E. Lee would be Clint Eastwood.

When the sheriff continued to stare at Cal he finally lost it. “Sheriff Lee?!”

The man blinked. “Yeah?”

“Can I see the report on the murdered homeless guy?”

The sheriff frowned. “Keep it down, boy. There’s no cause to upset the tender sensibilities of the people of Sinful.” He shook his head. “Take it up with my deputy when he gets back in town.” He doffed his cowboy hat. “Enjoy this fine day, folks.”

Cal and I watched in disbelief as the sheriff and his time-traveling horse pottered on down the road.

“I have no idea what just happened,” Cal groused.

I bit my lip to keep from grinning. “Hopefully things will stay quiet for the next few days. I shudder to think what will happen if Sheriff Lee has to actually do any law enforcement.”

Cal snorted derisively. “Unless he can do it from the back of that horse it seems unlikely. I think he’s snapped into the saddle like an action toy.” He touched my arm. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

Cal climbed into the Jeep. “To approach this thing from another direction.”

A half hour later we were pulling into the lot for the hospital. “The morgue?” I ventured.

Cal nodded. “Hopefully I can convince the coroner to give up some details.”

“Sure,” I agreed supportively. “How hard can that be?”

###

Pugnacious wasn’t a word I found myself using often. But the woman standing in front of us had modeled herself after the word.

Dr. Joyce Ye was about the size of a large tenth grader. Her round face and pug nose under heavy-framed black glasses supported my first impression of her age. The only thing that spoke “adult” were her fierce brown eyes, which currently snapped with temper as Cal tried to entice her into cooperating.

“I don’t care how many PI licenses you have from Indianapolis, Indiana, Mr. Calamity. I’m not giving you information on an ongoing murder investigation until I get permission from Deputy LeBlanc.”

“We can’t wait a week for him to get back. We have reason to believe Felicity’s father is in danger.”

“A week? He’s only gone for the night.”

Cal all but stamped a foot. He vibrated with frustration. “Sheriff Lee told us the deputy was at a seminar in Mudbug for the week.”

Dr. Ye rolled her eyes. “You met the sheriff, right?”

Cal expelled a breath, looking at his shoes. I got the distinct impression he was counting to eleven hundred and ten. “Okay. Maybe you can tell me where the deputy is and when he’ll be back since I’ve apparently been given bad information.”

“He’s in Mudbug following up on a lead.”

My eyes went wide. “Really? What was the lead?”

Dr. Ye scoured me with disdain. “I can have the deputy call when he gets back if you’d like.”

Okay, it was time for desperation tactics. “No. I…” I covered my mouth with my hand and sobbed, squeezing tears from my eyes. The hand over my mouth shook and my knees buckled.

Cal caught me. “It’s okay, Felly. We’re gonna find whoever did this. I promise you.” He threw Dr. Ye a glare that made her blink.

“He’s in danger, Cal. And I feel so helpless.” Another sob climbed up my throat.

Cal pulled me against his chest and I almost forgot to sob again. He smelled delicious and felt so hard and broad. I wrapped my arms around his waist and tugged him closer.

Cal tensed in surprise.

“Okay. I’m sorry,” Dr. Ye said in a softer, more pliant tone. “I know you’re worried about your dad, Miss Chance. So I’m going to give you
one
piece of information.” She picked up a pad of paper and scribbled something onto it, handing it to Cal. “If you want more than that you’ll need to check in with Deputy LeBlanc in the morning.”

Cal glanced at the paper and folded it in half, sliding it into his shirt pocket. “Thank you, Doctor Ye.”

He stepped away from me and grabbed my hand. “Come on, Felly. Let’s get out of the Doctor’s way and let her get back to work.”

I sniffled loudly and gave her a watery smile. “Thank you.”

She pursed her lips, obviously trying to decide if she’d been played, and nodded. “I hope you find your father in time.”

Cal tugged me through the door and, as soon as it swung closed behind us, slapped me a five. “If you ever get tired of doing whatever it is you do you could definitely take an acting job.”

I grinned. “That was pretty good, wasn’t it?”

We pushed through the door into the broiling Louisiana sun. My pores immediately contracted and then flared, puking up whatever moisture they’d been holding. “So what did the paper say?”

He pulled it out, unfolded it and held it up in front of me.

“Lang pale?”

Cal looked at it again. “It says long pole.”

“What does that mean?”

“If I’m not totally off base she just gave us the murder weapon.”

###

As we drove past
Francine’s Café
, I spotted Gertie and Ida Belle leaving. “Stop the car. There’s Ida Belle. We need to ask her about the cough medicine bottles.”

Cal angled the Jeep into a spot in front of the restaurant and I climbed out, calling to the two older women as I jogged toward them, my gator purse smacking against my hip. “Hey ladies!”

The two stopped in front of a battered old pickup and were arguing. Something about Ida Belle wanting to drive her new truck rather than bounce around in Gertie’s rent-a-wreck Caddy.

They didn’t hear me calling until I was a few feet away.

Gertie smiled as I approached. “Oh.” She laughed. “For a minute there I thought you were Lena.”

Ida Belle rolled her eyes. “When are you going to quit pretending you aren’t blind as a bat and wear your glasses?”

Gertie glared at her. “I am not blind. The sun was in my eyes.”

I waited patiently for them to quit sparring.

“Did you find what you needed on Number Two?” Ida Belle asked a moment later.

“I’m not sure…” I started, before Cal interrupted me.

“We found a lot of
these
laying around. I understand you might have something to do with them?”

Ida Belle and Gertie shared a look, seeming to communicate without words. And then Ida Belle shook her head. “That’s not one of mine.”

Cal lifted a midnight-colored eyebrow, clearly not believing her. “We’ve had more than one person tell us you sell moonshine in bottles like these. This reeks of moonshine.”

The old woman stared him down, her expression every bit as stony as his. “We sell moonshine, Mr. Amity. And we sell it in cough syrup bottles. But those aren’t our bottles.”

“We use the nice brown glass ones,” Gertie added, curling her lip. “Not those cheap plastic things.”

My hopes were dashed again. I’d really thought we were getting closer to finding out what Bubba had been up to on Number Two that might have gotten him killed.

“Dammed interlopers!” Ida Belle suddenly exclaimed. She shook her head. “I guess it was too much to hope for us to own the market indefinitely.”

“That means there’s another still around here somewhere? Any ideas where it might be?” Cal asked.

Both women shook their heads. “Not a clue,” Gertie said.

“But we’ll find out,” Ida Belle added, frowning. “You can count on that.”

Cal nodded. “You’ll tell us if you learn anything?”

“Of course, Mr. Amity.”

“Please. Call me Cal.”

She frowned as if he’d gone too far and turned toward the truck.

Cal stopped them before they climbed inside. “What can you tell us about Lyle Borne?”

They looked surprised. Gertie retreated a few steps, lowering her voice. “You think Lyle had something to do with that body on Number Two?”

Cal shrugged. “Certain things point in his direction, yes.”

Ida Belle blew air between her lips and leaned on the truck. “I hope you’re wrong. His sister will be devastated if he goes to jail.”

“They’re really close?” I asked.

“It’s not so much that,” Gertie said. “She really needs the income he provides. He pays half the bills.”

“I wouldn’t think gator hunting is that lucrative,” Cal said with a frown.

“You’d be surprised.” Ida Belle twirled her key ring around her finger. “Leather for shoes, belts, purses. And the teeth sell pretty well too…for jewelry and such. But it’s not only the hunting. Lyle teaches economics at the extension in Mudbug.”

I frowned. “I’d have never pegged him for a college professor.”

“Lyle’s smart,” Gertie said.

“Smart enough to plan a murder and get away with it?” Cal asked.

Ida Belle sighed. “I guess so. Though I’m not sure why he’d do it.”

“That’s what we need to figure out.” Cal lifted a hand in a wave and I said goodbye. He wrapped his long, warm fingers around my arm. “What do you think about some dinner at Francine’s before we head back to the motel?”

A warm spot blossomed in my belly at his touch and spread far and wide when he smiled down at me. “I think that sounds just about perfect.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Dinner was delicious. I had poached bass with pear and cottage cheese salad and a thick slice of chocolate cake for dessert. I decided I was glad I didn’t live in Sinful. I’d probably weigh five hundred pounds if I did.

Francine had put a red and white checkered table cloth over a table in the back corner and placed a fake, flickering candle in the middle, along with the alligator-shaped salt and pepper shakers.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was trying to spur a romance between us.

“So you said your father remarried. Where’s your mom?”

I grimaced. “I have no idea. She left him when I was really small and it’s been an endless succession of babysitters, gold-digger girlfriends, and trophy wives ever since.”

Cal chewed his bass thoughtfully, swallowing before asking, “What reason did your dad give you for your mother leaving?”

“He fed me some pabulum about her reaching for her dreams.” I speared a roasted Brussel sprout. “I suspect that dream was to marry someone even richer than Felonius.”

He grinned. “Why do you say that?”

I shrugged. “I overheard him talking on the phone to her once. He didn’t know I heard. He said something about the man she married being able to afford his own island.” I chuckled. “At the time I just thought he was being mean. When you’re twelve the idea of owning an island sounds ridiculous.”

Cal shook his head. “It doesn’t sound any less crazy when you’re thirty-two.”

I tugged the sprout off my fork, no longer really tasting it. I hadn’t thought about my mother for years. I wasn’t happy to be thinking about her again. “Let’s talk about something else.”

Cal nodded and lifted his hand, calling our waitress over. The young woman, whose badge said her name was Ally, smiled. “Dessert?”

I opened my mouth to say no but Cal beat me to the punch. “Two slices of chocolate cake.”

A grin burst over my face before I could stop it. “I’ll explode.”

He eyed my half full plate. “I doubt it. You’ve barely touched your fish.”

“It was a huge piece.” I set my fork down and pushed my plate aside. If I was getting chocolate cake I needed to save room. “What about your parents?” I asked Cal.

He piled his plate on top of mine. “Married for thirty-two years, created four sons through immaculate conception.”

I laughed. “Four? Good god that’s a lot of testosterone under one roof.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Good god that’s a lot of testosterone under one roof.”

Cal chuckled.

We shared a smile and it felt good. I suddenly wondered when we’d become so comfortable with each other.

Then Ally dropped a huge, glossy, gooey slice of chocolate cake in front of me and I forgot to wonder about anything except how fast I could get the first bite into my mouth.

###

A group of small, smudged looking children skittered across the road in front of us as Cal turned into the
Backwater Inn
parking lot. A few of them were carrying fishing poles and one had a Styrofoam cooler clutched in her grimy fists.

A small dog of indeterminate DNA bounced after them, yapping excitedly.

I watched them run, laughing and tumbling together, toward the brown ribbon of water behind the motel and smiled. It would be so simple to be a child again, I mused. Then I frowned, remembering that, for me at least, it had never been simple.

Scratch the hell out of that thought.

As Cal angled the Jeep into the parking spot in front of our room, a small, square Hispanic woman in a white cotton uniform backed out of number eight, pulling a cart laden with toilet paper and towels out behind her.

I climbed out of the car and threw a smile her way. “Hey. How’s it going?”

She smiled back, her pretty, dark gaze sliding appreciatively over Cal.

“Did the man in that room leave,” I asked hopefully.

“
Si
.” She bobbed her head in my direction, scoured Cal with a last smoldering look, and pushed her cart down the uneven concrete toward the office.

“Well that’s a relief,” I told Cal.

“That guy really spooked you didn’t he?”

“You never met him. He was terrifying.”

A delighted squeal down by the bayou had us turning our heads to look. The kids were all gathered around the tallest boy, whose dirty blond head was bent over something he held in his hands.