Swamp Sniper (3 page)

“I know.” And then it clicked with me that those two simple words I’d uttered, I meant 100 percent. Despite the fact that I’d known Ida Belle for less than two weeks, I was absolutely certain that she hadn’t killed Ted. I would have bet my cover on it.

One look at Gertie’s agonized expression, and I wondered if it might come down to that.

Chapter Two

I left Gertie with a cup of coffee and a bottle of cough syrup while I threw on jeans, T-shirt, and tennis shoes. It took a couple cups of the mix before she’d calmed down enough to venture out. Then we headed for Ida Belle’s house. Carter couldn’t put us off forever, and unless Ida Belle was straight-out telling him she’d killed Ted, Carter didn’t have any cause to arrest her.

Yet.

Carter’s truck was still parked in front of Ida Belle’s house when Gertie pulled her ancient Cadillac to the curb. All up and down the block, I saw blinds and curtains move from nosy neighbors trying to figure out what was going on.
 

As Gertie and I made our way up the sidewalk, Carter stepped out of the house and gave us a frowning nod before continuing past to his truck. He climbed inside and shut the door, and without uttering a single word, pulled away from the curb and down the street. We both stood in front of the porch steps, watching him drive away. I don’t know what was running through Gertie’s mind, but I wasn’t feeling overly confident as we walked up the steps and knocked on the door.

Ida Belle, hair in curlers and still wearing her robe, flung open the door and glared. When she realized it was me and Gertie and not Carter, her expression went from exasperated to relieved and she waved us inside.
 

“Hurry up about it,” she said, rushing us to the kitchen. “Damn man wouldn’t let me brew a pot of coffee. Like anyone is alert at three a.m. It’s not like I’m old people or something with one of those bladders that’s all worn out and gets you up at ungodly hours.”

I looked over at Gertie, who gave me a slight shake of her head. Clearly, when Ida Belle was on a tear, Gertie thought it best to let her get it all out. I slid into a chair at the back of the kitchen table and figured I’d wait on Gertie to give me a talking cue. Gertie took the chair next to me, still silently observing.

“Then Carter stomps in here,” Ida Belle continued to rant, “and starts quizzing me like he’s the gestapo, and all because that idiot Ted doesn’t take care of himself and dropped dead of a heart attack or something. What the hell do I have to do with his lifestyle choices? Every time I see the man, he’s holding a beer and some form of red meat. Hell, that wife alone would give most people a heart attack, if only as an opportunity to get away from her.”

She shoved the coffeepot under the filter basket and poked the on switch so hard the entire coffee machine scooted back a couple of inches on the counter.
 

“And to top it all off,” Ida Belle said as she plopped into a chair across from me, “Carter wouldn’t even give me a good reason for this intrusion. I’ve always liked the boy, but if he’s going to start acting irrationally, then I’ll be damned if I see him promoted to sheriff once I’m elected mayor.”

I looked over at Gertie, who raised her eyebrows.

“What?” Ida Belle asked, catching Gertie’s expression. “If you two know something, spill it, because I’m tired and cranky and more than a little pissed off.”

Gertie took a breath and filled Ida Belle in on what Marie had witnessed.

Ida Belle’s eyes widened. “Poisoned? And that fool of a wife thinks I did it? Why in the world would I waste a good murder on that idiot?”

“Got me,” I said, in complete agreement.

Gertie frowned at me. “Yes, well, the three of us tend to approach human extermination from a different viewpoint than most. So while we all know it’s the most ridiculous thing to even suggest, much less consider, it doesn’t mean the rest of Sinful will feel the same.”

Ida Belle sighed. “Which means Carter doesn’t have the option to treat it as nonsense either. I get it, but I don’t have to like it.”

“Me either,” I said.

Gertie shook her head. “I swear, sometimes it’s like you two are the same person.”

I grinned. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Under normal circumstances,” Gertie said, “it could be, but given the situations we’ve found ourselves in lately, I suppose it’s an asset.”

“So what now?” Ida Belle asked.

“Given that it’s a suspicious death, they’ll rush the autopsy and drug tox,” I said. “They should be able to screen for common poisons in a matter of hours. The rest could take longer.”

Ida Belle nodded. “So maybe a couple of days of getting the squint-eye from some people and then this latest shitstorm will pass over.”

I shrugged. “Probably, but in my limited experience, the passing of one shitstorm seems only to bring another.”

Ida Belle sighed. “I swear, things were quiet before you got here.”

“Yeah, that’s what Carter keeps telling me.”

Ida Belle rose from the table and grabbed the coffeepot. “Well, I guess there’s nothing else to do but have some coffee and muffins and wait.”

I nodded, the smell of the coffee and the prospect of a homemade muffin improving my mood despite the complete lack of sleep I’d gotten since I’d been here. But even given my certainty that Ida Belle hadn’t killed Ted, I couldn’t escape that niggle in the back of my mind that said this was all far from over.

###

The knock on Ida Belle’s door came sooner than any of us expected. I froze, coffee cup dangling in midair like an incomplete sentence. Gertie’s eyes widened and she sucked in a breath as she dropped the last bite of her muffin on her plate and stared at Ida Belle.

I have to give it to her—Ida Belle remained cool as a cucumber.
 

“It’s probably someone being nosy,” Ida Belle said. “They couldn’t possibly know anything already.”

She rose from the table and headed to the front door.

“Do you think she’s right?” Gertie asked, the hope clear in her voice.

I wanted to say she was right. Logically, what she said made sense. But somehow, that knock had sounded different—ominous, even. And I thought Ida Belle had felt it, too, even though she’d tried to mask it with optimism, most likely for Gertie’s benefit.

I rose from my chair and hurried after Ida Belle, Gertie scurrying behind me, and arrived at the front door just as Ida Belle pulled it open. My worst fears were confirmed.
 

Carter stood on Ida Belle’s front porch and his expression left no doubt where the conversation was headed. He handed Ida Belle a folded piece of paper.

“I’m really sorry about this,” he said, “but that’s a warrant to search your property. I’m going to have to ask you to take a seat in the kitchen. Deputy Breaux will stay with you until I’ve completed my search.”

He looked at Gertie and me. “I’m not even going to bother telling you to leave, but if you want to stay, you have to sit in the kitchen with Ida Belle and can’t move until this is over. Are we clear?”

We both gave him a nod, then followed Ida Belle to the kitchen where we slipped back into our chairs at the breakfast table. Gertie grabbed her napkin and began to pull it apart in pieces. Her face was flushed and her breathing more rapid.

“What does this mean?” she asked.
 

“I think it means Ted was poisoned,” I said.

Ida Belle nodded. “I’m afraid she’s right. Carter wouldn’t have bothered Judge Aubry for a warrant without a reason. For one, he can’t stand the man, and two, he would never risk his own reputation over something like this.”

I heard Carter talking to someone at the front door and a couple of seconds later, a short, squatty man wearing a deputy badge walked into the kitchen.

Five feet eight, two hundred forty pounds, probably couldn’t run to the kitchen counter without collapsing.

He gave us a nod as he entered the room, a blush running up his neck and onto his face as he stood awkwardly next to the counter, clearly unsure of how to handle the situation. His insecurity combined with one of those boyish, round faces was enough to generate a flicker of my sympathy. I hadn’t seen someone that uncomfortable in a long time—except for myself, of course, if one took into account most of my time in Sinful.

“Well, don’t just stand there lurking over us, Kyle,” Ida Belle said and waved at the deputy.
 
“There’s a stool under the counter and a half a pot of coffee behind you. Cups are in the cabinet above.”

Kyle froze, clearly uncertain what protocol was in this situation. “I don’t know, ma’am…”

Ida Belle shrugged. “Carter could be hours. Are you really planning to stand there the whole time? First off, I don’t think you’re in any shape to manage it, which is something you need to address given your age. Second, what do you think we’re going to do if you’re sitting—make a break for the back door and head off to Mexico?”

Kyle’s face turned a deeper shade of red. “No, ma’am. I just…well, I feel bad making myself comfortable given the circumstances.”

“Whether you’re sitting or standing, the circumstances aren’t going to change.”

Ida Belle turned around in her chair to face me. Deputy Kyle stared at the side of her head for a moment, then glanced back at the coffeepot. Finally, common sense, bad physical conditioning, or maybe just a slight fear of Ida Belle won out and he turned around to pour a cup of coffee.

It briefly crossed my mind to jump out of my chair and run for the back door, just to see his reaction, but I decided that was probably mean, even though I was certain the results would have been hilarious. I glanced over at Gertie, who was also casing the distance between her chair and the door, and barely held in a smile.
 

Great minds.

“So Kyle,” I said after he hefted himself onto a stool and lifted the coffee to his lips, “I guess this means someone bumped off Ted, right?”

He sucked in a breath, which included a mouthful of hot coffee, then snorted, blowing it through his nose and across the kitchen floor.

Ida Belle sighed. “I just mopped yesterday.”

I grinned. “I didn’t mean to choke you up there, Kyle. But really, it doesn’t take a genius to know what’s going on.”

Kyle grabbed a paper towel and coughed into it a couple of times before throwing it away. “I can’t talk about an investigation. Deputy LeBlanc would kill me.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” I said. “One murder a week really should be the town limit.”

As the last sentence left my mouth, Carter walked through the kitchen, headed for the back door. He paused, and for a split second, I thought I had bought myself an escort to the sidewalk, but he continued on through the back door without even glancing at us.
 

“What do you think he’s looking for?” Gertie asked.

“Household items that can be used as poison,” Ida Belle said. “At least, that’s my guess.”

I nodded. “Which means that whatever killed Ted caused a reaction that was fairly obvious to the medical examiner. No way have they gotten tox screens back yet.”

Gertie bit her lip. “What do you think it is?”

“What kind of pest control products do you have around the house?” I asked.

“The usual stuff,” Ida Belle said. “Ant killer, wasps, rats…stuff for all the usual bayou suspects.”

Gertie threw her hands in the air. “Hell, everyone in Sinful has that stuff.”

Ida Belle frowned. “If they have enough evidence from the tox screen, can’t they determine an exact match to the box of poison?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I mean, I suppose they could determine the brand based on comparison.”

“But if more than one person has the same brand,” Gertie said, “it’s not possible to say with certainty which box was used, right?”

I frowned. “Maybe, maybe not. I was reading this book on forensics and it talked about Locard’s exchange principle. Basically everywhere you go you take something with you and leave something behind. So if there were hair or skin cells in the sample from Ted’s, then they could look for a match.”

“I always wear long gloves when I’m working with the poison,” Ida Belle said.

“Then that makes it less likely,” I said.

Gertie slumped back in her chair. “That’s a relief. Everyone in Sinful has a storage shed full of pest control products, so that opens it wide up as far as suspects.”

“Except the Spencers,” Ida Belle said.

“Do the Spencers have some sort of special immunity to pests?” I asked.

“No, but they have these strange ideas about communing with nature and ‘polite’ ways to keep pests away. Some sort of green crap.” Ida Belle waved a hand in dismissal. “They’re from California. What do you expect?”

I stared at her, still confused. “So they commune with the pests?”

“They claim they ask them politely to leave and they do.” Ida Belle rolled her eyes. “Can’t say that I blame the pests. I’d leave too before I hung out with a bunch of weirdos.”

Gertie tapped Ida Belle’s arm. “Here he comes.”