Lethal Bayou Beauty (26 page)

“Well, you don’t have to be insulting,” Gertie said. “We wouldn’t have to take such actions if there wasn’t a homicidal maniac running loose.”

Carter raised an eyebrow. “Says the woman who just assaulted a law enforcement officer with a kitchen implement.”

“Why are you watching me, anyway?” I asked. “You’ve got a perfectly good suspect sitting in jail in New Orleans, waiting on you.”

Carter stiffened and his jaw flexed. “Ryan’s in the wind.”

“What?” Gertie, Ida Belle, Marie, and I all yelled at once.

Pro-am marathon runner.
The details of my Internet search on Ryan came crashing back.

“Keep it down,” Carter said. “There was a mix-up at the police station and Ryan was released. No one has seen him since.”

“His stuff is still at his hotel room?” I asked, starting to worry. If Ryan had seen me somewhere in Sinful and made me as the delivery person at the Ritz-Carlton on Monday, he might think I was in on things with Pansy.

“His wallet with all his credit cards, cash, and license are still at the police station,” Carter said. “And the rest of his things are still in his hotel room. He won’t get far.”

“He could be here in Sinful for all you know,” I said. “He could have been the one in my bushes.”

Carter narrowed his eyes at me. “Why would he have any cause to know you, much less stalk you?”

Ooops.

No way was I telling that story.

“Maybe he heard the local gossip,” I said.

“Uh-huh,” Carter said, not buying it for a minute. Finally, he sighed. “You know what—whatever it is, I don’t even want to know. I should, but I simply can’t work up the energy. If any of you has an ounce of sympathy, you’ll get back inside that house and stop running outside with weapons.”

He whirled around and stalked back to his truck, glaring at all of us as he pulled away.

“I don’t get it,” I said as I watched his taillights disappear around the corner. “Why is he still watching me? I can see putting on a show for the locals during daylight hours, but I know he doesn’t think I did it. Why spend the night in his truck?”

“I could be wrong,” Gertie said, “but I’m going to guess it’s because he’s trying to protect you.”

“And himself,” Ida Belle said.
 

“True,” Gertie agreed. “You’re both on the hook at the moment.”

I frowned, not sure how I felt about Carter looking out for me.
 

I was pretty sure I’d been more comfortable as a suspect.

###

Tuesday passed without incident, unless you took into account the thirty-six hang-up calls I received, the rotten eggs in my mailbox, and the burning pile of cow crap on my front porch. I’d totally fell for that one and now, my only tennis shoes were on the back porch, drying out from their visit with the water hose. Ida Belle had watched the entire escapade without saying a word, which should have clued me in that something was amiss, as usually she had something to say about everything.

Ida Belle, Gertie, and Marie had taken turns “sitting” with me, as they called it.

Babysitting was more accurate, although I felt more like a caged animal. Ida Belle had tapped all her sources, but no one had seen hide nor hair of Dr. Ryan. He hadn’t returned to his hotel and his receptionist was vague about when he’d be available for appointments. I figured the New Orleans police had been in contact with her and at the moment, she was probably even more confused than we were.
 

By that evening, Ida Belle and I were all pacing my living room while Gertie started on her sixth roll of knitting yarn, not a single original idea among us. At Ida Belle’s insistence, Marie had headed home with Bones to keep an eye on Celia’s house.

“There’s got to be something we can do,” Gertie said for the hundredth time. “I feel like we’re just sitting here, hoping Carter doesn’t have to arrest Fortune.”

Ida Belle stopped pacing and glared at her. “Don’t you think if there was something we could do, we’d be doing it?”

“Well, we need to think of something,” Gertie said. “Pansy’s funeral is tomorrow. That will only turn up the heat.”

For once, Ida Belle didn’t have a smart aleck reply, and although she was trying hard not to let on, I could tell she was worried. She set off pacing the length of the living room again and was on her third pass up when her cell phone rang. Gertie and I both froze and waited as Ida Belle issued clipped one-word answers, then disconnected.

“The GWs are having a private mourning at the Catholic Church tonight,” Ida Belle said, looking excited. “Only the GWs and Celia’s family are invited.”

“And this makes you happy, why exactly?” I asked, not understanding her obvious glee.

“Because Celia’s house will be empty,” she said. “Whoever broke in there the other night didn’t get what he was looking for.”

“Because we already had it,” I said. My pulse ticked up a notch.

“Had what?” Gertie asked. “I wish you two wouldn’t talk in code.”

“The journal, you woolly-headed old woman,” Ida Belle said. “Ryan might go looking for the journal.”

“What makes you so certain it’s Dr. Ryan?” Gertie asked. “More than a handful of Sinful men have been worried since Pansy got back in town.”

“But how many of them can get away from Fortune in a footrace? The short answer is none.”

Gertie frowned. “Do you really think he’d be stupid enough to break into Celia’s house again?”

“He was stupid enough to pay Pansy to have an affair,” I said.

“True,” Gertie agreed, “but what would it gain him to have the journal now? He’s already wanted for questioning for Pansy’s murder. I’m sure they contacted his wife, so that cat’s out of the bag, assuming it was ever in.”

“He’s a rich Beverly Hills plastic surgeon,” Ida Belle said. “He probably thinks his expensive LA attorney would have no problem getting him off with the hicks in Louisiana.”

“Is it really that easy?” I asked.

“Of course not,” Ida Belle said. “Contrary to popular belief, everyone in this state is not an idiot—except the politicians—but that doesn’t stop people in other states from thinking it’s so.”

“So if we assume his wife knows enough to put two and two together on her husband’s affair,” I said, “and Ryan thinks he can walk on the murder charges, then what does he think Pansy has that he’s desperate to get hold of?”

Ida Belle shook her head. “Pictures? Financial records? Something bad enough to risk coming here.”

“Nothing like that was in the journal,” I said. “If Pansy had something on him, it’s probably back in LA.”

“But he doesn’t know that,” Ida Belle said.

I nodded. “So you think we should tell Carter to stake out Celia’s house?”

Ida Belle shook her head. “So he can tell us to stay out of his investigation? The police already let Ryan get away once. The only people heavily invested in clearing your name are the ones in this room.”

“As much as I hate to agree,” Gertie said, “she’s right. Carter’s a good boy, but he’s as stubborn as a mule. Still, if we don’t give him an opportunity to catch Dr. Ryan, it’s not going to look good on any of us.”

Ida Belle sighed. “As much as I’d like to shake that boy sometimes, I don’t want to put his job in jeopardy. I’ll give him a call.”

She dialed and chatted for a minute—but not about Ryan—then slipped the phone back into her pocket with a smile. “Apparently, the AC at the sheriff’s department has been repaired and Carter is in one of the rooms with Mark and Joanie. He gave explicit instructions to Myrtle that he was not to be disturbed.”

“Whoohoo!” Gertie yelled. “Green light.”

I felt a little less enthusiastic than Gertie. Granted, we’d made an attempt to contact the “proper authorities,” but somehow I doubted that Ida Belle’s halfhearted call to Myrtle would register as sufficient on Carter’s scale.

“Get moving,” Ida Belle said. “We have maybe ten minutes until Celia leaves and another twenty until it’s completely dark. He’ll wait until then, but we need to get in place beforehand. If he was the guy Fortune chased last night, he’s already figured out that scene at the hotel was staged. If he sees us, he won’t make a move.”

I started to run upstairs then hesitated. “Weapons?”

Ida Belle frowned. “That’s a good question as it seriously ups our trouble factor. Bring your nine, but do not use it unless he’s going to kill someone.”

I nodded and dashed upstairs for my pistol, then hurried back down and snagged my still-damp shoes from the back porch. Ida Belle and Gertie were nowhere in sight, so I headed outside and found them digging around in my garage.
 

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

Ida Belle held up a length of rope, and Gertie lifted a mass of netting.
 

“We figured Marge had some items we could use to improvise,” Ida Belle explained as she tossed the items into the backseat of the car.

I climbed in and Ida Belle took off toward Marie’s house. “Why does Marge have a trapping net that large? Does she hunt bear?”

Ida Belle and Gertie laughed. “That net wouldn’t hold bear for a second,” Gertie said. “It’s a cast net. You throw it out on the water, then pull it in to get bait shrimp for fishing. But with a little ingenuity, it might be enough to trip up a human.”

This time, Marie prepared for our arrival by moving her own car out of her garage and allowing us to pull in. That way, if Ryan was watching the house, he wouldn’t see us approach as the tinted windows on the Cadillac made it almost impossible to see inside. And more importantly, Gertie wouldn’t be required to cover the distance from remote parking to Marie’s house on foot.
 

As soon as we pulled into the garage, Marie informed us that Celia had left just minutes before. We waited until the garage door was all the way down before climbing out of the car, and then Ida Belle started barking orders at everyone.

“He won’t try a break-in from the front,” Ida Belle said. “Too much light. The back door is solid oak and the windows off the den have rosebushes in front of them. He’ll use the window in the breakfast nook.”

I nodded. So far, it made sense.

“Fortune, I want you in the back behind the blackberry bushes in case he breaks into a run. He won’t risk the street, but the swamp behind the house is the perfect escape plan. I assume a six-foot wooden fence won’t slow him down.”

“Probably not,” I said, recalling the way he’d disappeared on me.

“I’ll put the net under the window and toss some leaves on top of it. The window is at the corner of the house, closest to Marie’s fence, so Gertie will sit in the tree that runs the property line and wait for him to step in the net. Then she’ll pull. I’ll be hiding on the other side of the steps and I’ll tackle him. If he gets away, then Fortune will run him down.”

I blinked. Compared to a CIA mission, this idea sounded more like a Three Stooges episode than a plan to catch a murderer, but then I supposed the fancy gadgets and equipment we used now at the agency weren’t available during Vietnam when Ida Belle and Gertie got all their spy knowledge.

“What if he has a gun?” I asked, noting the big missing item in Ida Belle’s calculation.

“The only way he could have gotten one is by stealing it,” Ida Belle said, “and if someone’s gun had come up missing, all of Sinful would have heard about it already.”

It didn’t sound like a firm enough argument to risk a gunshot, especially considering he’d already stolen a car or he couldn’t have gotten here. But Ida Belle was acting cagey, and I got the impression there was something she wasn’t telling me. Knowing I’d never get it out of her, I just nodded. Maybe she had a death wish. Maybe she planned on shooting him herself and didn’t want me to know lest I then be involved in a premeditated attempted murder plot.
 

Bottom line: I was probably better off not knowing.

“Everyone understand their assignment?”

Marie raised her hand. “What about mine?”

“You watch from the upstairs window. As soon as we have him, you call the sheriff’s department and tell Carter to get here ten minutes ago.”

Ida Belle clapped her hands. “Places, people. Move, move, move.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Marie dashed up the stairs as Gertie, Ida Belle, and I went out the back door. Gertie pulled and jumped at the tree several times before Ida Belle and I lifted her up onto the branch, Ida Belle shaking her head the entire time. Then Ida Belle and I scaled the fence into Celia’s back yard, and I took my spot behind the blackberry bushes while Ida Belle set up the net and tossed the rope up to Gertie, who looped it around the branch above her.

The sun was sinking fast, barely a sliver left peeking over the tops of the cypress trees. The streetlights blinked on, and I knew it was only a matter of minutes before all natural light was extinguished and we’d be cast into darkness. Ida Belle had loosened the lightbulb on Celia’s back door light, so only the dim glow from the kitchen filtered out onto the lawn. It was just enough for us to see Ryan, but not so much that he would see us.