Authors: Jana DeLeon
“Nah, it wasn’t exactly like that. We was shooting the shit over at the Swamp Bar. Floyd was saying as how he needed to get a hold of a lot of money fast. He tried to sell his house some time back to a weird guy with a funny accent, but the guy said it wouldn’t work unless both houses were for sale.”
“Was the weird guy a real estate agent?” I asked, figuring I already knew the answer. Aside from me, there was only one other person in Sinful that the locals would deem having a “funny accent.”
“Yeah, I think that’s what he said. Agent, or something like that.”
“Floyd needed money?” Carter prompted.
Billy nodded. “So I told him about how I was getting a big check because I’d burned my house down.”
“And Floyd offered to pay you to burn his house down?”
“Yep. On account of him maybe being in jail.”
I glanced at Carter. Maybe, my butt. Floyd made sure he had an airtight alibi for when the fire occurred. It just hadn’t gone exactly as he’d planned.
“What happened when he found out you set the wrong house on fire?” I asked.
“He was so mad. I thought he was going to throttle me right there. Said that was his last chance to get the money or they was going to kill him. Then he said because I was stupid, he was going to have to make a deal with the devil to get out of this mess.”
Carter and I looked at each other. “The FBI,” we both said.
It made perfect sense. Whoever Floyd owed had decided to either cut their losses or make an example of him, just as Ida Belle had suggested. The FBI had probably been trying to make a case against whomever he owed and offered him a deal to get out of the trouble.
“So the guys Floyd owed must have found out about his deal with the FBI,” I said.
Carter nodded. “I said from the beginning that I thought they already knew who killed him. I guess I was right.” Carter looked back at Billy. “What about the sheriff’s department? Why that building?”
“That weird guy was in the bar when Floyd yelled at me about getting the houses wrong. He said he knew a guy who wanted to buy the sheriff’s building, and that if you had the money to move into the old firehouse, everyone would be happy.”
“He paid you to start the fire?” Carter asked.
“Not exactly. I mean, he said if something happened to make you move, then he could buy the building, and if that happened, there was something in it for me.”
I glanced at Carter, and could see he was thinking what I was. I had no doubt the real estate agent was behind Billy’s fire-starting project, but it would be hard to make a case against him since no money had exchanged hands.
“Who the hell is this guy?” Carter asked.
“He’s a real estate agent,” I said. “I talked to him in town one day and got a strange vibe from him, so I looked him up. He specializes in commercial properties. Ally said he tried to buy her house after her mother moved, but Ally wasn’t interested in selling.”
“I don’t get it,” Carter said. “Why that house?”
“I didn’t get it at first, but I think I have an idea. Billy said Floyd tried to sell his house, but the guy wanted both of them. Then he figured if he could get you to move out, he’d buy the sheriff’s department building. I think he wanted the building for the same reason you won’t move—access to the bayou.”
“You think his client wants water access?”
I nodded. “His list of clients was mostly importers. Sinful Bayou does eventually run into the Gulf, right?”
Carter’s expression cleared. “And a location in Sinful is a lot cheaper than a location in New Orleans.”
“Exactly. I offered him Marge’s house and he said he needed something more remote but specified that it still had to have city services. The sheriff’s department building sits a bit away from everything on Main Street, so it would be perfect.”
“Unbelievable,” Carter said.
I nodded. “Everything makes sense now. Except…”
“The creeper,” Carter finished. He looked at Billy. “Have you been sneaking around Ms. uh, Boobs’s house late at night?”
Billy’s eyes widened. “No. I don’t even know her real name, much less where she lives. Besides, I wouldn’t spy on a lady. My momma raised me better than that.”
“See,” I said. “A man with standards.”
Carter sighed. “I appreciate you being honest with us, Billy, but I’m going to have to take you down to the sheriff’s department and book you.”
“What? Why? I ain’t done nothing wrong!” Billy’s shock was completely genuine.
“You just admitted to setting two buildings on fire,” Carter said.
“But I set my own house on fire and the insurance company said as long as I paid my premiums, I’d still get the check. I thought it was okay.”
Carter closed his eyes and I wondered if he was weighing the option of arresting Billy against the option of shooting him in case a woman ever wanted to have his children and continue the bloodline.
“You didn’t burn down your own house on purpose,” Carter explained. “That’s why you weren’t in trouble. But it’s illegal to burn down a building on purpose. That’s arson.”
“But Floyd didn’t say nothing about no arson.”
“I’m sure he didn’t,” Carter said, “but that doesn’t change the facts. I have to arrest you. You can call a lawyer down at the sheriff’s department, or I’ll get the public defender’s office to send someone.”
A totally defeated Billy trudged out of the shack and down the porch steps. Carter grabbed the bucket and gasoline tank and we headed after him.
“All of this,” Carter said, “because Floyd was a good-for-nothing petty criminal and Billy’s an idiot.”
“Not all of it,” I said. “Billy’s not the creeper, and I think the creeper is a bigger problem than we originally thought.”
Carter stopped walking and looked at me. “What do you mean?”
I told him about our search of Ally’s house yesterday and the rigged window. His worry was so apparent it might as well have been broadcast. He ran his free hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “That is so far beyond the scope of a Peeping Tom. It’s stalking.”
“I know.”
He looked over at Billy, who was climbing in the sheriff’s boat, then back at me. “Let me get him booked, then I want us to go over every single thing we know about the creeper. Can you stick around?”
“Of course.”
He started off again for the boat and I fell in step behind him. A few days ago, I’d been convinced that nothing else in Sinful could surprise me.
I’d been wrong.
Chapter Twenty
It took Carter forty-five minutes to complete the booking paperwork, thirty to contact the public defender’s office and explain the mess, and an hour to calm Billy down enough to stop wailing like a banshee. I had my doubts the quieter sniveling would last for long, so I was beyond happy when Carter suggested we head to Francine’s for a late lunch. Even at full capacity, it had to be more peaceful than the sheriff’s department.
Besides, I’d been itching for the past two hours to call Ally and tell her we’d caught the arsonist. It was one worry she could scratch off her list. But Carter insisted that the conversation was one better had in person and that it would be better all the way around if he got Billy booked before the story spread through Sinful. I’d spent the entire time surfing the Internet and checking the clock every couple of minutes.
“I got an email from the FBI while I was talking to the public defender,” Carter said as we exited the sheriff’s department. “They arrested Floyd’s killer.”
“Who was it?”
“One of the Hebert family guys. Name of Marco Sabien.”
“That’s him! Billy said the weird guy in the bar who was looking for Floyd was named Marco. He was the one who took my shoe.” I frowned. “Do you think I’m going to have a problem?”
“Doubtful. Someone popped him as they were transferring him to lockup. Shot him as they were crossing the parking lot—Marco walking right in between two FBI agents.”
“Holy crap!”
“It sounds like a big mess, but I doubt they pursue it any further. There’s no point.”
“Wow.”
As we crossed the street, Gertie’s ancient Cadillac pulled into a parking space in front of the café and Gertie and Ida Belle climbed out. They saw us and waited as we headed over.
“We caught the arsonist,” I said, unable to hold in the good news any longer. “And the FBI got the guy who killed Floyd.”
“What?”
“Who?”
They both spoke at once.
I smiled and Carter and I filled them in on the Marco situation first, then on the fire at the sheriff’s department and my water bucket leap that turned out to be correct. When we were done, they both shook their heads.
“I always knew Billy would wind up in trouble,” Gertie said. “He was always too gullible.”
Ida Belle nodded. “Floyd and that real estate guy definitely took advantage of poor Billy. With any luck, a jury will see the boy’s a dimwit and go easy on him.”
“He’s got no priors,” Carter said, “and I’m sure some people would testify to his, uh, shortcomings in the mental department. It’s possible he could get off with probation. It really depends on how much pressure Ally’s insurance company puts on the prosecutor.”
“I bet Ally is relieved,” Gertie said.
“She doesn’t know yet,” I said. “We were just on our way to tell her and have some lunch.”
“We were too,” Gertie said. “Can we join you?”
Ida Belle elbowed Gertie in the ribs, and Gertie gave her a dirty look. “They probably have things to discuss alone,” Ida Belle said and glared at Gertie.
Gertie glared back for a moment, then her eyes widened. “Oh, right. Never mind. You two go on about your business.”
I shook my head. “Actually, I told Carter about the window at Ally’s house and we were going to go over the facts on the creeper case. If you don’t mind talking stalkers over lunch, you might be able to help.”
“Of course we don’t mind,” Ida Belle said. “We’ll do anything we can to help Ally.”
“Ha!” Carter laughed. “Don’t I know it? Farmer Frank is hounding me for that motorcycle owner. He wants to send a bill for the chicken coop. I don’t suppose you can help me out with that?”
Ida Belle shrugged. “Don’t have a clue.”
Carter shook his head and we all headed into the café. The lunch rush was over, but the café was still half full. We managed to find a four-top in a back corner at least one table apart from the other patrons and took our seats. A couple seconds later, Francine popped out to take our drink order.
“Where’s Ally?” I asked.
“She had to take off early,” Francine said. “Her insurance adjuster called and needed to get inside her house. Lunch rush was almost over, so I figured I could cover until she got back.”
Gertie looked confused. “I thought I saw her car parked out back when we were unloading some donation boxes for the church.”
Francine nodded. “It wouldn’t start. That cute new fireman took a look but said she probably needed a new battery. He gave her a lift. Y’all want sweet tea?”
We all nodded and Francine headed to the kitchen. “Oh well,” I said, feeling disappointed. “I guess we’ll have to tell her when she’s done with the insurance adjuster.”
Ida Belle nodded. “So about the creeper…”
We started our discussion about the creeper, pausing only long enough to give Francine our food order. I covered the facts as I knew them, leaving out, of course, the unfortunate rock salt incident. I was taking that one to the grave. Carter filled in with the minimal information he had, then we all started throwing out ideas.
By the time our lunch arrived, we’d exhausted every conceivable possibility and weren’t a bit closer to figuring out who the creeper was. The sad part was aside from a handful of people, the creeper could be anyone in Sinful, including the sleazy real estate agent whose cell phone was conveniently going straight to voice mail.
“Maybe it was Billy,” Gertie said.
“He said he didn’t know where I lived, and I think he was telling the truth.” Billy was clearly a moron, but he didn’t strike me as the type of guy who’d stalk a woman. Of course, given his limited mental capacity, he might not see it that way. I shook my head. “I just don’t get the stalker vibe from him.”
“What about Floyd?” Gertie asked. “I got all kinds of bad vibes from him.”
“True,” I said. “There’s nothing I would put past Floyd.”
“He had the easiest access to Ally’s house,” Ida Belle said.
Carter nodded. “Given that he was desperate for money, Floyd is the most likely explanation for the window. He might have thought he could lift cash or jewelry while the house was empty. Maybe he rigged the window so he could return later and see police reports or insurance documents about the fire. He
was
killed in her backyard. I have no doubt that whoever he owed money to had him killed, but he had to be on Ally’s property for some other reason.”