miss fortune mystery (ff) - bloodshed in the bayou (2 page)

Hunt winked at me and Meg gave me another squeeze before they stepped away. I patted them both on the head.

“Go on. I need to talk to your Mom for a moment.” I smiled as the two kids ran to the back door and tumbled outside.

“Really, Margaret!” Peggy would’ve frowned had she believed in it. But frowning caused wrinkles and those just wouldn’t do.

“You could’ve changed before you came over here! Look at the mess you’ve left on my floors!” She pointed to the slight dirt trail I’d left behind.

“And I’d feel sorry for you if I didn’t know that Paloma will be cleaning it up.” I said. “We need to talk. Where can we sit so I won’t muss your house?” I arched my right brow.

My twin looked at me darkly. “On the veranda.” She called for her maid to bring us two mint juleps. Today she was wearing a jewel toned pink silk dress, with her signature pearls and matching kitten heels. They clicked on the marble floor as I followed her outside to a patio so heavily endowed with roses that it looked like a garden show had exploded.

We sat down on wicker furniture that I knew would be scoured clean the second I left.

“Is it Mother?” Peggy Sue’s perfectly manicured hand went up to touch her pearls. It was a nice dramatic effect that meant nothing. Mom was my sister’s cross to bear and she bore it like a martyred saint.

“No, actually.” I rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans. I’d always thought it would be Mom I told her about someday. I never dreamed that dad would ever come back into our lives.

“Deputy LeBlanc came to see me. It appears that Hugo Ancelet has died.”

“Father?” Peggy Sue sucked in a breath. Her perfectly golden skin (not too tan but not too light and totally fake) turned pale. “Oh no!”

“Oh cut the crap.” I said. I was tired of all this. “You don’t care about him any more than I do.”

The mint juleps arrived and I took one, sipping greedily. It was beyond hot and after what I’d been through today, I needed it. Peggy Sue waited until Paloma had gone and relaxed. She only was this way with me. No one else was allowed to see the perfect veneer crack. Her own husband had never seen her without makeup. Not ever.

“Does Mother know?” Her voice was still the artfully crafted accent. But at least there wasn’t any playacting.

I shook my head. “No. But I just came from there. She’s a Russian now.”

“Well maybe we shouldn’t tell her.” My sister said. “I don’t think it would help with her eccentricities and all.”

We sat in silence for a few moments, drinking our cocktails.

“I don’t suppose we can just dump his body in the swamp and let the gators have him.” Peggy Sue said at last.

“I know a spot or two where we could go.” I said. “But probably not. Walter found the body.”

Peggy Sue rolled her eyes. “Oh wonderful. Now the whole town probably knows.”

“Walter’s not a gossip. Well not really,” I said. But he was the owner of the General Store – one of the most highly trafficked places in Sinful.

“I’ll have to have a full-blown to-do at the Catholic Church then, I guess.” Peggy Sue sighed. “Maybe Francine can cater it.”

Peggy Sue converted from whatever we were to Catholicism when she married Huntington. She embraced the church with such gusto she was a fixture. She’d probably be the altar itself if that job didn’t already belong to Mrs. Celia Arceneaux. Celia was ensconced in the community as a dictator who could reduce Vladimir Putin to tears. And she and my sister were thick as thieves.

I stayed out of church and town politics in general mostly because I was avoiding the two questions I was always asked; “How’s your mother?” and “What’s Peggy Sue up to these days?” With Southern manners the way they were it didn’t seem right to answer, “In the nuthouse,” and “Polishing her collection of human skulls,” all the time.

“I’ll leave you to the details then.” I said as I stood up. “Give the kids a hug from me.”

By the time I’d reached the door, Peggy Sue was already on the phone, gasping in horror to someone about the death of our beloved Father.

Chapter
3

I spent the last couple of hours of my shift just sitting at my desk and staring out the window into the murky depths of the Louisiana bayou. This was all just too hard to believe. Not necessarily that my father was dead. I didn’t care much about that. No, it was that he’d come back here and done something that ended in his death. 

Unable to focus or get any work done, I locked up the office and went home. There wasn’t any point in staying at work. I drove to my little house on the edge of town and after making a whiskey sour, sat down on my front porch rocker to decompress. The humidity rose off the grass and shimmered in the setting sun, leaving a sheen of sweat on my skin. But the drink was cold and the red and purple sky relaxed my thoughts, making it easier to think.

I wasn’t there long before Ally showed up with a homemade peach pie. Ally was the best baker in all of Louisiana and as sweet as her famous pies. Even though we weren’t close, I wasn’t surprised to see her. People always showed up with food when someone died. Kind of strange how we thought about eating at times like this.

“I hope you don’t mind,” She said as she stepped onto my porch. “But I made you something. Sorry to hear about your dad.”

“Thanks. This is really nice of you. You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.” Ally and I knew each other in high school but, like anything else, you kind of drift away from people as you get older.

She waved me off. “Aunt Celia’s got half the town delivering casseroles to your sister. I’d rather bring you something. Knowing Peggy Sue – I thought you probably needed this more than she did.”

I got to my feet. “Well come in and let’s have a piece.” There was some small satisfaction in the idea that my twin sister would be insanely jealous that Ally had made me, and not her, something. I let that thought warm my heart as I made my way to the kitchen and dug out plates and my Aunt June’s silver pie server. You weren’t a true southerner if you didn’t have a pie server, especially one kept in the family. They take points off for that.

“Oh wow.” I moaned after taking a bite. “It’s still warm.” And it was good. No, it was great. The best peach pie I’d ever had. The fruit was ripe and sweet and the crust was just the right kind of flaky.

Ally nodded. “I haven’t made a peach pie in a while. I should do it more often.”

We finished our dessert in silent reverence. With pie like that it would be a sacrilege to talk. When we finished, Ally wrapped what was left in aluminum foil and put it away.

“I’ve got to run.” She said, brushing crumbs from her dress. “Francine’s got me working the dinner shift tonight.”

I thanked her and watched her go. Francine was the owner of the best southern fried diner in the South. She’d be busy tonight. She was busy every night. I really must go there for dinner more often. Get out once in a while.

I showered and changed into shorts and a t-shirt, before going into Mom’s old bedroom and pulling a shoebox out from under her bed. I carried it downstairs to the kitchen and removed the lid.

There was only one photo of my father. Mom had insisted on keeping it even though he’d left us. She said she wanted us to know that we looked like him. And it was true. Hugo had blond hair like Peggy Sue and me. Mom’s hair had been almost black. No way we looked like her.

It was a strange picture. Dad stared right at you with a slight frown. He was dressed in a suit and standing outside, in back of our house. Mom never explained what was going on there. She just handed us the photo and told us it was our father. We’d press her on the details but they never came.

The photo was always something kind of mysterious to Peggy Sue and me when we were growing up. Mom made no pretense about it. But every time we looked at it as girls, we imagined that he was really and truly looking at us…watching over us and making sure we were okay. But as the years wore on and we never heard from him, I’d decided he was just an asshole and hadn’t wanted his picture taken that day.

It took a long time before my twin and I realized he was never coming back. Mom insisted that she’d never heard from him so had no idea where he was. Finally, the summer before college, I’d decided he just didn’t exist, and therefore deserved no place of importance in my mind.

I turned the photo over in my hands. Nothing had ever been written on the back. It was the only evidence he’d been alive, but even that was weak. I’d wasted too many years on that stupid man. Now he was back.

As I got ready for bed I realized I wouldn’t have any closure at all until I knew more about what had happened to him. First thing in the morning, I was going down to the Sheriff’s office to find out what they knew. Then once Peggy Sue buried the bastard, I’d be able to be free from the ghost that was my father.

“I can’t tell you much until the autopsy comes through.” Deputy LeBlanc said as I followed him to the morgue. He frowned as he reached for the door. “Are you sure you want to see the body? We don’t need you to identify it.”

I nodded. “I don’t have any memory at all of him, Carter. So I would like to see him now.” Face to face. Too bad I couldn’t grill the Bastard on where he’s been all these years, but this would have to do.

I’d seen bodies before. But only at funerals. Carter had warned me that it wouldn’t be pretty. We walked up to a gurney with a sheet over Dad. I took a deep breath and Carter pulled the sheet back.

His flesh was very tan. Like he’d worked outside all his life. Maybe he’d been on those oil rigs in the Gulf. The hair was blonde with streaks of gray. His face was passive with its eyes closed. A red hole was in the center of his forehead.

“He was shot?” I asked a little shakily.

“Yes.” LeBlanc said quietly. “And I don’t think it was an accident.”

I looked at the deputy, then back at my father. “Murdered? Are you sure?”

He nodded and pulled the sheet back over my dad’s head. “Dead center of the forehead indicates execution style. I’m sorry.”

Murdered. My dad, the man who’d left us. Who’d left my sister and me to deal with a crazy mom, had been murdered.

“Who did it?” I asked. Too bad it hadn’t been me.

Carter shook his head. “I wish I knew. I’m investigating.” He touched my elbow and led me out of the morgue and into the hallway. As I sat down on a bench, he brought me a cup of water.

“I know you and your sister haven’t seen him in years,” Carter sat down beside me as I gulped the water. “But do you have any idea what he was up to? Who would want him dead?”

I shook my head. “No. Mom never even heard from him. None of us did. And I don’t know what kind of work he did before or after he left. Sorry.”

Carter nodded. “Okay. I will need to interview your mother.”

“What? Why? She doesn’t know anything!”

“It’s just standard procedure.” He said gently.

“It’s not a good idea. She doesn’t always remember me when I visit her.”

“Maybe you could go with me, then?” Carter asked.

I sighed. “Fine. When do you want to go?”

Immediately, it turned out. So here I was with the Deputy in tow, on my way to see Mom two days in a row. I had no idea how this was going to turn out. Probably not good. But I understood why he had to try.

Carter was quiet on the drive over, which gave me time to think. Someone had murdered my dad. Not the way I’d imagined him dying. I’d always hope he’d have a slow, painful accident involving an eight foot long alligator and the softer, more tender parts of his flesh, and we’d get a visit from a lawyer who said Dad’s greatest regret was not getting to know his children, and oh, here’s ten million dollars.

But murder…that meant someone wanted him dead. Someone hated him enough to put a gun to his head, pull the trigger and dump him in the swamp near the town and family he’d abandoned.

Good people weren’t supposed to get murdered. Bad people are executed all the time by other bad people. Maybe he owed money to the mob, or killed someone, or…

This was getting me nowhere. I haven’t cared all these years where he was or what he was up to. So why now? This thought floated in my brain like a persistent fog as we pulled into the Sunnyvale nursing home lot.

“Hey Eleanor.” I said to the receptionist.

“Back so soon?” Eleanor Woodruff frowned. I was off schedule. People with dementia liked schedules.

“Sorry.” I said and introduced her to the deputy. “We have to see Mom.”

“I hope everything’s okay.” The woman chewed her lip. She was nice. Probably the nicest person on the staff. The middle-aged woman had only been here a year, but I really liked her. It was nice to have someone cheerful at a place like this.

I signed the visitor’s log. “How is she today?”

Eleanor gave a polite smile. “She seems more like her old self, really. Pretty lucid.”

“Thanks.” I led Deputy LeBlanc back to the room. Well good. If Mom was lucid, we’d settle this quickly and be on our way.

“Mom?” I said as I walked into the room. There was no music playing this time. This time, she was sitting in a chair, staring out the window. She turned as I entered.

“Margaret? What are you doing here Sweetie?” She smiled. This was a good sign.

“Mom, this is Deputy LeBlanc. We have some bad news.” I said gently as Carter and I pulled up chairs.

Mom nodded. “Your father is dead.” She said simply, before turning to stare out the window.

“How did you know that?” I asked. “Did Peggy Sue call?”

Mom turned back to me and frowned. “No. She didn’t call. I know because I killed him.”

Chapter 4

“That’s impossible.  She didn’t do it!” I said, looking at Carter. “You can’t arrest her. She can’t leave here anyway. She’s on lockdown.” But my heart skipped a beat nonetheless. Why would she admit to that? And how did she know in the first place?

“Mrs. Ancelet,” Carter said gently. “What makes you think Hugo is dead?”