Plantation Shudders (15 page)

“Law enforcement sees defense attorneys as the enemy,” Mac took out a key fob with the initial
M
emblazoned in
what Maggie swore were real diamonds. “If I break the ice, pal around with them, it levels the playing field a little. Creates a friendlier atmosphere.” Mac pressed the fob and his door unlocked. “And believe me, if your boyfriend wants to beat a possible death sentence, he’s gonna need a lot of friends.”

Mac got into his car, which started so silently Maggie wasn’t sure it was actually on. She and Lia jumped when the car accelerated and pulled out onto the highway with a roar. As Quentin “Mac” MacIlhoney drove away, green-and-gold tracer lights around his vanity plate flashed in the night.

Maggie offered to spend the night at Lia’s or have Lia stay over at Crozat. She was worried about her cousin being alone after experiencing one of the worst days of her life. Lia thanked her but said that she’d be okay. “Please don’t worry about me. Between what all’s going on at Crozat and your mom being sick, you’ve got enough to deal with. What you can do, though, is come up with other suspects that even Rufus Durand can’t ignore.”

“I will, I swear.”

But Maggie wasn’t as confident as she pretended to be, and she had a restless night. There was no evening break from the heat, and when she wasn’t having nightmares about Crozat guests dying in horribly gory ways, she was awake listening to the buzz of mosquitoes trying to find an opening in the net around her bed.

She forced herself to get out of bed at six and called her dad before she prepared breakfast for the guests. “The doctors knocked down your mom’s fever, so that’s the good news,” Tug reported. “But the first test they ran was inconclusive, so they want to run a couple more.”

“What kind of tests are these, Dad?”

“Who can remember all those medical names? I’m hoping to be home this afternoon. I’ll let you know for sure later.” Tug ended the call before Maggie could protest. For whatever reason, he didn’t want to talk specifics about the tests. Maybe, she thought, it’s too painful for him.

Given how preoccupied she was, Maggie’s ability to pull together a decent breakfast surprised her. Gran’ roused herself early to help out, and the two set out bowls of scrambled eggs, plates of sausage and bacon, and a basket of rolls that Maggie hoped no one would recognize as leftovers from the previous night’s dinner.

“I am tired like I done a big ironing,” Gran’ yawned as she untied her apron. “There’s a reason your dad only trots me out to entertain the visiting troops. He knows what I’ve refused to admit until now: I’m too old to do actual work.”

“You’ve been incredible, Gran’. Why don’t you go back to bed?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m outta here, as the kids say.” Gran’ tossed her apron over her shoulder and left the kitchen for the shotgun. Maggie popped a roll in her mouth and chased it with a cup of strong chicory coffee. She was worn down to the point where it would take everything short of speed to keep her going.

As promised, Gaynell showed up at Crozat promptly at 8 a.m. dressed to scrub. “Put me to work,” she told Maggie. Unfortunately, it was the one day when Crozat’s guests seemed primed to laze around the property rather than sight-see, so access to their rooms was nil. Then Maggie had an idea.

“I haven’t been able to check out anyone’s cars without looking nosy or suspicious,” she said. “What if we surprise them all with a free car wash? We’ll say that washing off the dirt and dead bugs is Crozat’s little gift to them. We won’t be able to get into the cars right away, but it gives us a way to look in the windows and see if there’s anything interesting.”

“I like it,” Gaynell said. “After we surprise them with the outside, we can ask if they want us to clean the inside too. If someone says no, it may mean they have something to hide.”

Maggie and Gaynell dragged buckets, rags, sponges, car wash detergent, and a hose to the gravel lot where guests parked. They filled the buckets and added soap and then hosed down the first car, which was the Cuties’ minivan. The two each took a sponge and a side of the car, and as they washed, peered into the windows. They saw nothing besides the usual tourist ephemera of maps and brochures. The same held true for the Butlers’ rented sedan. The inside of the Georgia boys’ truck, much like their room, resembled the inside of a trashcan. The floor was inches deep in fast food wrappers, and the stench from rotting food leaked through the closed windows.

“I’m actually hoping that these guys don’t want us to clean inside here,” Gaynell muttered, turning her face away from the stink.

“I know. But I’d like to dig up a little more info on whatever it is they’re doing.”

Maggie and Gaynell dried off the truck with rags and moved on to the Rykers’ rented SUV. The car floor, like the others, was littered with travel detritus, including receipts and a few toys. As Maggie washed the back window, she noticed a blanket in the storage well of the car. “Hmm. Now why would you need a blanket at summer’s end in Louisiana?”

Gaynell stopped washing to ponder the question. “If you had valuables in the car, you could use the blanket to cover them up. Or—”

“Or you use the blanket to hide something. Like maybe a metal detector.” Maggie pointed to what looked a small steering wheel poking out from under the blanket. “I did enough treasure hunting as a kid to know one when I see it. Looks like we found our diggers. Too bad. They seemed like a nice family. But sneaking around property looking for something you don’t plan on sharing with the owners isn’t very nice, is it?”

“No, it is not. Well, we know who won’t want us cleaning the inside of their car. Are you gonna bust them?”

“Nope. Not yet. Although this does add them to the suspect list. If Beverly somehow found out they were scavenging for Lafitte’s treasure, Carrie or Lachlan might have wanted to shut her up.”

“Ugh.” Gaynell shuddered. “That would make them superterrible parents.”

“Even without that, they won’t win any parenting awards. They’re either lying to their kids about what they’re doing or making their kids lie to us.”

The women finished cleaning the Rykers’ car and corralled the cleaning supplies. They stopped at the Crozat laundry facility, threw all the rags into the washing machine, and then walked into the dining room where the guests were finishing the breakfast Maggie had made for them. “’Morning,” she said. “This is my good friend, Gaynell. We wanted to let you know that as a special thank-you for your patience during this awful time, the two of us washed all your cars.”

There was a smattering of applause and appreciative comments. Maggie noticed Carrie and Lachlan Ryker exchange a nervous look and then plaster on smiles.

“And we’d be happy to clean inside the cars of anyone who’s interested,” she continued. There was a chorus of enthusiastic “yes,” “sure,” and “thanks.” Gaynell didn’t look too happy when the Georgia boys signed on for the cleaning. As predicted, only the Rykers demurred.

“That’s so sweet of you,” Carrie said. “But we’re going to have our kids clean our car.”

“Right,” Lachlan said. “We believe chores give them a sense of responsibility. In fact, I think it’s time to take this lesson a little further and have them clean up our room as well.”

The Ryker kids groaned and Carrie shushed them. “Your father’s right, and I don’t want to hear a single argument from you three.” She addressed Maggie. “So you can take our room off your agenda today, thanks so much.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Jan honked in her thick Noo Yawk accent. “Parents setting their kids right.”

Maggie clenched her teeth to keep from blurting out, “If you only knew.” Instead she flashed her best hostess smile.
“I’m sure you all have fun things planned”—
Hint, hint,
she thought,
clear out, everyone, so we can get into your rooms
—“so whenever you get back or when it’s convenient for you, we’ll finish our complimentary car washes.”

This engendered chatter about the day’s activities. The Georgia boys were meeting up with friends at LSU, while the Rykers were going to Bataria Preserve. “Pirates used to live there,” Sam said, excited.

“We’re not going because of that, we’re going to do a swamp walk,” Lachlan said a little too quickly.

The Cuties had scheduled a visit to the Jungle Gardens at Avery Island, but Debbie begged off. “I think I’m going to take it easy today. Maybe get a ride into town and do some souvenir shopping.”

“Have fun,” Jan said as she hugged her. “Do what you need to take care of yourself so we don’t have to worry about you.”

Maggie wanted to yell, “Worry, Jan, worry!” But once again, she forced herself to be quiet. Revealing what she knew about Debbie’s plans would out her as a snoop.

“We’re going into town,” Shane offered. “Why don’t you come with us?”

Debbie thanked the Butlers and agreed to take them up on the offer. The guests gradually made their way out of the dining room, and Gaynell helped Maggie clear the tables, ignoring protestations that she really didn’t need to. “Now for the fun part,” Maggie said. “Housekeeping.” The two headed off to the supply closet and rolled out the heavy cart.

*

The morning flew by as double the workers cut the cleaning time in half. Rather than split up and take separate rooms, Maggie and Gaynell worked together. They quickly finished the Cuties’ rooms, finding nothing that would solidify a case against Debbie or incriminate another one of them. They emptied each Cutie’s trash into the large bag attached to the housekeeping cart and then pushed it past the Rykers’ suite. Maggie stopped in front of their door and contemplated ignoring Carrie and Lachlan’s instructions not to clean it.

“We could say we forgot,” she told Gaynell, who shook her head no.

“Sounds lame,” Gaynell said. “They’ll suspect something, and if there’s anything to remotely show they were involved in Beverly’s death, you’ll never have a chance to find it.”

“You’re right,” Maggie said. She wheeled the cart toward the Georgia boys’ room and parked it. “How long can you hold your breath?” she asked Gaynell.

“Not very.”

“That’s about to be a major problem for you.”

Maggie opened the door and the scent that wafted out actually forced Gaynell back a few steps. “Lordy May!” Gaynell exclaimed as she reeled. “Are you sure Beverly’s body isn’t actually in there?”

“Yes. But you know what’s super scary? I’m getting used to the smell.”

The women pushed the cart into the room and powered through the cleaning process. “Hey, this is interesting,” Gaynell said, holding up a bright blue T-shirt emblazoned with Greek
letters that she’d found under a pile of candy bar wrappers. “Your Georgia boys are Pi Pis.”

“Say what now?”

“Pi Pi Iota. It’s a Southern fraternity. So Southern that it was supposedly founded by some KKK members. There are only a few chapters left. A lot were kicked off college campuses because of some hardcore hazing practices. I know about them because they rushed my brother and he said, ‘No thank you.’”

“Really? There has to be a tie-in to what I found.” She told Gaynell about the brochure for Confederate uniforms and the “slave” scribbles.

“I’ll check with my brother and see what he knows about the Pi Pis,” Gaynell said. “He’s a Navy lieutenant and his ship is deployed to the Black Sea, so it may take a few days to hear back.”

“Thanks. Not to lay on any pressure, but the sooner, the better. I hate to think of poor Kyle stuck in some awful jail cell.”

“Do you know if he was able to post bail?”

Maggie shook her head somberly. “Lia hasn’t called me, which isn’t good. The lawyer didn’t sound too optimistic.”

The women finished their tasks and moved on to the Butlers’ room. Emily and Shane were among the neater of the Crozat guests, so cleaning the place was comparatively easy.

“Anything?” Maggie asked as Gaynell gathered some loose scraps of papers off the floor.

“Just doodles. Take a look and see if they mean something.”

Gaynell handed the papers to Maggie, who examined them carefully. “Lots of square boxes—that is such a guy thing—a cartoony-looking face on a knight with a shield,” she said.
“You’re right, just doodles. Not bad, though. I like the detail on the shield. Whoever drew this isn’t much of a visual artist, but they have a talent for animation.” Maggie thought for a moment. “I wonder if the knight is from a statue or suit of armor from Emily’s home? I did a little research on the Butlers and she comes from one of those WASPy New England families that goes back to the Magna Carta or something. They’re ‘Brahmins’—you know, Boston high society.”

“You mean, like the Crozats are Pelican high society?” Gaynell teased.

Maggie gestured to her sweaty tank top and stained jeans. “Hello, have you smelled me lately?”

Gaynell laughed. “You, lady, are Louisiana royalty on both sides of the family and even a little BO won’t let you escape that.”

Maggie rolled her eyes and tossed the paper scraps into the bathroom trash bin that Gaynell had carried into the bedroom. As Gaynell emptied the trash, something wrapped in tissue fell out of the bottom of the bin and rattled onto the floor. Maggie bent down to pick it up.

“This is interesting,” she said as she unwrapped the tissue. She held up a pregnancy stick.

“Wow. Is it positive?”

Maggie checked. “No.”

“Too bad, they’re obviously trying.” Gaynell made a face. “I feel skeevy now. Like we’re getting in people’s personal business.”

“I know.” Maggie carefully rewrapped the stick with the piece of tissue and placed it in the large garbage bag. “It’s a
little weird, though. This was hidden on the bottom of the bin, all covered up. It’s like Emily didn’t want Shane to know about it.”

“Huh.” Gaynell considered this. “Maybe she didn’t want to disappoint him. She could be waiting until she has good news to share.”

“That’s true. Or . . .”

“Or?”

“Maybe she had an affair and is terrified she’s pregnant by another man, and Mrs. Clabber found out and was going to tell Shane, so Emily killed her.”

Gaynell burst out laughing. “Okay, now we’ve gone from snooping to telenovelas.”

“I know. I clearly need a break. Let’s roll this baby out of here. This was the last room, so we’re done.”

“Except for the inside car cleaning,” Gaynell reminded her.

Maggie groaned. “Oh, I really, really hope no one takes us up on that today.”

The women put away the cart, and Maggie insisted on fixing Gaynell a bite. It was early afternoon and guests were already trickling back. They passed the Georgia boys, and by their loud voices and slight staggers, Maggie assumed they’d enjoyed a liquid lunch. Jan pulled the Cutie van into the parking lot and called to them. “Have you seen Debbie? We bought her some hot sauce.”

Maggie and Gaynell shook their heads no and continued into Crozat’s kitchen, where Gran’ was enjoying a turkey sandwich and a Brandy Milk Punch. Maggie introduced the two women.