Chapter 13

We foundKenny at the marina, tying up his boat. He gave us a wave and a smile as we approached.

“I ain’t pulled no one out of the bayou today,” he said, making a reference to his recovery of a girl in the bayou earlier that year.

“Good,” I said. “I’m already working a case. I don’t need another.”

“And I don’t need the strain on my heart,” he said. “So what can I do for you ladies? Because I know you didn’t come to ask me about the fish.”

“This is a real long shot, so no pressure, but I need you to think back about ten years.”

“Lord have mercy. I can barely remember this morning, but shoot.”

I pulled out my phone and showed him the receipt. “You stayed at the Bayou Inn about ten years ago. There was a guy staying there at the same time who was arrested for killing his girlfriend.”

Kenny’s eyes widened. “Oh yeah! That one I do remember. Hard to forget when you’re close to something that awful. I actually talked to that guy. Can you believe it? When I saw a picture of him on the news, I darn near passed out. I’d been chatting at the vending machine with a cold-blooded killer.”

He shook his head, and I could tell by his expression just how much the exchange had spooked him.

“I checked out and went straight home when the cops told me what happened,” he continued. “Was having my hardwood floors refinished and the floor guys had told me it was best if I cleared out for a couple days. But no way was I staying at that motel another night. I slept in my garage until the smell calmed down.”

“Well, Kenny, I’m about to improve your memories—he didn’t do it.”

Kenny’s jaw dropped and he stared at me. “What? He went to prison.”

I nodded. “And I have a new witness who swears he was with her all night in a hotel in NOLA. A man can’t be two places at once.”

“You’re shit—fooling me.”

“Not even a little.”

“And you’re sure she’s got the right date?”

“Positive. She got pregnant that night but didn’t realize the baby belonged to Ryan. Now that kid is deathly ill and needs a kidney. But the person who might be the only viable match is in prison.”

Kenny ran a hand over his thinning hair. “Jesus, I think I was happier believing I was talking to a killer. That poor woman and kid. What can I do to help?”

“You said you talked to Ryan, but I know that couldn’t have been the night his girlfriend was killed because he was working.”

He nodded. “It was the night before. Nice guy… I never could reconcile him being a killer with the guy I talked to. It just never sat right with me. Guess now I know why. Anyway, it was nice weather out and I was feeling a little claustrophobic in my room, so I grabbed a soda and chips and was sitting on that bench next to the vending machine, mostly just staring at the parking lot. And that guy walks up and gets a candy bar and asks if I mind if he sits. I was happy to have the company, so he sat and we got to talking.”

“What was his demeanor like?”

“Seemed fine. A little troubled, but he told me he was having woman problems and that’s why he was at the motel, so I didn’t think nothing of it. Said he was a bartender at the casino in NOLA, and we talked a bit about some of the outrageous things he’d seen. I remember he was from Mudbug, and we talked about fishing in the area. That was about it. I thought he was a nice guy and didn’t think about it beyond that. Until the cops showed up at the motel.”

“What about the night of the murder? Did you see anything then? Because someone planted the murder weapon in the dumpster and since we know now that it wasn’t Ryan, it had to have been the killer.”

He paled. “Oh Lord! I woke up around 4:00 a.m. with awful heartburn. Chili dogs, you know? I had some Rolaids in my truck and went outside to grab them. When I was walking back to my room, a guy walked out of the breezeway from the back. He walked right past me and kept going to the parking lot.”

My pulse ticked up a notch. “Did you get a good look at his face?”

“No. He was wearing one of those hooded sweatshirts and looking down.”

Crap.

“What about size, color? Anything you can remember could help me narrow things down.”

“A little taller than me and thin, maybe, but like I said, he was hunched and wearing a big sweatshirt. What I saw of his face, he was white. Didn’t see no hair.”

“What about his movement? Fast? Slow? Impairment?”

“He moved like a younger man, if that’s what you’re getting at. Or an older one who didn’t let his habits run to chili dogs, like me.”

“And he was going to the parking lot? Did you see him get into a vehicle?”

“I’m afraid not. I went into my room, took the Rolaids, and tried to get some sleep. But he was already at the first row of the parking lot when I passed him, and he kept going. I never looked back. Man, if I had…”

“You might not be standing here today,” I said. “He’d already killed one person and framed another. You’re lucky you don’t know more. Did the police question you?”

“No. Which I thought was strange. And I know the motel manager gave them a list of people staying there because he told me as much. He didn’t want us surprised if they contacted us. I kept waiting for them to call, but it never happened. I just figured they had all that evidence and didn’t need more. But if that poor guy was framed… Well, that’s just awful.”

I nodded. “I appreciate you talking to me, Kenny. I don’t suppose it would do any good to show you some pictures, would it?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I really didn’t see much. You know how the lighting is there and with it being cloudy, I couldn’t see much at all.”

“Thanks again.”

We headed off and all my feelings—frustration, anger, excitement—rolled around as we climbed into the car.

“Well, at least Kenny confirms my theory,” I said.

“You think he saw the killer?” Gertie asked.

I nodded. “The timing is right, and the guy was headed from the rear of the motel and into the parking lot, not to a room. If he’s not our guy, then I’d be very surprised.”

“I’d like to say I can’t believe the Magnolia Pass police never talked to Kenny,” Ida Belle said, “but I’m not surprised. Angry, but not surprised.”

“Me either,” I said. “But I find it interesting that the manager told Kenny he’d given the cops a guest list. It’s not logged into the police file.”

“That idiot Cantrell probably tossed it as soon as he had a good scapegoat,” Gertie said. “I mean, why do some actual police work if your case is wrapped up for you?”

“Not to mention the perpetrator was someone Raymond Beech never liked,” Ida Belle said. “The whole thing was practically gifted to Cantrell.”

I shook my head. “The thing I don’t understand is that no one gets to where Raymond Beech was in life without being smart, or at least clever and willing to break the rules. So how is it that he bought all of that when it looks so blatant? I realize he’d lost his daughter, but he doesn’t sound like the kind of man who’d let emotion get in the way of logic.”

Ida Belle shrugged. “Who knows? Everyone grieves differently, but I agree it seems strange that a man so clearly competent in other ways would accept that explanation without question.”

“Unless he knew who the real killer was,” I said. “We need to take a hard look at Jared Beech…just as soon as I figure out how.”

* * *

It was getting toward evening,so we headed home. We were planning to attend Good Friday dinner, and we needed to shower and put on clothes worthy of a man who rose from the dead. Jesus hadn’t done it as many times as Dwight Redding, but I figured I could still put on a dress and have some barbecue. Since celebrating Easter was one of the few things the two churches agreed on, they cohosted the event and swapped locations each year, and it was the Catholics’ turn to host in their big meeting area.

I figured that meant a night of Celia glaring and complaining, but someone had to make sure Gertie and her purse didn’t arrange another crucifixion. I also had some reservations about barbecue and little girls dressed in frilly dresses, but according to Ida Belle—who clearly wouldn’t be wearing frilly anything—this was the way it had always been done. Ronald had acquired a nice, plain—his words—dress for me, and I was going to thrill him by not only wearing the dress, but also wearing shoes with a little heel. Nothing I could kill anyone with, but then, I was hoping for a night off.

Carter was on duty, but he’d be there in a sort of official capacity. Since that was where most of Sinful would be, it was the most likely place to have a problem crop up. That and the Swamp Bar, and Andy Blanchet, a retired sheriff from another town, had agreed to be on call that weekend to help with anything Whiskey couldn’t handle. I wasn’t sure exactly what that might be, but it would be interesting to find out. Deputy Breaux was at the sheriff’s department, ready to respond to whoever needed backup.

I blow-dried my hair and left it down, swiped on some of the moisturizer that Ronald wanted me to live in, and dashed on some tinted lip gloss. That was as good as it was getting for me on the girlie end of things, so I pulled on the dress, a sundress in solid turquoise, slipped on the shoes, and headed downstairs. Since Ida Belle and Gertie had to be there early to ensure Celia didn’t turn Good Friday into Friday the 13th, Ronald had offered to give me a ride over in his new car, a shiny white Bentley with enough gold trim to get it into a rap video.

He had just stepped onto the porch when I got downstairs, and I pulled open the door, ready to see what he was wearing. The only thing he’d been willing to share was it was custom and befitting of the event but with his flair.

He hadn’t lied about any of that.

The tuxedo was pink with white pinstripes, and I was pretty sure it was made of silk. His vest, dress shoes, and the band around his white top hat were covered in gold sequins. When he did a model turn, I started laughing so hard I thought I would choke. Right in the appropriate location on the back of the tux coat was a fluffy white rabbit tail.

“Touch it,” he said when I finally regained some of my composure. “It’s real rabbit fur.”

“I’m going to take a hard pass on touching your butt, and I’m going to make a suggestion that you don’t extend that offer at the dinner, especially to kids.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid, but isn’t it just the cutest thing? I saw one of those Playboy Bunny bathing suits and thought ‘why not for Jesus?’ He deserves people wearing cute outfits more than Hugh Hefner.”

Since I didn’t have a valid argument for that one, I just closed the door and locked it. “You ready? I need to check out this new fabulous car.”

“Isn’t she though?” He practically danced down the sidewalk. “People thought I was crazy to get the white interior, but I knew what I wanted.”

I opened the door and stared. The inside of the car matched Ronald’s tuxedo. The carpet was pink. The seats were fluffy white and practically everything had gold trim. There was even a tiny chandelier hanging where the dome light would normally go.

“Sooooooo…” I said as I perched delicately on the fur and prayed my off-the-rack dress didn’t stain it, “Bentley offers these options?”

“Of course not,” he said as he backed out of my driveway. “I know a guy. He’s like those guys on MTV, but without the Harleys and tattoos. You know, class, taste?”

“Flash?”

Ronald grinned. “Maybe just a touch, but not all of us can be happy with clothes from Amazon and driving a Jeep with a title older than our birth certificate.”

“Hmmmm, well, it’s very nice and perfect for you. I have to admit, it rides like a dream. I don’t even feel like I left my couch.”

“This car is a lot more comfortable than that couch of yours.”

“Maybe, but I can’t drink beer and eat spaghetti in here, and you should never let Gertie get a peek. It’s right up her alley in looks, but Ida Belle keeps seat covers and tarps in her SUV for a reason. Gertie’s the reason.”

“I thought you kept tarps in case you had to dispose of a body,” he joked.

“That was the original reason, but we use them more because of Gertie.”

“You know, it both fascinates and scares me that I’m never really sure when you’re joking. Good Lord, look at all the cars. The sinners have really come out for absolution this year.”

“Easter and Christmas always draw the big crowds.”

He snorted. “I’m pretty sure it’s the free barbecue, but I’ll withhold saying those things out loud as soon as we get inside. I try to contain myself on church premises.”

“So you plan on lying instead?”

“I’m going multiple choice with my commandments tonight. Since Celia’s running the show, I have to keep lying and cursing under my breath on the table.”

He found a spot at the end of Main Street, and we headed for the church. It was definitely a big turnout, but not surprising. I hadn’t attended the previous year—I think I’d faked a cold, which I’d probably go to hell for—but this year, I’d given up the protest and decided that wearing a dress for a bunch of church women’s cooking wasn’t the worst trade I’d ever made.

The Catholics had a big meeting hall behind the church, so we headed for the sidewalk to the rear. We could hear the noise from the meeting hall before we even got to the door, and I started to feel a fake cold coming on again. That was an awful lot of people in one space. Ronald must have noticed my decrease in pace because he grabbed my arm and tugged me.

“You’ve put on a dress and you’re doing this,” he said. “If you go home, that would make Celia happy, and we never want that to happen.”

He wasn’t fighting fair, but he wasn’t wrong, either. I sighed and trudged up to the door and followed him inside. It was as packed as it sounded, but at least there appeared to be a semblance of organization. The church ladies were toting trays of food from the kitchen to a buffet line that stretched across the back of the room and right in front of the kitchen. Tables covered with pink tablecloths ran perpendicular to the buffet and the length of the room with metal chairs spaced along them.

The smell of the barbecue was enough to improve my mood, so I followed Ronald over to the corner where Ida Belle and Gertie were fiddling with gift baskets for the kids. They looked over as we approached and Gertie’s expression when she got the twirl from Ronald was priceless.

“Is that real rabbit fur?” she asked and reached for the tail.

“No!” Ida Belle said, and swatted her hand away. “We’re in church. You cannot go touching a man’s tail.”

Gertie rolled her eyes. “As soon as we’re out of church, the squeeze is on.”

Ronald laughed. “It’s absolutely real fur and so incredibly soft.”

“I am so jealous,” Gertie said. “I’ve got to get the name of your tailor. I think we could have some fun.”

She looked over at me. “And you look lovely as well. I rarely see you with your hair down unless you’ve been doing spy stuff and it comes out of your ponytail.”

Ronald shook his head in dismay. “She’s so rough on her hair and skin.”

“But still a solid dime.” Carter’s voice sounded behind me, and I turned around and smiled.

He leaned over and gave me a kiss—on the lips, but light as we were in church. I heard Ronald sigh.

“All that magnificence,” he whispered, “and neither of them even try. It makes one homicidal.”

Gertie nodded. “But we have flair, and that’s not to be discounted.”

Carter gave Ronald a once-over. “That outfit is something. It appears to match your new Bentley. Nice ride.”

“It is nice,” I agreed. “I was afraid the seat might eject me for getting into it with off-the-rack clothes.”

“Honey, you don’t need designer when you’re put together like that,” Ronald said.

“I agree,” Carter said. “In fact, I don’t think you need clothes at all.”

“Carter LeBlanc!”

Celia’s voice sounded behind me, and I turned to see her standing there, hands on hips and glaring at Carter.

“I cannot believe you are carrying on that way in the Lord’s house,” she said. “And on Easter, no less.”

He shrugged. “They let you in here every week and the place hasn’t erupted in flames yet. I figure being thankful for what God’s blessed me with is okay with Him.”

She flushed and stepped closer to him. “Instead of standing here fawning over your disreputable girlfriend, maybe you should get out there and police this lot. Then things like that debacle at the Easter egg hunt wouldn’t happen. People are too lax about following the rules, and that’s all on you, which is exactly why we need a sheriff with more propriety.”

“I could run,” Blanchet said as he stepped up to our party.

I choked back a laugh because he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt that read, On the eighth day, He created beer, and he was holding a flask, which he’d taken a drink from after issuing his statement.

“I’ve got more experience and as you can see, way more propriety,” he continued. “But I have to wonder why you’re over here complaining about propriety when you’ve got a slab of cow on your buffet table. I thought you weren’t supposed to eat meat on Good Friday.”

Celia whirled around and stomped off, clearly at a disadvantage. The rest of us started laughing.

“What are you doing here?” Carter asked. “I thought you were staying at Walter’s house on Swamp Bar call?”

Andy shrugged. “I can take calls just as well here as I can from Walter’s couch. I figured if your lot and Celia were all together in one building, you might need backup. Plus, now I don’t have to cook.”

“Are you drinking on the job?” Ronald asked.

“Of course not,” he said. “This is water. I just brought the flask to aggravate Celia.”

I laughed. “So what you really came to do is help stir the pot.”

He grinned. “I cannot tell a lie. Not on Good Friday, anyway.”

“You just lied about propriety,” Ronald pointed out.

“Depends on who you’re comparing me to,” Blanchet said. “Shall we get some food before the good stuff is gone?”

“No worries there,” Ida Belle said. “The Catholics won’t eat the beef, pork, or chicken. They have a stack of fish.”

“So they have to serve up the food but can’t eat it?” Blanchet asked. “That’s rough.”

“They won’t eat it in front of the Baptists,” Gertie said. “But they’ll sneak it out in their purses and dig into it as soon as the clock strikes midnight. Have you ever seen a bigger collection of cheap, ugly handbags?”

I glanced around the room and realized Gertie was right. Ronald blanched and started waving his hand to fan his face.

“It’s the purse apocalypse,” he said.

“Better they haul a slab of ribs in a Walmart special than a Louis Vuitton,” Gertie said.

“You’re not making it any better,” he said as they headed for the ribs.

“Where’s Walter?” I asked Ida Belle as we headed for the food.

“Home. He knows better.”