Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Ida Belle was still chuckling at Shadow Chaser when she pulled onto the highway.

“Okay, so where is this Voodoo Island, what is it haunted by, and why do people accept a nickname like Corndog and carry it into their senior years?”

“Voodoo Island is about an hour southwest of here,” Ida Belle said. “It’s basically a blip on the map in the middle of a swamp close to the Gulf. I’ve never heard anything about it being haunted, and my guess is that was Shadow’s marketing take, figuring an isolated, creepy old house with a ghost would be a bigger draw than an inconvenient old house surrounded by dirty water and bugs. And that last question is too much to unpack in this lifetime, and I’m not certain I have an answer, anyway.”

“Have you ever been there?”

They both shook their heads.

“It’s always been a private residence,” Ida Belle said.

Gertie nodded. “And far as I know, there’s only the one house on the island. It really is small—a couple acres at the most—and surrounded by a swamp full of alligators. Boats are the only way on or off because one person could not afford to build a bridge with the engineering it would require. It’s a good quarter mile from the island to the bank.”

“Why in the world would someone build a big house out there?”

“Rumor is it was built by pirates as a hideout,” Ida Belle said. “Someone—a relative of Shadow’s maybe—bought a bunch of swampland down there probably eighty or more years back, and they discovered the house on the island. It was covered with vines, and it’s completely hidden from the bank by cypress trees.”

“I can see why pirates would like the location,” I said. “If the only access people had were boats, and you couldn’t spot it just passing by in one, then it would be the perfect place to lie low while conducting business. But how has it stood all these years without a hurricane taking it out?”

“Ah, that’s where the voodoo thing comes in,” Gertie said. “The rumors also say that the pirates had a voodoo priestess cast a spell of protection on the island, and that’s why the house has weathered all storms.”

“Apparently, that doesn’t apply to the occupants,” I said.

“You can’t win them all,” Ida Belle said. “But the real answer is likely that the center of the island is a good twenty feet above sea level. And from what I’ve heard, the house is raised another five feet or so, which means the storm surge would have to be over twenty-five feet to get inside. Being surrounded by ancient, thick trees gives it protection from the wind. And then there’s the fact that everything was built better back then, especially for people with the money to put into the construction.”

“Well, I can’t wait to see the place. I assume since Carter wasn’t called about the death, it’s in a different parish than Sinful? ”

“Yeah. The sheriff over there is a fool,” Gertie said.

“Fool is far too polite,” Ida Belle said. “That man is a waste of oxygen.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Tell me how you really feel. So who is this man, and why should we cut off his air supply?”

“I retract part of my statement,” Ida Belle said. “He’s not a man.”

Gertie nodded. “His name is Bryce Benoit. And he— Well, heck, I was going to say he grew up in Sinful, but that won’t work because he still hasn’t matured. And saying he was raised in Sinful doesn’t work either because if he’d had any raising he might not be the biggest douche in the state.”

“How old is this guy?” I asked.

“A year younger than Carter,” Ida Belle said. “And there’s always been a rivalry there—one-sided, of course. Carter wouldn’t pee on Bryce if he was on fire. But Bryce always had this attitude like Carter was somehow preventing everyone from seeing his greatness.”

“And he was the laziest human being in the world,” Gertie said. “Even as a kid. He used to promise the, uh, unpopular girls dates if they’d do his homework. Got caught cheating on his tests all the time, which was no small surprise since he’d never read the material and mostly slept through class.”

“Then how did he graduate?”

Gertie rubbed her fingers together. “His parents inherited some money, and since their number one goal in life was not dealing with anything unpleasant, they threw money at whatever problems Bryce created.”

“So they didn’t like adulting but thought it was a good idea to have a kid?” I shook my head, marveling at the superbly flawed logic.

“I don’t think they intended to have one,” Ida Belle said. “My guess is they were as lazy about prevention as they were about parenting. Bryce comes by his dedication to doing nothing honestly.”

“Do I know his parents?” I was searching my mind for a Benoit that might have fit the bill but hadn’t hit on one.

“No. They practically fled the state the day he turned eighteen,” Gertie said. “He hadn’t even finished high school yet, but that’s when he got a hold of his trust. They just signed over the deed to the house, packed their personal things, and waved as they were driving out of town. It was all rather cold.”

I shrugged. “My father faked his own death—twice. I’m afraid it will take more than disinterest with an open checkbook to make me believe he didn’t have a choice in remaining useless as an adult.”

“Bingo,” Ida Belle said. “After high school he went to the police academy. Worked in three different cities for a matter of days before they fired him. Then his reputation preceded him, and he couldn’t get hired. So he came back to Sinful and got a job with the sheriff’s department.”

“Why on earth would Sheriff Lee hire him?” I asked.

“He didn’t,” Gertie said. “Lee was out with something—gallstones, kidney stones—anyway, Mayor Fontleroy hired him because he’d been buddies with his father. And we all figure the mayor cashed a nice big check for his trouble.”

Ida Belle nodded. “Then he proceeded to crap on that job. If he went out on a call, he’d try to convince people not to file a report because he didn’t want to bother with the paperwork. If they did file, he’d just stack the folders on his desk and never work them. When he got called on it, he started paying other deputies to work his cases and let him take the credit.”

“There’s useless and then there’s Bryce Benoit,” Gertie said. “He tried for years to get out of Sinful and back into the city. That’s where he really wanted to be, but the cities already had his number. Then he set his sights on being sheriff, figuring Lee wasn’t long for the saddle. It was the only way for Bryce to get the authority to lord over more people.”

“Then Carter came back and all bets were off,” Ida Belle said. “Everyone loved and trusted Carter, and Carter is actually good at the job. Bryce knew he’d never win an election against him, so he bounced to the parish next door. Shortly after, the sheriff there—who everyone thought would die in his office chair—announced his retirement, endorsed Bryce as his replacement, and bought a new bass boat.”

I shook my head. “What are the chances this death will get anything more than a cursory look by the illustrious sheriff?”

“Less than none,” Gertie said.

“What about the medical examiner?”

“Fired from as many places as Bryce and reputation about as good,” Ida Belle said.

I sighed. “So we have a collection of castoffs who aren’t employable anywhere else. Great. Any chance this idiot hasn’t heard of me and my relationship with Carter?”

“Also less than none.” Gertie said. “Bryce is still trying to one-up Carter. You can bet he knows every move Carter makes.”

“You know, this whole elected cop thing has some flaws,” I said. “Except in Carter’s case.”

“Definitely,” Ida Belle agreed. “On the plus side, there’s a lot of low-key complaining about his lack of care. And even more talk about him taking money to look the other way when people’s spoiled kids are problematic.”

“So he’s become his own parents, except his kids are everyone in the parish who has money to buy his complicity. Good. God.”

“It might be his undoing,” Gertie said. “The election’s coming up, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Bryce is out. I’ve heard that trust fund is running low, and those without big bank accounts are tired of a handful of rich people buying their way out of trouble.”

“It doesn’t sound like he’s capable of real police work, even if he wanted to do some. If this does turn out to be a murder, and he can’t solve it, maybe it will be the final nail in his coffin.”

Ida Belle nodded. “Unfortunately, he’ll be nailing Corndog in there with him.”

Given mitigating factors—mostly Carter’s history with Bryce and Gertie’s history with boats—I figured it was probably best if I let Carter know where we were going. It was an island, after all, and I’d already been warned that cell phone coverage would likely be spotty, especially if a storm cropped up. I didn’t even want to think about the weather, since I’d also been informed that the shallow water and cypress knees prevented anything bigger than small flat-bottom boats getting across it. I didn’t want to imagine how long construction had taken, hauling only a handful of two-by-fours at a time.

Carter sounded a bit better when he answered his phone than he had when we’d left Sinful that morning.

“How’s the case of the near-naked tree-climber going?” I asked.

“Depends on who you’re asking. Since no one could identify the woman by her underwear, and I have refused to search everyone’s home or person looking for pink-and-black leopard-spotted undergarments, it’s going fine for me. But the destroyed bush people were not happy with my refusal to dig through underwear drawers or strip-search women in the street.”

“They’re just being ridiculous. Tell them you received an anonymous envelope of money to cover the cost of a new bush and fence repair and they’ll be fine.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea. Thanks! Tell Gertie I’ll be billing her with an upcharge. She can consider it a processing fee in lieu of the fine she’d get if I was being honest with my residents.”

“I heard that,” Gertie said. “And all of it is speculation.”

Ida Belle and I looked at her.

“Fine, I’ll drop cash off as soon as we get back,” she said.

“Back from where?” he asked.

“That’s what I called to tell you—we caught a case. Well, sort of a case. I’m looking into this situation of Shadow Chaser’s as a favor.”

“Just curious, why would you do him a favor?”

Since most of the reasons I felt we owed Shadow were the same things we’d sworn to Carter that we’d had no part in, I couldn’t exactly tell him it was because we regularly destroyed hotel property, spied on guests, broke into rooms, blew things up, or anything else that might compromise his position as sheriff. Besides, if Shadow was keeping mum about it all, why would I volunteer incriminating tales?

“He’s not a bad kid,” I said. “And his aunt and uncle are in a sticky situation. Since the motel is one of the properties Mannie has taken over, I don’t want Shadow so distracted he gets on Mannie’s bad side. And I don’t want Mannie dealing with issues he wouldn’t otherwise have to.”

Since Mannie had been crucial to rescuing Carter, I knew he wouldn’t question my involvement given the SEAL’s tangential association with the motel manager.

“Hmmmm. You never call when you’ve taken on a new case. Why the warning this time?”

“Because we’re headed to Voodoo Island, which is where Shadow’s aunt and uncle live. If we get stuck there for whatever reason and cell phone service is crap, I wanted someone besides Shadow to know where we were.”

“You mean if there’s a Gertie situation, and you can’t call for help, you want me to come looking for you if you’re not back by dinner.”

“Yes,” Ida Belle said.

“Ha,” Carter said. “That’s what I figured. Please tell me this case doesn’t involve anything criminal.”

“I was led to believe that nothing that happens in that parish is listed as ‘criminal.’”

“Yeah, that’s the problem. Do me a favor, make every effort to avoid Bryce Benoit. He’s looking for any possible reason to get something on me.”

“The DOD couldn’t get anything on me. Do you really think that loser stands a chance?”

“No. But he could lock you up just to cause trouble, and I don’t want Alexander getting his Rolls dirty, driving it down to Bryce’s territory to deal with his high school grudge.”

“You know I avoid law enforcement if possible. And it doesn’t sound like this one is interested in working, so maybe he’ll stay away, and I won’t even have the displeasure of meeting him.”

“If he hears you’re there, he’ll find you. Bet on that. I’ve got to run. One of Fred’s cows got loose and just made her way into the flower shop. She’s eating the profits.”

Gertie shook her head as I slipped my phone back into my pocket. “Carter is spread too thin. I’d hoped he’d take some time off after DC, but he just jumped right back in the next day.”

“I think he’s better if he’s working,” I said. “Too much time sitting around is just more time to dwell on things that can’t be changed.”

Ida Belle nodded. “I agree, but Gertie’s not wrong. He is spread too thin. I know adding Harrison has helped, but the parish is growing quickly. A lot of people are leaving cities for a slower pace, even if they’re still working in them. They’re fine with the commute as long as the quality of life after they clock out is better.”

“But it’s not all the time,” Gertie said. “Last week, I was dropping off a casserole to Myrtle and they were playing charades. How do you justify the payroll for another full-time officer when the problems seem to happen all at once or not at all?”

“There might be a solution on the horizon,” I said.

Then I told them about Blanchet buying Jenny’s house.

“When Blanchet moves to Sinful, he’ll be available for contract work, and since he’s already approved by the system, it shouldn’t be a problem bringing him last minute to help out.”

Gertie and Ida Belle were both smiling, and I knew they were as pleased as I was that Blanchet was going to be a Sinful resident.

“That’s awesome news!” Gertie said.

Ida Belle nodded. “That is the perfect solution to Carter’s staffing problems, and we couldn’t ask for someone better than Blanchet to close the gap.”

“Especially since he likes us,” Gertie said. “And doesn’t complain about our methods.”

“That’s because he doesn’t have to worry about elections,” Ida Belle said. “Carter doesn’t have the luxury of being amused at our shenanigans.”

I nodded. “I know, and I’ve been thinking. We’ve gotten a little lax in that whole hidden-agenda thing. I think we need to be a little more covert with our less-than-legal stuff.”

“So go back to making up outrageous lies that Carter pretends to believe?” Gertie asked .

“Good idea,” Ida Belle said. “Walter is smart enough not to ask questions he doesn’t want to hear the answers to, but given that it’s Carter’s job to ask, he’s between a rock and Fortune. And no offense, but you make the rock look like a pillow.”

“I take it as a compliment.”

Ida Belle grinned. “Which makes my point.”

“I’m fine with telling stories,” Gertie said. “I’ve got plenty of real-life stuff to draw off of. God knows, people wouldn’t believe most of what I’ve done. Except you two, of course.”

“That’s because we’re usually there rescuing you,” Ida Belle said. “I could do with a little less knowledge of some things.”

Gertie shrugged. “Even if I become the model of decorum, you have Ronald to deal with now. He’s no slouch in the outrageous department.”

“Don’t remind me,” I said. “I’m still seeing that superhero unitard in my nightmares. Carter walked into my house the other day, and a Marvel movie was playing on the TV. He actually flinched before I changed the channel.”

I looked up as we passed a sign indicating that the town of Curses was only two miles away. Since we’d been driving almost an hour, I had to assume we were getting close to Voodoo Island.

“Curses?” I asked

“Seemed befitting,” Gertie said. “Voodoo Island and Curses. The town council voted to make curses illegal though.”

“Of course they did,” I said.

Living in Sinful—where mostly everything that equated to a sinful behavior was illegal—I already had some experience with bayou town lawmaking.

“But there’s a twist,” Ida Belle said. “When they drew up the laws and voted on them, the document hadn’t been proofread, so instead of making curses against the law, they actually voted to make cursing against the law. ”

I stared. “No one is allowed to curse—in any form—in Curses?”

“Exactly.”

Fascinating. “So who decides what the curse words are?”

“That’s been a hot debate for years now, but most people just err on the side of caution and don’t say anything they wouldn’t use in church.”

“Good. God.” I shook my head. “Can I even say that?”

They both shrugged.

As we pulled into Curses, I took a look around. It was tiny—I mean it made Sinful look like a metropolis. There was a total of three buildings, all of which had seen better days. A gun shop, a church, and a bait store, which according to the signage also served as boat repair, general store, and a restaurant.

“Well, I see they have the three most important things covered,” I said. “No sheriff’s department?”

“It’s in Meditation—north of here and closer to Houma,” Ida Belle said.

“Should I even ask?”

“A bunch of years back, someone hired a yogi to move here and break the curse on Voodoo Island,” Gertie said. “He convinced people he was blessed with special powers that kept the curse away, so he stayed. The town used to be called Tackle & Bait but in appreciation for his services, they voted to change the name.”

“Uh-huh. And how much money did this yogi bilk them for?”

Ida Belle snorted. “A house, maintenance, cooking, cleaning, and whatever money they could come up with for his ‘fees.’”

“How long did that go on?”

“Until Number Three hit. ”

I knew what number two was and the island that shared the name had been dubbed so for a reason, but I was almost afraid to ask what a Number Three was.

Ida Belle must have noticed my confusion. “A hurricane. 1926. They didn’t really start naming them until the ’50s. Blew the whole town away, including the yogi’s house, so they figured the hurricane was sent to expose his scam.”

“Then why not change the name back?”

“Because it’s a hassle and an expense to get everything changed,” Ida Belle said. “Lawyers, paperwork, business registrations, driver’s licenses, street signs. They put it to a vote and the people said enough.”

“Is cursing allowed in Meditation?” I asked.

“Since Meditation copied Curses’ laws to save money on drafting their own, no.”

“But Meditation added an amendment,” Gertie said. “You can curse when sitting cross-legged. I saw a bar fight there once. Looked like a bunch of drunk Russians dancing, except without the kicking.”

I considered this for a moment and decided it was just ridiculous enough to warrant an in-person viewing. “We might just have to make a side trip to one of those bars on the way home.”

“There’s only one,” Gertie said.

“Less things to have to choose, right?” I said as Ida Belle pulled into a clearing that was little more than a patch of dirt in front of a rickety dock.

Two newer-model SUVs were already parked there, so she squeezed in beside them and I climbed out and surveyed the pier.

“That thing looks like it’s going to fall over at any moment,” I said. “Is this really where they launch their boats?”

If the pier was in that bad of shape, I didn’t even want to know what was going on with the ramp. For all I knew the only part left might be the piece I saw descending into the murky water.

“It does look rough,” Ida Belle agreed. “We probably shouldn’t all stand on it at one time.”

“I can’t believe people want to stay in a haunted house enough to do this,” I said.

“I can,” Gertie said. “I’ve always wanted to see the island and the house. It’s the stuff of legend in these parts.”

“It’s also the stuff you can get to by boat,” I said, “which everyone over the age of five seems to have access to around here. Why didn’t you jaunt out there and look around?”

She looked at me as if I was crazy. “Because it’s cursed, remember? You don’t want to risk bringing that sort of thing home with you.”

“You went to Harrison and Cassidy’s house and everyone swears it’s haunted,” I pointed out.

“That’s ghosts,” Gertie said. “Ghosts and curses are two entirely different things. Ghosts are like bringing home some drunk guy you met at a bar. Curses are like bringing home an STD.”

“You’re going now.”

She shrugged. “I think I can handle a curse now.”

I wasn’t about to ask why that was the case.

“I don’t subscribe to any of that nonsense,” Ida Belle said. “And I mean all of it—ghosts, curses, STDs—because I don’t believe in the first two and wouldn’t expose myself to the last one. But there’s a lot of superstition in this parts, so most probably believe there’s some truth in the old tales of curses. Someone dying out there is only going to fuel that fire.”

I heard a boat engine and looked over to see a small bass boat approaching.

Early seventies. Six foot two. Thin and wiry—which described his physique as well as what was left of his hair. His overalls strap bunched on the left side and the lowered shoulder indicated some arthritis. No glasses. Threat level nil unless he actually needed glasses, especially since he was driving the boat.

We started toward the rickety dock, but instead of pulling up beside it, he drove right for the ramp. Holy crap! We all stared for a moment, then scattered. We’d seen boats launch up ramps and embankments more times than we wanted, and it never ended well for the boat or anything in its path.

But just before he reached the ramp, he cut the motor and the boat turned sideways and pulled up right beside the ramp. Holy crap. The entire thing really was missing below the water line. He looked over at me and squinted, calling into question that whole no-glasses thing, then smiled.

“You must be Fortune,” he said. “My nephew told us you were as smart as you were annoying, but he didn’t mention how pretty you are. Or young. Are you old enough to drive?”

“Did your nephew fail to mention that I used to work for the CIA?”

He frowned. “No…wait. Yes, I think he did mention something of the sort. My memory gets the better of me sometimes. Anyway, we got a surprise storm moving in, so if you’re ready to go, let’s do it. You don’t want to get caught out in a storm in these swamps. A couple months ago, I got hit by one coming back from a grocery run. It pushed me so far into the backwaters I didn’t even know where I was. Took me two days to work my way out, and I was darn near out of gas before I found the dock again.”

He grinned. “Boy, Petunia was mad. Not only did her milk spoil but I ate all the potato chips. Anyway, best get going.”

Since all we had on us were weapons and whatever was in Gertie’s purse and bra, getting stranded for two days in a small boat didn’t sound like an adventure I was interested in. Especially since I knew Gertie’s purse was already down one sandwich. So we all stepped into the boat and scooted around to find seats on the two benches.

“How many bedrooms do you have?” I asked as he pushed off and began our slow trip across the swamp.

“Eight. That doesn’t include our suite off the kitchen. There was one more, but it’s so small it wouldn’t have fit more than a twin bed, so we turned it into a linen closet.”

Eight rooms. Jesus. I wondered briefly if this was how Corndog transported his customers and their baggage, because every time a new person had stepped onto the boat the whole thing had swayed as if it was going to tip over. If this was his only transport, then it must take him half a day to get them all over to the island if they were full and they had a lot of luggage.

“And how many were booked when the unfortunate event took place?”

“Six. They’re all old friends here for a class reunion this weekend in Houma and figured they’d come early and visit amongst themselves before the reunion kicked off.”

Ida Belle raised her eyebrows. “So everyone staying there knew each other, including the one who died?”

Corndog nodded, his expression sad. “Poor guy. They were having such a good time that night—least it seemed that way when we was out there, and the racket didn’t dim any when we left. But Petunia and I learned a while back to get earplugs, so we just finished with the cleanup and headed to bed after we was all done eating.”

“And the ME said it was anaphylactic shock that killed him?”

“That’s what he said, but I swear, I didn’t cook anything in peanut oil. They told me about his allergy before they made the reservation to make sure we could accommodate him. Not like you can head out to a restaurant or order up one of them deliveries on the island, so what we serve is what you’ve got to eat. And I might not remember everything as good as I did when I was twenty, but I darn sure know the difference between peanut oil and vegetable oil. And my momma was allergic, so I’ve always been careful-like.”

“What did you serve?”

“We had a fish fry. They’re popular, especially when the house is booked by a group. They enjoy being outside around the fryer, drinking and talking. It gives people who never lived in these parts a new experience and gives the ones who had to move to cities to work a visit down memory lane.”

“I can see that. Is there a chance that he brought something in with him that had peanuts in it?”

“I don’t see why he would. The man’s been living with this allergy all his life. If he’d made it to adulthood without making bad choices, I don’t see as how he’d make them now.”

“But you said he was drunk, right?”

“Drunk as skunks when Petunia and I headed in, but unless one of his friends brought something and was fool enough to give it to him, I don’t see how he could have come by it. We checked our pantry and there’s nothing missing.”

“Do you measure the peanut oil left after using it?”

“Why on earth would I do that?”

“You wouldn’t, but my point is while food might not have been missing, oil could have been.”

“Well, unless he drank some out of the jug, which even being drunk wouldn’t explain, I don’t see how it matters.”

I shrugged. “Just covering all bases. Did the cops ask you any of this?”

He snorted. “That boy is not and never will be a cop. He should be ashamed to wear the badge, but that’s what happens when someone goes their whole life getting everything they want. That nephew of mine might lend himself to drama, and I don’t understand why he doesn’t put down that computer and go fishing, but at least he works. He came up with this whole B and B idea. Did he tell you?”

I nodded. I had a million more questions, but they could wait until I got to the house and got the lay of the land. It helped to actually see a place to get things into perspective, and I wanted to meet Petunia as well and make a decision on her credibility. So far, I didn’t doubt anything Corndog had said, but that didn’t necessarily mean he knew everything about the situation or that his recounting was accurate. Two sets of eyes were better than one, especially older eyes.

“His plan’s been working just fine,” Corndog continued. “We got caught up on our taxes and paid for a few repairs. Based on the reservations, we should have been able to get the roof done this summer, but now, we just don’t know.”

His expression was bleak, and I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. To face losing your home this late in life was a tragedy, and to have come this far and then lose right before the finish line—so to speak—would be even harder. Small successes had already been celebrated. Hopes had already been raised.

“Unlessin’ folks has got a garden and like sittin’ in the dark, I don’t know how they can afford to eat these days,” he continued. “Didn’t no one plan on all us old codgers living this long—least of all the government. You seen a Social Security check? Couldn’t support a house cat.”

Gertie nodded. “We’ve had several of our Sinful residents who had to sell and move off to live with their kids. Killed them to do so, but with trying to maintain the properties and the way expenses keep going up, it got to be too much. And they had a community helping when they could. You don’t even have that out here on this island.”

Corndog nodded. “We didn’t think about it when we moved in. We was a lot younger and just excited to be here, and still are, truth be known. We love the house, the island, everything about it, really. I don’t know what we’d do if we lost it.”

“Try not to worry about it,” I said. “I know that’s impossible, but let me do my job. I’m good at putting the pieces together, and Ida Belle and Gertie are good at ferreting them out. We don’t want you to lose your house either.”

He sniffed and nodded. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“It’s a favor for your nephew. He’s helped us out with investigations a few times. That motel he works at tends to attract some of the people I end up hunting.”

“That place has always been more than a little unsavory. He claims the new owners are going to improve the place and the reputation though.”

“That seems to be the plan.”

No way I was going to tell him that Big and Little Hebert were the new owners. He’d probably have a heart attack right here in the boat.

“There she is,” he said and pointed.

I looked over and got my first glimpse at Voodoo Island.