Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Gertie started clapping her hands. Ida Belle just sighed.

Corndog and Petunia just looked confused, so I explained. “I think we will get more out of the others if they don’t know we’re investigators. We’ll just be guests.”

Corndog’s eyes widened. “You’re going undercover. You are smart. I’ll add you to the register just in case someone checks, but I ain’t taking your money.”

He scratched his head. “But you don’t have any stuff to stay overnight, and it doesn’t look like that storm is going to break in time to get you back to the mainland to get supplies and get back before dark. I don’t take the boat out after dark.”

“I have bathroom supplies,” Petunia said. “I keep sample sizes on hand because so many forget something and it’s not like you can just pop out to the store. I’m going to find you some clothes to change into and I’ll get your stuff in the washer straightaway, then I’ll bring up some bandages, peroxide, and ointment for those scratches.”

I nodded. “Great. We’ll wear whatever you come up with today and then have our own stuff to change into tomorrow. ”

“Not unless you want me to go around wearing nothing but my sports bra,” Gertie said.

“Good point.” I looked at Petunia. “Do you have an extra T-shirt as well? The gator ate Gertie’s.”

“Preferably something from back in those enjoying-your-own-cooking days,” Ida Belle said, and Gertie scowled.

“I think I have a Mardi Gras T-shirt somewhere,” Petunia said.

“Perfect,” I said. “We’ll head upstairs for a shower and change and bring our clothes back down to launder.”

“What about your shoes?” Petunia asked.

“We left our tennis shoes in the entry,” I said, “but they’ll take too long to dry if you wash them. If you have a trash bag I can use, we’ll just wipe them up best we can.”

Petunia didn’t look convinced. “I was bringing Gertie a dress—that’s really all I’ve got that might work for her.”

“No worries,” Ida Belle said. “I see women wearing dresses and tennis shoes all the time. We’re well past trendy heels.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gertie said.

“We’ll make it work,” I said to Petunia. “But we should get going before we make a bigger mess of your kitchen floor.”

Petunia fetched a trash bag for our shoes and another for our clothes. We all pulled off our socks and stuffed them in the dirty clothes bag to send down with the rest of our things after we’d showered and changed.

Corndog looked excited. “I can’t believe I’m going to get to play undercover investigator with you. Wait, what should I call you? Ida Belle and Gertie are probably fine, but my nephew says you’ve made a bit of a name for yourself in these parts, Ms. Redding, and Fortune ain’t all that common.”

“He has a point,” Ida Belle agreed. “Probably best to choose a different name.”

“What name would be easy for you to remember?” I asked Corndog, given that he’d already admitted his memory sometimes failed him.

He smiled. “You kinda remind me of Petunia’s sister Rose—God rest her soul—when she was young.”

“Then Rose it is,” I said. “Go ahead and show us to our rooms, and we’ll pretend to get settled, then we’ll wander back down to find the others.”

“I’ll find those clothes and bring them right up,” Petunia said.

“What do you want Petunia and me to do after we get you settled?” Corndog asked.

“Whatever you normally do. We’re just more regular guests.”

“What if they see you dressed like this on the way to your rooms?” Petunia asked.

“We got caught out in the storm,” I said. “And Gertie fell, then I helped her up. It’s the truth, of sorts.”

They both looked a bit nervous and so I asked Petunia, “You said you were checking flour. Are you baking something?”

“What?” she asked, momentarily confused. “Oh, some cookies. Traditional chocolate chip, from scratch, of course. I have baked goods every afternoon we have guests for a snack, but I’ve been a little off my game ever since…you know. Couldn’t find my cookie sheet and looked high and low and it was right in front of my face, just on the wrong shelf. I guess stress has got the better of me.”

“Let me worry about all of that now,” I said. “You two just treat this like any other day with a full roster of guests.”

Petunia gave us a nervous smile as Corndog motioned for us to follow. We headed out of the kitchen and into the entry. I gave the giant spiral staircase an appreciative look. It was the kind of thing you only saw in movies or magazine ads. This place must have cost a fortune and taken forever to build .

“Your rooms are on the south side of the house across the hall from each other,” Corndog said as we headed upstairs. “They get the most noise from bad weather, I’m afraid, which is why we put people in them last. The one with the queen bed has a small bathroom with shower, but the double beds share the bathroom down the hall with other guests.”

“They can use mine,” I said. “That way, no one will catch any of us walking down the hall looking like Swamp Thing.”

Corndog opened the door to the room on the left first and I walked in, taking in the double beds. It was small and the curtains and bedding were definitely from a different era, but it was neat and clean and had that old-world pretty look to it. The furniture was as ornate as the walls and banister, and I knew in an instant it was solid and heavy.

“The key’s in the lock,” Corndog said, and pushed the door closed enough to show us the giant iron key slotted in the inside lock. “You pull it out when you leave and lock the room with it from the outside. Twist it on the inside to lock yourself in at night.”

“That’s rather an interesting piece of history,” Ida Belle said.

Corndog nodded. “The guests seem to appreciate it, so I’m sure glad we never changed them all out for something more modern. ’Course, we had no need to lock the doors until we started taking guests. We kept the unused rooms closed up so as not to waste air conditioning and heat on them, of course, but everything is pretty much the way it was when I inherited the place.”

“I’m just glad you have air conditioning,” Gertie said.

Corndog nodded. “Cost a pretty penny with all the maneuvering they had to do to get it to the lower floors. And I wouldn’t let them touch the woodwork, so it took some doing. But that was back when I was still working for the oil companies and money was flowing like petroleum in the Gulf back then.”

He walked across the hall and pushed open the door to the other room. The bedroom was roughly the same size as the other but with a queen bed and an attached bathroom. Both rooms were so small that the four of us standing in them took up all of the available floor space. But they were fine for our purposes and were a far sight better than the places we’d had to sleep in our past careers with the CIA and the military.

I looked back at the open door and the key in the lock and frowned. “Was the dead guy’s room locked?”

I’d seen what looked like damage to the doorframe when we’d passed the door with police tape on it.

Corndog nodded. “When it got close to noon and they still couldn’t raise him, they asked me to open it, but there’s only the one key. I guess I need to figure out something on that, but to be honest, we’ve never had a problem before.”

“So the keys only work for one door each?”

“That’s right. Wouldn’t be very secure if they was universal. Well, except in cases like this I guess, and I’m rather hoping we don’t have that happen again. Still, a spare key would have saved me replacing a doorframe, so I’m going to check with a locksmith about having some made. The big guy—the one who’s in charge—he forced it open along with the skinny one.”

“And you found the key inside the room?”

“Yep. On the floor right next to the bed. Figure that’s where he dropped it before he passed out.”

Ida Belle cut her eyes at me, and I knew she was thinking the same thing I was—a locked room with the only key on the inside meant no one had sneaked in and murdered the guy unless they’d left through a window. I’d check on that possibility later.

“Thanks, Corndog,” I said. “We’ll get showered and changed and head downstairs. Hopefully, the others will still be hanging out and we can get them to talking. You go back to whatever you would normally be doing. Just remember that I’m Rose and we’re from Belle Chasse. We’ll try to get a chance later tonight to talk to you more about everything.”

“Got it,” he said. “I’ll head to the kitchen and get the coffee going for when those cookies are done.”

“You’d better let Carter know we’re staying over,” Ida Belle said as soon as he left. “Otherwise, he might send out the posse when we’re not back by dinner.”

Crap! All three of our phones had just taken a dip along with us in the bayou.

The thought must have occurred to them at the same time it hit me, and we all yanked them out of our pockets.

“Still works,” Gertie said. “Thank God for waterproof phones.”

I nodded. One thin bar flickered off and on, which wasn’t surprising given that the storm still raged outside, but at least it appeared to be working. I figured I’d never be able to get a decent call to stay connected in this weather, so I sent a text.

Staying overnight. Tell everyone. Big storm. Bad cell service here.

I hit Send, and we all watched the phone and waited. It took a bit but finally showed delivered.

“At least it went through,” I said.

With all three of us texting different people about our overnight stay, word should get around as needed. In my case, I needed Carter to pop in to my house tonight and feed Merlin. Ida Belle needed Walter on Rambo duty, and Gertie had a bird and now apparently, a camel to consider.

The situation in Sinful now handled as best it could be, I turned my attention to our current problem.

“How long does it take someone to have an allergic reaction to food?” I asked .

Ida Belle shrugged. “Depends, of course, on the severity of the allergy, the type and amount of the allergen consumed, and how. In the case of ingestion, reaction time can be minutes to an hour maybe.”

Her eyes widened as she latched onto my train of thought. “If those fish had been fried in peanut oil, you’re thinking he would have had a reaction before he went to bed.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Depends on how long after eating they stayed up.”

Ida Belle frowned. “There’s also biphasic anaphylaxis.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“It’s the second act, of sorts. It can happen hours after the first episode.”

“But there still would have been a first episode, right?”

“Sure, but symptoms include things like shortness of breath, rash, upset stomach, being lightheaded…”

“All symptoms of being insanely drunk,” I said and sighed. “Can the second act kill you?”

Ida Belle nodded. “I wouldn’t say it happens that often, but metabolism and response are a pretty individual thing. For all we know the alcohol could have played a role in it as well.”

“Crap,” Gertie said. “So Corndog might still be on the hook.”

There was a knock at the door, and Ida Belle opened it to let Petunia in, clothes draped over her arm.

“Good Lord, one of those friends left the library just as I stepped out of the kitchen with the clothes, and I almost twisted my ankle ducking back inside,” Petunia said. “If these don’t work for you, one of you come down and get me and I’ll try to drum up something else. And don’t forget to bring me your wet things and I’ll get them on to wash right away.”

She placed the clothes and a first aid kit on the bed and hurried out, still looking stressed over all of it. Gertie picked up the dress on top of the pile, and Ida Belle started laughing.

“It looks like my aunt’s kitchen drapes,” Gertie said.

“Your aunt had awful taste then,” Ida Belle said. “Were your aunt’s drapes also too short for the window?”

Gertie glared. “You know good and well they were since you spent just as many hours eating cookies in front of those drapes as me.”

I had to agree, the pattern of the fabric and the cut of the dress were both less than stellar. The dress kind of looked like a box. I was sure Ronald would know what the style was called, but I was going with Awful Box Style. And the length—it was probably fine on Petunia, who was a good couple inches shorter than Gertie, but it would verge on questionable for what women Gertie’s age were expected to be wearing since her knees were sure to show. She definitely couldn’t wear it to church without causing some kind of uproar.

Then there was the material. It was something clingy, and stretchy, although on the thinner Petunia, it probably just hung there since there wasn’t much to cling to past her shoulders. But the real statement of the piece was the pattern. A putrid shade of green made up the background and giant purple petunias the size of my head were splayed all across the dress. I couldn’t imagine someone deliberately purchasing it and was going to assume the store was paying people to take them.

Ida Belle started chuckling, and Gertie glared. “I can’t wear this. I’d look less obtrusive walking in there naked.”

“No! You would not,” Ida Belle said. “So it’s a little short and a little loud—how is that a problem? God knows, we’ve both seen you in worse.”

I nodded.

“It’s hideous,” Gertie said.

I nodded again .

“You’re not helping,” Ida Belle said to me, then turned back to Gertie. “Look, you’re the one who went diving over a snake. And a harmless rat snake at that. You could ask for something else, but I don’t think it’s going to get much better. Either you dress like your aunt’s drapes or Petunia might have something like what she was wearing. Would Little House on the Prairie look be more to your liking?”

Gertie sighed. “You know how much I hate pleats, and the whole bodice of her dress was covered with them.”

“You also hate not breathing,” Ida Belle said, “and those dresses are not stretchy like this one. Make do until your clothes are laundered. Then you can change for dinner.”

“Why would I take off such a festive dress and change into jeans and a T-shirt for dinner?”

“You could say you were cold,” I said.

Gertie raised one eyebrow. “You mean like old people do?”

“Let’s not start pretending we’re the same age as Fortune,” Ida Belle said. “We already have big enough roles to play without making them impossible. It’s the South. You’re eccentric. Those people are from here. Trust me, they won’t bat an eye.”

I nodded. Given the things I’d seen people wearing in downtown Sinful, Ida Belle was definitely right on that one.

“Great,” Gertie said. “So now I’ll be the crazy old aunt.”

“ Spinster old aunt,” Ida Belle added. “Talk a lot about your cats.”

The next set of clothes were the sweats and T-shirt that Shadow had left behind. The sweats were skinny and clingy, which I hated, and had bands around the ankles. As soon as Gertie lifted them up, I could tell they were going to be too short.

“I can solve two problems at once,” I said as Gertie chuckled .

I motioned to Ida Belle and she handed me her knife, anticipating where I was going with it. I made a clean cut right above both ankle cuffs and threw the offending elastic in the trash.

“I’m afraid you don’t have that option on the T-shirt,” Gertie said and held it up.

It was black and had a sort of golf ball-looking object on it. “What is it?”

“It’s the Death Star,” Ida Belle said. “From Star Wars .”

“Ah,” I said and nodded. “At least I’ve seen that movie, and I don’t have to wear a dress. Not that Petunia had anything that would have looked remotely normal on someone my age.”

“I’m glad I requested Corndog’s overalls,” Ida Belle said. “If I wore one of Petunia’s dresses, everyone could see the brand of my drawers. Not that I’ll be wearing any until our clothes are laundered.”

I nodded as Gertie picked up the overalls and held them up next to Ida Belle.

“They’re way too long though,” Gertie said.

“I’ll roll them up at the bottom,” Ida Belle said.

“If this dress makes me the spinster cat lady, then who the heck are you?” Gertie asked Ida Belle.

“I’m the aunt who had a lifelong ‘roommate’ until she passed a couple years back.”

“Ah,” Gertie said and nodded. “That’s not bad. I suppose stereotypes are best when doing undercover work. We should probably both show proper disdain for men.”

“We kind of do that already just by being honest,” Ida Belle said. “Most men give us plenty to work with.”

“True,” Gertie agreed. “I probably need to create some cat names.”

“Don’t go making up a bunch of stuff I have to remember,” I said. “I need to be figuring out if a crime was committed, not worrying about roommates, knitting patterns, and cats.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ida Belle said. “You’re the disinterested young person who’s forced to haul her aging relatives around. Just spend a lot of time looking at your cell phone and ignoring us and you’ll blend right in.”

“What if I don’t have a signal?”

“Then frown a lot and mutter like the world is ending.”

I sighed.

“That’s it,” Gertie said and nodded. “Just like that. They are people about your age.”

“But not her peers,” Ida Belle said.

“Good point,” Gertie said. “But maybe just this once, you could pretend to be an average thirty-year-old.”

Since I had no idea where to even start with that task, I shook my head. “Let’s not complicate this any more than it already is. I don’t think we’ll need to offer up much backstory, but I probably do need a job. Any ideas that won’t get me more questions or expose me as a fraud?”

“Insurance processor,” Ida Belle said. “You work from home. It’s beyond boring so no one will ask.”

“That’s good,” I said. “My guess is if they’re interested in conversation at all, they’ll probably talk about their friend or just talk among themselves and ignore us. Either is fine. If it comes up, then we’re from Belle Chasse—I know it well enough to fudge some things if I have to—and you two heard about Voodoo Island from a palm reader and wanted to come out here as you’re into the paranormal stuff.”

“That last part’s true enough,” Gertie said.

“Not for me,” Ida Belle corrected.

I pointed a finger at her. “ You don’t drive.”

Ida Belle snorted .

“It’s called undercover for a reason,” I said. “You not driving explains why I’m here with you.”

“I’ve had to pretend to be a lot of things, but me pretending not to drive might just be the biggest stretch I’ve had to cover,” Ida Belle said.

Gertie nodded. “For me, it was being the nun.”

“You played a corpse once,” Ida Belle said. “One would hope that was the bigger stretch.”

“Have you ever tried running in a habit? Corpses are never asked to run.”

Ida Belle shook her head and looked at me. “What do we ask them, if anything?”

“You know how I work—all information is good information. I need to get a feel for these friends, especially for the one who died, and we’re not going to get that information from him. So do the normal nosy, er…middle-aged lady thing.”

Ida Belle snorted again but wisely didn’t comment.

“It would look stranger if you didn’t ask questions,” I said. “I’ll just attempt to look bored and aggravated over the sketchy internet. If they give me an opening to ask questions, I’ll run with it, so just go along. But let it all play out as naturally as possible and keep our personal information light so we don’t contradict ourselves later on. Go heavy on the weather and television shows. Things it would be hard to trip you up on.”

Gertie sighed. “There is nothing natural about me in this dress.”

“Why don’t you hit the shower first since you’re the worst off,” I said.

Gertie gave the dress another hard look. “At least it’s not tucked in at the waist. I have somewhere for my boobs to occupy because without a bra, they definitely won’t be up where they’re supposed to be. ”

“No one needs to hear about your boobs,” Ida Belle said.

“Then I guess you don’t want to hear about the four Slim Jims and stick of dynamite that I lost,” Gertie said.

“I thought you said that was Skittles,” I said.

“Them too,” she said as she headed into the bathroom, hideous dress in tow.

I sank onto the floor in order to avoid getting mud on the bed. Ida Belle shook her head and dropped next to me.

“That woman’s bra and purse are a menace,” Ida Belle said. “Do you think we should see what she’s got in there?”

“I’m less stressed living in ignorance. Send me the bill for your new pistol. You’re here on business, so it’s a business expense.”

She shook her head. “Seems a shame we’re racking up expenses but no income. Still, I feel bad for Corndog and Petunia. They seem like good people.”

I nodded. I liked them too, but I was worried that we wouldn’t be able to help them. Corndog had already mentioned his memory wasn’t great all the time and I’d seen him squinting several times. Both supported the theory that a mistake had been made.

Which made what happened a tragedy, not a murder.