Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Thirty minutes later, we’d all showered and managed to get our hair a semblance of dry, if not styled. Ida Belle’s short do was not an issue, and I simply pulled mine back into its usual ponytail. Without her curlers, Gertie’s hair was a bit flat and looked as if it had been plastered to her head, but we had arrived during a storm, so it was easy enough to explain away. And although I thought it impossible, the dress looked even worse on Gertie than it had on the hanger.

The tape around the center of her glasses just set the whole outfit off even more. Gertie had shown a proper amount of dismay at the whole ensemble, but Ida Belle had pointed out that it was also perfect for undercover, which she seemed to accept. But she’d threatened us with our lives if we took pictures and took that a step further and said she’d haunt us after her death—wearing only sexy-time outfits—if we showed pictures to Ronald.

We’d done our best to wipe down our shoes and dry them with the blow-dryer. They were still damp but would do, especially with our whole ‘caught out in the storm’ story. We headed downstairs and I realized we hadn’t asked where the library was, but then I heard laughter coming from double doors off the back of the entry and figured that must be it. Ida Belle raised one eyebrow as we walked, and the laughing got louder.

“They don’t appear to be in mourning,” she whispered.

“Everyone grieves differently,” Gertie said.

A giant wave of laughter broke out in the room that could probably have been heard over on the mainland, and Ida Belle shook her head.

“There’s a different kind of grieving and there’s that,” she said. “They sound like they’re in the Swamp Bar.”

“If they’re drunk, they’ll be easier to get information out of,” I said as I pushed open the door.

The laughter ceased immediately, and I paused in the doorway, acting uncertain as I made a quick assessment.

Six people. Three men. Three women. All late twenties. One man was buff and clearly worked out. One was skinny and all arms and legs. The third was fit but didn’t look like the sort that went in for gyms or sports. All three women were trim and muscular. They all spent time on their fitness. Threat level undecided since they were still all suspects until I determined exactly what had happened here.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “We didn’t mean to interrupt, but Corndog said they would be serving afternoon snacks in here?”

“Are you new guests?” one of the women asked. “I didn’t think anyone else was staying here this week.”

I gave her a forced smile as we stepped into the room. “My aunts have been begging me for months to bring them and I finally had time…”

Since Ida Belle and Gertie were walking in a bit behind me, I rolled my eyes as I explained, and she gave me a knowing smile.

“Sorry we’re a little rumpled,” Gertie said. “We got caught in the storm on the way to the house and had to change, but only had the one pair of shoes. It was a doozy. We don’t get storms like that at home.”

“Of course we do,” Ida Belle argued. “You’re just surrounded by a ton of brick and concrete instead of standing right in the middle of the darn thing.”

Gertie glanced around. “All that hurrying made me hungry. Are the snacks here yet? I smelled cookies baking when we came in.”

“Not quite yet,” one of the women said. “I think they’ll be here soon.”

“Good, ’cause I’m starving,” Gertie said. “Dinner can’t come fast enough after all that walking.”

“I hope none of you are allergic to peanuts,” the skinny man said.

The others glared at him and he gave them an innocent look.

“What?” he asked. “Too soon?”

I bit my lower lip, taking advantage of the opportunity. “Do they serve a lot of peanuts here? My allergy isn’t horrible, but they do strange things to my stomach and make me feel itchy.”

They all glanced at one another, and I could tell they were trying to figure out what or how much to say. Maybe because they had something to hide. Maybe because they didn’t want to scare us. Or maybe simply because it was personal, and they didn’t feel like talking about a death that had just happened on their mini reunion.

The buff guy stepped forward and extended his hand. “I’m Daniel Stout. The beautiful blonde in the teal chair is my wife, Brittany. The joker on the couch is Tyler and the woman next to him is Nicole. On the other two chairs are Morgan and Amanda. We’re all high school friends from Houma, having a little get-together here before we attend our ten-year class reunion.”

I shook his hand and nodded. “I’m Rose, and this is my Aunt Ida Belle and Aunt Gertie.”

“Are you from around here?” Morgan asked. He was thinner than Daniel and had less muscle tone and skin color than the others, and a habit of pushing his glasses back up his nose. I took him to be the studious one.

“Belle Chasse,” I said. “They heard about Voodoo Island from a palm reader and have been pestering me to come here ever since.”

“Not pestering, dear,” Gertie said. “Young people…”

Ida Belle sighed, and some of them struggled not to smile.

“So is there a problem with peanuts?” I asked. “Should I skip the cookies? I was rather looking forward to them.”

I cringed at my tone, which was slightly whiny, but I knew it would convey what I wanted, which was that I didn’t want to be here, and cookies were one of the few perks I saw in this for me.

They all sobered and looked at one another. Finally, Daniel, who seemed to serve as the leader of the group, spoke.

“One of our friends passed away sometime night before last,” he said. “Anaphylactic shock.”

Gertie gasped, and Ida Belle covered her mouth with her hand. I let my eyes widen and my jaw drop before responding.

“I am so sorry,” I said. “I can’t even imagine… And the owners made a mistake? Is that what Tyler meant?”

Daniel shook his head. “We don’t know for certain what happened, but there isn’t really another answer. I can’t imagine Justin—that was our friend—brought anything with him containing peanuts, and all of us knew better than to offer him anything with them. We’d gotten so used to dealing with it in high school that we automatically ditch everything with peanuts when we’re going to be around him. Old habits.”

“What do you think the peanuts were in?”

“We had banana pudding for dessert, so not that,” Brittany said. “Our guess was the fish was fried in peanut oil. Corndog swears it was vegetable oil because of Justin’s allergy, but we figure he made a mistake and used what he always used.”

“But surely, someone could check the oil and know.”

“He threw it away,” Amanda said.

“After one fry?” I asked. “That doesn’t sound right. I’m not a good cook, but can’t you use oil more than once?”

I looked over at Ida Belle and Gertie, who both nodded.

“I have a Crisco can on the back of my stove,” Gertie said. “Nothing like collecting bacon grease to add some flavor to other things.”

Ida Belle frowned. “But if he didn’t normally cook with vegetable oil, that’s probably why he got rid of it. Might be turned before he’d use it again.”

“True,” Gertie said. “What about the fish? They could test the leftovers.”

“There weren’t any,” Daniel said.

“That’s not true,” Morgan said quietly. “I helped them carry everything inside when we were done. There was a plate of fish left that night.”

“Did the cops come?” I asked. “Did you tell them that?”

Morgan gave me a slightly indignant look. “The sheriff came and of course, I told him. But the fish was gone and the plate was on the drying rack next to the sink.”

“Who ate them?”

They all glanced at one another and shook their heads.

“Probably Corndog and Petunia,” Tyler said.

“They said they didn’t,” Amanda said .

“Would you admit to eating the evidence if you’d accidentally killed someone?” Tyler asked.

“Tyler,” Brittany hissed. “You shouldn’t say things like that. We were all drunk, and I’ve seen you eat an entire box of Krystal burgers and a bag of doughnuts in one sitting and not remember a single bite. Anyone could have headed for the kitchen that night and eaten that fish. It’s not like the refrigerator has a lock on it.”

“Then couldn’t Justin have gone in there and eaten something he shouldn’t have?” I asked.

Brittany frowned. “It’s possible. Just not very likely. Justin liked his whiskey, but he’s made it this long without making that kind of mistake.”

“She’s being polite,” Tyler said. “Justin was a drunk. I would say a professional alcoholic, but his stumbling around and insulting everyone until he passed out was anything but professional. He was just sloppy and pathetic.”

“Tyler!” Brittany said.

“What?” Tyler challenged. “He had an EpiPen right on his nightstand, for Christ’s sake, and didn’t even use it. The only explanation for that is he was so passed-out drunk that he didn’t even wake up when he was dying.”

Daniel banged one hand on the side table and glared at Tyler. “Enough. Our friend is dead, and I won’t listen to you run him down. It’s in extremely poor taste and not remotely befitting of how a man should behave.”

Tyler immediately looked away, but I could see his jaw clench.

The others glared at him as well, and I wondered if they were irritated at what Tyler had said or the fact that he’d said it in front of strangers. The only one who didn’t glare was Morgan, who just studied Tyler, a contemplative look on his face. I pegged Morgan as the one who didn’t lead with emotion, but I figured I would have to get him alone to get anything good out of him.

The door to the library swung open, and Petunia walked in with a tray of cookies, Corndog right behind with two pots of coffee that he placed on a table against the far wall next to the cookie tray.

“As some of you already know, there’s soda and water in the fridge,” he said, and pulled open what looked to be a cabinet but was actually the door to a small refrigerator. “There’s dishes, cups, and straws in the cabinet above, and if anyone wants it, I can bring in a bucket of ice for setups if anyone’s ready to hit the whiskey.”

Everyone shook their heads.

Petunia opened the cabinet Corndog had indicated and took out a small tray of sweetener and straws. “There’s cream in the refrigerator as well,” she said. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you,” Brittany said. “The cookies smell delicious.”

Amanda rolled her eyes, and Nicole elbowed her. I hadn’t really paid much attention to Amanda since she hadn’t spoken often and was angled somewhat away from me, but as Petunia and Corndog left the room, she twisted around, staring at them as they left, frowning. It was then that I realized that another woman in the room was wearing the same face.

“You’re twins,” I said, gesturing to Amanda and Brittany.

Tyler hooted. “You’ve done it now. Those two insist they don’t look anything alike.”

“We’re identical twins, you idiot,” Brittany said. “Of course we look alike, but our styles are completely different.”

That was definitely true, and her wrinkled nose left no doubt as to whose style she found lacking.

Despite being on a cursed island that you could only get to by boat, Brittany wore cream-colored slacks and a pale pink shirt made of silk. Her five-inch stilettos were as out of place here as anything in Ronald’s closet would have been. Her hair was styled in long blond waves and didn’t appear to have a single strand out of place, and her makeup looked as if it had been done on a Hollywood set. When she rose to get a drink, I swear she didn’t have a single wrinkle in her clothes, despite having been seated.

Amanda, on the other hand, wore yoga pants and an oversize tee that hung off one shoulder, revealing a sports bra. Her feet were completely bare, and her matching blond hair was straight and pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her face was completely devoid of makeup and her bored expression likely matched the one I wore a lot of the time.

“This,” Amanda said, as she rose and motioned to her body, “is not a style . This is me not trying to look like something I’m not. You’re a masquerade, pretending to be all polished when your life is just as messy as the rest of ours.”

Amanda turned and strolled out of the room, leaving Brittany staring at her retreating back, her face flushed and her eyes flashing with anger. Daniel stepped over and put a hand on his seething wife’s shoulder, but she shrugged it off and jumped up.

“I’m going upstairs to read,” she said and stalked out.

Daniel watched as she exited the room, then sighed. “I guess I better go after her.”

“Only if you don’t want to be sleeping on this hard couch tonight,” Tyler said. “Because apparently, all the rooms are now taken, unless you want to sleep in the bed Justin died in.”

Nicole sucked in a breath, and Daniel glared at him before taking off after his angry wife.

“More cookies for me!” Tyler said as he popped up .

Nicole pursed her lips. “Why do you always have to be that way?”

Tyler crammed an entire cookie in his mouth and asked, “What way?”

Nicole waved a hand. “That way! Making inappropriate comments. Shoving entire cookies into your mouth and then talking with it full. We’re about to attend our ten-year reunion, Tyler, and it’s like you never graduated from high school. Justin was Daniel’s best friend. I would think even someone like you could manage an ounce of empathy, just this once. If you’re so far gone that you can’t muster it up, then do us all a favor and pretend.”

“Please. Justin and Daniel went their separate ways after high school. And you want me to pretend that Justin was an awesome dude and I’ll miss him? That’s a stretch.”

Nicole narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re a used car salesman. You pretend that a wreck is a new Mercedes every day. Just apply the same skill set here.”

Tyler shrugged and turned his back to us, ostensibly to fix himself a coffee, but I’d caught his look before he turned and could tell her words stung, more than just one friend to another. I glanced over at Gertie who nodded. Oh good. I was getting better at this. Tyler had a thing for Nicole. And clearly, Nicole didn’t feel the same.

Nicole shook her head at his turned back and rose. “I think I’m going to get some air. The storm outside appears to be less temperamental than the one in here.”

She gave Morgan a nod and headed out. Tyler turned around and looked at Morgan.

“I guess you think I should apologize to her,” he said.

“I think you should apologize to everyone who’s had the displeasure of meeting you,” Morgan said. “But you could start with Nicole before you move on to Daniel and Brittany. ”

Tyler flashed an angry look at Morgan, but the other man held his gaze with a very calm expression. Finally, Tyler broke eye contact and left the room, clearly defeated but not looking remotely sorry for the ruckus he’d caused.

“I’m sorry if I set this all off asking about the peanuts,” I said.

Morgan shook his head. “This was set off over a decade ago when this group of ill-suited people became friends. Justin’s death has everyone on edge, and I’m afraid the worst of us is showing. For some, that means they’re well beyond tolerable levels.”

“You seem to be holding it all together,” Ida Belle said.

He pulled off his glasses and began rubbing them with the bottom of his shirt. “Because that’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done. Need a designated driver? Morgan will do it. Need help writing your term paper? Morgan is your guy.”

“Seems like a lot of work,” I said.

“You have no idea.” He put his glasses back on and gave me a hard look. “You probably really don’t have any idea. You look like the rest of them—high maintenance.”

Gertie snorted. “Don’t confuse natural beauty with high maintenance. Her mother had to pay her to wear a dress to prom, and that was after bribing her with more car privileges to even attend.”

Ida Belle nodded. “Her idea of makeup is lip balm, and one day, her hair is going to break off because of that ponytail band.”

I shrugged and grabbed a handful of cookies before sitting down. “Amanda doesn’t look as bad as the others. Her sister looks like she’s got an Instagram filter force field surrounding her.”

Morgan stared at me for a moment, then laughed. “Maybe I was wrong about you. ”

“It was kind of a tacky thing to say though,” Gertie said, giving me the disapproving look that I’m certain her students used to get.

Morgan waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s honest. I’ll take the truth over polite any day. It’s just that Tyler takes things too far.”

“I’m really sorry about your friend,” I said. “Justin, right? Do you think it was the fish?”

Morgan shrugged. “Maybe it was the fish. Maybe his luck finally ran out and he got so drunk he ate something he shouldn’t have and couldn’t manage to use his EpiPen.”

“Are they sure…I mean, they’re absolutely sure it was anaphylactic shock?” I asked, attempting an uneasy look.

Ida Belle put her hand on my leg and squeezed. “Now, honey, we’ve already told you that was a fluke. Those things don’t happen all the time. You were just unlucky.”

Morgan gave me a questioning look and I shook my head and looked down, not sure where Ida Belle was going with this one.

“Poor Rose used to have an apartment in one of those historical homes that was remodeled for multifamily living,” Ida Belle explained. “She’d become good friends with one of the other residents and the poor girl was killed by her boyfriend—poisoned.”

Brilliant, I thought. There was no better way to create a bond than empathy.

I sniffed and looked up at the obviously sympathetic Morgan. “Penny was so nice. I didn’t like her boyfriend, but I never thought…”

“Of course you didn’t, dear,” Ida Belle said. “Who would? Anyway, ever since then, random deaths, especially of young people, bother her. I’m sure one of your generations’ newfangled doctors would say it’s PTSD or something to that effect. ”

“That’s horrible,” Morgan said. “But Justin definitely died of anaphylactic shock. He essentially passed out face-first on the bed. He went into shock because of his allergy, but the ME said he was probably so far gone on booze that he didn’t wake up. He simply suffocated. I guess we should at least be grateful that it was peaceful.”

“He wasn’t sharing a room with anyone else?” Gertie asked a bit hesitantly.

Morgan caught on immediately and shook his head. “No. The only couple in our group is Daniel and Brittany. Justin was the original ladies’ man. High school quarterback, prom king… He had a different girl on his arm every week, and from what he posted on social media, that didn’t seem to change much as an adult.”

“So no wife and kids?” I asked. “I guess that’s a plus.”

“Definitely no wife,” Morgan said. “And as far as we know, no kids.”

“Does he still have family in Houma?” I asked.

“Not to speak of. His father was an abusive drunk and a con artist. He’s in prison for the latter of his offenses, assuming his kidneys didn’t give out on him. I don’t think anyone checks because no one cares. His mother couldn’t handle the stress of being married to him but wouldn’t leave, either. She drank herself to death. Died shortly after we graduated. I guess the only positive is they didn’t have more kids.”

“No other family?” Gertie asked.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Morgan said. “But then, a man like Justin’s father tends to alienate everyone. I’m afraid Justin appeared to have some of the same characteristics.”

I bit my lower lip, trying to look nervous. “Then what happens…I mean, with the body…”

Morgan frowned. “I’m not sure. I hadn’t thought about it, but I suppose if no one offers to handle the burial then the parish takes care of it, maybe? In this case, Daniel will probably volunteer to handle things and we’ll all pitch in. The least we can do, I guess.”

Ida Belle shook her head. “It’s all really a shame. Such a young man and lost to drink, but they say it’s a genetic thing—alcoholism, I mean. With his mother and father both being tied to the bottle…”

I nodded. “I had one friend who used to drink like that. His parents were alcoholics too. He had an accident and ended up in a wheelchair for a while. Got clean after that, so I guess he was lucky in the big scheme of things. I’m truly sorry for your loss. For all of you.”

Morgan gave me a grateful look and nodded. “This was supposed to be a happy time of remembrance. That’s what we were doing when you walked in. Daniel had recounted a story about a fishing trip and for a moment, we were all back there…when things were simpler.”

He shook his head, bringing his faraway look back to gaze at me. “Anyway, Tyler’s not always a jerk. He tries too hard for attention and tends to cross the line between humor and poor taste.”

“You’re a very observant young man,” Gertie said. “I had many Tylers in my classroom over the years. I had many of you as well. I’m guessing you’re the smart one.”

Morgan gave her a small smile. “Did the glasses give me away?”

Gertie laughed. “Well, I’m wearing them, and I don’t think anyone is going to attribute an elevated intelligence to me, so no. But you did mention helping with homework.”

“So I did,” he said. “Yes, I was the brainy, geeky one, if we’re casting a Hollywood movie. Still am, really. Justin and Daniel were the big men on campus—the football stars. They even looked so much alike that people thought they were brothers. Some people pushed for Amanda to go out with Justin so that they could be a twinsie set, but Amanda wasn’t having any of it. Way too smart to get caught in Justin’s net. Plus they were on two different paths. Brittany was head cheerleader, prom queen, and leader of the mean girls.”

“Was she really mean, or are you just running with the cliché?” I asked.

He smiled. “Caught me. No, she wasn’t mean. She’s actually a nice person but I think she prefers people don’t know that. She’s very guarded, very private. But she was and seems to still be a massive snob. Not so much that she thought she was better and spent all her time looking down on people but more like anyone outside of her clique simply didn’t exist. I suppose that might have been considered cruel by those who wanted to be part of her group, but she never deliberately sought to make others feel bad or uncomfortable.”

He frowned for a moment, as if remembering.

“Amanda had no interest in following in Brittany’s wake,” he continued. “But Nicole volunteered for it. She’s their cousin, and she and Brittany have been BFFs since the crib. Dance class, gymnastics, piano lessons…if Brittany did something, Nicole was right there with her. Tyler, you have probably already guessed, was the class clown. And that’s us in a nutshell.”

He blanched. “That was a poor choice of words. I’m starting to sound like Tyler.”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t intentional. That’s the difference.”

He gave me a grateful look as he rose. “Thank you for listening to me ramble. I suppose I better go do what I always do—put things back together. Otherwise, dinner is going to be an uncomfortable situation for everyone.”

As soon as he’d left, Ida Belle looked over at me. “Well, that was interesting.”

I nodded. It certainly was.