Killer Cousins (23 page)

She slammed the door to her bedroom. Her action assured me she wasn’t happy.

I didn’t think I should be the one to tell her Fawn was probably dead.

I went to my room. Everything appeared normal. I checked the window and closet. Thank goodness, nothing.

I changed into my nightgown and pulled back the bedspread. Uneasiness clung to my skin. I peeked under my bed.

No person. But on the clean floor near the foot of the bed lay a round pink object. I grabbed it.

Ugh, chewed gum. I went to the trash can to toss it, then stopped. I stared at the gum wad and squeezed. It moved easily between my fingers.

I didn’t think old chewed gum remained pliable for long. The floor was so clean, there weren’t even any dust bunnies. Had April been in here? If so, it must have been a recent visit. Why would she come in?

Returning to the window, I peeked between the curtains at her house.

Through her sheer curtains, I could see bright lights in one room. I wished I’d checked that earlier, soon after all the other neighbors were outside watching me. If she wasn’t home then, it would have made sense that she hadn’t called to check on the commotion or been outside, rushing over here to snoop.

A light on now didn’t prove anything. She and Cherish might have gone out, although it seemed rather late for that. But what did I know of their habits or what they did with their lives? Only that cute nosy April had bright blue eyes and chewed pink bubble gum and drank lots of diet lime drinks, and Cherish called Stevie her aunt but she wasn’t.

I squeezed the gum. It had stiffened during the time I held it. I tossed the gum, determining I’d only imagined its changed feel.

In the hall bathroom I soaped my hands. I was tempted to knock on Stevie’s door and ask about April being in my room lately. Reason told me I’d better not. My cousin seemed to like April much more than she liked me.

I slipped into my bed and tossed around. Shapely Fawn who sucked straws to keep from smoking had died in her gumbo. She was probably in her mid-forties, with two children and a husband. What could cause such a young person to die?

In less than a week, two people from Stevie’s group mysteriously their lives. I imagined the group like Agatha Christie’s
And Then There Were None.
One person after another was found dead.

My heartbeat thrust up against my throat. I needed to keep Stevie away from everybody else in her quitters’ group.

Chapter 21

Stevie was gone when I awoke. Apprehension grasped the nape of my neck. I tiptoed, searching her house, envisioning her friend facedown in gumbo and Trottier facedown in tall grass. I recalled the unlocked front door to this house and the noise.

Had someone snatched Stevie?

I almost grabbed a phone and darted outside. But the kitchen treated me to the rich aroma of brewed coffee. Stevie’s washed cup, saucer, and spoon were drying in the drain. The newspaper lay neatly folded on the table.

I picked it up. Tuesday. Another school day for her. The wall clock said it was late morning.

I brought coffee to the table to savor with the local newspaper. I spread the paper open. Headlines snapped me to full senses.
Woman dies in local restaurant.

Near the headlines, a close shot of Cajun Delights restaurant.

The brief article did not mention Fawn’s name. It said all of the woman’s close relatives had not been notified yet. The cause of her death had not been determined. A physician, Dr. Dan Wallo, had been eating at the restaurant and tried unsuccessfully to revive her.

The reporter quoted restaurant patrons who said they’d left once a customer died. They were shocked, seeing a woman with her face in her bowl, which held chicken gumbo, restaurant manager Jake Bryant was quoted as saying. Bryant told reporters the gumbo also contained andouille sausage, okra, garlic, and other seasonings. This new restaurant was owned by Gil Thurman, who was not available for comment. An investigation into the woman’s death was continuing.

I breathed. Studied the picture. Gil’s restaurant, the grand opening poster.

I reread the article. Exhaled. What would this death do to the business he was trying to establish?

Not interested in other sad news, I left my eyeglasses on the table and took a quick shower. In my underwear, I faced the mirror and opened my bottle of liquid makeup. A glob dropped into the lavatory basin.

I’d been taught to be frugal. Besides, there wasn’t much left in the bottle. It was supposed to prevent lines, and I needed all the help I could get to pretend this stuff diminished them. Maybe it would even cover my mustache.

I leaned over, positioning my hand between the glob and the drain. I used my free hand as a scoop. And heard heavy footsteps approaching.

A chill jolted up my spine.

This wasn’t April. Without a doubt, a man was walking toward this room.

The only nearby thing I might use as a weapon was my makeup bottle or mascara wand.

A tap came on the wall outside this room, followed by the shoes slapping the floor inside here.

I bent and held onto the lavatory, giving myself leverage as I prepared for him.

He rushed toward me, speaking.

“No!” I yelled and drew my right knee up. I slammed my right foot back, using all my force to hurt him where it would count—and recognized his voice. I tried to yank back my foot. Too late.

“Cealie, no!” Gil yelled. He doubled over, grabbing himself where my foot struck, grabbed the wall for support.

“Gil, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you.” I moved closer.

He put his hand up to stop me. “It’s okay. I’m—” He shoved himself straighter. Groaned and bent over. “I’ll be okay.” His voice held pain.

“Why did you walk in here without warning?”

He held himself, then moved his hand away. “I rang the doorbell and knocked. Nobody answered. I tried the doorknob. The door opened.”

“Darn, nobody locked it last night.” I tapped my head. I should have locked it. “There was so much commotion.” I noted the anguish in his face. “Are you really all right? I should bring you to a doctor.”

Gil’s hand had remained near the area where I’d hurt him. He jerked his hand to his side and stood ramrod stiff. “No, I’m fine.” He smiled slightly. “At the last minute, I saw what you were ready to do, so I pulled back and turned. You didn’t score a direct hit.”

“Good thing I’m not a good aim.”

“I’ll make sure you never have target practice.”

I realized how I was dressed. “I wouldn’t have greeted you in a pink bra and panties.”

His smile was real. “Those are nice. And I especially like your black lacy ones.” Gil moaned but seemed to try to keep his smile. “But I’ll have to ravage you another time.”

A frightening thought came. “You will be able to ravage again, right?”

He awarded me a half grin. Gil started to bend, pain obvious from the new deep creases outside his eyes. “Cealie, you were there last night. You saw that woman drop her head in her dish.”

“I didn’t actually see when it happened. We had smiled at Fawn, and she and Stevie pantomimed with each other about smoking straws.”

“You two knew her?”

“She was in Stevie’s stop-smoking group. I’d met Fawn there, and she came over once since then.”

Gil shook his head, looking sad. “What a horrible thing to happen to her.”

“She was sitting at your table. Were you friends?”

“I didn’t know her. I’d come out of my office but wasn’t going to eat until later.” He always let customers sit at the table considered his until it was time for his meal. Once people left his table, he sat and ate.

“You spoke to her,” I recalled.

“I asked if her gumbo was all right. She said she hadn’t tried it yet.”

“And a few minutes later, she died.” I released a deep sigh. “Do you know what killed her?”

“Not yet.” He leaned back against the wall. Gave me a smile filled with anguish. “You know how to hurt a guy.”

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. Let me put something on you. Some ice or medicine.”

“No!” He put up a hand, maybe making sure I didn’t try to touch his privates. “I’m good. Really.” His nostrils narrowed while he inhaled. Then he pushed himself off the wall. “I’ll be going.”

He took tiny steps out of the bathroom. Gil let out little
ooh
s along the way.

I cringed, wanting to take away his pain. I shrugged into my robe and followed. “Why did you come over?”

“I felt so bad about having someone die in my restaurant last night. I wanted a friend, a shoulder to lean on.”

“Ah, Gil.” He’d tugged at my heart. I threw my arms out to hug him.

He cringed and leaned forward, allowing only the top portion of his body to touch mine. “Ow.” He stepped away and used baby steps toward the front door.

“You really should see a doctor,” I suggested. “I could probably get you in with the one I saw yesterday, Dr. Wallo.”

Gil stopped.
“Dan?”
He said the doctor’s first name like ice dropping off his tongue.

“Yes. He seems like a nice guy. It’s a shame he couldn’t save Fawn.”

Gil’s eyes crimped with sadness. “He tried. He knew she was gone, but still kept trying.” Gil nodded, admiration in his face.

“So maybe you should let him check you.”

“No way.”

He walked out the front door. I went with him to the porch. Suffering etched his expression. He gave me a light kiss. “Maybe you should only attack vulnerable body parts on enemies.”

“I’ll try to remember.”

It was a good thing Stevie had a railing for him to hold onto as he hobbled down the stairs. Otherwise, he might have tumbled.

“Oh. Oh-oh.” Gil descended each step like it was a major hurdle, and he was a ninety-year-old man.

And I had done that to him.

“Be careful!” I called. “Let me know if you need anything.”

He shook his head. Getting into his car at the curb caused him to release more yelps.

“Wait!” I called. “It doesn’t have to be him. There are other doctors you could see. Let me phone one and bring you in.”

He gunned his motor and sped off.

I considered what I’d done. I’d caused him major damage. I hoped it was reversible and would soon heal.

Oh my gosh, suppose I’d caused Gil long-term difficulty. Suppose his sexual ability was over?

I leaned against the porch wall, considering how I had maimed him.
No, no, no, Cealie, what have you done now?

“Hey. Nice to see you,” a woman said.

I quit shaking my head.

Two women with white hair stood on the sidewalk. Their jogging suits made me recall that they were the ones we’d seen walking behind Stevie’s fence.

“Hi,” I told them.

“We saw you out here last night,” the one wearing pink said.

“Yes, well…it’s nice outside.” Okay, and yesterday a cop followed me here. And just now you both saw my former lover hobbling away. And I caused his hobble.

They started walking, arms swinging briskly.

“Wait,” I said, and they turned. “A man died here a few days ago. Did you see anything?”

“No,” the one in pink said. The other one shook her head. They strolled off, faces ahead, arms swinging.

Directly across the street, a young woman walked out of her front door and grabbed the newspaper from her porch. She spied me and gave a big wave.

I waved back. Were all of Stevie’s neighbors so friendly?

Back inside, I slipped into slacks and a dressy shirt and flats. I made a pit stop in the bathroom. The liquid makeup glob now staining the lavatory made my heart sink. I’d hurt Gil.

I should stop aiming for vulnerable body parts whenever I felt threatened, I told myself, swiping a little mascara on my lashes. I shook my head. Body parts became valuable things to hurt when no weapon was around and I needed help. I dabbed on tinted lip gloss, grabbed my purse, and went out.

Somebody somewhere had information about the man who’d died. Could his death be connected to Fawn McKenzie’s?

Probably the same medical examiner was trying to discover why she and Pierce Trottier had died. Nobody could convince me his death stemmed from natural causes.

I was going to investigate one person from the stop-smoking group again. I had an idea he knew much more than he was saying.

* * *

More cars were at Parfait’s Parlor than I’d thought I would find during the late morning. I parked, and the sweet smell of chocolate drew me inside.

College-age youths sat in clumps, their voices loud. They ate from tall glasses, the swirls of their parfaits attractive. I wanted one.

I shook my head, reached back with both hands, and patted my butt—ammunition for avoiding temptation. I poked my stomach way out, feeling how extremely tight my slacks’ waistline had become since I’d arrived in this town and eaten so many rich foods.

“Mrs. Gunther, do you have a problem?” Kern Parfait stepped up to me.

“No, why?”

He stared at my belly, then leaned toward my butt. “You seemed to have problems with getting some body parts to stay in place.”

That was rude. Nearby kids heard and snickered.

I looked at them. Looked at him. Raised my voice. “Don’t you ever feel like your ass has gotten too big?”

Kids guffawed.

Parfait’s grimace intensified. His hands at his sides clenched into fists. “Did you come over here to check yours?”

“Maybe.” I pulled in my stomach as hard as I could. Then poked it out. I pulled in and poked out. “This is really good exercise. You might try it.”

I stopped my stomach workout and shoved my butt way back, then tucked it in. I repeated the motion, while young people howled with laughter.

Parfait grabbed my arm. Not gently. His teeth clenched. “Unless you order something and sit, you’re loitering.”

“Come sit with us,” a guy in a red T-shirt yelled. He shoved over in his already-crowded booth.

“Yeah,” other teens said. Young people in the place cheered.

I smiled and slid into the space close to the boy. I winked at all the others in the booth.

Kern Parfait seethed. “What can I get you?” he asked me. “I’ll have someone hurry it to you.”