Lethal Bayou Beauty (24 page)

“You got taken.”

I grinned. “I know that now, but how was I supposed to know it then? They seem so innocuous.”

He nodded. “And then the next minute you’re wearing nothing but a trash bag while fleeing the Swamp Bar.”

“There is that, but still, I don’t regret helping them. Marie is a really nice woman and now, she’s finally free to have a decent life without the shadow of her husband’s disappearance hanging over her head.”

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. “It could be that you’re just a nice, naive woman, but I doubt it. I get the impression you enjoy being in the thick of the action.”

I gulped down some root beer, trying to formulate a good reply. Of course I enjoyed being in the thick of the action. My entire life was centered on being in the middle of things, but the real Sandy-Sue probably wouldn’t have made a single decision I’d made since I arrived in Sinful.

“I guess I’ve been cooped up in the library for too long, and I really like that
Law & Order
show.”

“So do I, but you know what the difference is? I’m actually a law enforcement officer. You’re a civilian, and when civilians try to handle police business—especially when it involves things like murder—they often become the next victim.”

He wasn’t wrong. I knew firsthand what happened when amateurs attempted dangerous jobs. I’d seen the body bags. But the amateur title didn’t fit me. Granted, I wasn’t law enforcement, but I wasn’t an average civilian, either. Of course, Carter didn’t know any of that, so it was only proper that he bring up such things in an attempt to keep me out of harm’s way.
 

But on some level, it still rankled me.
 

A big part of me wanted him to know just how capable I was. Just how close a match we truly were in the “alpha soldier and dangerous human being” department.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I have no intention of becoming a victim.”
 

A murder victim or a railroaded suspect victim.

I just didn’t specify all that to Carter.
 

“So what’s your story?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“What do you mean?”

“You know—why did you come back to Sinful after your military tour, what are your career plans—the usual stuff.”

He raised one eyebrow. “You checking me out, Miss Morrow?”

I felt a light blush creep up my neck and mentally cursed. Of course, I wasn’t interested in Carter in the way he was implying. I was living here under an assumed identity and would be gone like a whisper of wind as soon as things cleared up for me on the professional front. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him.
 

I imagined most women with a pulse found him attractive. He was probably the hottest guy I’d ever met in person, and he was oozing with the whole alpha male thing. But Carter managed to make it seem more about being a hero and less about his ego, unlike the alpha males I worked with at the agency.

“No. I’m not checking you out. I try not to date men who might arrest me for murder. But I can’t ask about the case, and my life before now was the most predictable thing on earth. I just started watching television recently, so I can’t chat about current events, famous people gossip, or sports.”

“You just started watching television? Were you being held hostage or do you have some religious objection to the device?”

Well, that was a loaded question. I actually had been held hostage on more than one occasion, but I was going to assume the question was tongue-in-cheek and answer accordingly.

“I’m more of a reader,” I said, then prayed that he didn’t ask me what I liked to read.
 

“I guess that makes sense, you being a librarian. What sort of stuff do you read?”

Crap.

My mind went on autopilot, sifting through a lifetime of knowledge and trying to lock on to something that would answer his question but that I could back up with intelligent answers if he had more questions. Unfortunately, the only thing I really knew was my job.

“I mostly read technical stuff—you know, how things work. And I like historical nonfiction.”
 

That was mostly true. I read the specs on new weapons on a regular basis, and since I’d been in Sinful, I’d started reading some from Marge’s impressive collection of historical weapons books.

“Sounds riveting,” he said. “No wonder you’re asking about my life.”

I shook my head. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a really big ego?”

He grinned. “Not to my face.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

“I didn’t,” he said.

“You didn’t what?”

“I didn’t return to Sinful when I left the military—at least, not right away.”

“Oh. Where did you go?”

I expected him to say “the beach” or “the mountains” or whatever variation of locale that he found interesting, but I was wrong.

“Indiana,” he said.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why Indiana?”

“Because that’s where Lance Corporal Stephen Taylor’s widow and newborn son live.”

I lowered my fork, a heavy feeling settling over my chest. “He was in your unit?”

“He was under my command.”

My heart clutched and I took a long, slow breath. No matter the situation, if you were in charge of another human being, and they died on your watch, you felt responsible. I’d been fortunate that only two agents had died during joint missions. And even though I couldn’t have done a single thing to prevent what happened, I knew I would carry the weight of their deaths with me forever.

“I’m sorry,” I said finally.

He nodded. “Me, too. So I spent some time there, doing what little I could to help, then I came home. After everything I’d seen and done, I needed grounding. Sinful may be strange, but it’s still home.”

Grounding.

It was a concept I was familiar with in theory but couldn’t say that I’d experienced myself. Maybe because after my mother’s death, my life contained no stable ground to return to.
 

“You look confused,” he said.

“No,” I said, breaking myself out of my trance. “I was just thinking that I don’t really have a place to ground.”

“Why not?”

“My father died when I was young, and we always lived in big cities with no community feel. I went away to college and moved to another state for work. When my mother died, I suppose I lost the last thing that really tied me to New England.”

“So why don’t you leave?”

I frowned. “I guess because the life I have back there, as stark as it may be, is the only one I know.”

“Maybe it’s time to learn something new.”

His words were still hanging in the air when his cell phone rang. He answered it and his face immediately shifted from personal to professional, and he didn’t look happy. After shooting out a couple of clipped answers, he rose from the table and picked up the folder.
 

“I appreciate the meal, but I’ve got to run,” he said.

“What’s wrong?”

“Mark Bergeron just confessed to murdering Pansy.”

My mouth dropped. “Who is Mark Bergeron?”

“A guy I went to high school with. Married Joanie, a local girl.” He shook his head. “I thought they had it together.”

“Oh.” My mind flashed back to the couple I’d seen arguing on their way out of the Catholic Church the night Pansy was murdered.

“You’ve got a look on your face like you know something,” Carter said.

“No. I mean, I think that’s the couple I saw arguing Friday night at the beauty pageant rehearsal.”

“Did you hear what they were arguing about?”

“About some woman who was calling Mark. Joanie didn’t appreciate it.”

“Did they say this woman’s name?”

“No. Just that she was recently back in town, and Mark swore he hadn’t had anything to do with her since high school and wasn’t going to. Ida Belle said he was one of Pansy’s many conquests.”

Carter sighed. “I would never wish anyone dead, but for the life of me, I don’t understand why people like Pansy exist. She caused more trouble in this town than Ida Belle and Gertie could ever dream of, and the difference in her case was that the intentions were never good. I thought when she left, it was over.”

“Apparently it was…until she came back.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry to leave in the middle of dinner, but I have to go arrest a man I’ve been friends with since we were babies.”

I followed him to the front door and watched as he crossed the street and got into his truck. I’d never seen someone look so defeated.

Chapter Nineteen

As soon as he pulled away, I raced back to the kitchen and called Ida Belle and Gertie to fill them in on the development. They said they’d check their network and come over to my house as soon as they knew something. Apparently, their network was faster than DSL because they were at my front door ten minutes later.

“That was fast,” I said as I let them in.

“One of the Sinful Ladies is Joanie’s aunt. She’s been over at Joanie’s house with Joanie’s mother for the last two hours. Joanie is beside herself.”

“Of course she is,” I said. “Her husband just confessed to murder.”

“But that’s just it,” Gertie said. “Joanie is insisting that Mark couldn’t have done it. She says they left their daughter at her grandmother’s for the night so they could hash out the Pansy problem. They fought for a couple of hours, then Mark drank a six-pack of beer and passed out watching television.”

“He could have sobered up enough by midnight to kill Pansy,” I pointed out.

Ida Belle nodded. “True, except that when Joanie gets mad, she can’t sleep. So she turned on the house alarm and went to the kitchen to bake. She has a clear view of the front and back doors from the kitchen, and the only panel for the alarm is next to the front door.”

“So he’s lying?” I asked. “Why?”

“The only reason I can figure is to protect someone else,” Ida Belle said.

The obvious answer hit me at once. “His wife.”

Gertie nodded. “That’s what we figure.”

“You guys know her,” I said. “Is Joanie capable of this?”

“Anyone is capable of murder,” Gertie said.

Ida Belle sighed. “I think she means is she physically capable of this particular murder, and the answer is I’m not sure.”

“Pansy had a good thirty pounds on Joanie,” Gertie pointed out.

“Thirty is being charitable,” Ida Belle said. “But sometimes the lanky ones are strong.”

“True.” I was one of those strong lanky ones. “And as mad as she was, that would have made her stronger.”

“We have to
do
something,” Gertie said, looking more distressed by the second.

“Actually,” I said, “I don’t think we have to do anything. I mean, at least not about Mark. That part will fix itself.”

“How?” Gertie asked.

“Because the first thing Carter will ask Mark to do is describe how he killed Pansy so that he can take a statement.”

“And Mark won’t know Pansy was strangled because the police never released that information,” Ida Belle said.

Ida Belle’s cell phone rang. She took the call and immediately, her expression shifted to worried. “We’ve got to get over to Marie’s. Something is happening at Celia’s.”

We jumped in Gertie’s car, me flat on the backseat, and Gertie practically drag-raced the two blocks to Marie’s house. She parked around the corner and we hurried down the block, staying in the shadows of the hedges and away from the dim glow of the streetlights. I could see the faint outline of Sheriff Lee’s horse standing on Celia’s front lawn.
 

When we got to Marie’s house, we slipped into the backyard, where Marie was already waiting to let us in the back door.

“What’s going on?” Ida Belle asked. “I saw Sheriff Lee’s horse in the front lawn.”

“I don’t know,” Marie said. “I was in the living room watching television when I heard screaming coming from next door. I grabbed the phone and called the police.”

“Someone’s-killing-me screaming or angry screaming?” I asked.

Her eyes widened. “It sounded like angry screaming to me. I mean, there were cuss words, and it sounded like someone was throwing glass. Oh my God. What if I was wrong?”

Gertie patted Marie’s arm. “Don’t worry, honey. Not even Celia has the balls to cuss someone out while they’re trying to kill her. I’m sure it’s something else.”

Ida Belle nodded. “You need to go find out what.”

“Me?” Marie shook her head. “I’m not good at this sort of thing.”

“Well, you better get up to speed,” Ida Belle said, “if you expect to join the SLS. We tend to specialize in this sort of thing.”

Marie sighed. “What am I supposed to do—knock on the door and ask what’s wrong?”

“Exactly,” Ida Belle said. “Tell Celia you’re the one who called the police and you want to make sure everything is all right or see if there’s anything you can do to help. Celia loves people attempting to serve her.”