One Night in the Bayou Page 3

  "Tell us something we don't know," Ida Belle snapped. "We need a plan."

  Fortune reached out and laid a restraining hand on my aunt's arm. Her action appeared to have the effect she desired. Aunt Ida Belle lapsed into a sullen silence.

  "Go ahead, Carter," Fortune said. "We're listening."

  "We've got a plan, Ida Belle. It's just not one you're going to like."

  "Will it end up with Boris either dead or permanently locked up?"

  "That's the goal."

  Aunt Ida Belle frowned. "Then why wouldn't I like it?"

  Instead of answering, Carter looked to the man beside him. "Do you want to take it from here?" After receiving a brief nod in response, Carter addressed the group. "This is Agent Kase Mayeux."

  "Agent?" I asked, because everyone else was silent. Maybe they all understood what I didn't. "You mean, like with the Fish and Game Department?"

  "F.B.I.," the man said.

  My eyebrows rose. I don't know which surprised me more, that Agent Mayeux was a federal agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigations or that his voice was off-the-charts sexy. I glanced at the other women to see if they'd had the same reaction, but if they did, they were keeping it well hidden.

  He stood, clearly a man accustomed to taking control of a situation. "The F.B.I. shares Deputy LeBlanc's desire to eliminate the threat posed by Boris Sidorov. We're here to work in conjunction with the Sinful Sheriff's Department to make an arrest. Several arrests, actually."

  His words lent credence to his professional background. He spoke as if he were debriefing a room full of law enforcement agents rather than ladies who were camping. Glamping. I found his deep voice so mesmerizing that it wasn't easy to focus on his words. But since he was speaking about something that was likely to help me stay alive, I struggled to pay attention.

  "What exactly are we going to do?" Aunt Ida Belle demanded. "And yes, before you ask, I used the word we deliberately. I don't care if you do work for the Foolish Bureau of Idiots, you're not leaving us out of it."

  I shot a quick glance at the agent to see what he made of my aunt's assessment of his employer, but if he had a reaction, it wasn't showing. His face was impassive.

  "As it would happen, there is a role for each of you to play in our plans," Agent Mayeux told her. "Of course, you have the right to opt out of the arrangement."

  "We're in," Gertie piped up, and in true Gertie fashion she had to elucidate. "All in. One hundred percent. We're so in, you'll never get us out. You'll think we're moles, we'll go so deep underground—"

  "That's good to hear," Agent Mayeux cut her off. The man was a quick study of human nature if he'd figured out that Gertie was long-winded when it came to speeches. "Because I'm going to need to arrest one of you. Tonight. For murder."

  His pronouncement was met with stunned silence. We all exchanged shocked glances.

  "But we haven't killed anyone," I finally protested.

  "Boris Sidorov doesn't know that," he countered. "We want him to think that we're focusing on one of you for the murder of that poor young girl we found tonight."

  Tentatively, I raised my hand. "I'll do it. You can arrest me."

  He shook his head. "No. Not you."

  I frowned. "But I want to help. All of this is my fault."

  "Oh, you can help all right. But we'll get to your role later. First, I need one of your friends to volunteer to be arrested. It'll mean a stint in lock-up, but we'll make it as short as we can. And naturally we'll completely wipe out any evidence you were ever arrested when the mission is complete."

  "I'll do it," Gertie said. She got to her feet and held out her wrists. "Take me in, I won't resist."

  I watched as the FBI agent shot a questioning glance in Carter's direction. Yes, I wanted to tell him, she's for real. But I remained silent. Carter could handle this one.

  "Gertie," Carter said, "I think it's better if you stay on the outside." He held up his hand to forestall her protests. "I know I can trust you to create holy hell once we lock up one of the other ladies. No one will do a better job than you will at causing a huge fuss."

  Gertie preened. "You've got that right."

  So, if I was to play some as-yet-unmentioned role, and Gertie was to protest the arrest, that left either Fortune or Ida Belle to be arrested. So, naturally it should be Fortune.

  "I'll do it," my aunt volunteered. "I'm the natural choice."

  I waited a split second for Fortune to protest, but she stayed quiet. I didn't bother to hide my annoyance. "That's not right, Aunt Ida Belle. Let Fortune do it. Unless she doesn't want to be part of the solution?"

  There, I'd thrown down the gauntlet. Which, judging by the look on Fortune's face, was the last thing she'd expected me to do. But right was right, and wrong was wrong. And in my book, it was wrong to allow an old woman to go to jail for a crime that none of us had committed.

  But it wasn't Fortune who spoke next, it was my aunt.

  "I may be old, Stephanie, but I'm not so old I can't make my own decisions." She cast a challenging glance around the room, daring someone to defy her. "I'm the one who's going to jail. So don't anyone even think about arguing with me."

  Those last words were directed to me. I bit the inside of my cheek. Hard. Aunt Ida Belle wasn't going to listen to a single objection of mine, so I stayed silent. But Fortune was going to get a piece of my mind later. A serious piece.

  "So that's settled," Carter said.

  "Not exactly." I cast a look in Fortune's direction but she just looked down, which only served to irritate me further. "What about Fortune? What is she going to do?"

  Carter and his colleague exchanged a quick glance.

  "It's your call," Agent Mayeux said.

  Carter looked none too pleased but he nodded. "We're going to put her under house arrest, ostensibly for interfering in police business. Fortune, we'll fit you with an ankle monitor."

  Her frustrated groan mollified me somewhat.

  "Look," Carter said, "it's not like anyone's going to question why you were arrested. You've developed a bit of a reputation since you arrived in Sinful."

  She didn't argue that point, but she did give voice to another concern. "How can I help protect Stephanie if I can't leave the house? What if you need me for backup?"

  Agent Mayeux coughed discreetly. "I think between the F.B.I. and the Sheriff's Department, we've got it covered."

  I glanced at Fortune to gauge her reaction to their plan. But, to my surprise, she didn't say anything. Even more odd, Aunt Ida Belle stayed quiet too, even though I could tell she was steaming. I looked over at Gertie. She was staring up at the ceiling, moving her lips, as if she were counting to one hundred. What was going on? I shook my head. I swear, I will never understand these women.

  "What about me?" I asked. "What's my role in all this?"

  Agent Mayeux's eyes drilled into me with the intensity of two dark brown laser beams. "You, Miss St. James, are the bait we're going to use to reel Boris Sidorov in."'

  His suggestion was the same one I'd made earlier. I liked the way this man thought. I nodded. "I'll do it."

  ONCE THE PLAN WAS AGREED upon, Carter made a quick phone call to Deputy Breaux telling him it was time to set things in motion. Within minutes, several squad cars with sirens blaring pulled up in front of the cabin. Aunt Ida Belle, already handcuffed, made her way down the cabin's front steps. The red and blue police lights were blinding in the otherwise dark night sky.

  I stood helplessly by as Deputy Breaux read my aunt her Miranda rights. Despite the fact that Carter had warned us that they were going to make this whole charade look real, tears pricked the back of my eyes. There she was, my aunt Ida Belle, in handcuffs, being helped into the back of a police car. Because of me. This was so wrong. "Carter, no, you're making a mistake," I called after him as I came down the steps. "Please don't do this."

  A young deputy held out his arm to stop me from getting any closer. "You'll have to stand back, miss."

  Gerti
e came out of the cabin to stand beside me. Tears were streaming down her face as she slipped an arm around my shoulders. We watched as Fortune came down the stairs next. She also had restraints on her wrists. Her head was bowed and her hair hung over her face so her expression was hidden, but certainly any onlooker would see what we saw before us—a young woman carrying a heavy burden of guilt and shame on her shoulders.

  I just couldn't go through with this. I didn't care if everyone else thought it was a good idea. It was asking too much of everyone. "Wait, Aunt Ida Belle, I've changed my mind—"

  No sooner were those words out of my mouth than her head whipped around and she glared at me with a ferociousness that left me in no doubt about what she wanted me to do: carry on, see this through, and, for the love of whiskey, don't whine...I saw it all there in that one look.

  "Call an attorney, Stephanie," was all she actually said before Carter shut the cruiser's door.

  Helpless and hopeless, I watched as the sheriff's vehicles pulled away.

  "Let's go, ladies." Agent Mayeux motioned to the cabin with a curt nod of his head. "Get in there, pack up your things, and I'll follow you back into Sinful."

  Somewhat annoyed by his authoritative tone, I followed Gertie into the cabin. The lights were bright and my eyes took several minutes to adjust. Once everything was in focus, I turned my attention to Gertie.

  "I'm so sorry that was hard for you, Gertie. You should never have had to—" but I broke off when I realized that not only were her tears now dried, her eyes were twinkling.

  Gertie slapped her knees with her hands and almost fell over, she was laughing so hard. I stood and stared. Laughing? I glanced over at Agent Mayeux.

  "Do you think she's in shock?" I asked him.

  He merely shook his head.

  "Lord above, don't that beat all," Gertie chortled. She drew herself up to a standing position and wiped away fresh tears of laughter. "Stodgy, bossy, fussy old Ida Belle hauled off by the cops. I love it! Never thought I'd see the day. Definitely a Sinful Ladies first!"

  "But it wasn't real," I protested. Her reaction had to be shock. There was nothing else to explain it. "It was a part of our plan."

  Gertie waved a dismissive hand. "Doesn't matter, it was still priceless. What I wouldn't give to have caught it on film. Hey, you know, I was watching one of those shopping at home network shows where the pretty young hosts just gab away, and I saw they were selling sunglasses that have a hidden camcorder in them. I'm gonna get me a pair. They'd come in real handy on a night like tonight."

  I knew it was rude, but I just stood there and stared at her. Was she coming unhinged before my eyes?

  "Ladies," Agent Mayeux's voice made it clear he had about two-tenths of an ounce of patience with us left, "gather up your belongings and lock up. I'll wait outside and I'll follow you back to Sheriff's station. Gertie, you need to be there to start kicking up a fuss. Miss St. James, you and I need to head to the morgue." Without waiting for a response, he headed out the door, shutting it rather loudly behind him. Clearly the F.B.I. didn't include a manners component in its agent training program.

  Gertie and I didn't speak as we packed up everything we'd unpacked a few hours ago. As I folded the pink tulle, I felt a wave of regret that our lovely glamping weekend was ruined. I felt one thousand times worse that I'd brought so much trouble with me when I'd left Boston and headed to Sinful.

  When we were finished cleaning up, Gertie and I stood and surveyed the cabin. I knew we needed to go, but I had a lingering question that I just had to ask. "Gertie, when Carter was explaining that one of us had to pretend to be arrested, why didn't Fortune volunteer?" It bothered me greatly that she was so willing to let my aunt sit in a jail cell. "I can't understand why she didn't offer."

  Gertie laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. "She couldn't, Stephanie. She just couldn't."

  "But why?"

  Gertie studied me for a long moment, her expression suddenly sober. "Honey, because you're family, I'll tell you. But you have to swear on Elvis' grave that you won't tell a soul. Ever."

  I nodded and crossed my heart. Elvis' grave. This had to be serious. "I swear."

  "Fortune is an undercover C.I.A. agent who has an arms dealer named Ahmad trying to hunt her down and kill her. There's a price on her head, and she's here in Sinful to hide out."

  Indignant, I grabbed my two bags of glamping supplies and, without a word, headed out of the cabin and into the darkness. Fortune a C.I.A. agent? Really?

  Just how stupid did Gertie think I was?

  Chapter Five

  WE DIDN'T SPEAK FOR much of the ride back to Sinful. Frankly, I was still perturbed that Gertie had insulted my intelligence with her "Fortune is a CIA agent" story. Even if I had known how to address such an absurd fabrication, it would have been impossible to speak as we bumped over dirt roads. I had to keep my teeth clenched together so that I didn't bite off my own tongue. The silence didn't seem to bother Gertie in the least though. As if she didn't have a care in the world, she hummed show tunes, quite poorly I must add, as she raced back toward Sinful.

  True to his word, Agent Mayeux followed us in his pick-up truck. I stared out into the darkened night, my mind filled with twelve dozen jumbled thoughts. Many of them were about the mysterious Agent Mayeux himself. He wasn't like any man I'd ever seen before, and a part of me was more than a bit frightened by his cold, detached demeanor. But another part of me, I had to admit, was intrigued by the way he carried himself. He was just one more character in a very colorful cast that populated my aunt's home town. "Sinful is such a strange place," I said aloud as we finally reached a paved road.

  "Preach it, sister," Gertie chortled. "It sure isn't like Boston, I bet."

  "It's not," I admitted. "Do you think Aunt Ida Belle is going to be okay tonight?" I cast a sideways glance at her, although it was too dark to see her properly. Still, I found her company strangely comforting. "Jail has to be frightening, even if it is a ruse."

  Gertie reached over and patted my arm. "Listen, kid, I know you haven't known her long, but your Aunt Ida Belle is made of tough stuff. She's got a cast iron will and can survive anything. I bet you're not that different under all that fancy fluff."

  Funny, but the way that Gertie referred to 'fancy fluff' sounded more like an endearment than an insult. "I don't think I am, Gertie. I'm scared."

  She nodded, suddenly sounding uncharacteristically sage. "I understand that, but you've got a part to play. Focus on that. If we want this to be over with then we need to convince the Sidorovs that Ida Belle is really and truly under suspicion for murder. Our best chance of nailing them is throwing them off their game."

  "Our best chance?" I frowned. "Surely you mean the FBI's best chance?"

  She hesitated only a nanosecond. "Oh, right. Yeah, sure."

  She peeled around a corner at close to fifty miles an hour. The glow of street lamps in the near distance reassured me. If Sinful was in sight then there was a decent chance that we might make it back in one piece. With Gertie's driving, you never really knew.

  "So, you think you can play act your part okay, Stephanie?" she asked. "If it's easier, why not try for shell-shocked instead of righteous indignation? I bet people would buy that from you."

  "I can do it," I said, hoping that I sounded more confident than I actually felt. "I mean, I have to, don't I? Aunt Ida Belle is counting on me."

  "Atta girl." Gertie slammed on her brakes so hard that I was thrown forward and had to reach out and brace myself against the dashboard to keep from going through the windshield. I looked around in surprise. We'd reached the Sheriff's Department already. "Just remember," Gertie said, "that you can handle anything."

  "I CAN'T HANDLE THIS. I just can't." I dropped my hand from the cold stainless steel door handle in front of me. I would have taken a step backward but Agent Mayeux was right behind me. So close, in fact, I'm sure I could have him arrested for trespassing on my personal space. I craned my neck and looked up over my shoulder at
his impassive face. "I've never seen a dead body before."

  "That's not strictly true, is it, Miss St. James?" His deep voice rumbled in his throat even though he kept his voice low. "What about the time you saw your boyfriend's body on the floor of Ms. Morrow's kitchen floor? Surely that counts."

  "Misha wasn't my boyfriend," I protested for what had to be the hundredth time since my arrival in Sinful. "And no, I don't think it counts. I knew Misha. What I meant to say was, I've never seen a stranger's dead body before."

  He reached around me for the door handle and pushed it open. "Well, there's a first time for everything." And with that bit of wisdom, he put a hand on my back and guided me into the morgue.

  The cold was the first thing that hit me. And then the drab registered. I hardly expected a disco ball to drop from the ceiling, but everything was so gray, so colorless. There was a horrid sense of lifelessness about the place. I shivered.

  "Let's get this over with," Agent Mayeux said.

  My thoughts exactly.

  We were greeted by a tall, lanky attendant with long dark hair that hung over his face like a mourning veil. His enthusiastic greeting was in stark contrast to our surroundings. "Welcome. Who are you here to see?"

  My eyes went to the name badge pinned on his gray scrub top. Chris. "Hello, Chris." No matter my state of agitation, good manners were good manners.

  "We're here to see the young woman just brought in," my companion said.

  Chris rubbed his hands together with a bit more glee than I thought appropriate. I wasn't sure of proper morgue etiquette, but I don't imagine it was vastly different from funeral home etiquette. I glanced at Agent Mayeux, who now stood beside me, but his face was unreadable.

  "She's something else, that one," Chris said. "Very interesting. I'm particularly intrigued by the bruising patterns around the neck. You see, with most cases like this there's more of a—"