One Night in the Bayou Page 5

  That was the most rational thing I'd ever heard Gertie say. And the truest. It wasn't right.

  "I just don't know what to do next."

  Gertie nodded her head in Agent Mayeux's direction. "What does 'The Rock' have to say about your next move?"

  I followed the direction of her gaze. She wasn't that far off the mark. Kase Mayeux's body was rock solid, not to mention that he was stone faced. "Precious little, actually. He hasn't told me where we're going next."

  Gertie thought a moment. "Have you called Cat?"

  "She's in the morgue," I said, surprise causing me to respond a little too loudly. The men at the other end of the hallway stopped speaking and turned to look at us. I made sure to lower my voice as I turned back to Gertie. "She's dead."

  "I know that. Just because I'm old and wrinkled doesn't mean I'm a fool." Her gentle tone took some of the sting out of her words. "I meant, did you call her cell phone to see who answered it?"

  I shook my head. "I hadn't thought of that."

  She elbowed me. "Well, get going then before some yahoo from the Federal Bureau of Imbeciles gets their hands on it."

  I reached into my handbag and took out my cell phone. My hands shook as I tried to dial Cat's number. After my fourth unsuccessful attempt, Gertie held out her hand and I gratefully handed the phone to her. From memory I rattled off Cat's cell phone number.

  Gertie flashed me a thumbs up when someone answered. But then her forehead creased. "Take out or delivery? Lord above, an egg roll sounds heavenly just about now. But maybe some other time." She disconnected the call and raised an eyebrow. "Jade Palace?"

  Oops. "Sorry, in times of stress that's the first number that comes to mind."

  Gertie chortled. "I hear you sister. Try again."

  I concentrated and then recited another number. Again I watched confusion parade across Gertie's face. "What is it?" I asked.

  She held up a finger, listening intently to whomever was on the other end of the line. After a full thirty seconds, she hung up. She didn't even try to hide a grin. "Madame Zora the Psychic? Ohhh, the things I'm learning about you tonight."

  "She's a client of mine," I said. "I'm trying to teach her to deliver her dour predictions with a bit more eloquence."

  "Right, sure, that's a good story." Gertie's eyes twinkled merrily. "Gimmee another number. Let's see what else you've been up to in Boston."

  I pressed my fingertips to my temples and tried to focus. Why hadn't I just programmed Cat's number in my contacts? "Okay, I've got it. I think." I gave her one more set of numbers.

  Gertie's expression went from amused to stunned within seconds. She listened for a moment and then held out the phone for me to take. "It's for you."

  With great trepidation, I took the phone and held it to my ear. I somehow managed to make myself speak. "Hello?"

  "Good evening, Stephanie."

  I gasped. It was Boris Sidorov.

  Chapter Seven

  I STARED STRAIGHT AHEAD as if mesmerized by a Moroccan snake charmer. I couldn't speak. Well, that's not technically true. I must have uttered some sort of strangled noise because Agent Mayeux and Carter broke off their conversation to stare at me.

  "Boris?" I finally managed to squeak out. "Why do you have Cat's phone?"

  "Because he killed her, duh," Gertie said in a stage whisper. "Find out where he is."

  I turned away from her. Did she really think that Boris would tell me the truth about where he was? He was as experienced a liar as he was a murderer. My brain shouted out questions to ask him, but my tongue felt as if it were tied into a massive knot that made speech impossible. I glanced up to see Agent Mayeux and Carter coming toward me. In a matter of seconds they were going to yank my phone away from me. That realization loosed my tongue. "You're not going to get away with killing Cat," I told him. "Do you hear me, Boris? You're not."

  "You needn't thank me, it was my pleasure." His laugh was cold and cruel, and it sent a shiver right down my spine. "You needn't fret. It's your turn next. Or maybe you would prefer I kill the blonde one next?"

  "I don't understand. Who are you—" but before I could finish my question, Agent Mayeux snatched the phone from my hand and put it to his ear. In rapid succession he frowned, cursed, and held up the phone as if he wanted to throw it at the wall. "He hung up."

  Carter groaned. "You think your guys will be able to get a trace on it?"

  "Probably not. I'm sure the slime ball knows of a way to scramble the signal. But we'll check anyway." Agent Mayeux held the phone out. "Can you bag this for me while I call one of my guys to come get it?"

  "You have guys? Here in Sinful?" I asked him as Carter whisked my cell phone away. "What are you going to do with my phone?"

  "Analyze it so we can find out just who you've been talking to, as well as how often." His gaze was steely. "I didn't know you had Sidorov on speed dial."

  "Don't be ridiculous. He's not on my speed dial. I don't even use speed dial."

  "I'll vouch for that," Gertie chimed in. "All you're going to find on that phone are calls to the Jade Palace and Madame Zora. Craving egg foo young and trying to get a glimpse into the future aren't crimes, you know."

  He stared at her for a long moment, a perplexed frown on his face. "What are you talking about?" When she merely shrugged, he turned his attention to me. "Who is Madame Zora? Where does she fit into the Sidorovs' organization?"

  I struggled to think of just how to respond before Gertie could, but I was too slow. She beat me to it.

  "Madame Zora is Stephanie's psychic." She shifted in her chair so she could see me better. "Hey, what did she say the last time you called her? Maybe that will give us a clue?"

  I stood up and collected my handbag from the chair next to me, hoping that my actions didn't show my internal angst. Madame Zora was my guilty little secret. Just because I was prim and proper didn't mean I wasn't curious. I squared my shoulders and gave them each what I hoped was a no-nonsense look. "I find it curious that the two of you are more interested in my personal life and whom I might occasionally call than in what Boris Sidorov had to say."

  "What did he say?" they asked in unison.

  Relieved that we were off the subject of my personal life, I blew out a long breath. "I asked him why he had Cat's phone, but he dodged that question by telling me that I was next in line to be murdered. Unless I preferred he kill the blonde one next."

  "Who is 'the blonde one'? Someone in his organization?" Agent Mayeux asked.

  Gertie had grown uncharacteristically still. "Do you think he means Fortune?"

  Carter arrived just in time to hear the last bit of her question. "What about Fortune?" Worry was evident in his voice. "What did I miss?"

  Agent Mayeux filled him in on Boris' cryptic message.

  "Did he use Fortune's name specifically?" Carter asked me.

  I replayed the conversation in my mind. "No, he just said 'the blonde one'."

  "I need to get over there and check on her." But Carter hadn't taken six steps before his phone rang. He glanced at caller ID and swore. "It's Celia."

  Not that I approved of his profanity, but if anyone in Sinful warranted the use of an expletive, it was Celia.

  We listened to his side of the conversation. Mostly it was Celia's one-way conversation with herself. Carter only managed a few yes's, no's, and a few attempts to stop Celia from coming to the Sheriff's Department. His scowl when the call ended made it clear that he'd lost the battle. Celia Arceneaux, a legend in her own mind, was on her way to gloat over Ida Belle's arrest.

  Gertie got to her feet. "Carter, you go check on Fortune. Just deputize me or something right quick and I'll handle our faux mayor."

  "Jeez, Gertie, how dumb do you think I am?" Carter shook his head. "You need to clear on out of here because you're only going to make things worse."

  Gertie folded her arms over her chest. "Young man, I'm going to morph into your worst nightmare in the blink of an eye if you try to get rid of me. We both kn
ow that if I run interference with Celia there's a better chance of keeping her away from Ida Belle. Which means we have a better chance of keeping Ida Belle from committing a real murder."

  The look on Carter's face was thunderous, but he didn't argue with her logic.

  "What about Fortune?" I asked. "Isn't someone supposed to be monitoring her activity via her ankle bracelet?"

  For a split second I thought I saw an emotion (extreme annoyance was my guess) flash across Agent Mayeux's face, but it was gone before I was sure. However, his next words left me with no doubt that my question irked him. "Miss St. James, I'm going to crawl out on a limb here and assume you've never worked in law enforcement?"

  I shook my head.

  "Has a court order ever been issued to fit you with an ankle monitoring system?"

  Again, I shook my head.

  "Then just perhaps," he said, "you might leave the detective work to me?"

  I nodded as graciously as I could, in spite of my own extreme annoyance. "Certainly, Agent Mayeux. Please proceed."

  And proceed we did, straight out of the Sheriff's Department and into his truck. We had the good fortune to miss Celia's arrival. I pitied poor Carter having to deal with a gloating Celia and a mischievous Gertie. No one could ever accuse that poor man of not earning his salary.

  The ride over to Fortune's was swift and silent. Agent Mayeux parked across the street from her house. He switched off the engine and pulled out a tablet. After a few taps and a few swipes, he closed the cover. "Something's wrong."

  "That's hardly news," I answered. "Our glamping trip was ruined, poor Cat is dead, Boris is gloating like the pig he is, and my sweet Priscilla is heaven only knows where. Yes, I'd most definitely agree that something is wrong."

  "No, I mean something is wrong in there." He motioned toward the house with his head. "They're not able to pick up on any movement on Fortune's device."

  "Maybe she's sleeping?" I suggested. The front porch light was on, and it looked like the light in the kitchen was on, but perhaps she'd conked out on the couch.

  "Even when people sleep they tend to toss and turn somewhat, especially if they've just been fitted with a monitor. Let's go check it out."

  He stepped out on to the street and crossed in front of the truck on his way to open my door. Unfortunately, or fortunately perhaps, his back was toward the house just as I realized that he was right.

  Something was up, and that something was Fortune herself—moving at the speed of light as she stepped out of the house, vaulted over the front porch railing, and disappeared into the night.

  "I have half a mind to leave you in this truck," Agent Mayeux grumbled as he stood holding the truck door open for me. "Quit your hemming and hawing and let's get a move on."

  "But—"

  "But nothing, get out."

  I was not about to do anything of the sort. Not until I saw Fortune slip back into the house. What was she thinking? Never mind that, where was she going? I hadn't seen a sign of anyone else with her, and her movements didn't look forced or coerced. Which meant she likely left of her own free will. Lucky her, out there all alone in the darkness. I'd trade places with her in an instant. Sitting in a truck parked on the curb under a yellow street light with an F.B.I. agent staring holes into me wasn't my idea of fun. I bit my lip while I scrambled to think of something to say that would keep us away from Fortune's front door.

  "I'm hungry," I blurted out.

  "Tough. Get out of the truck." When I didn't, Agent Mayeux folded his arms over his chest and stared down at me.

  "Why don't we drive over to Mudbug? I heard there's a diner that's open all night. Word on the street is that the burgers are killer." Word on the street? Killer burgers? I barely recognized the words coming out of my mouth, but desperate times called for desperate phrases.

  "Ain't gonna happen."

  "But what if I collapse while I'm in your custody? Surely that won't be worth all the paperwork you'd have to file to explain how you let me suffer."

  "You can eat after we check on Fortune."

  His parents should have named him Stonewall, not Kase. "Don't you have anything in your glove box?" I persisted. "Crackers and cheese? An old candy bar even?"

  "Go ahead, open it up and look. When you're done scrounging around for food, do me a favor and hand me my handcuffs. Because if you don't get out of my truck this instant, I'm going to slap them on your wrists and arrest you for obstruction."

  I cocked my head and thought. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if he had to drive me back to the Sheriff's Department. Right now the thought of being booked and tossed into a cell with Aunt Ida Belle sounded preferable to sitting here. "Handcuffs aren't necessary, Agent. I won't resist if you need to take me back downtown."

  Instead of answering me, he reached in and all but yanked me out of the truck. He slammed the door shut without loosening his grip on my arm. I did my best to drag my feet but it didn't really work well on the asphalt. Fortunately, I had more luck once we reached the front lawn. But even digging my heels into the grass didn't deter my companion. Without saying a word he let go of my wrist, slipped his arm around my back, swept the other under my knees, and held me in his arms like a child before I could say "Merciful heavens".

  I didn't bother to struggle as I knew I was out-muscled by well over one hundred pounds. But still, I had to at least try to keep him out of Fortune's house. "Wait," I cried as he carried me up the front porch steps. "We don't have a key. I'm sure Gertie has one in her purse." Lord knew she had one of everything else in there. "Let's drive back to the Sheriff's Department and get it."

  "We don't need a key."

  About this he was right. No sooner had he spoken the words than the door swung open. It was Ally, in a robe, her eyes wide as she looked from me to Agent Mayeux to the snake on his arm and then back at me.

  "Good grief, Stephanie, what's going on?" She gasped. "Don't tell me you eloped!"

  Chapter Eight

  ELOPED? WITH FEDERAL Agent Kase Mayeux? He of few words and many scowls? I think not. "Don't be ridiculous, Ally."

  There must have been something in the definitive way I phrased my denial, perhaps it was the word "ridiculous", that prompted Agent Mayeux to set me down none too gently. As soon as my feet touched the front porch, I took a step forward to put some distance between us. I could think better that way.

  "Move aside, we need to come in."

  Ally obeyed his command and stepped back into the foyer. I followed her into the house. Once the door was shut behind him, I made introductions.

  "F.B.I. agent?" Ally's face registered her confusion. "Stephanie, why was he carrying you? Are you hurt?" After I reassured her I wasn't injured, she drew me into a hug. "I heard about Ida Belle's arrest. I'm sorry. Obviously someone really screwed up." Her expression when she looked at my companion was full of censure. "Everyone knows Ida Belle couldn't possibly hurt anyone."

  I'm sure there were people in Sinful who would argue that point, but I was supposed to play the part of a frantically worried niece, so I merely nodded. "The whole evening has been such a nightmare, Ally. But we shouldn't be here, we'll come back in the morning. I'm sorry we disturbed you."

  I made a move to open the door but Agent Mayeux shot out a restraining arm and blocked my escape attempt.

  "We need to see Fortune." He looked around. "Where is she?"

  "Upstairs in her room, asleep." Ally's words were uncharacteristically frosty. "I saw what you're making her wear on her ankle. Not cool."

  "I'm not here to debate that. Where's her room?"

  This time it was me who blocked his move. I slipped in front of him and stood on the bottom step of the staircase leading up to second floor. "You most certainly will not burst into a lady's room while she's asleep, Agent Mayeux. You wait here and I'll go up and check on her." Well, technically I'd be checking on her empty room and scrambling to make up an excuse to buy Fortune some time to get back from wherever it was she'd gone. "Ally, perhap
s you'd be kind enough to offer this gentleman a cup of coffee while he waits?"

  And then before he could protest, I tore up the stairs in a most unladylike fashion. Luckily, her door wasn't locked. I slipped in and locked it behind me. "Fortune," I called out just loudly enough to be heard. "Are you here?"

  I suspected she wasn't, but a part of me held out great hope that I'd only imagined her earlier escape. I experienced a stab of annoyance. Fortune and I hadn't exactly hit it off when we'd met, but I chalked that up to us coming from very different worlds. But if her shenanigans tonight ended up making things worse for my aunt, I was going to have it out with her.

  My eyes scanned her bedroom. It was devoid of all of the frippery that I'd have expected of a former beauty queen. It was also devoid of Fortune. I groaned aloud when I heard Agent Mayeux's raised voice draw nearer. I looked around frantically. Where would Fortune have left her tracking device? The closet. I threw open the closet doors and ran my hands through the few things on hangers but I didn't feel anything. Fortune's shoe shelf held a single pair of high heels and the rest were athletic shoes. One glance assured me that she hadn't hidden her ankle monitor here.

  I didn't have a moment to spare so I turned to her undergarment drawer. Despite the obvious impropriety, I yanked open the top drawer and swept my hands through her unmentionables. Bingo. I pulled out what looked like one of those collars dogs wear to prevent them from barking. It was made of a heavy black plastic and had a beeping red light.

  The door handle rattled. My heart hammered in my chest. I didn't know who to blame for the predicament I found myself in, Fortune or Boris Sidorov. But I could assign blame later. Right now I had to deal with an angry F.B.I. agent.

  "Open the door, Miss St. James."

  "Just a moment, please," I called out. I ran over to the window and hoisted it open. The smell of swamp water assailed my nose as the night air blew into the room. I knew from previous visits that the bayou ran behind Fortune's house. Was it too far for me to pitch the ankle monitor into the water? Was that even the right thing to do? How would Fortune explain that when she got back?