“You mean something besides murder? I’m just trying to figure out why I’m even slightly surprised to find you here.”
I gave an exasperated eye roll. “Very funny. I had nothing to do with any of this. It’s just a horrible coincidence.”
Sullivan sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not a big believer in coincidence, Rita. But why don’t you tell me about this favor you’re doing?”
I had no idea how much Gabriel had told him, so I filled him in on the plan to figure out whether Monroe was Old Dog Leg’s long-lost brother or an imposter. As I talked, I watched Sullivan’s face for signs of surprise, irritation, or any other indication that Gabriel might not have been entirely truthful with his answers. But his expression remained infuriatingly blank and professional.
I finished with an account of my conversation with Monroe in the garage, including seeing the scar on Monroe’s shoulder, and Sullivan finally glanced up from his notebook.
“Broussard said that you’d identified Monroe Magee as Dog Leg’s brother. He also mentioned that the residents here seem to think Magee’s responsible for the body out there in the garden.”
“Right. And now he’s gone. Again.” My stomach knotted just thinking about how disappointed Old Dog Leg would be when we told him.
Sullivan digested that for a moment. “So what’s your take? You think Magee’s the killer?”
“I’ve asked myself that question a dozen times in the past couple of hours. My gut reaction is no.”
“Never underestimate the value of a gut reaction. So where were you when the victim was being done in?”
“That depends on when it happened,” I said. “Do you have any idea how long he’s been dead?”
“Nothing official but judging from the amount of rigor mortis, I’m guessing not long.”
“Then I was probably upstairs,” I said. I didn’t actually say that I was in “our” room, but I didn’t need to. Sullivan got my drift.
A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he stayed focused on the case. “Did you hear anything? See anything?”
I shook my head. “I was asleep. The scream woke me up. By the time I made it downstairs, both Primrose and Hyacinth were there, and so were Gabriel and Antwon Barnett. Hyacinth told us that Primrose found Dontae when she was taking out the trash.”
Sullivan consulted his notes. “That’s Hyacinth Fiske and Primrose Hoyt, the owners of the inn?”
“That’s right. They’re sisters.”
“Any chance one of them did this?”
I gave that some thought. “It’s possible, but I doubt it. The sisters didn’t seem to have any issue with the victim. None of the other permanent residents did either. He wasn’t the one they had a problem with.”
Sullivan made a note. “I take it someone else was?”
“Just Monroe,” I admitted reluctantly. “Most of the Love Nesters seemed a bit unhappy about him reappearing the way he did.”
“Most? Does that mean that some were glad to see him?”
I shrugged. “Neither Primrose nor Lula Belle seemed
un
happy. At least not with Monroe. They’re not exactly friendly with each other.”
He looked surprised. “You think there was some kind of love triangle going on?”
Guilt buzzed up my spine, no doubt caused by what Gabriel had said about sharing. “I wouldn’t say that. I don’t think Lula Belle is actually interested in Monroe, but she sure was jerking Primrose’s chain about him earlier. I don’t know how interested Primrose is in him either, to be honest. I only met these people a few hours ago.” I waited while he made another note and then asked, “Do you really think Dontae was poisoned?”
“We won’t know for sure until we get the results of the autopsy, but all signs point in that direction. There’s some facial swelling and signs of diarrhea and vomiting. I’m betting the coroner will find evidence of internal bleeding when he does the autopsy.”
“So it was murder?” I asked.
“We don’t know that either. He could have ingested the poison accidentally. Then again, someone might have dosed something he ate or drank.”
My blood ran cold at the thought that one of the people I’d been drinking champagne with earlier could have killed him. “Do you know when the poison was administered?”
Sullivan shook his head. “If it was poison, we won’t be able to say for sure when he ingested it until we know what it was. But judging from the look of the body, I’m betting on something fast acting. Could have been in something he ate or drank at dinner. We’ll check the champagne y’all had earlier, but the rest of you are fine, so I doubt it was in the bottle. Someone washed the glasses, so we can’t test those. My guys are loading up about half a ton of snacks he had stashed around his room, so it might take awhile to narrow it down.”
“You mean the poison could have been injected into his Twinkies weeks ago?”
Sullivan shrugged. “Could have been, I guess. But if somebody hated him enough to want him dead, I’m guessing they wouldn’t have waited around long to see results.”
I tried to remember the conversations, the looks, the undercurrents I’d picked up on since Gabriel and I checked in. Trying to puzzle through the maze those old people had created left me suddenly exhausted. I sank down in my chair and said, “None of this makes any sense. Judging from what I saw and heard tonight, Monroe should be the one lying dead in the garden, not Dontae.”
“And yet here we are.” Sullivan offered me a thin smile, the first since he arrived.
I was pathetically grateful for it. “These people have a history,” I told him. “I don’t know what it is and nobody seems to want to talk about it, but everyone knows each other. Monroe told me that he goes way back with the sisters, and the sisters seem to go way back with everybody else. Lula Belle has been living here for thirty years, and I assume the others have been here about as long, which means that they all moved in here a decade after Monroe disappeared. So how did he know where to find them?”
“Tamarra Barnett says that the sisters inherited this place. She’s Hyacinth Fiske’s granddaughter. I’m guessing that Monroe knew about the inn before he disappeared.”
“Or he’s been in contact with someone while he was gone.” I swallowed a yawn and said, “You know who you should talk to? Pastor Rod.”
Sullivan glanced at his notes and frowned slightly. “Who’s that? His name’s not in here.”
“He doesn’t live here,” I explained. “But he was here earlier, and Primrose said he’s like one of the family. I’m surprised he’s not here. Antwon called him quite a while ago.”
“I’ll check with the uniforms, but they had instructions not to let anyone in so they may have sent him back home.”
“Well, I’d talk to him soon. He seems to know everyone going way back, including Monroe.”
Sullivan sat back in his chair and stared at his notebook, filtering the information he’d picked up from the other cops, the witnesses he’d interviewed, and then mixing in what I’d given him.
I forced myself to wait patiently . . . and succeeded for all of about three minutes. “So what’s next?” He didn’t answer me immediately, so I pushed a little more. “Is this the part where you tell me to go home and mind my own business? Because you know I can’t do that. Old Dog Leg is counting on me.”
This time, there was no mistaking the smile on Sullivan’s face. He stood and looked down at me as he tucked his notebook into his breast pocket. “Actually, Mrs. Broussard, I see no reason for you and your husband to cut your honeymoon short.”
My mouth fell open. Literally. “I don’t follow.”
“My men are running into a brick wall with their investigation so far. Those old people have clammed up completely. Nobody’s saying anything significant, except that Monroe is, or is not, without a doubt, guilty. Beyond that, they’re closing ranks. Maybe they know who killed their friend. Maybe they only suspect they know. Either way, they’re not talking to us. But you’re here. You’re one of them.”
I laughed uneasily. “I wouldn’t exactly say
that
.”
“You have a foot in the door,” he said. “That’s more than I’ve got at the moment. And I know you. You’re persistent. That’s one of the best and the worst things about you.”
My smile faded slowly. “Should I be offended?”
It was Sullivan’s turn to laugh. “Not at all. I could tell you to go away and keep out of the investigation, but we both know you’re not going to listen to me.”
He had a point.
“Look,” he said, moving to my side of the table and taking the chair next to mine. “I’m not asking you to do anything dangerous. In fact, I’m not asking you to do anything at all. But if you want to hang out here and keep an ear to the ground, I’m not going to complain. I won’t even write you up for using a false name. Maybe you can find out where the residents of the Love Nest were between the hours of ten and midnight.”
“You want me to check their alibis?”
“If it comes up in casual conversation.”
I didn’t even try to stop the grin that spread across my face. I had his permission to stick around and ask questions. It didn’t get any better than that. But I wanted to be clear on all points. “And it’s okay with you if Gabriel and I keep up the whole honeymoon charade?”
Sullivan shrugged. “Far be it from me to get in the way of true love.”
“You’re funny.”
He leaned a little closer, and for a second I thought he was going to kiss me. But he just looked me in the eye and said, “Be careful, Rita. Somebody may have poisoned that old man.”
Once again, I shuddered at the memory of Dontae’s body in the garden. “Message received,” I assured him.
“And
he
was their friend. If one of them would do that to a so-called friend, there’s no telling what they’d do to a relative stranger who gets in their way.”
Sixteen
The police eventually cleared out, and the rest of us went back to our rooms. I expected to lie awake for hours, but I fell asleep the minute my head hit the pillow. I didn’t wake up until the sun was already high in the sky. Gabriel was cuddled up to me, his solid chest pressed up against my back, one arm slung over my waist.
I spent a few seconds appreciating the moment, then tried inching out from under his arm so I could check the time on my cell phone. I moved slowly and carefully, trying not to wake him. I finally reached my phone and saw that it was already eight thirty and that I had two text messages from Estelle, reminding me of Zydeco’s latest crisis, which had flown completely out of my mind during last night’s drama. Edie was at work, but the tension between her and Ox was running high. I couldn’t ignore the bakery, and I wasn’t foolish enough to try resolving a dispute like this one over the phone. Plus, I needed to set up that meeting with Miss Frankie and Ox.
I scrambled out of bed, startling Gabriel awake.
“If there’s another dead body,” he groaned into his pillow, “wake me when the cops get here.”
He looked dangerously sexy lying there half-dressed, with his dark hair tousled and the shadow of a beard making him look like some kind of pirate hero from a romance novel. He reached for me, but I evaded his grasp, which took more self-control than I’d suspected I had.
“We need to get downstairs,” I said. “They stop serving breakfast in half an hour, and Hyacinth warned us they don’t serve latecomers.”
He regarded me blearily. “Breakfast? Seriously? You think they’ll be serving food after last night? And would you want to eat anything in a house where someone was fatally poisoned?”
It’s true that I was nervous about eating anything in this house after Dontae’s untimely demise, but my traitorous stomach had already begun rumbling. “I don’t have much of an appetite either, but this might be our only chance all day to ask the others where they were at the time of the murder without being obvious about it. So get up and get dressed.”
He rolled over and pulled the sheet up to his shoulders, then groaned again. But a moment later he sat up on the edge of the bed, which I took as a good sign. I carried clean undies, jeans, and a silk blouse of pale peach into the bathroom and locked the door. “What time are you going to work today?”
“Noon. I’m working the early shift.”
“Sounds good. I need to catch a ride with you.” He didn’t argue, so I showered and dressed quickly. While Gabriel showered I pulled my hair up and slapped on a little eye shadow and mascara. About the time I felt satisfied with my appearance, he came back into the room in jeans, pulling a T-shirt over his head. I don’t mind admitting, it was a nice bit of scenery and I may have spent a few seconds enjoying the view.
He grinned at me and scooped a lock of dark hair from his forehead. “Like what you see?”
Um. Yeah
. I shrugged and headed for the door. “That has never been a problem.” I paused with one hand on the door. “Are you coming?”
He stepped into flip-flops. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”
Gabriel still hadn’t told me what he and Sullivan had talked about last night, but he’d been surprisingly receptive to the idea of extending our stay. Maybe Sullivan had enlisted his help, too. I thought about asking, but frankly, I decided it was better to keep my mouth shut.
The aroma of fresh coffee hit me on the second-floor landing, and a bouquet of other mouthwatering scents soon followed. We passed Miss Hysteria and the linebacker as they left the dining room. They both looked exhausted but healthy, which took away some of the worry about eating breakfast on the premises.
Grey and Lula Belle were at the table when Gabriel and I walked into the dining room, and a breakfast fit for royalty waited on the sideboard. A platter of fluffy scrambled eggs, steaming mounds of bacon and sausage, creamy grits, and cinnamon rolls the size of small hams sat beside a silver coffee service and a crystal pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice.
I filled a mug with coffee, laced it with French vanilla creamer, and carried it to the table, then loaded a plate, reasoning that even if the killer wanted another victim, he or she was unlikely to want
me
dead and probably wouldn’t risk putting poison meant for one person in food meant for everyone.
As I turned back toward the table, Grey gave me a nod and muttered something to Gabriel. Lula Belle bent over her plate and pretended not to see us. Was she feeling guilty about being so nasty to Primrose last night, nervous about being at the inn with a murderer . . . or afraid of being caught?