Killer Cousins (27 page)

“Let me check the other black electric ones you have,” I said, like I knew something about these appliances. She pointed to three others. I glanced at them, comparing prices. I moved toward the last one that cost hundreds more than the others. Shiny black top and oven door. A couple more thingies on top, one of them maybe a grill. “This one’s probably better,” I said.

“Definitely.”

“Good. I’ll take it.”

She looked relieved and wrote up the order. “They’ll deliver tomorrow. Someone has to be there.”

“I will.” I paid, again grateful money was no longer an issue in my life. Right now solving a murder was. Or possibly two of them.

“Can I call you at home later?” I asked.

She diverted her eyes. Kept them down. “You can try to reach me.”

I thanked Jenna and left Westell Brothers determining she would screen her calls. Mine would not be answered.

I’d met one person who knew Pierce Trottier’s fiancée and might know and be free with gossip about him by now. Glancing into my rearview mirror, I wondered how my strawberry waves would look nipped a wee bit. My next stop—Audrey Ray’s salon.

Chapter 26

The car parked at Beauty First made me feel better about my choice of hairdresser. Today I wasn’t Audrey Ray’s only customer.

I parked, left my car. Stopped walking as another woman came out.

Her hair was red like mine was now, only hers was flaming. Sunlight highlighted its bright yellow tones.

“Hi,” she said, tossing her mane and touching her hair like she wanted to make certain I noticed it. Only a blind person wouldn’t.

I told myself I shouldn’t go in this place. I took a breath going inside, remembering I was only coming for information and a nip, not more color. The strong sting of perm solution hit my nostrils.

“Cealie, hello.” Audrey Ray quit sweeping brown hair into a dustpan. “Is something wrong with your hair?”

“Not at all. I thought you might give it a trim.”

“Already?”

“It grows real fast, and I like sitting in beauty salon chairs.”

My right palm almost bled.

“I understand that. Come on to the washbasin.”

She washed my hair and had me sit in front of those horrid brilliant lights. The black plastic drape around my neck made my loose skin stand out, blending well with my spotlighted face wrinkles. She enhanced the picture by pinning up little patches of my wet hair.

“A trim, right?” she asked. Blue glitter shone from her thick mascara. “Does everybody love your new color?”

“They think it’s unique.”

“Great.” She started nipping.

“You told me about someone,” I said. “Pierce Trottier’s fiancée.”

“Yes, Kelly’s so pretty. A great customer.”

“She must have been devastated when he died.”

“Yep.” Audrey stared at my reflection. “She was so pissed, she would’ve killed him herself if he wasn’t already dead.”

“What?”

“He had sex with somebody else before he died.”

“You’re kidding me. Who?”

“Nobody knows. And I shouldn’t talk about it.” She yanked bobby pins out of my hair and resumed cutting.

“Audrey, he died in my cousin’s yard. I didn’t see him when I shoved her stuck gate open, and I tripped on his body.” Jitters ran through me, picturing him, feeling the man against my skin. “I
need
to know what happened.”

Her reflection held on mine. She broke eye contact in the mirror and cut my hair. “Kelly said he had fingernail scratches all over his back, especially around three nicotine patches that were stuck on him.”

“Three? I think I saw one. The bottom of his shirt was pulled up. I thought it was a bandage.”

“They think the woman he had his
afternoon delight
with probably slapped them on him. He might not have noticed since it seemed she got wild with him. He probably couldn’t reach where they were, much less put them on straight. They were close together behind his heart.”

“And he had a heart condition.”

She nodded, letting another patch of my hair down. “He didn’t smoke a whole lot, but his doctor had told him he needed to totally quit. Kelly said he chewed nicotine gum.”

“He didn’t get her to put those patches on his back?”

“They both knew better than that. The gum’s instructions said not to use any other nicotine product at the same time. The guy teaching his stop-smoking class told people in the group that, too.”

“It’s hard to believe using the gum and patches could kill a person. I’m sure other people have done that and survived.”

She leaned toward my image. “But none of them had extra nicotine added to the patches.”

I leaned closer toward
her
image, eyes wide. “Extra nicotine?”

“They did some tests. Pierce and the patches all contained too much nicotine.” Audrey Ray kept snipping. “And his partner might have suggested he smoke a few, just that once, after their sex. Mega doses of poisonous nicotine.”

“Wow, so nicotine really killed him.” I noticed what she was doing. “You’re cutting a lot. I only wanted a slight trim.” I glanced at hair on the floor.

She grabbed my chin and lifted it. “Stay straight. You don’t want me to mess this up, do you?”

I shook my head. Then realized what I’d done.

“Oh, pooh. Well, I can probably fix that.” Audrey Ray stared at the back of my head. I was scared to ask.

“How could patches have extra nicotine?” I asked, getting my mind off whatever she was doing back there with her scissors.

“Somebody could have injected some.”

I jerked toward her image. “You’re kidding.”

She shook her head. Then stared at the rear of my hair and looked grim.

“I should go,” I said, fearing what she’d done.

“Let me straighten this out first.”

I focused on not saying a word to distract her. I kept my gaze away from the mirror, considering what she’d told me.

“All shaped up.” She plucked the remaining bobby pins out of my hair, ran blue gook between her fingers and through my waves, and picked up a blow dryer.

I touched her hand to ask something before she made noise. “You say his fiancée is terrific. But maybe she found out he had an affair and went into a rage and killed him.”

“Kelly teaches fifth graders. She never left school that day. The cops checked.”

“It was after school hours when I arrived at my cousin’s house and found him.”

“Kelly tutors until six. Her students and some parents swore she stayed with them. She’s not the kind of girl to do that anyway.”

Audrey Ray blasted my head with hot air. Her dryer kicked up my hair’s volume.

“That’s kind of high,” I said, pressing it down on top.

“What?” She didn’t shut off her noisemaker but used her fingers to draw my waves up even higher.

I looked like I wore a scarlet crown when I walked out. I waited till I sat in my car to flatten the top and press against the sides. I had refused politely when she’d offered a hand mirror for me to check the back.

“It’s a kind of combined Retro and Afro,” she’d said of that part of my hair, and I didn’t want to see what that meant.

I did want to see how Gil was doing. I punched his number on my cell phone.

He didn’t answer. No request for a message came on.

I didn’t know if he was staying in Gatlinburg or around Pigeon Forge, but had an idea he might be at his restaurant.

I went there.

* * *

CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. That large sign out front of Cajun Delights made my spirits plunge. A ball of tears stuck in my throat.

One truck was there, a dark green one.

I went to the entrance and pulled on the doors. Both locked. I peeked through the stained glass.

All dark inside.

I walked to the rear of the restaurant. A gray cypress fence matched the building. I opened the gate and walked through the small enclosed yard, went up the two steps, and pulled on the door.

It opened.

“Gil,” I yelled. “Gil, it’s me. Don’t shoot,” I said with a laugh. He never carried a weapon.

The employees’ lounge I entered was dark. So was the rear hall. I ran my hand along the walls and door frames as I moved. I knew where Gil’s office should be, but everything was so black I wasn’t sure I was heading in the right direction.

“Gil, it’s me,” I called, reaching a wall, determining I should turn left. And then cold dread washed through me.

A woman had just suspiciously died in this place.

Suppose a killer was in here now instead of Gil? The truck he used wasn’t green, was it? No, the one he’d had here before was silver.

A door creaked open. It sounded down the hall to the left.

I stood spellbound, deciding what I’d do if a thug came out, especially one carrying a gun.

Shrugging my shoulder bag to get its weight, I already knew it was feather light. I kept it, like my life now, free of most things that weighed me down. I mentally scrolled through it—wallet, keys, tissue, lipstick. Nothing that would hurt a person.

Lights were on in the room beyond the door that was slowly opening, letting me glimpse my surroundings.

This hall was kept neat and clear like in the rest of Gil’s restaurants, making me angry. If it held junk like large pots or possibly knives, I’d have a weapon. Running back through a straight hallway wouldn’t provide me much protection if a person aimed a gun in here.

A few chairs were stacked near the wall. I grabbed the one on top and with my other hand, dug keys out of my purse. Keys jabbed into a person’s eyes would really slow him down but I doubted I could do such a thing. Unless I felt severely threatened.

The door yanked all the way open.

I shrieked and pulled on the chair.

The stack tumbled between me and the person coming out of the room. I jumped back, but held my arm straight, aiming my keys up toward the person’s face.

“Cealie, no!” Gil ducked, seeing my keys up, although they didn’t get close to him.

The chairs did. Some struck his hip.

“Oh, no,” I yelped, trying to block all the chairs from getting him. They clattered to the floor.

Gil jumped aside before the whole stack slammed his body.

“You didn’t answer when I called you,” I said, wincing. I straightened the bottom chair. Pulled the next one on top of it.

“That’s okay. Let’s leave those alone for now.” He stood on the opposite side of the fallen stack. “Come into my office, Cealie.”

I squeezed alongside the downed chairs, reached him, and puckered. He gave me a quick kiss on the lips.

Gil took baby steps, groaned, and bent like an old man needing a cane.

“I’m sorry. Did I do that to you?” I put my hands out to hold him in case he fell.

He limped to the chair near his desk. Dropped to it. Moaned. “I’m good.”

“I didn’t mean to do that. I thought you were a bad guy.”

“I can be—whenever you let me.” He smiled his wicked, sexy smile and reached for my butt. That movement made him yelp.

I gripped his hand and placed it on his desk. “Did I just do all of that to you?”

He grinned wryly. “I was trying to shuffle out to the hall to complain that you’d really injured me the other day. But that injury is doing much better.” He rubbed his hip.

“But not the new one,” I said.

He shook his head. “Not that one.” He massaged his opposite thigh. “You could do this for me and make it all better.”

“Right, and then if you tried sexy moves, you’d yell for sure.”

“I’d yell with pleasure.” He smiled. Pain crept into his face. “Next time you feel threatened, maybe go a little easier on body parts.”

“What would you have me do to protect myself?”

“Throw yourself at me. You might knock me down, but then you’d already be on top. Good position.” He gave me his wicked smile, and I was tempted to do what he suggested.

No! Stop that, Cealie
.

The man was hurt. And I did not want to have relations with Gil again. Ever. I needed to live my own life, gaining my own certainty like he had his.

“You’re tempted, aren’t you?” he said with his grin.

“No.” I rounded the desk to get opposite him before my resolve broke down. “Tell me what you learned about Fawn McKenzie.”

His demeanor turned solemn. “A shrimp killed her.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know how severely allergic I am to shrimp. So was she. Fawn was sitting at my table. The deadly seafood was surely meant for me.”

Chapter 27

I dropped onto a chair to decipher what Gil told me.

“Gil, I was eating with you in Vicksburg the day your face swelled like a puffer fish,” I said. “I held your hand in the ambulance and prayed like I’d never prayed before.”

He sat at his desk and nodded. “That’s probably what saved me.”

“But that was at another restaurant. It’s when you learned you were so allergic.” I couldn’t get a handle on what he said happened. The doctor had told him if he ever ate shrimp again, reactions could occur much more quickly. Gil could be dead before an ambulance arrived. “How could the shrimp be meant for you? It could have killed you.”

His gaze scanned his clean desktop as though searching for answers. He looked at me. “Fawn was highly allergic to most seafood. She ordered chicken gumbo. A few chopped shrimp were in it.”

My jaw dropped open. I forced it shut. “How did that happen? Aren’t the portions frozen? When was that gumbo cooked? Who had access to it? Why would it be aimed at you?” Too many questions came to mind for me to express. Too many fearful thoughts. “She was really murdered?”

“I’m afraid so, Cealie. And I feel responsible.” He looked miserable.

I jumped up from my chair and gripped his hands. “You had nothing to do with what happened.”

The skin between his eyes creased deeply. Sure, he believed he was responsible. “The police are questioning everyone who might have gone into the kitchen.”

“That’s a lot of waiters and waitresses, besides all of the cooks.”

“And others who could have gone in. Nobody else is supposed to enter the kitchen, but sometimes customers slip in for a couple of minutes to check out the equipment and see how things work.”