Chapter 5
Chapter Five
We headed out first thing the next morning, figuring we’d have breakfast in NOLA while waiting for the costume shop to open.
The drive to the retreat would only take an hour from the city, so we had some wiggle room.
Not that I wanted to wiggle around NOLA for too long.
There were far too many things Gertie could get into there.
It was like taking a toddler into a glass shop.
“I wonder if Carter will issue a statement today,” Gertie said as she took a bite of a beignet, sending powdered sugar all over the table and her shirt.
“I guess so,” I said. “I know he has to wait on the ME and forensics, but it seems like overkill. I’m pretty sure we know how she died.”
“They’ll do toxicology,” Ida Belle said. “Even suicides are investigated, which is good. We need to know why people do these things, both to give the family information and to hopefully prevent them in the future.”
I nodded. “I suppose you’re right. God knows, Carter was by-the-book anyway but with Calahan standing over him, he won’t even fart if it’s not a hundred percent within the guidelines.”
Ida Belle shook her head. “I hate that he’s dealing with this. That Calahan is clearly looking for a reason to wind both of you up.”
“Carter says he’s bucking for a promotion and getting something on him would be a feather in his cap, especially given Carter’s and my reputations.”
“This is all that cow Celia’s fault,” Gertie said. “She’ll never accept that Carter is doing a great job.”
I nodded. “Why can’t the woman get a hobby? Or I suppose a different hobby, would be more accurate.”
“It would have to be a hobby because it wouldn’t be a man,” Gertie said. “There isn’t a man alive foolish and brave enough to take that on.”
“Celia never struck me as the sort that was looking for a man,” Ida Belle said. “Not after her disaster of a marriage.”
“She never struck me as the sort to be a parent, either,” Gertie said, “but she went ahead anyway, and look how that turned out.”
“You know better than most how small-town mentality works,” Ida Belle said. “Women are supposed to get married, have kids, and bake casseroles, and women like Celia just went along with the status quo.”
“Well, you each ticked one off the list,” I said. “I’m batting zero.”
Gertie grinned. “You’ll be checking off marriage soon, unless you put Carter on hold until he’s drawing Social Security, like Ida Belle did Walter.”
“Things are shifting,” Ida Belle said. “Don’t get me wrong, people are still as judgmental as ever, but their narrow-minded beliefs don’t tend to have as much effect on women’s decisions as they used to.”
“I disagree,” I said. “Social media is full of toxicity and a ton of it is directed at women, mostly young women. What to wear, who to date, how much he needs to make, is he doing ‘the me work’—whatever the heck that’s supposed to mean.
They are pushing so many qualifiers on each other that it’s no wonder half of them remain single. ”
“Don’t forget the body count question,” Gertie said.
I stared. “Even I don’t tell my body count.”
Ida Belle grinned. “You don’t know your body count it’s so high, but that’s not the kind of body count they’re referring to.”
“Sexy-time body count,” Gertie explained.
I stared at her in dismay. “They’re keeping score?”
Gertie nodded. “And lying about it and deciding if they’re going to go out based on the lies. It’s like one big reality show—The Real Daters of Social Media. All performative, no substance.”
I shook my head. “Well, at least social media gives us some info on the people we’re investigating. Most people say too much and once it’s out there, it’s usually forever.”
“Did you work up the details on our cover story?” Ida Belle asked. “If Zion takes the bait, he’s going to want to know more about the property.”
I pulled my laptop out of my backpack and cued up some photos. “Not only do I have backstory, I have property.”
I turned the laptop around for them to see. “A lovely collection of cabins, right on a Florida island peninsula of white sand and turquoise waters. Deed registered to the Sandy Days Corporation, which is part of the Ford Family Estate.”
“Beautiful, but I don’t get it,” Gertie said.
I smiled. “The Sandy Days Corporation is one of Big and Little Hebert’s interests, but it’s so buried, no one would be able to suss it out. They had their attorney write up some fake estate documents and that corporation is one of the assets. I am the only heir.”
I pulled IDs out of my backpack and passed them over. “I figured I would go as close as I could manage to real so we hopefully don’t completely ignore people calling us by our fake names. So you’re Sister Eileen and Sister Gerianne. I’m Sister Britney. Britney Ford.”
“Britney doesn’t sound anything like Fortune,” Gertie said.
“It was one of my undercover aliases, so I’m used to responding to it.”
“I can’t believe you allowed the CIA to call you Britney,” Ida Belle said.
“It was a Harrison and a haircut thing…long story.”
“Given how your hair was cut when we met, I doubt it’s all that long,” Gertie said.
“Anyway, if Zion wants information about the property, all I have to do is contact the Heberts’ attorney and he’ll be happy to provide information as he’s in on our play.”
Gertie smiled as Ida Belle parked in front of the costume shop. “Then let’s go get us some nun suits and catch a scammer.”
I was paying for the outfits when I heard a voice behind me.
“I hope you’re not about to pull an art heist in the St. Louis Cathedral.”
I spun around and smiled. “Detective Casey! I thought you were still island-hopping.”
She shrugged. “All that relaxation was starting to make me antsy. And Audrey got a call for another interview. She flew to DC this morning.”
“You still can’t tell me who?”
She couldn’t control the grin. “CIA. But you can’t repeat it. I figure you of all people can manage that.”
She looked over at Ida Belle and Gertie. “That goes for you two as well, as you’re Fortune-adjacent.”
“That’s great,” I said as I grabbed the packages and we headed out of the store. “She’s sure she wants to go that direction?”
“She’s twenty-one. Does anyone know what they want at that age? I mean, you know what you want at that moment, but long term is never really clear.”
“Where were you when you were twenty-one?”
“Finishing police academy and juggling a baby.”
I nodded. “And I was already in the CIA. Ida Belle and Gertie were in Vietnam. And while there’s things I didn’t like about the agency, I honestly don’t think I’d change anything.”
“Me either,” Gertie said, and Ida Belle nodded.
Casey sighed. “Hell, neither would I. But I can’t help it if my mother gene takes over sometimes. Just don’t tell anyone. They’d razz me about it down at the precinct.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll keep it a secret that you love your daughter and want her to be safe. I’m sure they suspect nothing.”
“I missed sarcasm while I was on my extended vacation. Adult sarcasm, I mean. Audrey has her own brand. Half the time I’m not sure whether we’re having a conversation or she’s insulting me. So should I even ask about the nun thing?”
“Probably not. But you’ll be happy to know we won’t be donning these until we’re well out of your beat.”
“Might be less interesting, but probably not a bad thing overall. Give me a call next time you’re coming through. We’ll grab food or drinks or both.”
She gave us a wave and headed down the street.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” I said. “I found a motel about ten miles from our turnoff for the retreat. I booked us a room for two nights so we’ll have a place to change without being noticed. It’s the ‘pay cash when you get there’ kind of place.”
“Good call,” Ida Belle said. “No paper trail and having a place to change in private is even better. Three regular women walking into a bathroom and three nuns walking out sounds like the start of a great sitcom, but it would definitely get lips flapping, especially in these tiny bayou towns. And I have no interest in pulling on that gear until the very last minute.”
“What about NOLA?” Gertie asked. “Where are we staying here? I mean, for the story?”
“The casino,” I said. “Makes the most sense since we’re supposed to be gambling.”
Ida Belle laughed. “Who says we’re not?”
We made the drive to the motel in forty-five minutes.
I stuffed my hair up in a ball cap and donned a pair of huge sunglasses when I checked into the motel, and of course, I paid cash.
If for some odd reason Calahan decided to try to track us down, it wouldn’t be to here.
It wouldn’t be to the casino hotel either, but we could always claim we went on a bender and gambled all night.
Wouldn’t be the first time someone had done so and short of having a warrant for the casino security cameras—which he had zero probable cause for—he had no way of proving otherwise.
The motel room was dingy and dark and reminded me of the Bayou Inn before the Heberts had bought it and started renovating. I tossed my overnight bag on the bed and the springs squeaked. Gertie sat on the other bed and almost slid off onto the floor when the side collapsed.
“I’m glad we’re not really staying here,” she said. “This place is a pit.”
“Don’t sit on anything,” Ida Belle said. “We don’t have time for a hip replacement or a staph infection. Let’s just get changed and get out of here.”
“Are you in a hurry to wear a habit and pretend to Zen?” I asked.
“I’m in a hurry to get this over with and get home. Redfish are running and I’ve got empty space in my freezer.”
Ida Belle and I had opted to wear our usual casual wear and only had to pull the habits on over it.
The headdress took some work as we weren’t exactly pros, but we finally managed to get them on and our hair stuffed underneath.
Gertie had headed for the bathroom and came out wearing a pink glittery bodysuit.
“Seriously?” Ida Belle asked.
“No one will see it,” Gertie said.