Cajun Fried Felony by Jana DeLeon

Author:Jana DeLeon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J&R Publishing

Despite being exhausted and the enormous amount of carbs I’d consumed, it took me forever to fall asleep. And then when I did, it wasn’t restful at all. I dreamed all night of submerged cars and suitcases packed with pocketknives. Once I even dreamed of a suitcase with Francis in it. He was praying the entire time, then burst into a rendition of “I Saw the Light” when I opened it.

I finally gave up around 6:00 a.m. and shuffled into the kitchen for coffee, briefly considering snorting some of the grounds right out of the can. Merlin was awake and demanding breakfast, so I got him fixed up while I waited for the coffee to brew. Then I poured a thermos full and headed outside to my lawn chair.

As I sipped and watched the water roll by, I worked through everything we knew about the case. I’d been riding on a bit of a high yesterday when I found the car, thinking I was getting good at this detective stuff. Then Carter had blown a hole in my well-constructed theory and I was faced with revisiting everything all over again.

Ida Belle, Gertie, and I had discussed things briefly after Carter left Gertie’s house the night before, but none of us were firing on all cylinders given the hour and the fact that we all needed to sleep. I’d been restless ever since Gertie had unearthed the body and I imagined Ida Belle had been as well, even though she didn’t let much get through her calm demeanor. Gertie had lost at least one night to the noisy bird, and I wondered if putting a blanket over his cage last night had helped any. If it hadn’t, Lord only knew what Gertie had cooked up. We might have enough food to feed all of Sinful before she got that bird sleeping right.

Then there was the whole other issue—the one that had nothing to do with murder. I could tell Ida Belle’s energy level was down some and I figured that a lot of her thoughts were on Walter’s proposal. Neither Gertie nor I had broached the subject again, figuring all we’d get was a butt-chewing for our effort, at best. At worst, she was armed. But I couldn’t stop wondering why she was thinking about it now. Why, after all these years, did she not hand out the automatic “no” that she always had on tap? Whatever she was wrestling with had to be big because Ida Belle didn’t do drama. And she didn’t usually take much time to make up her mind about things. She was a woman who knew what she wanted, did it, and gave no excuses or explanations for her decisions.

I took another sip of coffee and blew out a breath. While the inner workings of Ida Belle’s heart and mind were an interesting puzzle to tackle, I had a more pressing issue on my plate. If we didn’t find a better alternative than Whiskey, I had no doubt Carter was going to have to arrest him.

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