Killer Cousins (22 page)

Uncharacteristically, Gil seemed to brush the employee off. He still eyed me, his expression no longer happy. His gaze shifted to the man seated near me—the good-looking man who now leaned his head close to mine.

“These fried yams are delicious,” Dr. Wallo said. “Cealie, how about a few more?”

“Uh-uh.” I raised my hand at him, kind of a signal that he should back off. I didn’t believe Gil liked this scenario.

“Hello, Cealie.” Gil bent and kissed me full on the lips.

Umm. I might be persuaded to forget my food. I was sure he had a nice big office out back, a lock on its door.

No, Cealie. You’re woman. You want to do your own thing—no strings attached. He could easily become a permanent attachment.

I withdrew my lips. “It’s nice to see you.” I worked to still my torso from shaking. This man always shook me up. “And here’s my cousin, Stevie.”

He clasped her hand. “So nice to see you again.”

She wiped her mouth with her napkin, a happy smile brightening her face. “It’s wonderful seeing you. I love your restaurant.”

“Thank you. It’s especially nice to see repeat customers.”

“I’ll be back a lot. I’m telling other teachers how good your food is, and the joke contests are a wonderful treat.”

Okay, what was the deal with Stevie? She was gushing. It seemed she had a crush on Gil. Well that would never work. And here she had this fine-looking, unmarried specimen of a man for a doctor seated at her side.

Gil turned to the doctor, all happiness gone from his face. “I haven’t met your friend here.”

Ah, Gil was jealous.

Sweet.

“Gil Thurman, Dan Wallo.
Doctor
Dan Wallo,” I emphasized.

They shook hands. The doctor smiled. Malice darkened Gil’s face.

How neat was that? It had been
so
many years since a guy had fought for me.
Go, Gil, go!
I mentally cheered. Of course I didn’t tell the doctor Gil owned this place and others like it.

Gil straightened, his stern gaze swinging toward me. So what should I do—tell him to go away so we could finish eating without any tension between him and the other great-looking guy?

Was I stupid?

“Sit down, Gil. Join us,” I said.

Yes! He drew back the empty chair and sat.

Dr. Wallo’s plate had remained toward me. I pulled it closer to my plate, ate two of his cold yam fries, and smiled. I looked at Gil.

His lips pressed together, their corners jammed back. His steel-gray eyes stared at me and the doctor.

I needed to eat, and my crab dishes wouldn’t stay warm forever. I took a spoonful of the seafood gumbo. Mmm. I nibbled a fried crab claw. Yummy. I ate a crab ball—sinfully delicious. I was going for the stuffed crab when I noted the uncomfortable feel of quiet at our table. I didn’t want to talk to either man. But maybe Stevie, chewing her last bites of food, would give me her attention now without being annoyed.

“Guess who I saw at a drugstore,” I said to her.

“Santa Claus.”

I grinned, pretending she’d said that to me with good intent. “Close. It was Father Paul Edward. He was with some of those sexy women.”

She spooned the final shrimp from her bowl into her mouth.

To make sure I got her notice, I spoke louder, “And they were laughing near the rack of condoms and picking up packs of them.”
Let’s see you ignore that.

She aimed her empty spoon at me. “He wasn’t buying cigarettes, was he?”

“Not that I saw.”

“Hmgr.” The cigarettes seemed her only interest.

But not Gil. Grinning, he leaned close to me. “Did those condoms make you think of something?” he said near my ear while Stevie listened to something Dr. Wallo told her.

I punched Gil’s arm.

“Cealie!” Stevie said, staring at me wide eyed.

“A flake of dandruff on his shirt. I was getting it off.” I didn’t even have to pinch my palm for that one. Gil did have a flaky head if he thought the mention of condoms would turn me on.

His gaze shifted toward the doctor. Oh, of course. He’d spoken to me like that because he wanted this other hunky guy to know we had something going on between us. Well we did—but not anymore. I’d never again give in to my urges concerning this man.

With him close, parts of my torso screamed,
Liar.

“I’ll let all of you finish your dinner. I have business to tend to,” Gil said. “Nice meeting you, Dr. Wallo.” He and the doc shook hands, their gazes sizing up each other. Gil nodded to me. He exchanged a smile with Stevie and sauntered off.

“Well,” I said, and speared a popcorn shrimp with my fork.

“Dr. Wallo!” Gil called.

“Oh, my God!” a woman yelled. People around wore shocked expressions.

The doctor shoved back his chair and dashed to Gil’s table.

Fawn was slumped over, facedown in her gumbo.

Chapter
20

Stevie and I rushed from our chairs toward Fawn. So did others in the restaurant.

“Stay back! Give them room! She needs air,” manager Jake Bryant shouted.

People stopped and stared. We left space between us and Fawn. Dr. Wallo and Gil were gently laying her on the floor. I stood on tiptoe to see between people’s shoulders. The doctor felt the side of Fawn’s neck. He listened near her nostrils. He looked at Gil, his look void of hope, and started mouth-to-mouth on Fawn.

The part of her face that I could see appeared swollen.

Jake stretched his arms toward our group. “We need this room for medics to come through. Move—please.”

We pressed to the side of the pathway from the door. People began slipping outside. The kind thing to do was leave.

Stevie and I went outside. We stood in front of Gil’s restaurant like most other people. I glanced into the dark at the street, where sirens screamed their approach. Everyone jammed together on and near the restaurant’s wooden bridge. Most patrons and workers stayed quiet. Some complained.

“I just got my food,” a man said.

“Me, too. I hope they’ll give us a rain check.”

“What if their food killed her?” a woman said.

“Yeah,” some others agreed.

My fighting instinct struck. I yelled, “Their food didn’t hurt her! If you think the restaurant owes you something, I’m sure they’ll give you a rain check for another meal.”

People glanced at each other. “That’s not a bad idea,” someone said.

“I’ll check with them tomorrow,” another agreed.

Groups started toward the parking lot. Sirens wailed closer.

“I’m not eating here anymore,” a departing man said.

“Neither me,” agreed a tall one.

“Their food didn’t kill anyone!” I hollered.

The tall guy faced me. “Then what did?”

Scores of people waited for my answer. “We’ll find out soon enough,” I said, my voice not as loud or as certain. “But you can be sure it wasn’t the gumbo.”

I had no idea what was wrong with Fawn, except she didn’t appear to be breathing. Trembles made my gait unsteady.

No one looked satisfied with my answer. Some shook their heads.

“Let’s go,” I said, and touched Stevie’s arm. We watched an ambulance and police cars approach, then walked to our cars.

Vehicles drove away from Cajun Delights. I imagined most people inside them did like me. Prayed.

Stevie and I got into our cars without speaking and drove away. Would this horrible incident affect Gil’s restaurant? I hated to think so but had heard those customers griping.

And what if Fawn died? My gosh, she seemed a sweet person. She had a family. She couldn’t be dead.

But if she was, she would be the second person in that small stop-smoking group to die. Would whatever happened to her be connected to the man I’d tripped on—whose leg imprints on mine now throbbed?

I’d need to get Dr. Wallo to x-ray my shins.

I followed Stevie toward her house. We were a few blocks from it when another problem sprang to mind.

I tooted my horn, put on my flashers, and nosed to the road’s shoulder.

She pulled over and walked back to my PT Cruiser. “You have car problems?”

“No, but your house might. I was going in it this evening, and the door was unlocked.”

She leaned close, her stare intense. “Didn’t you ever forget to lock the door?”

“And there was noise inside.”

“What kind of noise?”

“Maybe a person moving around. Or your house settling. Or ice dropping from the ice maker.”

“It’s been a really trying, long day. I’m going home.” She jammed herself back into her car and sped off.

I followed, hesitantly now that I recalled the noises. Big chicken that I was, I really slowed down to let her get there a bit ahead of me. Stevie wasn’t scared.

Soon she was reaching her house. I was almost three blocks behind. She shouldn’t go inside alone.

Bad girl, Cealie.
Go help her.

I shoved the pedal to the floor.

Flashing blue lights came to life. A police car roared after me.

Curses sprang from my lips. Then an idea came. I tapped my brakes and slowed. Putting on my flashing lights, I continued down the street to Stevie’s house.

The police car followed, lights swirling, siren wailing.

Front doors flew open. People popped out of houses to see what was going on.

Exactly what I wanted was happening, except the policeman might give me a speeding ticket. Not a big problem. I would have wanted police to come to Stevie’s house, just in case a bad person was inside. Now I was getting a policeman there.

Porch lights came on at her neighbors’ houses. Doors opened. Adults stepped out to their porches and stared at me.

The cop’s car closed in.

I replaced my flashers with my right blinker and pulled in front of Stevie’s house.

Her garage door was shut. If someone had gotten into her house, that person would have heard the siren coming and rushed away. At least that’s what I hoped.

The cop car stopped behind me. It shut off its siren. Swirling lights atop it cast an odd blueness.

I shut off my motor and got out. I knew the police would want a driver’s hands up where they could be seen, so I raised mine. I glanced at Stevie’s house—still no sign of life. No visible lights.

“You again,” the deputy said.

“Oh, hi.” I recognized him as the first one who’d come here when Pierce died.

“You didn’t know we had speed limits?”

“I screwed up,” I said with a weak smile. I heard people excitedly speaking and glanced around.

Most of my cousin’s neighbors were in their yards, watching us. I looked at April’s house. She wasn’t outside. Still no light inside Stevie’s. I might have to get this deputy to come in.

“Where were you coming from in such a hurry?” he asked, writing on a pad.

“Cajun Delights restaurant.”

His face snapped up toward me. “You were there, too?”

I nodded, hands high. “Why?”

He shook his head. “Somebody dies, and you’re there. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

I lowered my arms. “Fawn died?”

“And you know her.” He shook his head harder.

My eyes stung as I thought of that young woman. Fawn seemed so full of life. But not anymore.

Stevie’s porch lights sprang on. She walked out the door.

“You’re all right!” I said.

“You thought something happened to her, too?” The deputy scratched his head.

“I could have guessed this,” Stevie told me in disgust. “My neighbors call to say the cops grabbed someone in front of my house.”

She returned inside, slamming her door.

The deputy lowered his pad. “I won’t ticket you since you just experienced a tragic incident in that restaurant. But you might be called in for questioning regarding that woman who died tonight.”

“Why? Do you suspect she was murdered?”

“We’ll need to investigate. But stay close. You may be called.”

He went to his car, and I walked up to the porch. People still watched from their yards. I waved to them all to let them know I was friendly.

Some of the women waved back. Since the cop car was leaving, I imagine they decided I wasn’t going to pull out a gun and shoot them.

I clasped the doorknob.

It wouldn’t turn. Stevie had locked me out!

I was going to ring the bell, but she’d purposefully done this. While everyone in the neighborhood stared, I made a big deal out of digging the key out of my purse. I held it up, unlocked her door, and went in.

“Do you know how embarrassed you made me?” Stevie screamed as I entered the den. “Everybody’s calling, telling me to be careful—there’s a cop following someone toward my house. And I peek out—and it’s
my cousin
with her hands in the air!”

“Sorry about that.” I glanced toward the rear of the house. “Have you checked everything? Did anyone break in the back door?”

“Grrr.” She threw her hands upward and stomped off.

Feeling safer since the deputy had made lots of noise, I clomped to the rear of the house to inspect. Imagining Fawn dead made me shiver. My heart went out to her and the people who loved her. Fear about who or what might be killing people around my cousin made me pretend to be brave.

I flicked on the kitchen lights and spoke with a loud, deep voice. “Good, this looks good. Nobody came in here, right?” I glanced at Minnie cactus. What appeared especially good was that no one had ransacked the room, although I couldn’t imagine what anyone might steal from a kitchen. What mainly satisfied me was that the door wasn’t busted or open.

What didn’t look good in here was the stove.

It looked like someone had used a sledgehammer on it. No wonder Stevie seemed ticked off at me. When she’d parked in the garage and entered this room, she’d seen this again. Tomorrow I’d need to replace it. Right now I needed to inspect the back door. Maybe it was unlocked, a bad person standing right outside.

I opened my cell phone in case I needed it. “Let’s see if this door is still locked,” I said in my deepest tone. “Nobody better be here because the police are still near.”

I reached out and tried the knob. Still locked.

Braver, I checked the ice maker and found the metal arm up. I pushed on it, trying to make ice drop so I could tell what that sounded like. The arm didn’t lower. I didn’t want to force it and break another of Stevie’s appliances. I could easily replace them but didn’t believe she’d be happy if I broke all her things.