“Yes. But you know what’s super scary? I’m getting used to the smell.”
The women pushed the cart into the room and powered through the cleaning process. “Hey, this is interesting,” Gaynell said, holding up a bright blue T-shirt emblazoned with Greek letters that she’d found under a pile of candy bar wrappers. “Your Georgia boys are Pi Pis.”
“Say what now?”
“Pi Pi Iota. It’s a Southern fraternity. So Southern that it was supposedly founded by some KKK members. There are only a few chapters left. A lot were kicked off college campuses because of some hardcore hazing practices. I know about them because they rushed my brother and he said, ‘No thank you.’”
“Really? There has to be a tie-in to what I found.” She told Gaynell about the brochure for Confederate uniforms and the “slave” scribbles.
“I’ll check with my brother and see what he knows about the Pi Pis,” Gaynell said. “He’s a Navy lieutenant and his ship is deployed to the Black Sea, so it may take a few days to hear back.”
“Thanks. Not to lay on any pressure, but the sooner, the better. I hate to think of poor Kyle stuck in some awful jail cell.”
“Do you know if he was able to post bail?”
Maggie shook her head somberly. “Lia hasn’t called me, which isn’t good. The lawyer didn’t sound too optimistic.”
The women finished their tasks and moved on to the Butlers’ room. Emily and Shane were among the neater of the Crozat guests, so cleaning the place was comparatively easy.
“Anything?” Maggie asked as Gaynell gathered some loose scraps of papers off the floor.
“Just doodles. Take a look and see if they mean something.”
Gaynell handed the papers to Maggie, who examined them carefully. “Lots of square boxes—that is such a guy thing—a cartoony-looking face on a knight with a shield,” she said. “You’re right, just doodles. Not bad, though. I like the detail on the shield. Whoever drew this isn’t much of a visual artist, but they have a talent for animation.” Maggie thought for a moment. “I wonder if the knight is from a statue or suit of armor from Emily’s home? I did a little research on the Butlers and she comes from one of those WASPy New England families that goes back to the Magna Carta or something. They’re ‘Brahmins’—you know, Boston high society.”
“You mean, like the Crozats are Pelican high society?” Gaynell teased.
Maggie gestured to her sweaty tank top and stained jeans. “Hello, have you smelled me lately?”
Gaynell laughed. “You, lady, are Louisiana royalty on both sides of the family and even a little BO won’t let you escape that.”
Maggie rolled her eyes and tossed the paper scraps into the bathroom trash bin that Gaynell had carried into the bedroom. As Gaynell emptied the trash, something wrapped in tissue fell out of the bottom of the bin and rattled onto the floor. Maggie bent down to pick it up.
“This is interesting,” she said as she unwrapped the tissue. She held up a pregnancy stick.
“Wow. Is it positive?”
Maggie checked. “No.”
“Too bad, they’re obviously trying.” Gaynell made a face. “I feel skeevy now. Like we’re getting in people’s personal business.”
“I know.” Maggie carefully rewrapped the stick with the piece of tissue and placed it in the large garbage bag. “It’s a little weird, though. This was hidden on the bottom of the bin, all covered up. It’s like Emily didn’t want Shane to know about it.”
“Huh.” Gaynell considered this. “Maybe she didn’t want to disappoint him. She could be waiting until she has good news to share.”
“That’s true. Or . . .”
“Or?”
“Maybe she had an affair and is terrified she’s pregnant by another man, and Mrs. Clabber found out and was going to tell Shane, so Emily killed her.”
Gaynell burst out laughing. “Okay, now we’ve gone from snooping to telenovelas.”
“I know. I clearly need a break. Let’s roll this baby out of here. This was the last room, so we’re done.”
“Except for the inside car cleaning,” Gaynell reminded her.
Maggie groaned. “Oh, I really, really hope no one takes us up on that today.”
The women put away the cart, and Maggie insisted on fixing Gaynell a bite. It was early afternoon and guests were already trickling back. They passed the Georgia boys, and by their loud voices and slight staggers, Maggie assumed they’d enjoyed a liquid lunch. Jan pulled the Cutie van into the parking lot and called to them. “Have you seen Debbie? We bought her some hot sauce.”
Maggie and Gaynell shook their heads no and continued into Crozat’s kitchen, where Gran’ was enjoying a turkey sandwich and a Brandy Milk Punch. Maggie introduced the two women.
“You’re Undine Bourgeois’s granddaughter, aren’t you?” Gran’ said as she scrutinized Gaynell. “You’re even prettier than your grandmama. I want you to know that she and her mama always carried themselves with an innate grace. You can be proud of your ancestors.” Since Gaynell’s ancestors were fisherman and farmers, not plantation owners, this put them on a low rung of Pelican’s dated but still very much alive social ladder.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Gaynell said, more politely than she needed to, thought Maggie, who, much as she loved Gran’, found the compliment condescending. She hated to admit it, but Gaynell was right. Even in the twenty-first century, it was hard to escape from the class system that had ruled Louisiana for so long.
“Look who’s home.”
Tug walked into the kitchen, followed by Ninette, who was instantly enveloped in a hug by her daughter. “Mom, we were so worried about you.”
“I’m fine.” Ninette kissed Maggie on her cheek. “I have to say, though, being in the hospital was a bit of a vacation. Lots of sleep, meals delivered, press a button and someone’s there to look after you. It’s like a resort.”
“Mama, if being in a hospital felt like a resort, we need to get you on a real vacation.”
“Someday, honey. For now, I’m gonna wash up and make lunch.”
Maggie and Tug protested, but Ninette waved her hand in the air to dismiss them. “None of this treating me like an invalid. Putting together a meal is all the medicine I need.”
Ninette went off to the restroom and Maggie addressed her father. “Did the doctors run the tests?”
Tug nodded. “Yes, but we won’t have the results for a couple of days.” He sat down and Maggie registered how drawn he looked. “One thing that did concern them . . . her white cell count is up.”
Maggie laid a hand on her dad’s shoulder. She couldn’t find the words to respond.
Ninette returned, and everyone put on a good face. Maggie introduced her parents to Gaynell, and Gran’ talked Tug into fixing a pitcher of Milk Punch. “It’s got dairy, and the brandy kills germs,” she said. “So it’s really a health drink.”
“Sold,” Maggie joked. “Dad, pour me a tall one.”
“Lunch is ready,” Ninette announced. Before they could sit down to eat, Carrie Ryker appeared.
“Sorry to bother you, but might we get a bag of ice? Lachlan turned his ankle at the preserve and I’d like to treat it.”
“I’m on it.” Tug filled a bag with ice and handed it to her.
“Perils of treasure hunting, huh?” It came out before Maggie could stop herself.
Carrie gave her a funny look. “We weren’t treasure hunting. Lachlan fell getting out of the swamp tour boat.”
“Of course,” Maggie said quickly, silently cursing her big mouth. “I don’t know where that came from.”
As soon as Carrie left, the others began eating. They all enjoyed the quiche that Ninette whipped up and served with a side salad of pears, pecans, homegrown lettuce, and a tangy balsamic dressing. The group finished their meal, and Gaynell left with a small bag of Chulanes pressed upon her by Tug. “Those are rum and pecan,” he said. “Watch out, they got a bit of a kick.”