Maggie lay back on the couch and closed her eyes, trying to think how she could change the current salacious conversation about Crozat into one that would staunch its financial bleeding. She was jolted out of her thoughts by her cell phone’s ring. Maggie checked and saw Gaynell was the caller.
“How fast can you get here?” Gaynell asked.
“Huh?”
“You’re on for the night tour, remember? The group off the riverboat cruise? They’re docking in fifteen minutes. I tried to find a sub for you, but no one else was free.”
Maggie jumped up. “Gay, I am so sorry. I totally forgot.”
“I know you had a day that was a gift from the devil, but if I have to spend two hours working this group with only Vanessa, I will volunteer to be Crozat’s next victim.”
“I’m on my way.” Maggie texted her parents to let them know that she was due at Doucet and then grabbed her purse and car keys. She ran to the Falcon, jumped in, and headed for Doucet.
*
As she drove, she found herself replaying her conversation with Tug. Something about it sparked memories of the Clabbers’ funeral. She had a sudden flash that there was a clue to the murders in an interaction she had that day, but hard as she tried, she couldn’t pinpoint the moment. It remained elusive.
Maggie slowed down as she drove through the town speed trap. She saw that Pelican PD had pulled a van over—a news van from the Baton Rouge television station. Cal Vichet was castigating the unhappy driver while handing him ticket. As she drove by, Cal caught her eye and winked at her. She smiled back. Pelicaners had a history of protecting their own, and no news crew or reporter would find themselves welcome in town. Maggie just hoped that Cal’s boss Rufus Durand didn’t find out about the solid that the officer had done the Crozats.
Five minutes after she pulled into Doucet’s pebbled parking lot, Maggie was at the front door of the mansion in full dress, wig, and makeup, calling up her best Louisiana accent to welcome a group of thirty retired teachers from Ohio. She, Gaynell, and Vanessa each toured ten of them through the plantation, and since these visitors were educated and engaged, the evening wound up being a bit of a murder palate cleanser.
The evening tours for riverboat groups always ended with a champagne toast, and Maggie volunteered to lead it. “A toast to Doucet. May we appreciate its beauty while we learn from its history.”
There were a few hear, hears, they all toasted, and then she, Gaynell, and Vanessa escorted the group back to the riverboat landing. The evening shadows transformed the women’s polyester gowns into the illusion of silk taffeta. They waved parade queen waves to the boat as it paddled off down the river and froze like statues so the tourists could snap a few last-minute shots. For a moment, the Ohio retirees could pretend that they were in another century, one where women’s gracious manners made them beautiful, horrible injustices were ignored, and murders were the by-product of duels fought in the name of honor.
“I gotta pee like a racehorse,” Vanessa announced, breaking the mood. She hiked up her hoop skirt so she could race back to the staff lounge while Maggie and Gaynell strolled behind her.
Maggie filled Gaynell in on the latest developments regarding Debbie’s death as they walked into the lounge to change. Vanessa had a head start on them but was slowed down by the difficulty of trying to zip up jeans that were at least a size too small. “Ru called and told me about the latest murder,” Vanessa said. She sucked in her gut and gave the zipper one last yank. “Y’all keep going like this and the only way you’ll have visitors is if you try to sell Crozat as some kinda creepy haunted house.”
“You know, Van,” Maggie said, making sure to use a hated nickname, “unnaturally tight pants can create infertility in women as well as men.”
“You’re just mad ’cuz you know I’m right.” Vanessa touched up her face with so much makeup that Maggie wondered if she was heading over to Nudie’s Princess Palace to pole dance. “And ’cuz you don’t have a boyfriend.”
Maggie didn’t deign to respond. Unfortunately, it was because she knew Vanessa was right on at least one count. Crozat B and B was in big trouble. It was time for her to change the conversation. “Gay, any chance you could cover my shifts for the next couple of days?”
“Sure. I could use the money.”
“Thanks.”
“Wish I could help you,” Vanessa chimed in, “but it’s Ru and me’s two-month-aversary and I got to plan something special.”
“I appreciate the thought, Vanessa,” Maggie said, choosing the high road.
She finished changing and said good-night to her coworkers. As she walked to her car, she pulled out her cell and called Tug.
“Hey, honey,” he said. “What’s up?”
She lowered her voice. “If any of our guests take you up on the offer to find other accommodations, tell them you checked and nothing in the area is available. I need to buy some time.”
“To do what?” Tug asked, worried.
“As soon as our guests leave, it’ll be that much harder—maybe impossible—to find suspects besides Jan and Kyle. Don’t worry; I’m not going to do anything stupid or unsafe. I won’t be like one of those dumb cheerleaders in a horror movie who goes roaming around a house where there’s a killer on the loose. I’m just going to research some stuff.”
“Well, that couldn’t be vaguer,” Tug responded, his concerns not allayed. She didn’t respond. “All right, but be careful. And let me know if you need anything. Just me. We’re gonna keep your mom out of this.”
“Definitely.”
“More secrets, I’m afraid,” Tug sighed.
Maggie ended the call and got into her car. As she drove home, she concentrated on clues that would lead in the opposite direction of Kyle and Jan. Gaynell was still waiting to hear from her brother about his negative experiences with the Pi Pis, but an Internet search might also yield some dirt. The Rykers clearly had something to hide. For the sake of their kids, Maggie hoped it wasn’t murder. And she couldn’t forget the ring and brochures she’d discovered under Beverly’s bed. It was time to give those another look and see if they sparked anything useful. She also realized that she’d never put the original brochures and the ring back in the Clabbers’ bedroom as she had planned. There was no time for that now; she’d give everything to Bo and just tell him that she’d found it all while cleaning the Clabbers’ room.
*
By the time she got home, Crozat was quiet and few lights were on. Guests and staff had retreated for the night, probably worn out by the day’s events. Maggie noted that Gran’s light was out too, so she tiptoed across the shotgun’s floor, eliciting only small squeaks from the centuries-old cypress boards. She retrieved the desk key from its hiding place in her bureau and went to her desk in the living room. She was about to unlock the desk drawer, but as she inserted the key, the drawer slid open. It was already unlocked.