What the Hatmaker Heard. Sandra Bretting

What the Hatmaker Heard - Sandra Bretting


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his life.

      Chapter 3

      Contrary to my opinion, Lance answered my phone call right away, and he sounded pleased as punch to hear from me. “Hey, there. How’re you doing?”

      “I’ve been better, to be honest. Lots better.”

      “Uh-oh. I don’t like that tone. What’s up?”

      “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise a few things.” I quickly composed a mental list of all the worst-case scenarios. “Number one: you can’t hang up. I don’t think I could take that this morning. Number two: you can’t think I’m cursed or anything.”

      “I really don’t like where this is heading.” His voice sounded wary, although I couldn’t blame him.

      “Okay, here goes.” I took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I may have found another dead body.”

      “What do you mean…may? Either you did, or you didn’t. Which is it?”

      “The first. I’m here at Honeycutt Hall. Hey…you’ll never guess who works here now. It’s—”

      “Uh, Missy? First things first. Tell me about your discovery.” Like always, Lance switched into cop mode the instant I mentioned a dead body.

      “It’s the groom for a wedding here today. His name is Wesley Carmichael.”

      “Any trauma you can see?”

      “I didn’t really look.” While I didn’t want to sound abrupt, my tone was totally understandable. I had no intention of getting any closer to a corpse than absolutely necessary.

      “Is anyone else with you?” Lance had obviously switched tacks.

      “As a matter of fact, there is. It’s that employee I started to tell you about. Only you wouldn’t let me finish. Now would you?”

      Luckily, Lance and I treated each other like family, and neither of us took offense when the other one became snippy. Although now wasn’t the time, nor the place, for family bickering.

      “So, who’s there with you?” he repeated.

      “It’s Darryl. Darryl Tibodeaux. Remember him? He was the groundskeeper at Morningside Plantation.” I glanced at Darryl, who stood stock still next to me.

      Apparently, Darryl had no intention of moving closer to the corpse, either.

      “Of course I remember him,” Lance said. “Could you please put him on the phone?”

      I silently handed Darryl the cell. “It’s Lance LaPorte on the phone,” I whispered. “He’s that detective with the Louisiana State Police Department.”

      Darryl nodded and took the cell in his left hand. He seemed resigned to answering the questions I couldn’t field.

      “Hello?” Darryl waited a moment, and then he glanced over his shoulder at the body. “No signs a’ trauma. Looks like he’s been sleepin.’ Like he come in here ta take da nap.”

      Another moment passed as Lance asked him more questions.

      “Yes, sir,” Darryl answered. “I felt his neck. Da skin is cold and stiff. Like it’s frozen or sumptin’.”

      Apparently, that description told Lance everything he needed to know, because Darryl silently passed the phone back to me.

      “Well?” I asked Lance. “Are you coming out here or not? By the way, we’re in one of the water towers by the main house. The one on the right if you’re facing the front door.”

      “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes,” Lance said. “Stay put, okay?”

      Although the idea didn’t thrill me, I knew it was for the best. Better to stay near a body than tramp around the scene and mess up the evidence. There’d be time enough to tell Lorelei and her mother about our discovery once Lance arrived at the house.

      “Please hurry up. There’s supposed to be this big wedding here today and everyone’s already worried because they can’t find the groom.”

      “I’m on my way.” With that, Lance clicked off the line, leaving me to answer Darryl’s questioning looks as best I could.

      “Looks like we need to stay here until Lance arrives. But, for goodness’ sake, at least let’s move outside the tower. This place is giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

      With that, Darryl and I carefully picked our way back through the doorway and stepped into daylight. It looked like it was going to be a very long day, and neither of us looked forward to it.

      * * * *

      Twenty minutes later, Lance’s Buick Oldsmobile pulled up to the mansion, the removable lightbar on its roof twirling silently in the morning light. As always, the car wore a coat of red mud on the undercarriage that extended from one wheel well to the other. One of these days I’d convince Lance to visit the Sparkle N’ Shine car wash in town, but not today.

      By the time he arrived, I’d already called Ambrose at his design studio and filled him in on the morning’s events. My fiancé offered to drop everything and race out to Honeycutt Hall to be with me, but I talked him out of it. There was nothing he could do. Plus, he needed time at his studio to catch up on all his wedding orders, since we were smack-dab in the middle of the wedding season and Saturday was the busiest day of the week.

      Once I calmed Ambrose, I hung up the phone and rehearsed what I could possibly say to Lance. By now, the detective knew me as the girl with the uncanny ability to find dead bodies. It was a reputation I didn’t ask for, and I surely didn’t want.

      He appeared on the scene in his casual clothes, which included a pair of khakis and a navy polo. He strode across the browned grass, to where Darryl and I stood.

      “Lance.” I nodded stiffly, since I knew my role by now.

      While Lance and I normally joked about everything and anything, that changed the minute a police investigation commenced. Now, I was a witness and he was my interrogator, and I learned a long time ago not to take his strict tone personally.

      “Missy.” He returned the nod. “And Darryl. I haven’t seen you in a long time. How’ve you been?”

      “Good,” Darryl said. “Until today, dat is.”

      “I understand. Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll ask you a few questions.”

      Lance led Darryl over to a patch of grass just out of earshot. I knew he’d separate us when he arrived, since that was the first thing a detective did when he or she came across multiple witnesses. That way, my recollection wouldn’t interfere with Darryl’s memories, and his memories wouldn’t color my statement.

      The two men returned a few minutes later.

      “Your turn.” Lance led me to the same spot where he had questioned Darryl.

      “This is something, isn’t it?” I said. “I never dreamed I’d find another dead body when I came out here today.”

      He nodded. “You have quite the talent for it. Why did you come out here today?”

      “Lorelei Honeycutt is one of my clients. I made her veil for the ceremony today. She invited me to come out early, and I took her up on it. I wanted to tweak the bridesmaids’ hats and steam Lorelei’s veil before the ceremony. Guess that’s not going to happen now.”

      Lance watched my face as he scribbled something onto a small notepad. He told me something a long time ago I’d never forgotten: a detective will study the face of a witness to determine whether she’s lying or not. If the person glances right, it means she’s pulling something from her memory. But if she glances left, it means she’s lying. Although I didn’t think Lance would question my truthfulness, he must’ve gotten so used to watching a witness that he did it as a matter of course


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