“But aren’t they looking hard at Liam?” Gertie asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s Casey’s investigation now and she has to revisit some of the ground Carter already covered so she can get her own read on things, so maybe she hasn’t gotten to Liam yet, especially as she probably doesn’t know about the will change yet.”
“Okay, so if it’s not Liam, then we could have a mystery man on our hands,” Gertie said. “A new boyfriend is a good reason to get rid of an old husband.”
“And a really common one,” Ida Belle said. “All I can say on that is if it’s not Liam she was talking to then I think it’s someone from out of town. I don’t think she’d risk an affair in Sinful.”
“I don’t think she could get away with having an affair in Sinful,” I said.
“Things develop online all the time with young people,” Gertie said. “Especially on social media.”
I nodded. “So next topic—who is the woman Tiffany won’t talk to?”
“Given what we know, the only person I could think of is her mother,” Gertie said.
“Maybe so,” Ida Belle said. “I guess the cops didn’t search her house this morning or she would have said so, right?”
“Casey has to get a warrant first,” I said. “I’m guessing she’s collecting enough information to get one pushed through and will be back for that search when she does.”
“A questionable alibi isn’t enough,” Gertie said, “but the inheritance combined with Tiffany gearing up to leave might be.”
Ida Belle nodded. “That goes double if Fortune’s theory about Gil sniffing around another woman turns out to be true.”
“Well, Tiffany confirmed that she married Gil for the money,” Gertie said. “But it sounds like she regrets it. I can’t imagine being married to him was a picnic.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t,” I agreed. “But the question is how badly did she want a do-over? And does her do-over include Liam or someone else?”
Ida Belle and Gertie both shook their heads but none of us were happy. Things didn’t look good for Tiffany and unfortunately, that would end up implicating Liam as well, especially after the terms of Gil’s new will came to light. I had empathy for both but the biggest piece of that definitely went to Liam. I really didn’t want him to be involved but the more we learned, the harder it was to rule it out.
I was surprised that we made it out of Sinful and up the highway by a good twenty miles before Carter called. I motioned to Ida Belle to exit the highway and told her to pull into the gas station at the pumps. She flew off the highway and skidded to a stop in front of the pumps and I managed to grab the call on the last ring.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Toby’s on the highway.”
“The gas station?”
“That’s usually where you stop for gas.”
“Where are you going?”
“New Orleans.”
“How many pairs of underwear does Gertie need?”
“We’re not going for underwear today. I have appointments to see hot tubs. They were closed on Sunday.”
“Uh-huh. Then I don’t suppose you know anything about an explosion behind Tiffany Forrest’s house?”
“No! Is she all right?”
“She’s fine but scared. After the chicken thing, she believes someone is after her, but I have to tell you, I don’t think she’s right on this one.”
“No?”
“Unless she was under siege by a group of kindergartners during craft time, I can’t work it out. You see, there’s pink glitter all over the area where the explosion happened. There’s a skunk back here wearing pink glitter and Deputy Breaux had the misfortune to make his acquaintance.”
“Oh wow! That sucks. Sorry, but we can’t help you.”
I took a pic of the gas station sign and texted it to Carter.
“Just sent you a pic of the gas station sign. We’re nowhere near your kindergarten-glitter-skunk crime scene.”
“Of course not. So then you won’t mind FaceTiming me.”
“I only have one bar. It would never work. Anyway, sounds like you’ve got your hands full, so I’ll let you get back to it.”
I hung up the phone and stared at the display for a couple seconds, wondering if he was going to call back. Finally I shoved it in my pocket. Carter knew I’d never cave. He could walk up to me right now and I’d still deny I was in the woods, even though the evidence was all over me.
“Okay, let’s go grab some goodies from the dollar store and get a shower,” I said.
“Here’s the thing,” Ida Belle said as she drove. “We can either go to the sketchy motel to shower or pay twice as much at the better motel.”
I frowned. Decisions. Decisions.
I’d been in the sketchy motel bathroom more than once and wasn’t impressed. But then all we really needed was to shower and leave. It wasn’t like we were going to move in. Still, by the time we sprang for toiletries, lint rollers, hats, and potentially new clothes if the glitter refused to come off the old ones, then add the motel room, the expense was rising and we hadn’t even had any fun.
“Go to the cheap one,” I said. “At least it has the added advantage of no one admitting they’ve seen us.”
We made our run through the dollar store, then headed for the motel. I went inside to rent the room, hoping the new front desk clerk would follow the trend of not wanting to know anything about anything. But I drew up short when the same old clerk we’d tortured with our antics in the past stared up at me, clearly dismayed.
“I thought you were leaving for a job in New Orleans,” I said.
“I was,” he said. “I did. It didn’t work out.”
“I thought it was night shift and you would be all alone. How does that not work out?”
“One of the office tenants was an insomniac. He was there every night so that his boss would think he was working. Meanwhile, he spent the entire night talking to me. About the harmonica.”
I shook my head. “I don’t figure a conversation about harmonicas should be more than a minute or two.”
“Exactly. So anyway, I called the motel and they offered me my job back and a raise, so here I am again…and here you are again. What manner of criminal are you looking for now—a serial-killing crafter?”
He waved a hand at me and I assumed he was addressing my glittery appearance.
“No, actually, I need a room. There was an incident and I need to get this pink stuff off of me.”
“There’s a car wash around the corner. Might be a better bet for that stuff. And don’t you live in Sinful?”
“Yes, but I don’t want people there to see me like this.”
“Uh-huh. Listen, I’m fine with renting you a room. Heck, I’d rent to Charles Manson if he had cash, but I gotta tell you, if you have to moonlight at that kind of job, then maybe you should reconsider this whole PI thing for something that pays better.”
“You’re probably right,” I said, figuring there was no point in trying to explain, and not that I could without giving away our somewhat criminal behavior.