“Idella would sell her soul not to let that information get out. Personally, I think it’s terribly fascinating, and if it were my family’s history, I’d be using it as a conversation starter.”
“Right, because the whole magic thing isn’t interesting enough.”
She smiled. “Oh come on. The red light district in New Orleans? Think of the stories.”
I laughed, amused by her reaction and glanced out the window. We’d already talked about how Avery Bryan couldn’t be ruled out as a suspect in her father’s death because she might inherit the house. But what about the blackmail? Who was behind that? Was it the same person? Or were we looking at two different cases altogether?
“Dylan’s hoping to get a look at the financial documents of all the Harpies,” I said. “The blackmail is deeply personal. These are not secrets just anyone would know.”
“I agree. The blackmailer is someone who knows all of them well.”
“Doug Ramelle is convinced it was Haywood. Is it possible it was?” Hyacinth thought it was a ridiculous notion, but maybe Haywood had been good at keeping the truth from her.
“Anything is possible,” Delia said. “Where was Doug when Haywood was killed? He’s awfully quick to place the blame on someone who’s not around anymore to defend himself.”
“He was standing with my parents when it all happened.”
“You saw him there?”
“I saw him right before . . .”
“Right before? Or when?”
I tried to recall. “It was a couple of minutes beforehand, but he said he was still with them.”
“Did you confirm it with them?” she asked.
“I didn’t even think to, because I’d seen him . . .” But it was entirely possible he’d slipped away with an excuse to use the restroom or something along those lines. He could have been gone and back before anyone would even put it together. “I’ll ask them as soon as I can.”
There was something about Doug that was nagging at me, but I couldn’t quite recall what it was. Something he said, perhaps. I stewed on it for a bit before letting it go for now. It would come to me eventually. It always did.
By the time we made it to Moriah’s it was closing in on one o’clock and fast. I knew from the information my daddy had given me that she worked nights at one of Auburn University’s campus libraries and wasn’t due to be at work until three.
We’d just pulled up in front of her house when a minivan came backing out of her driveway.
“It’s her,” Delia said, ducking low as to not be seen.
“Well, follow her!”
Delia whipped the car around so fast that poor Louella nearly fell off the backseat. She growled and repositioned herself. I was growing worried about her, as she still wasn’t eating or drinking properly.
It wasn’t long before we pulled into a Publix parking lot. We sank low and spied on Moriah as she stepped out of her van, pulled open a sliding door, and fussed with something inside. A moment later, she straightened with a baby girl in her arms.
I checked the rearview mirror, and Jenny Jane was still floating behind our car, oblivious to what was going on around her. “We’ve got to go in,” I said. “Jenny Jane didn’t see her.”
With a sigh, Delia pulled a sun hat from the backseat and then reached into her glove box and extracted a black scarf covered in white skulls. “Use this as a bandanna to cover your hair. Between that and your sunglasses, she won’t recognize you.”
“She might think I’m you.”
“You should be so lucky,” she said, smiling as she threw open her door.
I wrapped the scarf around my head and cracked up when I looked into the mirror. I definitely looked like Delia.
“What are we going to do with Louella?” It was too warm a day to leave her out here. “Do you want to go inside with Jenny Jane while I stay out here with the car running?”
“It’s better if we go in together in case Jenny Jane gets too close.” Delia glanced around, walked away, and then came back with a buggy decked out with a built-in baby seat. “We’ll take Louella with us.”
I eyed the seat that was a good three feet off the ground. “Who’s putting Louella in that thing?”
Delia peeked in the car. Louella growled. “This is ridiculous. She’s what? Five pounds? How vicious can she be?” She reached for her and Louella chomped her wrist. “Yow!”
“Pretty vicious,” I answered.
Dots of blood pooled on her arm, and she frowned at them as though not truly believing what had just happened. “Are her shots up-to-date?”
“Doc Gabriel says she’s healthy as can be.”
“Fabulous,” Delia grumbled. Then an eyebrow went up. “You know, I still have that sleeping hex in my pocketbook . . .”
“We are not hexing the dog.” I tugged Louella’s leash, and she hopped out of the car.
“It wouldn’t hurt her. It’d just make her sleepy. For, you know, a couple of days.”
“No.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
I thought on it for a second. “We’ll pretend she’s a service dog or something.”