“Except that he used to live in Lafitte,” I said. “What’s that town like? Maybe we start there.”
Ida Belle nodded. “It’s Sinful with a different name. About thirty miles south of here.”
“So, small and packed with a bunch of nosy people who probably know all the latest dirt on any local criminals,” I said.
“Exactly,” Ida Belle said.
“But can we get them to talk to us?” I asked.
“Leave that to Gertie and me,” Ida Belle said. “We know their language.”
“Okay. Then I guess when we’re done here, we’re taking a drive to Lafitte.”
Chapter Twelve
I pulled into Lafitte a little over an hour later and studied the row of buildings that constituted both businesses and homes. It was more or less what I’d expected based on Ida Belle’s description, but it lacked the charm and quaintness of Sinful. I hoped it wasn’t lacking in the nosy citizens who liked to gossip.
Ida Belle pointed to a convenience store, and I pulled up in front.
“Wait here,” she said, and she hopped out and walked into the store. She exited a couple seconds later and gestured to Gertie. “You’re up. There’s an old woman sitting behind the food counter knitting.”
Ida Belle looked at me. “Wait a bit, then come in after us. She’s more likely to talk if she thinks we’re two dithering busybodies from another bayou town.”
I grinned. “What you’re saying is you don’t want my youthful appearance and Yankee accent ruining your ploy.”
“I look youthful,” Gertie said.
“Sure you do,” Ida Belle said. “Especially with all that hobbling around. You could easily pass for a hundred and eighty-two.”
Gertie gave her a dirty look and climbed out of the back of the Jeep. Then she started up the sidewalk, and I could tell she was trying not to wobble. Ida Belle shook her head and trailed into the store behind her. I waited a bit, then finally decided enough time had passed and my desire for a cold drink was high, so I headed inside.
Gertie and Ida Belle were standing at a food counter at the back of the store, pointing to stacks of odd-looking fried things and murmuring between themselves. The woman Ida Belle had spotted sat in a rocking chair behind the counter, studying her knitting and not even glancing up at Ida Belle and Gertie.
Five foot four. One hundred ten pounds with the knitting bag. Blind or deaf or dislikes people as much as I do.
I headed over to the soft drink cooler that was about ten feet away and proceeded to study my options while sideways glancing at the food counter, waiting to see Ida Belle and Gertie in action.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Gertie said. “Can you tell me how these gizzards were seasoned?”
I looked again at the stack of fried stuff. Gizzards? Yuck.
The woman kept rocking and knitting and never so much as blinked.
“She’s deaf as a doornail,” Ida Belle said. “This ought to be fun.”
Gertie waved her hands in the air and yelled. “Excuse me, ma’am!”
The old woman looked up from her knitting, then put it down and pushed herself out of the chair, struggling a bit to rise.
“Sorry about that,” she said, and fiddled with something on her ear. “I’m getting a bit hard of hearing, but when this darn thing is turned up, I can hear rats pooping on a leaf in the bayou. I keep it off unless I have customers. What can I do for you?”
“I wondered about the seasoning on the gizzards,” Gertie said.
The woman launched into a discussion of the many sauces and flavors she’d used on the gross gizzards and her preparation techniques. Gertie nodded the entire time, looking more interested than I felt the conversation required, but it was Louisiana. Last week, I’d heard two women at Francine’s Café discuss the best way to clean socks for well over an hour. I figured if socks needed that much cleaning, it might be time to just buy new ones.
“I’ll take two orders,” Gertie said. “You’re old-school in your preparation. So many people go for the fast methods these days, but the taste isn’t the same.”
The old woman gave her an approving nod and started putting the icky gizzards into a foam container. “Whereabouts you from?” the woman asked.
“Sinful,” Gertie said.
“You’re a ways from home,” the woman said. “You come to fish?”
“No,” Gertie said. “Wasting time is more like it. I have an old Cadillac with some rusted-out spots, and one of the old fishermen said he knew a guy from here a while back that could fix anything car-related. I couldn’t find a phone number for him, but my friend and I had nothing better to do so we figured we’d take a drive this way and see what we could come up with.”
The woman nodded and handed Gertie the container. “Lots of hidden talent out in these swamps. What’s this feller’s name?”
“Willie LeDoux.”
The woman scowled.
“Is there a problem?” Gertie asked.
“Willie LeDoux’s been nothing but a problem his entire life. Hell, he was even a problem in the womb. Got sideways there too, and had to be taken out. Darn near killed his mama.”
“His father couldn’t get him in line?” Gertie asked.
“Ha,” the woman said. “That no-account ran off when Willie was still a baby. His mama sent Willie to live with his daddy in New Orleans when he was a teenager. I think she was hoping he could get Willie straight, but his daddy wasn’t exactly an upstanding citizen so I don’t know where she got that idea. He got himself killed trying to rob a convenience store a couple years back.”
The woman shook her head and sighed. “Oh well, at least his mama passed before Willie went to prison.”
Gertie gave her a sympathetic shake of the head. “I’ve known a few like that myself. Such a hard task to parent a child who’s determined to go the wrong route. So I guess he’s not around anymore?”
“Oh, he’s around. That no-account came back here last month after he got released from prison. Dealing drugs. Stealing automobiles.” She shook her head. “Then he waltzes back into town like he’s been on vacation all that time. I ran him right out of the store. Once a thief, always a thief, I say, and I don’t want his kind hanging around.”
“Well, that’s disappointing,” Gertie said. “I was really hoping he could fix my car. I’ve talked to several other repairmen, but none of them would touch it.”
“He’d probably do the work,” the woman said. “I’m sure he needs the money, and much as I hate to admit it, the boy did know his automobiles.”
Gertie bit her lower lip and glanced over at Ida Belle. “I don’t know, of course. I mean, if it’s not safe then I’ll just figure out a way to put together money for a new car even though Social Security being what it is makes it kinda hard.”
The woman nodded. “I don’t think he’d hurt you, if that’s what you mean. He never was violent. And as much as I don’t want to send him business, I don’t want you trying to manage buying a car on the pittance we draw.”