Mardi Gras Murder Page 2

  "Everyone stay here," I warned before getting out of the van and walking over. "I think there's been some sort of mistake," I called out to the MAYOR kid.

  The band stopped playing except for an overly enthusiastic tuba player, who, once he realized he was the only one playing, launched into a vigorous version of "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald," until what appeared to be a vampire wielding an accordion made him stop.

  Most of the people were dressed in costumes from various periods in Louisiana's French and Spanish history, and a few were in full Carnivale regalia. Movement off to my left caught my eye, and I noticed an impossibly tall man, dressed as an old-timey undertaker, with a real live alligator on a leash.

  The presumed mayor looked at me so earnestly, I was worried he would pass out. "You are dignitaries from our sister city?" he asked before looking over my shoulder at the van. "You have Mayor Ava of Who's There, Iowa, with you?"

  "Yes," I said warily as I glanced at the van. What had Ava done to stir the whole town into action like this?

  "Welcome to Who Dat!" the kid said again. "I'm Mayor Robby! We've been waiting for you!" With one arm, he encouraged the band, and they started to play again with great enthusiasm. Everyone began dancing, including the alligator.

  Kelly joined me, followed by the girls. Ava stepped in front of all of us.

  "Thank you for your warm welcome, Mayor Robby," she intoned. "I'm Mayor Ava."

  If the young man, who had to be in his twenties, was surprised to find out how young our mayor was, he didn't show it. Instead, he stepped forward, removed his hat, and gave the girl a deep bow.

  "It is an honor, Miss Ava," he said.

  A group of horsewomen dressed in Spanish conquistador armor rode up, stopping just in front of us. My troop almost collapsed from excitement. They loved horses more than they loved unicorns, and the fact that the women were in full battle dress was the icing on the cake.

  A large carriage with a spotless white canopy pulled around the crowd to where we were standing. It was open on the sides, and there were three rows of benches. It was driven by a heavyset man in a black body stocking with a skeleton silk-screened onto it. He tipped his top hat and turned to show us a face that was painted like a skull.

  "Ma'am?" A woman stepped forward wearing a very high black lace Spanish mantilla and blood-red flamenco dress.

  She held her hand out expectantly. Was I supposed to tip her? I probably should've done more research on the customs here.

  "Your keys, ma'am." Her voice dripped with Southern charm. "You will ride in the Carriage d'Honneur, and I will drive your van."

  "Um, okay." I deposited the keys in her hand and led the girls over, helping them scramble up into the carriage. I sat in the second row of seats, next to Kelly and Inez. Betty and Lauren sat on either side of Ava in the front, with all four Kaitlyns in the back.

  After a sharp jolt of movement, the carriage began to turn and head back into town. We were making slow progress, probably so the marching band could keep up. The townspeople were cheering and dancing as they followed. This was the best greeting I'd ever had. And I was once met at the gates of a small village in the Andes by fifteen festive llamas and a man with a sign that said WELCOME CHANCELLOR MERKEL! They may have been under the impression that I was German Chancellor Angela Merkel. I'd explain further, but Operation Bismarck Guinea Pig is still classified by the CIA.

  Ava faced forward, head held high as if she were Cleopatra.

  "Ava," Kelly asked. "What exactly did you tell them?"

  Betty responded instead. "I just said that our mayor had certain requirements due to her position." She looked around. "They were supposed to have offered us cake." Betty pulled a notepad and pencil from her pocket, scowling as she wrote something.

  "That's too bad. I really like cake," I mumbled.

  "This is too much." Kelly seemed worried. "What happens if they think they've been tricked into this?"

  Betty gave my co-leader a long look. "I suggest you don't correct them. And by the way, Ava is descended from French royalty and one of the dudes who was involved in the Louisiana Purchase…FYI."

  "You lied to them?" Kelly hissed.

  "What?" Betty shrugged. "It could be true."

  Kelly looked at me, and I shrugged. "She has a point."

  We slowly rolled into a very quaint, picturesque town with large trees dripping with Spanish moss. Each house was painted a bright color and looked like it belonged in a postcard or on a movie set.

  "We probably shouldn't invite them to Who's There anytime soon," I muttered. The plain Midwestern architecture would make these people weep with despair.

  "I've got a bad feeling about this," Kelly warned.

  "Let's just go with it," I suggested as I started dancing in my seat.

  The party atmosphere really was infectious. Yet again, I realized these people would be disappointed with the welcome they'd get in Who's There. We might get two dozen people, tops, and they'd all look like that couple from that Grant Wood painting, American Gothic…right down to the pitchforks.

  We were on Main Street and nearing the downtown when the carriage stopped in front of a large house with a wraparound porch, which looked like it was suspended eight feet off the ground. A sweeping white staircase led from the ground up to the front door. You could literally walk around underneath the house.

  "Bayou architecture." I nodded. "To keep the houses above the water table. Do you know they don't have basements here?"

  Lauren looked underneath the house. "Where do they put all their spiders?"

  We got out of the carriage and assembled in front of the house. A couple of dashing young men dressed like they'd just arrived from 1840 stepped forward and placed brightly colored strings of beads over our heads as if they were fresh flower leis. The girls squealed with delight.

  Two young women in antebellum garb approached and placed a purple, green, and gold tiara on Ava's head. She nodded as if she expected this, and maybe she did. I needed to get ahold of Betty's notes to prepare for whatever else these two had told Mayor Robby.

  The young man caught up with us and once again doffed his hat. "The White House, Mademoiselle Mayor. As you requested."

  The White House? This was getting ridiculous.

  A middle-aged couple appeared, smiling broadly. The man wore a linen suit, raised his arms high in the air, and announced, "Welcome to the White House Bed and Breakfast!"

  "Ah," I mumbled. "Because it's white."

  Betty studied the façade. "Huey Long stayed here, right?"

  The older man responded in a booming Southern accent, "That's why it's called that. He liked to pretend he was the president." He held out his hand to me. "Gustave Robicheaux, and this is my wife, Seraphine."

  Seraphine was dressed in a flowing lilac-colored dress and a large, floppy straw hat. She gave us a little nod but said nothing.

  I shook Gustave's hand as Ava replied. "I'm Mayor Ava. That's just Mrs. Wrath and Mrs. Albers."

  Gustave smiled at her before turning to me. "She's really something, I'll bet!"

  "You have no idea," I agreed. "But really, you can call me Merry."

  He nodded. "That's fine! Miss Merry and Mrs. Albers…"

  "It's just Kelly," Kelly said.

  Without missing a beat, he repeated, "Miss Merry and Miss Kelly. I'll grab your bags from the van. Come on in!"

  We followed the couple up the stairs while everyone else stayed on the ground below and the music started up again.

  "This home was built in 1811," Gustave said. "It was refurbished in the 1920s. All of our esteemed dignitaries stay here."

  "Like who?" Lauren asked.

  "Oh." The man rubbed his chin. "We get all kinds. We don't get as many as we used to. Recently, there've been some off-Broadway actors, the assistant to the ambassador to Honduras, Brad Pitt's second cousin, and once we had two women who were rejected by The Bachelor!"

  Seraphine opened the front door, and we went inside.

  Upon entering the house, we were overwhelmed by a flowery scent emanating from large white flowers.

  "Can you smell the gardenias?" Seraphine asked. "Isn't it lovely?"

  "I approve," Ava declared.

  I wasn't so sure. It was heavy and overbearing. But since Ava approved, I didn't see any reason to say anything.

  The house was perfect for a B&B. Wood paneling, comfy chairs, fireplaces in every room, and lots of southern charm and tchotchkes.

  We were in a library when Ava and Betty ran over to two portraits hung on the wall. The first was a painting of Huey Long. The second featured a grand sort of older woman. By her dress I would say this was taken at the turn of the century. She was a pretty woman, but her expression was marred by a scowl.

  "We need to have one made of me," Ava said firmly. "When we get back, of course."

  "That"—Seraphine pointed at the woman—"is my great-great-great-great-grandmother, Eulalie Landrieux. Isn't she lovely?"

  "She looks like she's about to spank us," Inez observed.

  "No, child," the woman corrected gently. "That's how she smiled."

  The tour continued through a modern kitchen and a glorious dining room, with a twelve-seat table and heavy velvet curtains.

  "Well." Gustave clapped his hands together. "Upstairs we have two rooms with four bunk beds each and one bedroom with two twin beds." He gave Kelly and me a nod.

  "Dibs on the room with two beds." Betty's hand shot up.

  "Nope." I cut her off. "That's for Kelly and me. You guys get the rooms with the bunk beds."

  We followed Gustave upstairs with Betty and Ava grumbling the whole way. Tough. I needed Betty in a room with others who might rat her out should she do anything unseemly. See how responsible I am?

 
Turned out the upstairs had four bedrooms, including the owners' room, which we didn't get to see. Each of the rooms were well-appointed. Kelly and I had our own bathroom, while the two rooms of four each shared one bathroom.

  I pointed at the second staircase. "What's up there?"

  Gustave shook his head. "We never use the third floor. It's too hot in spring, summer, and fall to do so, and…" He looked both ways before leaning toward us and whispering, "It's haunted."

  The eight girls looked at each other and were about to race up the stairs when I blocked them from doing so.

  "Forget it," I insisted. "The third floor is off-limits. Got it?"

  Eight pair of eyes narrowed at me. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot. But they'd go through with the charade for now.

  "If you'll excuse me," Gustave said. "I'll get the bags. You ladies head to your rooms. Luncheon will be on the patio in fifteen minutes." And with that, he was gone.

  "Huddle up," Kelly announced, and the girls did. "There will be rules regarding our stay. Everything here is fragile and breakable, and some may be antiques. You are to touch nothing. Got it? You will display your best manners. Okay?"

  The girls mumbled their assent.

  "Pinky swear." Kelly held out a curled pinky.

  There was a hesitation, but the girls, one by one, stepped up to Kelly and intertwined their pinky fingers with hers. Kelly looked at me and waited.

  "What?" I asked. "Surely you don't mean me."

  "Especially you," Kelly warned.

  "What if Gustave asks me to touch something?" I held out.

  Kelly said, "Then you have his permission."

  "What if I don't have permission," I reasoned, "but have to touch something to save your life?"

  Betty nodded. "Seems legit."

  "Saving lives seems to be a good exception," Lauren agreed.

  Kelly held up her hands to stop me. "Let's just play it by ear."

  I wasn't done. "What if I have to touch something in order to defend us all from that vampire or alligator out there?"

  "You are acting like one of the girls," Kelly said.

  "Fine!" I stomped over to her and shook her pinky.

  I didn't like having to be locked into such an agreement. You never knew when you'd have to break a vase to defend yourself. Now I'd need permission to do so.

  Gustave brought up the bags, and we distributed them into the correct rooms. As usual, the Kaitlyns, who I was pretty sure shared one hive mind, had one room. Ava, Betty, Inez, and Lauren were in another.

  "Unpack your things into the dressers," I told the girls. "Kelly and I will come get you in a few minutes to go down to lunch."

  "This room is gorgeous!" Kelly gasped as we entered.

  There were pale pink walls, blue carpet, and white wallpaper with little roses on them. There were stuffed sheep on the beds. It was as if a fairy tale had barfed.

  "It looks like Little Bo Peep's room," I admitted.

  "The bathroom is nice," Kelly said. "There's a claw foot tub in there!"

  I walked around my bed, my eyes on the sheep. "These are creepy. Their eyes are following me."

  "What do you think about Gustave saying the third floor is haunted?" she asked.

  "He's probably just messing with us," I said, hoping it was true.

  Once we all met up in the hall, we trooped down to the kitchen and Seraphine directed us to the backyard. The largest tree I'd ever seen took up the whole area, with long limbs reaching to the ground, where they bent outward and upward like a bark-covered octopus reaching out to grab us.

  "I've had nightmares about monsters who look like this," one of the Kaitlyns said.

  That's when I noticed that all eight girls had changed into neon green T-shirts that read SISTER CITY VIPS in pink, glittery letters.

  "Hey!" I complained. "How come Mrs. Albers and I didn't get T-shirts?"

  Kelly looked at the girls with interest.

  Betty shrugged. "You didn't ask for one."

  "It's okay, really," Kelly said.

  "We didn't ask for one because we didn't know that you were making T-shirts," I pressed.

  "Then you should've thought that we might do something like that," Betty countered, "and asked for one."

  Kelly cut this line of argument off. "It's okay, really it is." She turned to me with a look that said drop it.

  "But it would be better if we all had the same shirt," I argued.

  Ava nodded. "She's right. We should've had one for each of our elderly leaders."

  Wait…what? I was about to correct them that we were only thirty, when the girls ran off to check out the food.

  Beneath the octopus tree was a long table with a pale pink tablecloth, covered in platters of deli meat, cheeses, fruit, and bread and large pitchers of lemonade.

  The girls swarmed. My troop had an appetite with a capital A, and they weren't afraid to use it. Kelly and I joined them as Seraphine brought out slices of key lime pie.

  "This is amazing," I said between mouthfuls. "You do breakfast, lunch, and dinner?"

  Seraphine smiled sweetly. "No. We usually skip lunch, and we will for days when you have other matters that need attended to. But today, we thought we'd put out a spread for our honored guests."

  She walked away, and we dug in. As I poured myself a glass of lemonade, I realized I had no idea what kind of itinerary we had. I'd had some loose plans. But knowing Ava and Betty, they had a tight agenda. I could've kicked myself for not checking first.

  Kelly stood and held up the quiet sign. The girls responded in kind. The quiet sign was actually my favorite Girl Scout thing. You raise your right hand, three fingers up with the thumb holding the pinky down, and everyone pipes down. And it always works. Always.

  "Okay." Kelly lowered her hand. "We should start putting together a plan for the week. I…" She frowned as Betty began distributing a professionally printed and laminated agenda, complete with graphics and photos.

  "Oh" was all she said.

  "Ava and I thought we should plan ahead. Here's what we made up."

  "No way." I shook my head as I read it. "We aren't going to wrestle alligators after lunch." I gave Kelly the thumbs-up to show how responsible I was.

  "You're no fun anymore," Betty groused.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  "You've packed the schedule with dangerous things," I replied. "And by the way, I am too fun."

  Kelly agreed. "I love the idea of the swamp boat tour. And touring the town. We can keep those in."

  "Spoilsport," Betty grumped.

  I looked at Kelly. "See how that feels?"

  Lauren seemed to agree with us. "Alligator wrestling is mean," the junior zookeeper said.

  "We already bought the tickets for alligator wrestling," Betty insisted.

  "How did you…" I started. Then I narrowed my eyes. "How could you use my credit card? I cancelled that card!"

  The girls had a bad habit of "borrowing" my credit card for things like deep sea diving equipment, a blunderbuss, and once a life-sized cardboard cutout of President Zachary Taylor. I kept that one.

  Then for a while they hacked into my Amazon account, and no matter how many times I changed the password, they were always in it. My latest attempt had been to cancel my card, and I was at a loss as to how they could've used it.

  "We started an account in your name," Betty said. "Relax. It's that one that gets you points and stuff."

  "That's credit card fraud," I warned.

  "Not if you don't press charges," Inez quipped.

  "How many of you are in on this?" I asked.

  The girls looked at each other.

  "We don't know what you're talking about," the Kaitlyns said in perfect unison. It was rather unsettling when they did that.

  Kelly held her hand out. "Give me the card. I'll cancel the tickets."

  Oh good. I didn't want to have to do that. It might add to the idea that I'm no fun anymore.

  "I think the first thing we should do is tour the city," Ava said, ignoring Kelly. "It's my duty."

  Kelly and I agreed, and after we carried all the dishes inside, earning brownie points from Seraphine, we made our way to the front door. Upon opening it, we saw Mayor Robby and the carriage waiting.

  "You haven't been here this whole time, have you?" I asked as we walked down to meet him.