Wendy stared at her liqueur glass, somewhat deflated. “Well, she did mention a few things to me while we were together lining up those free cold readings. What a bad idea that was in retrospect. But looking back on it now, I realize it was mostly small talk that she fed me just to build herself up in my eyes. It did seem like she was playing a part.”

  “There you go,” Ross said, pointing at her. “She just wanted to gain your confidence. That’s why they call it a con game. ”

  “So, let me get this straight. You don’t think the drug mule thing has any investigative value whatsoever?”

  “No, I didn’t say that. It may end up having everything to do with both cases, and I’m impressed with the way you pursued it. Relax, sweetie. You don’t have to sell me on your abilities these days. You know I believe in you, and I didn’t mean it to sound like I was challenging you.”

  She smiled at him, feeling redeemed. “Thanks. I have to tell you that I think we’re getting closer to solving all this. I’m gonna sleep on it, and I suggest you do the same. And then Daddy will bring his unique perspective to it tomorrow when you tell him everything we’ve been tossing around.”

  “To a good night’s sleep, then,” Ross told her with a tired smile that quickly disappeared.

  CHAPTER 19

  Bax had slept in because of the exhausting day before, but when he finally arrived in his own good time at his office, Ross was waiting to bring him up to date quickly on Wendy’s drug mule research and her new theory as a result. Bax listened patiently to it all and then pulled out Aurelia’s autopsy report from the ME in Jackson, solemnly shaking his head.

  “The woman just doesn’t seem to fit the profile,” he said. “She snorted herself to death, and that’s that. I can’t see her as both a phony psychic and a drug dealer. That’s probably been done before somewhere on the face a’ this planet, but I got the feeling it’s not a staple among the scams that are out there.”

  “But your daughter doesn’t think she was a dealer as much as she thinks Aurelia was a mule, carrying for somebody else,” Ross said, suddenly feeling the urge to defend his wife. “And then she thinks that something went drastically wrong, and as a result, Aurelia paid with her life.”

  “I understand where you’re coming from, but I still can’t quite see it. But if it makes you and that daughter a’ mine feel any better, we’ll have Vance Quimby come in, and we’ll run it past him for his reaction.”

  Ross sounded almost sheepish now. “Well . . . that’s . . . what I told Wendy we would do.”

  Bax chuckled at some length, breaking the tension. “You married quite a woman, you know. She’s always trying to figure out something with that brain a’ hers, and I have to admit her track record is pretty good so far. So you go ahead and get Quimby in here, and we’ll see what he has to say about all this.”

  “Thanks, Bax. She’d be after me big-time if I didn’t follow through.”

  “She’d be after her dear old dad, too. She’s like her mother in that respect. Both of ’em never let up until they got things done their way.”

  Bax then sat in his comfortable chair behind his desk and gestured to Ross. “Have a seat, son. There’s something else I need to talk to you about.”

  Ross followed through quickly with an expectant expression. “What’s up?”

  Bax seemed ill at ease at first, not making direct eye contact, but he finally cleared his throat and caught his son-in-law’s gaze. “I wanted you to be the first to know and get your reaction on this. Then, based on that, I guess, I’ll go ahead and tell Wendy about it.”

  Ross perked up, leaning forward. “Let me take a wild guess. Can this possibly be about Miz Lyndell Slover?”

  “Good wild guess,” Bax said, conjuring up a wide grin. “Or maybe I’m an open book. But I never thought I’d feel about another woman the way I feel about her right now. Not after the wonderful life I had with my Valerie. But . . . it’s happened to me big-time, son. I’ve fallen for Lyndell, and maybe I even want to take the next step with her.”

  “You mean marriage?”

  “Yep. Do you think I’m crazy as a loon to consider taking that sorta plunge at my age?”

  Ross stopped just short of rolling his eyes. “Whaddaya mean, your age? You’re what—fifty-eight?”

  “Fifty-nine.”

  “Big difference. So you’re pushing sixty. They say sixty is the new fifty, fifty is the new forty, and on down ’til you get to puberty.”

  “Ah, puberty. That pretty much stays the same: acne, hormones, rebellion, and impatience. But do you believe the rest of that sequence? Now that you brought it all up, I gotta admit I don’t think of myself as old. I work out at the gym, and I know I’m fit. So what I really need is just a tad bit of encouragement from someone I trust like you.”

  Ross leaned in as close as he could get from across the desk. “Well, then you got it. And I also believe that when I get to be your age, I wanna be as lean and healthy as you are. So I’ll make this easy for you—if you love this woman like you say you do, go ahead and pop the question. You have nothing to lose but happiness for the rest of your life.”

  Bax settled back with a satisfied expression on his face. “I kinda thought that’s what you’d say. Thanks.”

  “My take is that happily married men don’t hesitate to recommend it to others, and your daughter has made me crazy happy from day one. And I think she’d be crazy happy for you, too. After all, she was the one who brought you two together with that little dinner party of hers.”

  Bax’s tone grew somber. “She did do that, but I wanted to discuss Lyndell with you first. She’ll never replace Valerie in my heart exactly, and I don’t want Wendy to think I’m even trying to do that if Lyndell and I get married.”

  Ross’s smile was warm and genuine. “Give your daughter credit. I live with her, and I know what a beautiful person she really is. I can’t see her thinking that for a second. My personal opinion is that you’re nearly home free. All you need now is a yes from Lyndell.”

  “Thanks for the listen,” Bax said, giving his son-in-law a wink. “If you would, let me be the one to tell Wendy about my plans. Maybe I’ll invite her to lunch at The Toast of Rosalie for some shrimp and grits or something like that. Maybe even today if her schedule at the paper’ll allow it.”

  “Go for it. No better time and place for it than that, and I know it’ll go well.”

  * * *

  Wendy was amused at what clearly was a sigh of relief from her father. He was seated to her right at their The Toast of Rosalie table near the front window and reached out to grasp her hand warmly.

  “The hard part is over,” she continued. “Did you really think I wouldn’t jump for joy that you and Lyndell feel that way about each other? Or that I didn’t already know it without a doubt? I don’t just investigate and solve. I observe carefully, thank you very much.”

  He gently withdrew his hand. “It was the marriage part I was worried about. Granted, I haven’t asked her yet, and she hasn’t said yes yet. But I would never take your feelings for granted in a situation like this.”

  Wendy took a sip of her lemon water and maintained her smile through the sour taste. “I know that. You and I went through losing the most wonderful woman in the world together, and we came out the other end of that ready to go on living. I’ve found Ross, and now you’ve found Lyndell. You already know I think she’s the boss from Heaven above. I’d say we’ve both moved on in the right way. Have you told Ross about this, by the way?”

  “Just this morning. He’s on board, too.”

  Wendy sat back and scanned the chatting luncheon crowd surrounding them. They all appeared to be immersed in their conversations but happy—the perfect audience. “I feel like shouting out the good news to all these people right now in the middle of their salads and cocktails.”

  “Your plain ole approval will be more than enough,” he told her, and they both enjoyed a quiet chuckle. He checked his watch and raised his eyebrows. “The service is a bit slow today, but they are pretty crowded. I’ve been hankering for those shrimp and grits all morning.”

  “I know,” she added, after which she made a sweeping gesture. “You see people all around you digging into them, and your stomach practically goes into a major meltdown.” Then she leaned toward her father. “If you don’t mind my asking, Daddy, when did you realize you were so much in love with Lyndell that you wanted to marry her?”

  Bax put a pat of butter on a slice of French bread and chewed thoughtfully for a short while. “Strangely enough—or even appropriately enough, whichever way you want to look at it—I’d have to say it was at your wedding, and then later at the reception inside that tent. It was that gardenia she’d put behind her ear. Something changed the moment I laid eyes on it. I’m not sure I can explain it.”

  “Did she give you a private Billie Holiday concert or something even better later on?”

  Bax shot his daughter a wicked glance. “Or something even better later on.” Then he shifted his weight and twitched his mouth. “There was something else some people might consider slightly crazy that I was considering doing, but . . .”

  Wendy picked up on the hesitancy immediately. “But what?”

  “Maybe it’s not such a good idea?”

  She drew back and narrowed her eyes. “This I have to hear. Second-guessing yourself before you even get the words out? That’s not like you at all. Where’s my take-charge Chief of Police daddy I’ve known all these years?”

  “I’m right here. Maybe just a bit out of touch with what’s appropriate in the world of romance these days. You see, I was considering sending Lyndell one a’ those singing telegrams. Whaddaya think?”

  Slightly confused, Wendy said, “You don’t mean you’re going to ask her to marry you by proxy, do you?”

  “No, don’t be ridiculous. I was thinking I’d ask her first in private and then if she says yes, I’d surprise her at some odd hour at the paper with that young man singing to her. Maybe you could even help me write the lyrics?”

  Wendy’s jaw dropped. “I have to admit, that is a surprise. I wonder if I’m even up to it.”

  “It shouldn’t be that much more difficult than writing a Valentine poem, the way I figure.”

  The waiter arrived with the plates of shrimp and grits they had both ordered, temporarily shelving their conversation. Priorities were priorities. They each just had to blow on a forkful of the restaurant’s specialty and get that first spicy, memorable taste out of the way: one full of the sweetness of bell pepper and translucent onions, the creaminess of cheese grits, and the delicate texture of briny, grilled shrimp. It took several satisfied bites before their conversation returned in earnest.

  “So, whaddaya think? Could you come up with some lyrics for me if I buy Lyndell a singing telegram?”

  Wendy did not want to disappoint her father, but she also didn’t want to put herself in the position of creating something that backfired on them both because it turned out to be too cheesy. “I think they have some lyrics and poems that are already written. Maybe one of them will get the job done.”

  “You don’t wanna try for an original?”

  “Well . . . only if you can’t find anything else you like, okay? Tell you what, why don’t I drop by there on the way back to the paper and pick up some of their old standbys. You can take it from there. Believe me, they know what they’re doing, and I’m betting you’ll like something of theirs.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Bax said, anticipating the rest of his shrimp and grits by rubbing his hands together and then digging in. His heart and his stomach were in heaven, along with those of his daughter.

  * * *

  “To what do we owe the honor?” Merrie Boudreaux said from behind the counter just as Wendy walked through the front door of Party Palooza. “Another party in the works? Or maybe a singing telegram?”

  “No party just yet,” Wendy said, shaking Merrie’s hand warmly. “But perhaps a singing telegram. I’m doing a bit of research for my daddy. He’s thinking of sending one to his lady friend, Lyndell Slover. In fact, they could be getting married, so I may have misspoken. They could be in the market for a reception like mine, sooner rather than later.”

  “You know we can pull it off.”

  “I certainly do,” Wendy said. “I still dream about how much fun my reception was—it was fit for a queen.” Wendy picked up one of the tuxedoed rag dolls with their smiling faces lined up all in a row atop the counter. “And these are just so adorable. I’m sure Lyndell would love to have one.”

  “All of our customers do, you know. We have a few who have more than one, they’re so thrilled.”

  “Well, what I need to look at right now are some of your standard telegram messages to take home to Daddy so he can make a decision.”

  Merrie reached over and tapped a laminated stack of messages to the right of the dolls. “Just browse through these, sweetie. We have all the holidays, national and religious—even the obscure ones—and all occasions for both genders, everything you could possibly want to send. Rex wrote some, his Aunt Mathilde wrote others, I wrote a couple, and even our Milton Bagdad contributed. He’s such a talented boy.” The enthusiasm level in Merrie’s voice rose considerably for the last couple of comments.

  Wendy began sifting through the stack, mouthing words, smiling and nodding along the way. She was clearly being entertained. Finally, she lifted one out. “This one titled ‘What You Mean to Me’ seems especially appropriate. It would apply to just about anyone who’s in love, I think.”

  “Yes, that one’s particularly popular—as you say, sort of an all-purpose sentiment for anyone who has a crush or anything more serious than that.”

  “Just give me a moment,” Wendy said, taking the time to hear Milton singing each line in his rich, baritone-tenor in her head—and picturing him on bended knee, no less.

  I’m telling you right now just what you mean to me,

  There’s no one else on earth I’d rather love,

  I’d move the highest mountains, swim the deep-blue sea,

  To bring you down from Heaven up above.

  For when it comes to beauty, no one can compare,

  My lifelong search is coming to an end,

  To lose you for an instant I could never bear,

  On you my happiness will now depend.

  So let me take this moment to sing out with praise,

  I hope this tune will fill your heart with glee,

  I want no greater treasure than your lovely gaze,

  And now you know just what you mean to me.

  Wendy came out of her musical reverie and said, “I think this is the one I’ll recommend to Daddy.”

  “You can’t go wrong, believe me.”

  “Can you make me a copy?”

  “Of course. I’ll just run back to the copier in the other room. It’ll only take me a second.”

  While Merrie was gone, Wendy browsed the colorful party posters on easels scattered around the lobby. Here was one for a pirate theme with Rex in costume, complete with eye patch, hat, earring, and a dialogue bubble that read in all caps: ARRGGH, YE LANDLUBBERS!

  Over there was another for a Peter Pan theme, with Merrie doing the honors as the impish young immortal. Both husband and wife were unquestionably imaginative and talented when it came to delighting the little ones throughout the mileposts of their lives. No wonder they had been so successful ever since coming to Rosalie.

  “Here you go,” Merrie said, returning to the front with a gracious smile and handing over a copy of the lyrics.

  Wendy thanked her, folded the copy once, and dropped it into her purse. “I’m sure Daddy will be getting back to you soon. By the way, who is that sweet lady smiling in that picture behind the counter? She looks like somebody’s dear, devoted grandmother. Is she yours or Rex’s?”

  Merrie did a half turn and then gestured with her hand. “Oh, that’s Rex’s aunt Mathilde who lives down in New Orleans, where all this first started up. She’s actually the one who invented this singing telegram business to go along with her party-planning talents. Rex and I are her first official Party Palooza franchise, so to speak, and I don’t have to tell you how well it’s worked out for us.”

  “Yes, it looks like she made a great decision,” Wendy said. “And speaking of Rex, where is that handsome husband of yours today?”

  Merrie pointed west, in the general direction of the Mississippi River. “Down on Water Street. One of the Viking Cruise Line ships is docking today, and Rex negotiated a gig with them, all dressed up as a riverboat gambler. He greets the passengers and tips his hat as they leave the ship and get on the shuttle up the hill to downtown. Maybe it’s a little on the corny side—some of the things we do are, I’ll admit—but the cruise line seemed to go for it, and the actor in Rex has a field day.”

  Wendy snapped her fingers. “I completely forgot about them coming in today. Maybe there’s still time for me to go down to Bluff Park and watch them disembark. I always love doing that, especially when the paddle wheelers dock and their calliopes start playing. It’s like an invitation to the whole town to come to the river where it all started and do a bit of gawking and daydreaming.”

  Merrie took her smartphone out of her pocket and glanced at the time. “They should be docking just about now if you wanna run down to Bluff Park and see them. I’d join you, but somebody has to stay here and mind the store, you know. But before you go, would you like to take one of the souvenir rag dolls with you? You’re such a good customer, and you’re here drumming up more business for us, so why don’t you help yourself? Think of it this way—when you and Ross have your first child, you’ll be one toy ahead of the game. ”

  Wendy smiled at first, then cocked her head. “That’s such a sweet thought. Are you sure? I know you don’t do this for just anyone who walks in off the street.”

  “No, we don’t, but you’re not just anyone,” Merrie said, taking one of the dolls off the counter and offering it up. “As we say in South Louisiana, just consider this your lagniappe.”