“I wish I weren’t.”
“And you’re sure he’s dead?”
“I’m positive.”
Deputy Breaux took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, breathing deeply. “The forensics team is on their way, but they don’t know about a second body. What am I supposed to do?”
“Wait on them to get here and fill them in,” I said. “Ida Belle and I will be here. We have to be. We’re the ones who found him.”
“But what about once they’re done?” Deputy Breaux asked.
“They’ll call in the ME, who will pronounce,” I said. “The ME will arrange for transport of the body to his office. You won’t have to do anything.”
“What about witnesses?” Deputy Breaux asked. “Shouldn’t I be looking for witnesses?”
Ida Belle, Gertie, and I exchanged glances and Deputy Breaux frowned. Then suddenly, he stiffened and gasped.
“Carter can’t investigate,” Deputy Breaux said.
“I’m afraid not,” I said.
In a display of temper that I’d never seen before, Deputy Breaux took off his hat and threw it onto the ground, cursing as it went. We all stared at him, somewhat surprised by the outburst. He realized we were staring, then turned back to apologize.
“I’m sorry, ladies,” he said. “It’s just that me and the state police don’t have the best history. They pretty much think I’m a useless nuisance and treat me that way. A guy can only take so much. They’ll never let Sheriff Lee and me handle this.”
“Trust me,” Gertie said. “We’re no happier about it than you are.”
“Carter’s going to sh…be really mad,” Deputy Breaux said.
“Well, since we all agree that the situation sucks, I was wondering if you would do us a favor,” I said.
“Name it,” Deputy Breaux said.
“I was wondering if maybe we could move the body just a little,” I said.
Deputy Breaux’s eyes widened. “Oh. I don’t know…I mean…we probably shouldn’t.”
“Think, Deputy!” Ida Belle said with her best stern senior voice. “The ME is not going to release information to us. And without knowing who he is, how can we find the person who killed him and attacked Emmaline? God knows, the state police aren’t going to do the job right and we’ll lose valuable time waiting for an official announcement. You don’t want the killer to get away, do you?”
Deputy Breaux stared. “You’re saying you plan on investigating? You know how Carter feels about that.”
“You’re right,” Ida Belle said. “Carter doesn’t like us interfering in his investigations, but do you really think he’ll care if we do the job the state police aren’t going to bother to do when his hands are tied? That’s his mother in the back of that ambulance.”
Deputy Breaux drew himself up straight, a resolved expression replacing the slightly fearful one. “You’re right, by God! No one is going to get away with hurting Emmaline and killing whoever the heck that is in there. But can you make it quick?”
We hurried inside and stood over the body. The man was crumpled facedown, his knees slightly bent, which would make sense if he’d buckled while dropping after being stabbed. I took a couple pics with my phone but didn’t notice anything remarkable except that his wardrobe was completely wrong. Gray slacks, navy long-sleeve button-up shirt, and gray dress shoes. It wasn’t the kind of outfit you wore to a funeral in Sinful in September, much less a carnival.
Gertie handed me gloves from her purse and I reached into his pockets.
“No wallet,” I said. “Or cell phone.”
“Maybe whoever did this took them,” Gertie said. “Roll him over a little and we’ll see if we recognize him.”
I placed my hands on both sides of the man’s head and turned it around. Ida Belle and Gertie both leaned over.
“A visitor, maybe?” I said, not recognizing the vacant stare.
Ida Belle frowned and shook her head.
“Is that who I think it is?” Gertie asked and leaned in closer.
“It certainly looks like it,” Ida Belle said.
“Will someone please tell me?” I said. “Because I’ve never seen this man before.”
“Lucky you that you only had to see him after he was dead,” Gertie said.
“Normally,” Ida Belle said, “I’d think that statement a little tacky but given the identity of the man in question, I’m going to have to agree.”
“Let’s get out of here and you can fill me in,” I said.
“That is Rupert St. Ives,” Ida Belle said as we exited the funhouse. “A very short-term Sinful resident, originally from England, who spent every waking moment of his time here telling us how far beneath him we were and how everything in this town was wrong.”
Gertie nodded. “He used to record the sermon, transcribe it, and correct the grammar. Pastor Don developed an ulcer over it. Don’t even get me started on the church bulletin. Heck, one week, he marked up a hymnal. A hymnal, I tell you.”
“At least he didn’t correct the Bible,” I said.
“Wrong again,” Ida Belle said.
“So if he was short term, what’s he doing here now?” I asked.
“Bleeding in the funhouse?” Gertie suggested.
“That’s a really good question,” Ida Belle said. “Aside from him being gone for a while now, the fair isn’t the sort of place I’d expect to find St. Ives. It has all kinds of people and noise that he would disapprove of.”
We located Deputy Breaux at the edge of the roped-off funhouse. The crowd had finally dispersed once they decided there was nothing else to see and determined that Deputy Breaux didn’t know anything. I imagined they’d flock back in droves as soon as word got around that the house of fun was harboring a dead man.
“Anything?” Deputy Breaux asked.
I heard someone call Deputy Breaux’s name and looked over to see the forensics team arriving. Deputy Breaux explained the situation and indicated that we were the people who’d found the second body. The team asked some general questions about things we’d touched and took our information in order to contact us for elimination testing, and finally we were free to go. Obviously the state police hadn’t gotten wind of the situation or hadn’t yet exerted their control over it, or we would have been instructed to wait for them to arrive. Since we knew that was the case, we took off from there as though we were on fire, promising Deputy Breaux we’d fill him in later.
I glanced at the funhouse entrance as we went by. It was still roped off and had an Attraction Closed sign on one of the posts.
“Crap,” I said as I scanned the crowd. “I was hoping to talk to the guy who was running this thing.”
“You think he saw the killer?” Gertie asked.
“Well, he didn’t materialize from behind one of those glass panels,” I said.
“You think he walked in behind St. Ives?” Gertie asked. “That would be ballsy.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe there’s other ways in. But I’d like to know if our ticket taker saw anything. Unfortunately, it looks like he split.”