I filled Ida Belle and Gertie in on my theory on the drive to New Orleans, and will be the first to admit that I delivered my entire monologue while clutching the armrest due to the speed at which Ida Belle was driving. It seemed that with every point I put together, she found more horsepower to squeeze out of the SUV. The fact that she hadn’t even once mentioned all the pink glitter falling in her beloved vehicle told me I was onto something.
Well, that and the fact that they were both on board with helping me break into the theater.
We made the drive in record time and the parking lot to the theater was empty. It was well past dark and the entire area was mostly devoid of human traffic except for the very occasional car passing by. I instructed Ida Belle to park in the garage across the street, just in case one of the actors drove by, saw the vehicle, and went to check and see if someone was inside.
We donned our gloves and headed across the street. I made quick work of the back door lock and eased the door open, having already spotted the lack of alarm system when we were there before. We slipped inside and hurried down the hall and to the front of the stage where all the props for the play were collected, ready to be loaded on the truck the following morning.
“We need to find that ugly painting with Jesus playing poker,” I said.
We spread out and started going through the wrapped items, cutting through the Bubble Wrap on anything that might contain paintings. It was going to be a mess to clean up, but if I was right, the play was about to close before it even opened.
“I found something!” Gertie said.
Ida Belle and I rushed over to the large cardboard box she’d opened and peered inside. Several paintings were wrapped and inserted into dividers. We all grabbed paintings and began unwrapping them.
“Here!” Ida Belle said and held up the painting.
I pulled the palette knife that I’d swiped from the arts and crafts booth out of my pocket and told Ida Belle to lay the painting across the box.
“Are you sure about this?” Gertie asked.
“No,” I said. “But that’s why we’re here.”
I inspected the painting and found one corner where the paint appeared to be fresher than the others. I scraped a tiny bit of paint off. Underneath was more paint, but a different color and with a shiny coat on top. I kept scraping until I had a two-inch section exposed.
Gertie’s eyes widened. “You were right.”
Ida Belle shook her head. “Ingenious.”
“Yes. It is.”
A woman’s voice sounded behind us and we whirled around to find Brigette standing in the doorway, clutching a pistol that was leveled at me.
“It’s a shame you were too smart for your own good,” she said. “Just like your friend Gil. If only he would have minded his own business, but he had to play detective. I should have never given him that role.”
I made a split-second assessment of my options, but they weren’t good. I could dive behind some of the furniture, risking that Brigette wasn’t a great shot, and probably come out okay. But that left Ida Belle and Gertie in the line of fire. My weapon was at my waist, but I couldn’t pull it before Brigette got off a shot of her own.
My only option was to buy time to think of another option.
“You’re the one who broke into Gil’s house and attacked Tiffany,” I said. “He had a painting like this commissioned and swapped them out because he suspected you were smuggling something much more valuable underneath. You realized he was onto you and killed him, but you had to recover the painting.”
She smiled. “I couldn’t very well wait around until that trashy wife of his had a garage sale, now could I? Besides, the buyer is expecting his merchandise this week.”
“You dumped the car in a Sinful bayou, figuring if it was found, that would throw suspicion on Tiffany,” I said. “But when his death was labeled a carjacking, you thought, even better. Until they found the car.”
“My one miscalculation,” she said. “If I’d known his death would have been so easily labeled as ancillary to another crime, I would have disposed of the car differently and it would have never been found.”
“But since it turned into a murder investigation, you planted the gun