Read Online miss fortune mystery (ff) - bayou bubba by sam cheever - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: sam cheever
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painted with the words, Alligator Bridge . Francine’s story about Bubba riding the bike out of town in this direction played through my mind. I wondered if he’d been heading for Lena’s shop. “Her shop’s pretty far out of town isn’t it?”
“She used to have a shop on Main Street but Lena decided it was too expensive to maintain. So she bought an old fishing shack right on the bayou and she says she gets twice the traffic from fishermen and tourists now. It’s really kind of a cool place,” Gertie said.
Ida Belle slowed and turned at a sign that read simply, Lena’s .
We bounced down a rutted dirt drive that wound through a veritable forest of big old cypress trees. The thick drape of Spanish moss gave the place an old world, slightly haunted feeling that made me shiver.
Straight ahead was a small cabin on tall stilts, its weathered sides were nearly black with age and the tin roof was pitted and stained but otherwise looked to be in pretty good shape.
A single car sat in the small gravel lot. It was a tan Buick four door, as nondescript as a car could be.
As we climbed out of the truck something screamed out on the bayou. The sound was pitched high with terror and I jumped, wincing.
Ida Belle chuckled. “Gator’s got to eat.”
I shuddered in revulsion. Survival of the fittest was not my favorite of Mother Nature’s laws.
A cheerful bell sounded as we opened the door. The smell of cinnamon hit me as I entered the shop, a soft breeze wafting it around the room. The place was bright and airy, the walls made of old wood painted a bright, clean white. A variety of fishing items filled the right half of the store, and on the other side were several racks filled with purses like the one I’d gotten and leather belts. I guessed they were alligator, though I didn’t know if it was genuine. A circular rack in the center of the space held a collection of straw hats, some plain and utilitarian, and some covered in bright feathers and pretty flowers. A few of them had veils tacked along the brim, no doubt for keeping mosquitoes and other flying pests away from the wearer’s face.
I was drawn into the shop like a moth to a flame, barely noting the arrival of Lena Borne as I reached to fondle the pretty straw hats.
“You must be Felicity Chance.”
I turned to find a woman about my height, with blonde hair and slightly tilted green eyes. Her face was pretty, with high cheekbones and a delicate nose. I had a lot of trouble putting her together with her brother Lyle.
I shook the offered hand. “Lena?”
She inclined her head. “Lyle called and told me about your visit to the house.” She frowned. “I understand you need to talk to everybody after what happened to your father…” Her gaze slid toward a wide, open window that overlooked the water. The soft breeze seemed to be coming through its dented screening. “It’s such a shame.” Amazingly, her pretty eyes filled with tears. “I spoke to Bubba often. He used to ride his bike past the shop and sometimes I’d offer him lemonade.”
My pulse picked up. “He rode past the shop? Do you know where he went from here?”
She shook her head. “Unfortunately, no.” She sniffled and her light green gaze cleared. “Surely it doesn’t matter now, though.”
I had no intention of telling her my father was alive. Besides, after traipsing all over Sinful for two days talking to people about him, I was starting to feel slightly responsible for poor Bubba. “We might learn something about who killed him if we can find where he lived.”
She held my gaze for a moment and then sighed. “And you believe Lyle had something to do with it, don’t you?”
I shrugged. “He couldn’t give us an alibi for the time of the murder. And Bubba’s boat is parked at your dock.”
She shook her head, the bright curls of her long, blonde hair dancing softly around her shoulders. I told him to go to the sheriff with the boat. I didn’t know he’d taken it from
“She used to have a shop on Main Street but Lena decided it was too expensive to maintain. So she bought an old fishing shack right on the bayou and she says she gets twice the traffic from fishermen and tourists now. It’s really kind of a cool place,” Gertie said.
Ida Belle slowed and turned at a sign that read simply, Lena’s .
We bounced down a rutted dirt drive that wound through a veritable forest of big old cypress trees. The thick drape of Spanish moss gave the place an old world, slightly haunted feeling that made me shiver.
Straight ahead was a small cabin on tall stilts, its weathered sides were nearly black with age and the tin roof was pitted and stained but otherwise looked to be in pretty good shape.
A single car sat in the small gravel lot. It was a tan Buick four door, as nondescript as a car could be.
As we climbed out of the truck something screamed out on the bayou. The sound was pitched high with terror and I jumped, wincing.
Ida Belle chuckled. “Gator’s got to eat.”
I shuddered in revulsion. Survival of the fittest was not my favorite of Mother Nature’s laws.
A cheerful bell sounded as we opened the door. The smell of cinnamon hit me as I entered the shop, a soft breeze wafting it around the room. The place was bright and airy, the walls made of old wood painted a bright, clean white. A variety of fishing items filled the right half of the store, and on the other side were several racks filled with purses like the one I’d gotten and leather belts. I guessed they were alligator, though I didn’t know if it was genuine. A circular rack in the center of the space held a collection of straw hats, some plain and utilitarian, and some covered in bright feathers and pretty flowers. A few of them had veils tacked along the brim, no doubt for keeping mosquitoes and other flying pests away from the wearer’s face.
I was drawn into the shop like a moth to a flame, barely noting the arrival of Lena Borne as I reached to fondle the pretty straw hats.
“You must be Felicity Chance.”
I turned to find a woman about my height, with blonde hair and slightly tilted green eyes. Her face was pretty, with high cheekbones and a delicate nose. I had a lot of trouble putting her together with her brother Lyle.
I shook the offered hand. “Lena?”
She inclined her head. “Lyle called and told me about your visit to the house.” She frowned. “I understand you need to talk to everybody after what happened to your father…” Her gaze slid toward a wide, open window that overlooked the water. The soft breeze seemed to be coming through its dented screening. “It’s such a shame.” Amazingly, her pretty eyes filled with tears. “I spoke to Bubba often. He used to ride his bike past the shop and sometimes I’d offer him lemonade.”
My pulse picked up. “He rode past the shop? Do you know where he went from here?”
She shook her head. “Unfortunately, no.” She sniffled and her light green gaze cleared. “Surely it doesn’t matter now, though.”
I had no intention of telling her my father was alive. Besides, after traipsing all over Sinful for two days talking to people about him, I was starting to feel slightly responsible for poor Bubba. “We might learn something about who killed him if we can find where he lived.”
She held my gaze for a moment and then sighed. “And you believe Lyle had something to do with it, don’t you?”
I shrugged. “He couldn’t give us an alibi for the time of the murder. And Bubba’s boat is parked at your dock.”
She shook her head, the bright curls of her long, blonde hair dancing softly around her shoulders. I told him to go to the sheriff with the boat. I didn’t know he’d taken it from
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