“Everyone who’s here is waiting for you in the parlor ’cept for the kids,” Rufus told Bo.

“Cause of death?”

“Strangulation.”

“Weapon?”

“From the size of the marks, the best guess of our guys is some piece of fabric with a little width to it.”

Bo took this in and then started toward the house. Maggie and Gaynell followed. “I can’t believe we’re going through this again,” Maggie said. “Ugh, that sounded really callous. Poor Debbie.”

“Fill me in on how the body was discovered.”

Maggie gave Bo details of how she and Gaynell heard Emily screaming and, in rushing to her aid, discovered Debbie. Then something dawned on her. “Kyle wasn’t here. He couldn’t have murdered her. So that proves he’s innocent.”

“That proves he’s innocent regarding Debbie’s death.”

“Are you telling us that you don’t think Beverly and Debbie’s deaths are connected?” Gaynell asked, her tone skeptical.

“At this point, there’s no evidence to support that. Much as I hate to say it, because I do like the guy, there is evidence to support a claim that Kyle held a grudge that could have led to him taking revenge on Beverly. And Maggie herself handed over the evidence that could implicate Jan Robbins, if she knew about Debbie’s plot to oust her.”

Maggie groaned. In trying to help nail a murder suspect, she had inadvertently put another nail in Kyle’s potential coffin, and the first one in Jan’s. She was starting to feel like living proof of the old adage “No good deed goes unpunished.”

“You haven’t talked to Lia, have you?” Bo asked her after a moment of silence as they walked.

“No. Why?” Maggie felt a knot of dread in her stomach.

“The judge denied bail.”

“What? Oh, no. I swear, I can’t stand it anymore. When will this end?”

Bo instinctively reached out to comfort Maggie and then just as quickly pulled away. When they reached the Crozat front parlor, they found Artie keeping an eye on Tug, Ninette, Gran’, and the B and B’s guests. As soon as Bo, Maggie, and Gaynell entered, the guests converged on Bo.

“What the hell’s going on here?”

“You’re not gonna hold us again, are you? We’ve got classes in a couple of days, man.”

“Is there a serial killer on the loose?”

“For God’s sake, a woman is dead,” Jan yelled at the others. Maggie could see that she, as well as the other Cuties, had been crying. “Get over yourselves and show her some respect. She was a good person.”

“A very good person,” Angela parroted while Suzy nodded vigorously in agreement. Maggie knew otherwise. She felt sorry for Jan, who was in for a shock as great as the one of her supposed friend’s death—that is, if Jan herself wasn’t the murderer and faking her grief. Or was it “murderess” if the killer was a woman? Maggie wondered but then forced herself to focus.

“You’ll be free to go as soon as we verify contact information and conduct a thorough search of the area,” Bo told the guests. “Right now, I need to interview you individually, like I did when Mrs. Clabber expired. And to answer another question, no, I don’t believe that there’s a serial killer targeting Crozat.”

“We can’t apologize enough to all of you for what’s happened here,” Tug told the group in somber tones. “We’ll make calls and see if any of the nearby B and Bs or inns or motels have rooms available. It may be tough since people who came for Fet Let tend to stick around for a couple of the other local end-of-summer festivals in the area this week. But if we can’t find accommodations and you choose to continue your stay with us, we will comp you again.”

“Comp” is officially my least-favorite word, Maggie thought. She clutched Ninette’s hand and sneaked a look to see how this new disaster was affecting her mother. Ninette seemed stoic. The hospital visit appeared to have done her so much good that Maggie pondered a stay there herself.

She turned her attention back to the conversation. “We’re going to post a twenty-four-hour guard to ensure your safety,” Bo was saying.

“I’d like to volunteer for the first shift, sir,” Artie said, mindful that a Crozat dinner would soon be placed on the table.

“Great, we get Officer Hollow Leg,” Maggie muttered to her father, who put his fingers to his lips to shush her.

“I’m going to ask you to wait on the veranda while I conduct my interviews,” Bo told everyone. “Please don’t talk about Ms. Stern. I don’t want you coloring each other’s recollections. Artie, stay with them.”

“Yessir.”

Artie led everyone out except Maggie. “Do you need me to do anything?” she asked Bo.

“Yes. I’m going to interview the Cuties simultaneously. I don’t want to give them a chance to communicate among themselves. I could use another pair of eyes to check out their instant reactions to the news about Debbie’s planned coup. For all we know, one of them might have been in on it with her. Or found out and killed her to protect Jan.”

“Rufus won’t be happy if he sees me in here with you.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll take that chance. It beats whatever lackey of his he’d send in to ‘help’ me. Plus, you know these women better than any of us, so you’re more likely to pick up on anything unusual.”

Bo stepped outside to confer with Artie, who showed Jan, Suzy, and Angela back into the room. The women sat as a unit on the parlor’s high-backed couch. Their faces were streaked with tears. Maggie studied them for any signs that they might be faking their grief but saw none. As they all sat in silence waiting for Bo to return, she used the quiet to connect with her sixth sense and see if it told a different story. It didn’t. Maggie felt in her bones that the women were truly distraught.

Bo came back in the room and positioned himself in a chair opposite the Cuties. “Tell me everything you know about Debbie Stern,” Bo began.

Angela and Suzy let Jan do the talking. Jan filled him in on Debbie’s business triumph, loss, and subsequent breakdown.

“Thank you. Did you know she had created a business plan to oust Jan from the Cajun Cutie presidency, take over the organization, and turn it into a profit-making venture?”

All three mouths dropped open at the same time as if choreographed. Maggie scanned each face carefully and saw no signs of artifice. She would put money on the fact that Jan, Angela, and Suzy were genuinely stunned.

“Impossible,” Angela declared. “Debbie never would have done that.”

“I’m afraid that we have proof,” Bo said.

“I was Debbie’s best friend,” Jan said. “She wouldn’t have done that to me. Whatever you have is fake.”

“I’m afraid it’s not.”

Maggie noticed that Jan had started shivering. “But-but-but-but—” she stammered as she searched for a way to rebut Bo’s statement.

“We have proof,” Bo repeated, his tone kind but adamant.

“I swear to God, if Debbie wasn’t already dead, I’d kill her,” Suzy spat out.

Bo was about to caution her when Cal Vichet opened the door and stuck his head in.

“Sir, we need you,” he told Bo.

“I’m requesting that you not to speak to each other while I’m gone.” With that, Bo followed Cal out the door.

*

The next few minutes felt interminable as Maggie waited with the Cuties. Brought together by a common love and now devastated by a betrayal, each woman seemed to be in her own world. Maggie could tell they were trying to process Debbie’s duplicity and felt for them, but she was relieved when Bo returned. Cal was right behind him, holding something in a plastic bag. Bo motioned toward Cal, who showed the bag to the women. Maggie saw that it contained a purple ombré scarf.

“Do any of you recognize this?” he asked them.

“It’s mine,” Jan said. “I’ve been looking for it. It went missing a couple of days ago. Where did you find it?”

“Stuffed under a bush near the victim,” Bo said. “Ms. Slansky and DiPietro, you’re free to go right now, but know that I may call you in again for questioning.” He faced Jan. “Ms. Robbins, I’m going to need you to come to the station with me.”