Free G.T. Herren - Paige Tourneur 02 - Dead Housewives of New Orleans by G.T. Herren

passed them out and sat down in my easy chair while they both sat on my couch. Blaine is only three years younger than Ryan, but they look enough alike to be twins if you don’t look closely. They both have the same blue eyes, dimples, strong chin, bluish-black curly hair, and thick eyebrows. But Ryan is about six inches taller— Blaine is only around five seven, maybe eight, depending on his shoes. And while Ryan is in good shape, Blaine’s muscles are thick and defined from hours spent in the gym. Blaine also tends to wear his clothes much tighter than Ryan does. He handed me a plate piled high with onion rings and a shrimp po’boy with fried shrimp tumbling onto the plate. I popped one in my mouth and moaned in pleasure.
    “So, Paige, tell me— what’s your interest in Fidelis Vandiver?” Venus asked, dipping an onion ring into the puddle of ketchup she’d made on her plate. She didn’t look at me, and her offhand tone made me curious.
    Venus is a beautiful woman of indeterminate age. I know she has two daughters that have graduated from college and are married— so she’s at least old enough to be a grandmother. But her smooth dark skin is free of wrinkles, and she buzzes her hair close to her majestic scalp. She has strong cheekbones, round, wide-set eyes, and she’s tall. She always wears heels to increase her height to well over six feet. She went to LSU on a basketball scholarship, and I also know she won a gold medal as a member of the US Olympic women’s basketball team— but I don’t know what year, and had never cared to look it up. She’s been divorced for almost fifteen years, and her ex-husband, a lawyer, has a much younger second wife. She never talks about her ex much; she spilled that one night when we’d both had too much tequila in the months after Katrina.
    It never came up again.
    “Well, I went to the premiere of
Grande Dames of New Orleans
last night,” I said after swallowing a bite of my po’boy. “And I’m doing a story on the show. Lo and behold, one of the cast members winds up dead. And you said it was foul play?”
    Blaine shot a glance at his partner, which she completely ignored. “Unless she figured out a way to hit herself in the back of the head with a baseball bat, I’d say it’s definitely foul play.” Venus held up a well-manicured index finger. “Looks like it happened last night, after she got home from the premiere. She was wearing a black dress with one sleeve— House of Mercereau, according to the label.”
    “That’s what she had on at the premiere,” I confirmed. I took another bite and swallowed. “A baseball bat?” I shuddered, then something occurred to me. “What was she doing with a baseball bat in her house?”
    “It was a memento,” Blaine replied before Venus could say anything. “Signed to her with love from none other than Billy Barron.”
    “Billy Barron?” I shook my head. Once again in my head I saw him grab Fidelis by the arm, the terse exchange as she jerked away from him. “Why would he sign a baseball bat for her? I don’t understand.”
    “Apparently, it’s the very bat he used to hit the home run that won the national championship for LSU in the college world series.” Venus raised her eyebrows. “He’s also been having an affair with her for quite some time.”
    I almost choked on an onion ring. “Say what?”
    “Billy Barron and Fidelis Vandiver were having an affair.” Blaine opened another ketchup packet and squirted it out onto his plate. “And apparently, Fidelis was quite open about it on camera. For the show.”
    “Wait, wait. I thought Fidelis had an affair with Steve Barron. You’re saying she also was sleeping with his son?” My head was starting to hurt.
    Venus and Blaine exchanged a look. “Who told you she had an affair with Steve Barron?”
    “His widow.” I rubbed my temples. “I talked to her this morning. The two of them— Fidelis and Rebecca, I mean— had issues working on the show