[Bayou Gavotte 00.0] Back to Bite You by Barbara Monajem

intends to give the dress and parure to the university museum,” Gerry said. “In fact, I think she has gone there now.”
    April made a rude noise. “If you believe that, you’re a complete fool.”
    Hopefully not; he’d been a fool for too many years already. The assistant, who had been typing madly, stopped to open his cell phone and send a text message.
    On to the next step. “Stan, my aunts want to sue Ms. Lane for the house and its contents. You need to know a little more family history first.”
    Auntie June whimpered. Aunt April shushed her and snapped at Gerry, “What does the past have to do with it?”
    “Everything,” Gerry said. “Over twenty years ago, Dorinda Darblay divorced her husband and returned to New Orleans. She and Arthur got in touch again and rekindled their old romance. Shortly afterward, my grandfather was almost beaten to death.”
    April glared. “He was mugged. So what?”
    “He was set upon by hired thugs. Among Arthur’s effects we found a letter from Dorinda. She used her connections in the underbelly of New Orleans to make inquiries about who hired them.”
    “Oh, dear,” June warbled. “Gerry, please try to understand. We meant it for the best.”
    “Shut up, June,” said April. “Gerry’s bluffing. He has no proof.”
    True, but fortunately, June was simply dying to let it out. “We couldn’t let him marry that monster.”
    “Vampires are not monsters.” Gerry strove to keep his voice flat. “They are just people. You sent me to military school to keep me away from a vampire. I suppose I should be thankful you didn’t have me beaten up, too.”
    “But, Gerry, we had to save you!” June cried. “It was for your own good.”
    “Excuse me,” the assistant said. “I just received a text message confirming that the dress and parure are safely at the museum.”
    June groaned, but Gerry couldn’t help but grin. Now to get this over with, find Mirabel, and convince her he wasn’t a jerk as well as a fool.
    “It’s a trick,” April hissed. “She’ll just bewitch some other idiotic man and take them away again.” Her eyes flashed. “Listen to me, you stupid boy. Our mother—your grandmother, in case you have lost all sense of duty to your family—was supposed to be a Mardi Gras queen. Dorinda stole that honor from her. A normal woman doesn’t stand a chance against a vampire. Mother should have presided at that ball. She should have worn the gown and jewels, and they should have been bequeathed to us. She got her revenge by marrying Daddy, but he never really loved her. He never got over Dorinda Darblay.”
    “We couldn’t let him marry her.” June’s voice quavered. “It would have been so disrespectful of poor mother.”
    Gerry gritted his teeth. “And having him beaten up was respectful?”
    “He got what he deserved,” April said.
    “And so did Dorinda,” added June.
    Gerry and Stan exchanged glances. The assistant stopped typing.
    “I was glad when someone shot her!” June cried, oblivious.
    For once, April said nothing at all.
    * * *
    Mirabel entered the museum escorted by Officer Turlow, the rookie cop she’d met when Arthur died, and a crowd of fascinated spectators. For a brief instant, she’d feared Turlow would try to arrest her, but he had only offered a bashful escort to wherever she chose. He also informed her that Gerry Kingsley and his aunts had driven away from the house just as one of his brother officers had arrived. She supposed she should be relieved or comforted or something, but after her burst of rage, she just felt numb.
    After someone had graciously found an old raincoat for her to wear, she handed over the gown and paraphernalia to the museum director in full view of at least a hundred witnesses. After recounting the touching story of Arthur and Dorinda’s romance and being regaled with coffee and cookies, she slipped out the back door wearing her bra, panties, flip-flops, and the raincoat. The thought of going home