Fortune continued dragging me along as if I were a limp rag doll. I was glad we were moving at the pace we were because it kept me from sinking into the squishy, muddy terrain. So focused was I on moving that when Fortune stopped, I bumped into her. "Sorry."
She shook her head furiously and held a finger to her lips. Once I nodded my understanding, she pointed and I gazed in that direction. A yellow light glowed from a square window. My eyes widened. A window! There was civilization on this most foul piece of swampy land.
Fortune's tension was palpable as we approached the cabin. She stopped every few steps to assess the situation. Or maybe she was having second thoughts every few steps. All I knew was that if she decided to tuck tail and run, I'd be right behind her. But she pressed forward until the cabin was about thirty feet away. She crouched down low and motioned for me to do the same.
I could smell cigarette smoke before I could see the person who was smoking. My breath caught in my throat. I recognized the scent from my visits to the Sidorov's home—it was a Russian cigarette. I did my best to convey this to Fortune by miming it. She nodded her understanding. Delusional she might be, but she was also sharp. I'd give her that.
"Wait here," she whispered. She reached into her waistband and pulled out a gun. "Don't move."
I didn't want to move, but neither did I want to stay. Which would I rather face? An alligator or an angry Sidorov? I decided it was a draw. I watched as Fortune crept forward, moving with the stealth of a panther. As she grew closer to the glowing cigarette light, I held my breath. Just what did she think she was going to do? Ask politely if she'd reached the Sidorovs' summer residence?
But apparently words weren't needed. Fortune came up behind the man, a bodyguard I assumed, and cracked him over the head with her gun. He crumpled and hit the ground. She circled the house and then motioned for me to join her under the window. I made my way over, grateful not to be alone any longer. I cast an uneasy glance at the bodyguard as I stepped over him. Maybe this little incident would impress upon him the dangers of smoking.
Like Lucy and Ethel in an 'I Love Lucy' episode, Fortune and I held onto the window ledge and rose in unison to take a peek inside.
I somehow managed not to gasp when I saw the man who sat in a chair in front of the fireplace. He was sitting at an angle that didn't allow me to see his face, but I'd recognize that shiny dome of a bald head anywhere. It was Boris Sidorov.
The sight of him disgusted me. And then disgust gave way to shock. I struggled to take a deep breath. Sitting on Boris' lap was a white Persian cat. My white Persian cat. He had Priscilla. The bastard.
I shot to my feet. Fortune reached out to grab my arm, but I shook her off and ran toward the front of the cabin. It was time for Boris Sidorov to be taken down, and I was the crazed cat owner who was going to do it.
Chapter Ten
MY RIGHTEOUS ANGER carried me just far enough for me to burst through the cabin door. But once I was inside, my bravado deserted me. I had no idea what to say or do next.
"Close the damn door, Vasily." Boris didn't bother to turn around to make sure that it was actually his bodyguard who stood there. "This place stinks to hell and back."
When I didn't answer, he let loose a litany of Russian swear words and shifted in his chair. The look on his face when he saw me would have been comical, if I hadn't scared out of my mind.
"Miss St. James, what a surprise," he finally said.
I ignored him. "Come here, Priscilla, darling," I called to her. She leapt off of Boris' lap before he could grab hold of her, but she didn't come toward my outstretched arms. Instead, she sauntered right past me and jumped up on top of a rifle cabinet. She looked down at me with fire in her gorgeous green eyes. Oh, she was mad, but I didn't blame her. The poor thing had been cooped up with Boris on this smelly island for heaven only knew how long. She was going to make me pay for that.
Speaking of paying, Catriona was the one who had lost her life. Now Boris had to pay.
Boris stood but didn't make a move toward me. Yet. I knew he was trying to assess the situation. Likely he was wondering where Vasily was—I know I was certainly wondering where in the world Fortune had disappeared to. "Come here, little blonde one," he called to Priscilla. She blinked and looked away.
Little blonde one? So it was Priscilla he had threatened to kill next, not Fortune? I'd never been more disgusted in my life. What kind of a man threatened to kill an innocent cat?
Seeing that he was getting zero response from her, he turned his attention to me. "Did you come alone?"
I hesitated. What was the right answer to that? I was so in over my head. What on earth had prompted me to burst in there like I was a character in an action adventure movie? As much as I hated to admit it, I'd pulled a Gertie by acting first and thinking later. Sinful was getting to me, and obviously not in a good way. "Of course, I didn't come alone. I brought a highly trained C.I.A. operative with me," I lied.
Boris scoffed at that. "The C.I.A.? What a bunch of incompetent morons. You'd have been better off to have brought the old ladies along with you as back up."
And there was the only thing in the entire world that Boris Sidorov and I would ever agree on.
"I wouldn't let her hear you say that, Boris." Not that she was anywhere around, but I didn't know what else to do but bluff.
"Her? You brought a woman to deal with me?" He laughed so hard that he snorted. "Surely this is a joke."
"Cat's dead because of you, Boris. That's no joke." I could feel anger in my core beginning to rise like lava out of a volcano. I was going to blow. "You killed her. And you're not going to get away with it."
He took a step toward me, his eyes locked on mine. "That cat woman doesn't matter."
I choked on my rage. "Yes, she did. Why did you have to kill her?"
He shrugged. "I wanted the blonde one. She wouldn't give it to me."
Where was Fortune? Surely she hadn't absconded and left me to fend for myself? I could only hope that I looked calmer on the outside than I felt on the inside. I had to keep Boris talking until I could figure out what to do next. "Why did you want Priscilla?"
"I figured if I dismembered your precious cat, piece by piece, it would be a small start in making you pay for what you did to my two sons."
My eyes shot up to where Priscilla lay sprawled out. I could see four paws, two eyes, and her tail. Thank God. "What I did to your sons? You're the reason Misha is dead and Vladimir is locked up, Boris. You had to know that your criminal lifestyle was going to corrupt your sons." His face was turning purple. Good. Goading him was working. With any luck, he'd have a fit and drop dead at my feet. "You babied your precious Misha so much that he couldn't take no for an answer when I refused to marry him."
"You weren't good enough for him," Boris spat out. "You're a stupid, cheap whore."
"So you hired me, a stupid, cheap whore, to teach your sons manners? That hardly indicates that you had a high opinion of them," I taunted him. "You favored Misha so much that you drove Vladimir to kill him in a desperate attempt to get your attention. The blood's on your hands, Boris. Not mine."
I watched as he growled and flexed his fingers. I took this as both a good and bad sign. The growl was good because it meant I was getting to him. But it was bad that he was flexing his fingers. He was going to strangle me.
"So you killed Catriona? For once, why don't you be a man and admit it?"
Boris' face flushed four shades of red. "Don't be stupid. Of course I am a man. A great man. I killed Catriona Carmichael. Are you happy now?"
Happy? No. But I did find it utterly fascinating that the way to make a Russian mob boss confess to murder was to question his manhood. "No. I'm not happy," I told him. I wasn't happy that Catriona was dead. I wasn't happy that Fortune had deserted me. And I was most especially unhappy that I had no idea what to say or do next to get out of this situation alive.
"That's a shame," Boris said, taking yet another step toward me. He flexed his fin
gers, his eyes fixed on my neck.
I reached up and touched my pearls. Images of the bruises I'd seen on Catriona's neck paraded through my mind.
"It's your time to die, Miss Prim and Proper." Boris smiled. Apparently my showing up, unarmed and with no plan, had made his day.
"Not today, it's not."
Boris wheeled around. My eyes widened as I watched Fortune walk through a door at the back of the cabin. She had a gun trained on Boris' head. "On your knees, Sidorov," she commanded. "Now."
Her voice was pure steel. She didn't sound like the Fortune I'd come to know. Her hand that held the gun was steady and her body looked ready to spring into action. She completely looked the part of a trained member of a federal law enforcement bureau. I had no idea those beauty pageants trained their contestants to be such superb actresses.
Boris pivoted slowly. Clearly, he'd been caught off guard. But the fact that he hadn't done what Fortune ordered made it clear he didn't perceive her as much of a threat.
"Last warning, Sidorov. Down on your knees."
He opened his mouth to either protest or to mock her, I never learned which. Before he was able to say a word, Fortune pulled the trigger and fired off two shots.
Boris screamed. I think I saw blood. I know I saw a streak of white fur flash past me as Priscilla bolted out the front door. I believe Fortune pulled out a pair of handcuffs, but I'm not entirely certain because that was the point I fainted and hit the floor in what I'm afraid was a most unladylike fashion.
"COME ON, STEPHANIE, you have to eat something."
I forced myself to look at Gertie. Her concern for my welfare was clear to see in her eyes, much the same as I saw in my Aunt Ida Belle's expression when she looked at me. "I can't eat, Gertie. But I'm okay, really I am."
"Hogwash and slop, you're okay." She set the plate on the coffee table, but she didn't move from where she'd perched on the edge of the couch. "Now tell Auntie Gertie just what's bothering you. Because you know Fortune had to shoot Boris, don't you?"
I pulled the blanket up under my chin. "I know she did."
"Are you upset that she didn't kill him?" Gertie persisted. "She thought death was too good for him, and I don't disagree with her. He can sit and rot in prison for the rest of his life for all I care." She chuckled. "He's going to hate it."
I frowned. "Either way, Catriona's not coming back. If Boris died or stays in prison, it doesn't change that."
She laid a gentle hand on my knee. "I know, honey. I know. But you aren't responsible for what Boris did. The loss of your friend is one of those horrible, unfair things that happens in life that we can't control. You can find a way to honor her life, maybe something to do with helping homeless cats or something. But you gotta go on."
I nodded. Gertie was right. Aunt Ida Belle had said much the same thing several times in the last two days. The previous forty-eight hours had been an absolute whirlwind of activity and endless questions. I was just beginning to sort everything out in my mind.
"Now, let's focus on something positive. Not only is your aunt out of jail but she's a local hero for helping Carter lull old Boris into a sense of false security. That's probably why he wasn't carrying a gun when you stormed in on him." She flashed a wide smile. "You want to hear the story of how Celia had to eat crow when she had to give Ida Belle an official commendation for assisting the Sheriff's Department?"
This was a story I'd already heard. As proud as I was of my aunt, five times was enough for me. Gertie would be getting mileage out of this story for months, if not years, to come. I was saved from having to hear it again by Fortune, who appeared holding a plate of brownies.
"Go on, Gertie. It's my turn to pester Stephanie." She waited until Gertie had gone off, brownie in hand, before she set the remaining ones on the table beside the sandwich Gertie had brought in. She plopped down on the floor beside the couch and drew her knees up to her chest.
"Seems like we've got some things to straighten out, don't we?"
"Such as?" I asked. I didn't know where she was going with this. I'd thanked her, quite sincerely, several times for saving me from the same fate that Cat had met. She'd explained to me in great detail how she'd studied martial arts in her pre-pageant days. Just how she'd known the best way to knock out Vasliy with one blow or how to shoot Boris in the thigh so that he was incapacitated and not dead, she didn't elaborate on. But I didn't press her. Why bother? She'd just come up with another tale that had little basis in reality. She seemed downright relieved that I didn't question any part of her story, including how she'd managed to contact Carter so that he could show up and arrest Boris and Vasily while she and I slipped back to the house. "I think we've covered everything."
"You know I had to take you along when I went looking for Boris, right?" she asked. "We needed a confession, and you were the only one able to provoke one out of him."
I nodded. "I understand. I'm glad if it helped."
"It did." Fortune watched me for a long moment before she spoke again. "So, you're good? Willing to let it all go?"
I nodded.
"No loose ends, no last questions?" she persisted.
I almost nodded again but caught myself. "Just one question. Are you certain, one hundred percent certain, that we're not in trouble for drugging Kase?"
"We're clear," Fortune confirmed. "He's not happy about it, but the word has come down from his superiors that there won't be any follow-up to his claim that he was drugged. As far as they're concerned, he fell asleep on the job."
"But he didn't."
"No, he didn't."
"Then why are we hanging him out to dry?" This wasn't so easy to let go of. Boris could pay the piper, I didn't care what fate awaited him. I was done with the Sidorovs for good. End of that story. My guilt over what happened to Cat would stay with me forever, but Gertie was right. I could find a way to honor Cat's memory. But letting Agent Mayeux face censure for something he wasn't guilty of, that wasn't okay. "It's not right."
"In our line of work—" she stopped and corrected herself, "—in his line of work, things don't always end up in pretty little packages. He won't lose his job and this won't be held against him. It's complicated."
"You seem awfully concerned about that fellow." Aunt Ida Belle plopped in the chair across from me. She studied me thoughtfully. "Anything happen between you two while I was in lock-up that I should know about?"
"Of course not," I protested. "The man's nothing but a nuisance."
"A nuisance with a cute butt," Gertie called from the window. "Speak of the devil, here comes Agent Hunky now."
I struggled to a sitting position and whipped the blanket off my knees. I wasn't about to be caught lounging around like an invalid. Thankfully I'd rejected the sweatpants and t-shirt that Aunt Ida Belle had offered me to wear this morning in favor of a mint green sundress. I only hoped that the half-dozen baths I'd taken since my return from Number Two had done away with the stench. I'd scrubbed with salt, sugar, and bathed in every scent of bath bombs that Walter's store carried. I reached up to make sure my French braid was intact.
"You look fine," Fortune said. She got to her feet. "I'm going to duck out back and have a beer. Care to join me, girls?"
With a wry smile, Aunt Ida Belle got up and dragged Gertie away from the window. "Come on, you old fool, he's not the first man with six pack abs that you've ever seen and he's not going to be the last. Let's leave the young ones to talk."
I was grateful to be alone because if they talked like that in front of Kase, I'd die of embarrassment.
"Hello, Agent Mayeux," I said as I pulled open the front door. "Won't you come in?"
He stared down at me a long moment. I didn't look away. Something about him was different from the last time I'd seen him. Maybe it was because he'd changed out his black t-shirt for a navy blue one, or maybe it was something else. I don't know. And it didn't really matter. This would likely be the last time I'd ever see him. No doubt they were sending him back to New Orleans.<
br />
"I'd rather sit here outside." He gestured toward the front porch steps. "If you don't mind?"
"Of course not." Obviously he was afraid to set foot inside the same house as me. I didn't offer him anything to eat or drink. He'd probably think I was going to drug him again. I sat down on the top step, settled my dress over my knees, and folded my hands in my lap. I waited to speak until he sat beside me. "Are you here to ask about the cookies and milk again?"
"No."
I waited but he didn't say anything else.
"Then may I ask why you dropped by?" We both knew it wasn't to be social.
He took off his aviator sunglasses and let them dangle from one hand. "I just spoke to LeBlanc. They're done on Number Two."
Tears pricked the back of my eyes. I knew why he was telling me this. If the Sheriff's Department was done processing the cabin as a crime scene, there was no need for anyone to be on the island. Which meant that the likelihood of anyone finding Priscilla alive was next to none. My sweet girl was going to end up as a gator snack. I could only hope that the alligator who ate her choked on her fur and died. "Thank you for telling me."
He nodded. "You miss her?"
"I do." More than I could even put into words. I hadn't said much in front of Aunt Ida Belle, Gertie, or Fortune about Priscilla. If they knew how much I adored my cat they'd think I was crazy. They wouldn't understand. "The funny thing is, I swear I can hear her precious little meow right now." The sound was obviously going to haunt me forever. I stood. "Well, I guess this is goodbye."
"It's not. Sit down."
Oh, what this man didn't know about the power of the word 'please'. But I sat. I owed him that much. He had to be beyond irritated and aggrieved about the "Great Sedation by Milk and Cookies" incident, as Gertie had taken to calling it.
"I'm not leaving town just yet," he said. "Neither are you."
One Night in the Bayou Page 7
