Bullets and Beads (A Miss Fortune Mystery Book 17)

by Jana DeLeon

Everyone except Ronald looked conflicted.

  “I have a fresh bass thawing in the laundry room sink,” I said. “Carter and I will just have to eat steak tonight instead.”

  “Works for me,” Carter said. “But I’d like some of that pie now. He seems settled enough.”

  Meaning Godzilla, not Ronald.

  “I’ll make some coffee,” Ida Belle said as we all started to walk away.

  “What about me?” Ronald yelled. “You can’t leave me here!”

  “Sure I can,” Carter said. “I’ll see about getting you down when I’m done having pie. But then you’re going straight to jail. And you’re going to pay for the damage to my boat, for the expense to haul it back to the dock, and for my and Deputy Breaux’s aggravation. When I’m done filling out all that paperwork, I’m going to charge you with discharging your weapon on private property, and I might even work up a case for alligator poaching.”

  Ronald’s face flushed red. “I was defending myself!”

  Godzilla looked up and hissed and Ronald tightened his grip on the limb.

  “Really?” I said. “So Godzilla came into your house and you chased him out with your gun?”

  “That’s not important,” Ronald said.

  “Yes, it is,” I said. “You know I have security cameras, right? I’ll bet that when we pull up footage over that apple pie we’re about to eat, we’ll see you trespassing into my yard to shoot that gator. He was never a threat to you.”

  “What about Christmas?” Ronald raged. “He almost killed me. He ripped my costume off. Everyone saw me naked.”

  “Your birthday suit is not the worst thing we’ve seen you in,” I said. “And since we didn’t get full frontal, I’m good.”

  “I’m still kinda damaged by it all,” Deputy Breaux said.

  Carter nodded.

  I looked down at Godzilla. “We’ll be back later with a snack for you.”

  The gator rumbled a little and I shook my head. Nothing surprised me anymore.

  Gertie pulled out her cell phone and took a picture of Ronald and Godzilla. “You’re such an idiot,” she said. “A pirate costume? Really?”

  “Pirates are rugged and tough,” Ronald argued.

  “Ever heard of Captain Hook?” Gertie asked, and pointed to the gator.

  We all laughed. It was time for pie.

  Chapter Two

  I got Carter and Deputy Breaux some towels so they could at least dry off a bit and we sat down for pie and coffee. We took our time with the pie, which was excellent, of course. For the first ten minutes, we could still hear Ronald yelling, but after a while he gave up. We discussed the upcoming festivities, Ronald’s penchant for wearing the worst thing possible for the occasion, and what devilment Celia would get up to at the Mardi Gras throw-down, but finally, we had to turn back to the business at hand.

  “Something is going to have to be done about that gator,” Carter said, looking directly at Gertie.

  “He’s not stalking Ronald,” Gertie said.

  “Of course he’s not stalking Ronald,” Carter said. “But he keeps turning up here because you’ve fed him here. And unfortunately for all of us, most of all Fortune, Ronald lives next door. It’s only a matter of time before Godzilla wanders into the backyard of an owner who’s a good shot. And I’m not going to be able to fault someone who pops him when people here have pets and children to consider.”

  Gertie’s shoulders slumped. “I know. I figured he was smart enough to stay away. I mean, look how he disappeared during alligator season. He might as well have been a ghost.”

  “Or maybe he wasn’t interested in lines with bait,” Carter said. “He might have been holding out for a chicken casserole. Regardless, he’s back now and he’s becoming a nuisance. I can avoid the paperwork on this one as far as Ronald being the victim because he was trespassing, but technically, that’s two times Godzilla has gone after him in almost as many months. If the state gets wind of this, they’ll send the game warden in to handle the situation.”

  “Will he relocate Godzilla to a preserve?” I asked.

  “It’s optimum,” Carter said. “But it’s not usually the way things go down. Especially with a gator that large.”

  “Gertie trapped him in a pair of pants,” I said. “How hard can it possibly be?”

  Carter stared at me. “You tried trapping him with an actual trap. How did that work out?”

  “Maybe we should have used my pants,” I said.

  “I don’t know what else to do,” Gertie said.

  Carter narrowed his eyes at her. “For starters, you can stop digging that hole in your backyard. You’re not going to get that gator there and try to keep him as a pet.”

  “Oh, good Lord, woman,” Ida Belle said. “Is that why you made us use my kitchen for the Sinful Ladies Cough Syrup? You didn’t want me to see that hole?”

  “I thought you said you were putting in a garden,” I said.

  “Well, that garden, so far, is three feet deep and twenty feet square,” Carter said. “What exactly do you grow in that kind of space?”

  “I thought maybe a koi pond?” Gertie suggested.

  We all stared. Clearly, no one was buying it.

  “What am I supposed to do?” Gertie said.

  “Stop feeding him, for starters,” Carter said. “And definitely stop feeding him here. Look at the facts—Ronald couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn shooting a gun, but I have a better chance of asking that gator to comply and having it work than I do convincing Ronald that Godzilla isn’t stalking him. Someone is going to get hurt.”

  “Someone already did,” Ida Belle said. “Your boat isn’t looking so good.”

  Gertie glared at Ida Belle. “Really?”

  “Boats are people too,” Ida Belle said.

  Deputy Breaux rose from the table and peered out the window. “Looks like the big dude gave up. He’s headed for the water.”

  “Then we’re still having fish tonight,” I said.

  “Is Ronald still up the tree?” Carter asked.

  “Yeah,” Deputy Breaux said. “He probably won’t come down until Godzilla disappears below the surface. I’ll wait for him to de-tree and then cuff him. Technically, you were off the clock thirty minutes ago. I can grab a shower and change at the sheriff’s department while Ronald takes a breather. He’s going to need it after I make him walk all the way to town.”

  “I can give you a ride,” Ida Belle said. “As long as Ronald doesn’t sweat or cry in my SUV.”

  “Thanks, but he deserves to walk,” Deputy Breaux said. “And I can work off the pie.”

  “Is the naked guy we arrested at the Swamp Bar still in jail?” Carter asked.

  Deputy Breaux nodded. “Hasn’t made bail. His friends claim they can’t find his pants, and therefore they can’t find his wallet. And apparently, none of them are willing to fund his streaking adventures.”

  Carter grinned. “Ronald will love him.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “Ronald thinks naked is crass.”

  “It isn’t always,” Carter said and winked at me.

  Gertie fanned herself with her hand. “Stop it, you two. You’re giving me a hot flash.”

  “You stopped having hot flashes back when Lincoln was president,” Ida Belle said.

  “Well, then I’m having a flash of jealousy,” Gertie said. “It’s been a while since I enjoyed naked company.”

  “Probably just as well, since the last one you tried that with was murdered and you were up for it,” Ida Belle said.

  Gertie sighed. “I didn’t even get to sexytime with that guy. No, the last time—”

  “We don’t need to know,” Carter interrupted as Deputy Breaux practically ran out the back door.

  Ida Belle rose and motioned to Gertie. “Now that your adopted dinosaur has made his exit, we best get back to the cough syrup.”

  “Are you done burning my taste buds off?” I asked.

  “Of course,” Ida Belle said. “Besides, Carter’s of
f the clock and he reeks of the bayou. I suggest a shower is in order.”

  She gave me a wink and headed out of the kitchen. Gertie cast a wistful glance back at us, then grinned before hurrying after her.

  “I’m not sure what I’m going to do with those two,” I said.

  Carter held his hands up. “Don’t look at me. I told you not to get involved with them right from the start.”

  “But then I wouldn’t have all this fun.”

  He grinned. “There is that.”

  I hated to break the mood but I had been holding something in since the night before, waiting for the opportunity to tell him about it. Before he took his shower was probably best, so that way he could wash it all away and we could try to relax the rest of the afternoon.

  “Director Morrow called me last night,” I said.

  The grin disappeared and he immediately shifted to serious mode.

  Director Morrow had been my boss at the CIA. He was also the man who’d taken me in as a teen when my father was “killed in action” during a CIA mission. Except that I’d found out on Christmas Day that my father wasn’t dead. He’d been spotted on a camera in Afghanistan, and facial recognition software that was constantly scanning the camera feed locked in on him. Then the alert system went crazy. Dwight Redding had been their number one guy. CIA operative extraordinaire. And apparently, they were as confused as I was as to how a dead man had crossed the street as if he were out for an evening stroll.

  I had all kinds of questions myself, starting with why did my father abandon me and ending with did I have to return the life insurance money I’d collected. Director Morrow was supposed to be working on answers. Not necessarily to those exact questions, but there were plenty of others that needed covering. Besides, I figured I’d never get a satisfying answer to the first, and the HR department at the CIA wasn’t going to be prompt with an answer on the second.

  “Did he have more information?” Carter asked.

  I nodded.

  “Have you told Ida Belle and Gertie yet?”

  “No. I wanted to tell you first.”

  Ida Belle and Gertie were my sisters, my mothers, and Gertie sometimes felt like my child, but I felt that this discussion was something that needed to happen with Carter first. I loved my girls but I was in love with Carter.

  “So?” Carter asked.

  “He said intelligence identified the building my father entered as one they suspected a high-ranking member of the Taliban used when he was in the city. He wouldn’t give me a name, of course.”

  “Of course. Not that it matters. Does he have any thoughts on that?”

  “I’m sure he has plenty, but he’s not sharing them with me. Come on, Carter. We both know how this looks. The man disappeared fourteen years ago and they returned what was supposedly left of him in a container the size of an engagement ring box.”

  “But there was a DNA match.”

  I nodded. “So either some other government faction stepped in and convinced him he was of more use as a dead man and made that happen, or he pulled a couple of his teeth for DNA testing and staged the explosion because he decided it was more convenient to become a ghost.”

  Carter’s jaw flexed and I could tell that he didn’t like either scenario and had already processed them himself. Either option meant my father had deliberately chosen to make me an orphan. The fact that he’d maintained that position for fourteen years was sobering and didn’t exactly lean toward the idea that he was still “on our side” of the equation.

  If my father was a traitor, it changed everything I’d ever known about him.

  “So identification was based on the teeth,” Carter said.

  “That’s what I was told. But the more interesting fact is that I attempted to locate the guys that made the identification. Two of them—both conveniently dead. And neither by natural causes.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “One was lost in his boat on a fishing trip and the other, if you can believe it, was hit by a bus.”

  “Jesus. So what now? Are they going to dig up those remains to retest them?”

  “They’ve already excavated the grave, but someone beat them to the punch. My guess is it happened shortly after that coffin containing teeth and some mementos went into the ground.”

  He blew out a breath. “This reeks of a cover-up.”

  I nodded. “The question is, of what? Is he a super-secret operative for the US, or did he jump sides and they don’t want that to make the rounds?”

  Carter reached over and took my hand in his. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine how hard this is. I hope Morrow gets you some answers soon.”

  I shrugged. “To what end? Is there an answer that’s good enough to explain his choices?”

  “No. Regardless of why, he’s a piece of crap for what he did. I’m sorry to say that about your father, but that’s how I feel and I want to be honest with you.”

  “I have a stronger word than ‘crap.’”

  “Yeah, I can think of a few. And I know it doesn’t lessen what he did or how you had to grow up, but you have a family right here in Sinful. I love you. Walter loves you. Ally loves you. And God love ’em, those two meddling messes who just left here would lie down and die for you.”

  I smiled and squeezed his hand. “I know. And I wouldn’t trade any of you for a shot at changing history. The reality is if my father hadn’t done what he did, I might never have become an operative. And if I hadn’t become an operative, then I would have never come to Sinful. And I truly believe this is where I’m meant to be.”

  “So do I. And right now, I believe you’re meant to be in a shower with me, and then we’re destined for a long nap in the hammock.”

  “Good thing it’s warm outside.”

  He leaned over and kissed me. “It’s about to be scorching inside.”

  I hurried up the sidewalk, following an awesome smell. Downtown was packed with Sinful residents, many wearing colorful masks and all with a huge lump of beads hanging around their necks.

  “Slow down,” Gertie said. “It’s hard to go fast with this mask. It keeps slipping.”

  “So take it off,” I said. “That’s funnel cake. If they run out before I get some, I might have to open fire. That won’t turn out well for anyone.”

  “I can’t take it off,” Gertie said. “I’m incognito.”

  I stopped short and pointed at her T-shirt, which read Show Me Your Boots.

  “Do you really think anyone is in doubt after reading that?”

  She grinned. “But it doesn’t say ‘boobs.’”

  “I’m sure everyone is delighted at the difference,” I said as I continued up the sidewalk.

  Gertie waved a hand in dismissal as she jogged after me. “No one cares except Celia and she’ll have a cow. Which will just make everyone else happy, so it’s a win. Well, except for Celia, but who cares?”

  “I don’t. That’s for sure.”

  I heard a whoop across the street and looked over to see several men, in what looked to be a large dog kennel, holding up their boots.

  “Hey, Gertie!” they yelled. “Throw us some beads.”

  Gertie grinned and ran over to toss some beads over the fence panel, and the men scrambled for them and started arguing. I held back, still trying to figure out what the heck was going on as I’d just realized the men were locked up in one of three sets of pens, and the others had occupants as well.

  “Why are those people in cages?” I asked as Gertie made her way back over.

  “Temporary jail,” she said. “There’s not enough jail space to lock up the usual silliness and no way Carter wants to file that kind of paperwork. So they erect these temporary ‘jails.’ They toss people in there long enough to cool off and then they can get out and party again.”

  “There’s a nun in that middle one.”

  “You can’t take Catholics anywhere.”

  “Because Baptists are all the picture of decorum.”

&
nbsp; Gertie grinned. “Only if another Baptist is watching.”

  “Doesn’t the hypocrisy ever bother you?”

  “Hypocrisy is what keeps small towns intact. Now let’s go get you that funnel cake.”

  “So if Deputy Breaux is all dressed up as king for the night, who’s helping Carter put nuns in kennels?”

  “Walter and Scooter help out. And Sheriff Lee, of course.”

  I nodded, not sure that Sheriff Lee counted much as help as I couldn’t imagine him getting off his horse the number of times required to escort all the offenders to the makeshift clink, but apparently, they’d been making it work for years, so who was I to judge? I managed to get my funnel cake hot off the presses and we headed for the Sinful Ladies booth where they were hawking their “cough syrup.”

  “Must be flu season for Baptists,” I said, pointing at the line at the booth. It was actually longer than the funnel cake line, which didn’t seem right to me.

  “Keeping things intact, remember?” Gertie said.

  I shook my head and we stepped around the back of the booth where Ida Belle was handling a quickly diminishing inventory. I had helped unload all the cases of cough syrup earlier that day and I’d have bet only a third of what we’d stacked there was remaining.

  “Wow!” I said. “You are going to run out.”

  “That’s the plan,” Ida Belle said. “Everyone knows to stock up early, then we can close up shop and enjoy the festivities. Give us another thirty minutes and this booth will be a ghost town.”

  “A ghost town with a stinking high profit,” Gertie said.

  Ida Belle nodded, looking extremely pleased. “Excellent profit. I see Fortune found the funnel cake.”

  Gertie and I had both finished eating our funnel cakes on the walk to the Sinful Ladies booth. Now I was just trying to brush the remnants of powdered sugar off my T-shirt.

  “That’s the one downside of funnel cake,” Gertie said. “You can’t hide the fact that you had one. That’s why I always wear a white T-shirt when I know it’s going to be available.”

  “Why would I want to hide that fact?” I asked. “I was thinking about getting another before they go the way of the cough syrup.”