Bullets and Beads (A Miss Fortune Mystery Book 17)

by Jana DeLeon

  I stuck my card into the slot machine and pushed the button, trying to look as if I were having fun. Gertie didn’t have to pretend. With every poke of the buttons, she bounced up and down, yelling directives at the machine as though her voice was going to make the magical combination of unicorns and rainbows appear. I found the whirling, dinging, singing, and other odd noises of the machines to be incredibly annoying but then, I was in operative mode.

  I figured it was best to let Mannie know what was going on just in case anything went down, so I pulled out my phone to send a text.

  Spotted an unknown at the casino. Pretending to gamble until we can evade.

  His reply came back almost instantly.

  Will walk the perimeter. Describe.

  I sent the description I’d given Ida Belle and Gertie earlier.

  Excellent.

  That was it. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and went back to attempting interest in the frolicking dolphins on the screen in front of me. If only I had a little bit of Gertie’s lack of attention span, I’d probably have more fun and be more fun. But I feared I was destined to be logical and practical before anything else the rest of my life. Of course, that’s the way Ida Belle was, and she seemed perfectly happy. She definitely had a lot fewer injuries.

  I got an incoming text and pulled out my phone. Ida Belle.

  Moving toward us. Your six o’clock. Hands in pockets. Advise.

  Hold position but be ready.

  Gertie looked over at me, waiting for instruction.

  “Just keep playing,” I said and hit the button to spin the reels again. There was no way he could drag one of us out of here without causing a scene. And none of us was going down for the count.

  Approaching you quickly. Hands still in pockets.

  I put one hand up on the machine and pulled out my gun with the other. Several seconds later, I heard the shuffling of feet on the carpet and felt the presence of someone behind me.

  “Fortune Redding,” a man’s voice said, low and just above my neck. “If you come with me, no one has to get hurt.”

  “You mean you?” I asked. “Because that pressure you just felt on your crotch isn’t because I’m interested in a good time. I’ll unload this into you and you’ll bleed out before you ever get off a shot.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” he said.

  “I think we both know better,” I said. “So back away slowly and I might let you leave here on two legs.”

  I heard a loud crack and swung around just in time to see him stagger back a couple of steps. Ida Belle stood there with a serving tray that she’d apparently delivered into the side of his head. He blinked a couple times and that’s when I saw the desperation. This was not going to end well. I dived into him as he reached for his waist and tackled him onto the carpet. People started yelling and I could hear the loud calls for security.

  I had surprised him but he was too strong for me to keep down. He flipped over and was scrambling to get away when Gertie clocked him in the face with her handbag. He yelled and clutched his nose for a moment, but that didn’t stop him from still attempting to run. My firm grip on his leg was preventing it.

  “Clock him again!” I yelled.

  Gertie swung the purse back to Mexico, then came around as though she were Babe Ruth. It hit him right in the side of the head and he wobbled for a moment, then dropped. Unfortunately, the momentum she’d created sent the purse bouncing off his head and continuing on its circular trajectory. It hit the slot machine Gertie had been playing, flinging Gertie over the stool and headfirst into the row of buttons. The machine whirled, then stopped and set off an incredibly loud display of music and flashing lights.

  “She won the motorcycle!” someone said.

  Ida Belle pulled zip ties from her pocket as I rushed over to check on Gertie. She didn’t respond when I called her name and my heart jumped into my throat. Then I saw her chest move and relief coursed through me. But we still weren’t out of the woods. Unconscious meant potential head injury.

  “Someone call 911!”

  “I already did it.” A woman’s voice sounded nearby. “I asked for an ambulance and the cops.”

  I looked up and saw her walk over and kick our assailant in the crotch. “Men like you are why women have to watch their backs every second. Pervert!”

  A casino manager had run up just in time to see the kicking portion of the morning and took a step away from the woman and looked down at Gertie. “Is she all right?”

  “She’s breathing but unconscious,” I said.

  He nodded. “What happened?”

  “That man made a suggestion I didn’t care for,” I said. “Things devolved from there.”

  “I’m really sorry,” he said. “The hospital isn’t far away. They should be here soon.”

  He’d barely gotten the words out of his mouth when a pair of paramedics rushed up. I pointed to Gertie, who they began to check out. She groaned and opened her eyes and a cheer went up through the crowd. The paramedics helped her sit up and then one retrieved the gurney they’d brought in.

  “You have a nasty lump on your head,” one of the paramedics said. “We need to take you to the hospital to be checked out.”

  Gertie looked up at the slot machine, which was still heralding her win, and her eyes widened. “No way I’m leaving here without my motorcycle! The hospital can kiss my—”

  “Please don’t worry about that.” The manager rushed forward. “I’ll take your information down and when you are cleared you can come back and fill out all the paperwork. But please go get checked out. I insist.”

  Of course he insisted. He was probably thinking the motorcycle was the least of his losses. An old woman attacked and injured while playing in his casino was a far bigger worry. Even if she’d sort of attacked herself.

  Gertie motioned to her handbag. “Get him my driver’s license.”

  I picked up the bag and cracked it open, afraid to let anyone huddled around us get a peek. Good Lord Almighty! If the police asked to search the “weapon,” Gertie was going under the jail as soon as she was released from the hospital. There were far too many sticks of dynamite. One was too many for law enforcement, but I could tolerate a stick or two. Gertie, however, looked like she was about to start a commercial construction project. There were two pistols in there, duct tape, two switchblades, Mace, and a crowbar. And that’s just what I saw before I found her wallet.

  I pulled the wallet out and hastily zipped the purse, then handed her ID over to the casino manager, who took a picture of the license and of Gertie, who by then was on the gurney and grinning, giving him two thumbs up. The police chose that moment to arrive and rushed up, trying to determine what was going on.

  I pointed to our assailant. “That man tried to force me to leave the facility with him by threatening to harm me. I’m pretty sure he has a gun.”

  The cops looked down at the man, then at Gertie and her thumbs up on the gurney, and frowned. Clearly, they needed more to go on.

  “I resisted,” I said. “My friend clocked him with a serving tray and my other friend hit him with her handbag after I got him on the ground.”

  “And you carry zip ties around with you?” one of the cops asked.

  “Doesn’t everybody?” Ida Belle asked, giving him a derisive look.

  “Okay,” the cop said. “We’re going to need you three to come down to the station and give a statement. And we’ll need to get the name and contact information for everyone who saw what happened.”

  “This lady is not going anywhere but the hospital,” one of the paramedics said.

  “And we’re going with her,” I said. “You’ve got the guy. The statement can wait.”

  “What about him?” one of the cops asked. “He’s unconscious too.”

  “Only room for one,” the paramedic said. “The next crew can deal with him but I highly suggest you go along and make sure he’s handcuffed and monitored. We don’t need people attacking senior citize
ns in casinos or harassing women, especially during Mardi Gras. It’s really bad publicity.”

  The cops looked both frustrated and aggrieved and I felt a little sorry for them. I’ll bet they all wished Mardi Gras didn’t exist. Their days must be filled with all sorts of this type of nonsense because the one thing they didn’t look was surprised.

  “Can we at least get your names?” the cops asked as they followed us as we were following the paramedics.

  I gave them our information as we walked and promised to go in and give our statements as soon as we were sure Gertie was all right. They were still staring down at our assailant, shaking their heads when we left.

  “Can we ride along?” Ida Belle asked. “We don’t have a car.”

  “No problem,” one of the paramedics replied. They loaded Gertie up, then we all climbed in and we were off.

  I knew we were all dying to talk on the way to the hospital but we couldn’t risk doing it in front of the paramedics. It seemed to take forever to drive there, then get Gertie admitted. The staff put her in a room and told us it would be a while before they could get to her as they had a bunch of frat guys come in earlier who’d managed to collapse a balcony.

  They allowed Ida Belle and me to stay in her room, which was unusual, but the staff appeared so exhausted I couldn’t blame them for not wanting another argument. I could hear the frat boys yelling down the hall and figured they were probably relieved to see three women, two of them seniors, whose only request was to sit in the same room.

  As soon as the nurse closed the door, Gertie grinned.

  “Well, I got us to the hospital and no one will be the wiser about why we’re here,” she said.

  “Good God, woman,” Ida Belle said. “We’re here because you got knocked out by that purse of yours. You should have to register it as a weapon.”

  “The purse and the contents,” I said. “But she does have a point. I’m sure we’re still being watched, and at least this way we have a medical reason for being here. And since we’re in the ER, it wouldn’t hurt to ask some questions.”

  “Oh! Speaking of weapons,” Gertie said and pulled a pistol out of her bra. “Better stick that one in my purse with the rest in case they want to do an MRI.”

  “Because that’s our biggest worry,” Ida Belle said.

  I heard more shouting down the hall and Ida Belle shook her head.

  “On the upside,” she said, “once the staff is done with that group, they’ll probably be too tired to care about questions. We just have to hope someone who took care of Natalia still works here and is on duty today.”

  “Speaking of questions, let’s get up to speed before anyone comes,” I said. “We need to have our stories straight for the cops.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “I was planning on saying that I saw the guy walking up and staring at you, then he leaned over and told you to leave with him or he’d hurt the old lady.”

  “Old lady!” Gertie protested. “Why do I always have to be the old lady?”

  “Because you’re the one in the hospital bed,” Ida Belle said.

  “That’s good,” I said. “I will back that up and say I refused and that’s when you clocked him with the tray, so I jumped on him. I’ll say he was getting the better of me so Gertie leaped in and hit him with her purse, then fell into the slot machine, knocking herself out. How does that sound?”

  “You’re going to tell the cops he was getting the better of you?” Gertie asked. “That’s almost funny.”

  “Well, I couldn’t exactly pull my usual moves right there in the casino,” I said. “Besides, we don’t want to raise suspicion. It’s already somewhat out of character for three women, two of them more advanced in years, to take out a youngish, fit dude.”

  “More women should follow our lead,” Gertie said.

  “I agree,” I said. “But for our purposes, it’s better if the cops see us as potential victims.”

  “Works for me,” Ida Belle said.

  “I still don’t like being the old lady,” Gertie said. “But I suppose it’s the easiest way to explain it. So what will happen to the stalker?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Hopefully an assault charge, but we can’t count on it.”

  “Maybe he won’t recover,” Gertie said.

  “I know I’m going to regret this,” Ida Belle said, “but what do you have in that purse? I hit him with that tray like I was auditioning as cleanup for the Yankees and he still had the energy to wrestle Fortune.”

  “I got a peek when I was looking for her wallet,” I said. “It was part gun shop and a little bit Home Depot.” I looked at Gertie. “Why do you have a crowbar in there?”

  “In case we need to break in somewhere,” Gertie said.

  “Woman, you’ve got to have the strongest shoulder in the state,” Ida Belle said.

  My cell phone signaled an incoming text. Mannie.

  Saw an ambulance leaving the casino. Was afraid it might be you.

  Good guess. But we’re all fine. Just a knock on Gertie’s head.

  Can you talk?

  Sure. One minute.

  Because I didn’t want to get kicked out of the room, I stepped into the lobby to make the call. There were no cell phones allowed in the ER and I was hoping to stay on the good side of the nurses.

  Mannie answered on the first ring and immediately asked what happened.

  I explained and by the time I was done, he was chuckling.

  “I guess that’s one way to get to the hospital without anyone knowing what you’re doing,” he said.

  “That’s what Gertie said. Don’t encourage her.”

  “So where is the guy now?”

  “He was still hog-tied on the floor of the casino when we left. A second set of paramedics were supposed to be on their way for him, so I assume he’s at or on his way to a hospital.”

  “If it’s yours, make sure he’s handcuffed and even then, be ready.”

  “No one has arrived here since us, so either he’s not here yet or they decided he needed to go directly to jail. He was starting to come around when we left.”

  Mannie was silent for a bit, then he said, “I think it’s time to bring the Heberts in on the entire story. They have connections with the New Orleans Police Department that could be useful.”

  “You’re right. Bring them in. I should have when I was there yesterday, but I was trying to minimize exposure of civilians.”

  “Of course. That’s your training. But the Heberts aren’t your typical civilians, although I expect they’ll be both touched and amused at your attempt to protect them. I didn’t catch sight of your father anywhere around the casino, but if he was there watching, he might have followed the ambulance.”

  “Yeah, I was thinking about that—we need a way to get out of here without needing to check back in, if you get my drift.”

  “When they release Gertie, call me. I’ll pick you up and transport you to the apartment.”

  “Thanks. I really appreciate everything you’re doing for us.”

  “I’m happy to help. This is my forte, although I prefer that those on the line be people I’m unfamiliar with rather than people I like.”

  “Ditto.”

  “I’ll be standing by.”

  He disconnected and I headed back to Gertie’s room and brought them up to date.

  “So do you think it was your father outside the casino?” Ida Belle asked. “Or do you think your stalker has a friend?”

  “I think it was my father,” I said. “Just a feeling, of course, but that’s all I’ve got.”

  “Why do you think that guy tried to abduct you?” Gertie asked. “That flies way past risky and right into just plain stupid.”

  “He’s desperate,” I said. “I could see it in his expression and knew he was going to make a bad move. And when he looked at the two of you, he saw what most people see—two nice little old ladies—so he completely underestimated you.”

  “There’s that ‘old’ thin
g again,” Gertie said. “But I get what you’re saying. I suppose that’s an advantage we have, really.”

  “Definitely,” I said. “And it’s an advantage to me. If that had been Ally sitting next to me, I might have reacted differently.”

  “Meaning you would have just shot him on the spot,” Ida Belle said.

  “I would have waited for him to go for his weapon,” I said. “But it would have been a legal nightmare. It’s better if we don’t have to kill people.”

  “I think it’s better when some of them die,” Gertie said.

  “No argument there,” I said.

  A nurse pushed the door open and came inside to check Gertie’s vitals. “We’re going to get you back for a CT scan in a couple minutes,” she said. “Do you have any metal plates in your head?”

  “She’s so hardheaded, you’d think so,” Ida Belle said.

  The nurse was clearly tired but smiled. “My mom says the same thing about my aunt Maggie. My name is Lois. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Lois, if you wouldn’t mind, could I ask you something?”

  “I suppose,” she said, looking a tiny bit apprehensive.

  “Were you working here in the ER three years ago?”

  “I started about three years ago,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

  “There’s a woman we know, a friend, who might be in trouble. She and her sister were attacked in the French Quarter and brought to this hospital three years ago. Her sister died. Two Russian women, blond hair. Thirtyish.”

  “I remember that,” Lois said. “I was training on the ward at the time.”

  “A friend of the woman that survived was recently killed,” I said and showed her my PI credentials. “I’m trying to figure out if this woman is in danger. Anything you could tell me about that incident would help.”

  She frowned. “I hate to hear that, and I wish I could help, but I wasn’t assigned to either of them. The woman you need to talk to is Gilda Jackson. She was the charge nurse at the time and handled the most critical cases.”