by Sam Cheever
Cal jerked his head toward the gator. “What’s going on over there?”
Lyle slipped the massive knife into a sheath he wore around his thigh. “Idiot monks won’t listen to reason.”
Two of said “idiot monks” stopped just behind Lyle, glaring at his back. Brother Todd inclined his chin toward me. “Felicity. It’s nice to see you again.”
“Hello, Mr. Stevens.”
“Brother Todd, please.” He gave me a smile.
“Is my father around? I was hoping to talk to him.”
Brother Todd looked at the other monk, his expression filled with surprise. “He was just here. Did you see him Brother Matt?”
Shorter than I was and so pale his skin appeared translucent, Brother Matt wrapped skinny arms around his waist as if bracing against a fit of nerves. “I think I saw him duck into the trees over there.” He pointed toward the path where we’d found Brother Mike’s hidey hole under the bench.
“Thanks,” Cal said. “We’ll look for him there.”
“Before you go,” Brother Todd interjected. “Do you think you could help us with something?”
“I’ll try,” Cal said.
“This man…” Brother Matt said with a curl of his thin lip, “…says Aristotle needs to be cut open to see if he’s eaten Brother Mike.”
Brother Todd nodded. “Is that true?”
Cal frowned. “I don’t know your local laws. You should ask Deputy LeBlanc.”
The two monks turned twin smug looks toward Lyle and I quickly realized what was going on. “Did Lyle tell you he needed to take Aristotle with him now?”
“He did.” Brother Todd glared anew at Lyle. “We told him it wouldn’t be possible. He became quite belligerent.”
Lyle’s hands curled into fists again. A vein in his throat pulsed with anger. “These morons think there’s some saint living in that stupid reptile.” He shook his head. “Only thing inside that gator is a dead monk.”
“You found proof Brother Mike was eaten by this alligator?” Cal asked, his midnight brows lifting in feigned surprise.
Lyle’s only response was a frown.
“He’s lying to you. Lyle wants The Blue Gator bounty,” Ida Belle told them.
Lyle’s jaw tightened and I heard the distinctive sound of teeth rubbing together. “I am not lying. Gators that eat people have to be destroyed.”
“If that’s true,” Cal said, frowning, “…and we won’t know that until we talk to Carter, you would have to have some proof that he ate Brother Mike.”
The two monks shared a look. Brother Matt twisted small, transparent hands together in front of him.
“What?” I asked them.
“Aristotle has something in his teeth,” Brother Todd said.
“Oh!” Gertie exclaimed. “I hate when that happens. I’m always getting spinach caught in my teeth and nobody tells me.” She glared at Ida Belle and Fortune. They both looked innocent.
“We aren’t talkin’ spinach,” Lyle said.
“Maybe you should show us,” Cal suggested.
With a sigh, Brother Todd indicated that we should precede him across the lawn.
We all headed for Aristotle the Saint bearing alligator.
As we approached, the gator lifted its head and turned a wide-set pair of beady eyes in our direction. I expected him to flip around and scurry toward the Bayou as we approached but he held his ground, watching us with a predatory gleam in his eyes.
We stared at him a moment before I said. “What exactly are we looking for?”
Lyle stomped a big foot, waving his arms. The gator’s jaws opened on a hiss and the sun gleamed off something wrapped around his tooth.
It appeared to be the missing piece of silver chain from Brother Mike’s cross.
Cal crouched down and stared at the gator for several beats. Aristotle swung his tail and hissed, his jaws still wide in an obvious attempt to scare us off. But the intrepid Cal continued to crouch there, brows lowered in thought.
Slowly, the gator ceased its posturing and stilled, watching Cal the way he’d probably watch an adversary in a cage match. The small, cold eyes focused on my PI and held, looking almost thoughtful.
Cal cocked his head, still frowning, and then straightened. “You can’t cut this gator open,” he told Lyle.
The big hunter snorted. “Who says?”
Cal turned to him, the look in his Caribbean blue gaze not unlike Aristotle’s for cold calculation. “Because he didn’t eat anybody. That gator’s a pet. He’s comfortable around people. If he were predatory he’d have lunged for me.” Cal swung an arm toward the two monks waiting nearby. “He belongs to these men. If you kill him, I’ll make sure you answer to the law.”
Cal inclined his head toward Brothers Todd and Matt and grabbed my hand. “Come on, Felly.”
I stumbled along behind him as he headed for the tree line, fighting to keep up with his long-legged stride. Finally, I tugged my hand away and stopped, panting. Cal wasn’t even breathing hard. “Wait a minute,” I told him. When he turned, I filled my lungs and tried to slow my breathing. “How do you know that gator didn’t eat Mike?”
Cal shook his head. “I don’t.”
I fought the urge to stomp a foot in irritation. “But, those things you said to Lyle…”
Cal grinned. “He doesn’t really know if the gator ate Mike either. He just wants that bounty. Now he knows we know he wants the bounty and he’ll think twice because I’m assuming he can’t steal someone’s pet gator and collect on it. If I tell them that’s exactly what he did, he’ll lose the money and be in big trouble with Carter.”
Out on the Bayou, an engine roared to life and my head whipped around. I knew that sound. It had permeated my nightmares ever since the last time I came to Sinful. Along with inexplicable visions of a wizened old Snoopy poodle. That one nearly took me to a therapist.
Apparently, Fortune recognized the sound too. She flew past me, heading for the water. I glanced at Ida Belle as she hurried after her. “Is that what I think it is?”
Ida Belle nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
We arrived at the shore just in time to see an airboat carrying two men streaming away from the monastery dock. I recognized the smaller, dark haired man driving the boat. But the other man was shrouded in an oversized black hoodie. “It’s my father.” I frowned. “What on earth is he up to?”
Fortune lifted her fists into the air and screamed. Then she swung around, her pretty features scary with rage. “More importantly, what’s he doing with my boat?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Before leaving the Order, we asked Brother Todd what my father had been doing before we arrived. He was suitably vague, but he did remember seeing Brother Fenus a.k.a. my father, coming out of Brother Mike’s room just before breakfast.
“Did he say why he was in there?” I asked.
Brother Todd shrugged. “He said he was praying in the hopes that God would tell him where Mike was.”
“Praying, huh?” Fortune said. “You didn’t buy that did you?”
Brother Todd’s eyes sparked with humor. “We all have our own ways of worshiping, sister.”
“Yeah. Was Brother Pen…erm…Fenus carrying anything when he left?”
Brother Todd frowned. “Now that you mention it, he did have a ledger book in his hand. It looked a lot like the one Brother Mike keeps his records in. That’s strange too because Brother Mike never lets any of us touch his ledger. He’s very private.”
After searching the bare and unhelpful cell Brother Mike called home, we hurried back to Fortune’s house in the hopes that she was mistaken. There had to be lots of boats that looked like hers. Alas, the empty spot in the shoreline of her backyard where the airboat had been tied was likely a bad sign.
She stood over the post where the boat had previously been tethered, her posture rigid and her fists clenched. Nobody said anything for a long moment, then Fortune took a deep breath and turned to me. I flinched back as her gaze scoured
over me. But a moment later the rage was gone. In its place was a calmness I would never have guessed she could achieve. “I’m sorry, Felly. I know this isn’t your fault. But if he destroys my boat…”
“I completely understand.” I told Fortune. “If I was in your shoes I’d feel exactly the same way. I promise you if he damages the boat he’ll repair or replace it. I’ll make sure he does.”
She nodded, the last bit of tension leaving her body.
“Now that that’s settled,” Cal said. “Does anybody have an idea who the second person in the boat was?”
Heads swayed like palm trees in a windstorm.
“Whoever it was wore a hoodie,” Gertie offered.
Fortune crossed her arms over her chest. “Six foot, give or take an inch, slump shouldered, BMI approximately twenty-nine, about as dangerous as a hangnail.”
We all blinked at her for a moment. Finally Cal said, “You’re extremely observant.”
She shrugged. “It comes in handy in my line of work.”
I squinted. “As a librarian?”
She twitched a quick look toward Ida Belle before adding. “I can spot a book hoarder a mile away.”
“Right.” Cal clearly didn’t buy her response either.
“Why would my father take Fortune’s boat?”
“You made no secret of the fact that she had a boat on your last caper together,” Cal said.
“So if he needed a boat…” Ida Belle said, nodding. “And he’d be confident we wouldn’t shoot him for taking it.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Fortune groused.
“Okay, Felonius needed a boat…” I mused. I glanced up at Cal. “But why?”
“He made a quick getaway from the monastery when we arrived. He appears to be running from someone. Right now it looks like he’s running from us.”
“But that makes no sense,” Gertie said. “He asked us to help him find Brother Mike.”
“Maybe he doesn’t have any choice.” My eyes widened on my next thought. “What if the other person in the boat had a gun on him?”
“That would make more sense than him running from us,” Cal said. Though he didn’t look convinced.
Fortune had been staring out at the muddy ribbon of water as if she expected her boat to return. She turned to Cal. “This might make a lot of sense if Big and Little Hebert are pulling the strings. Maybe they have Brother Mike locked up somewhere and are using Felonius to close some loose ends.”
“So they sent Felly’s dad back to the monastery to retrieve the ledger from Brother Mike’s room?”
“I wonder what Mike had in that ledger?” Ida Belle mused.
“Only one way to find out,” Cal said. “Let’s go pay the Heberts a visit.”
Unfortunately for us, we didn’t move fast enough. As we were climbing into Cal’s rented Jeep, a familiar truck drove down the street and pulled up to the curb in front of Fortune’s house.
Carter climbed out of the big truck and sauntered in our direction, his handsome mug dark with anger. He stopped in front of Fortune and dropped his hands to his hips, dangerously close to his gun. He just stared down at her as she met his gaze, unflinching.
“Carter,” she finally said.
“Fortune. Or should I say Sister Fortune?”
Two lines briefly appeared between Fortune’s brows before she smoothed them out and smiled. “Do you know something I don’t? Are we related?”
Carter lifted a finger and drew a curved line in the air that connected the Swamp Team 3 plus 1 (that would be me). “You four impersonated nuns, entered the Catholic church under false pretenses, and then proceeded to cause massive destruction while inside.” His glare deepened. “Tell me why I shouldn’t arrest you.”
“Nuns?” Ida Belle looked so shocked I almost believed she was innocent. “Have you been drinking, Carter? Why in the world would we dress up as nuns?”
He crossed muscular arms over his chest. “That’s exactly what I wondered. I’m surprised lightning didn’t sizzle from the sky. But I never know why you three…” He scanned me a look that told me he was including me in the censure even though I was only a plus one. “…do what you do. I’m sure in your beady little brains you had a reason. I don’t even care. I just know I have a crime scene with lots of prints and four suspects.”
“Why do you think it was us?” Fortune asked the Deputy.
He lifted a brow in derision. “Besides the fact that when wonky stuff goes down it’s always you?”
“Yeah. Despite that.” She frowned.
“Because the Mayor said she saw you.”
“That’s a lie,” Gertie blurted out. “She never saw us.”
Carter lifted the other brow, a smug smile tugging at his lips.
“What she means to say,” Ida Belle said with a warning glance to Gertie, “Is that Celia couldn’t have seen us because we weren’t there.”
“You know Celia has it out for us,” Fortune told him. “She just assumes everything bad that happens is our fault.”
“And it’s not?” Carter asked.
Silence met his question. It was clear Fortune was trying to find a way not to lie to him. I threw Cal a pleading glance, hoping, as the only non-suspect, he could distract Carter from the war path.
“I have to agree, Carter,” Cal tried. “The Mayor does seem to have it out for them.”
Carter looked down at the ground, his jaw flexing. “There’s no question that Celia blames everything bad on you three.” Again he scanned me a look to let me know that, in this case at least, I was included. “But there’s no chance in Hell four random nuns from the Vatican just happened to show up in Sinful and vandalize The Blessed Mother.”
Fortune shrugged. “Everybody’s an art critic. You should have seen the chaos at the Mudbug Art Emporium yesterday.” She slanted him a look. “Where, by the way, we were around the time of the Mary molestation.”
Not exactly a lie… It was around that time.
“I won’t even address the fact that you were at an art show when you were supposed to be under house arrest.” He favored each of my three friends with an individual glower. “Just tell me how you knew when Mary Magdalene was molested if you weren’t there?”
“You’re kidding right?” Gertie asked him with a snort. “The Sinful gossip mill works at the speed of light. We probably knew about it before you did.”
The muscle in Carter’s jaw was so tight I found myself listening for his teeth to break. Finally, he lifted his hands. “I can’t prove it. But I know you four were in that church yesterday. Celia’s screaming bloody murder and I promised her I’d get to the bottom of it. I’m trying really hard not to arrest you but you’re not making it easy. If I were you, I’d find some way to replace that sculpture. Anonymously.” He turned away and stalked back to his truck, clearly unhappy.
Pain speared my finger and I realized with a start that I’d been gnawing my nail like a dog on a bone. “Do you think we fooled him?”
Four incredulous gazes swung my way. I shrugged. “It’s possible he believed us.” I really didn’t want to go to prison over the molestation of Mary Magdalene. I knew pedophiles didn’t fare well in prison. I had no idea what religious sculpture molesters suffered there, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t good.
Besides, orange made me look washed-out. And jumpsuits made my butt look big.
CHAPTER NINE
The Heberts could usually be found at their place of business, Hebert Swamp City Airboats. Cal parked in the lot in front of the long, glass-fronted building and we climbed out.
Ida Belle gave Gertie the stink eye. “Behave yourself in here.”
Gertie hefted her purse up to her shoulder with a glare. “One little episode with a float and I’m branded for life.”
Shaking her head, Ida Belle turned to Cal. “You might want to let us do the talking. We know the Heberts.”
“And they know us,” Fortune agreed. “You just stand there and look like muscle. Maybe th
ey’ll underestimate you.”
My intrepid PI didn’t look happy about it, but Fortune’s suggestion was a good one. If the Heberts ignored Cal he’d be free to observe them without restriction. I grabbed his big hand, squeezing it. “That’s not a bad idea, actually. Just melt into the woodwork and watch their reactions when we accuse them of taking Brother Mike.”
“They’re not exactly hard to read,” Fortune added.
Cal smiled. “I can do that.”
My knees knocked together a little under the force of that smile. “Great.”
Little Hebert was behind the sales counter, shuffling pieces of paper that I assumed were sales receipts. He looked up when the bell over the door dinged and his smile dimmed when he saw it was just us. “Look what floated up the Bayou like a bad smell.”
Behind him, Mannie chuckled stupidly.
Fortune and Ida Belle led the procession to the counter. Gertie and I followed close behind. As promised, Cal hung back, looking tough and silent.
Ida Belle inclined her head at the diminutive mobster. “Little. How are you?”
He shook a thick stack of receipts. “Business is booming, thanks to that great idea you four gave me about the Fourth of July boat show. We picked up all sorts of new clients at the thing.” He slapped the receipts into a drawer and slammed it shut, frowning. “But I have to take exception to the trauma you put poor Mannie over there through.” Little shook his head. “After dealing with you four and your micro aggressions, he’s having trouble finding his safe place.”
Mannie nodded his big head, tugging on a perfectly knotted silk tie. “I ain’t been able to sleep or eat since.”
We stared at the massive bodyguard like he’d lost his mind. Finally Gertie asked, “You mean the dog? That wasn’t our fault. We told you to stay at the house.”
Mannie frowned, shaking his head. “Nah. I ain’t afraid o’ no dog. It was that torture you threatened me with at the house.”
We exchanged a long look and then I realized what he was referring to. “You mean the bikini wax?”
Mannie grimaced, one big hand sliding protectively over the threatened area. “Pullin’ hairs out o’ people’s private parts. That ain’t human.”
