by Jana DeLeon
“This day took a sharp turn from my planned Clancy reading.”
“Things with Gertie often do.”
I heard a thump against the side of the boat and we both peered over but couldn’t see anything. A couple seconds later, Gertie surfaced about twenty feet from the boat, clutching a piling that was part of an old pier. She yanked off the regulator and started coughing.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“I dropped the damn gun,” Gertie said. “I had a big one in my sights and then something big bumped into me and I dropped it.”
I felt the start of a small panic. Something large enough to make her drop the gun was not a random lake fish. “Get out of there, now,” I said.
“I’ve got to find my gun,” Gertie said.
“That gun won’t do you any good if a gator eats you,” Ida Belle said. “You better hustle that bunny butt into this boat.”
Gertie’s eyes widened a bit as she finally clued in to our worry, and she put the regulator back in her mouth. As she let go of the piling, I heard a faint whistling sound coming from the water. Gertie put her arm out for the first stroke and then appeared to flop backward, disappearing under the water.
“What the hell?” Ida Belle leaped off her seat and leaned over the side of the boat next to me.
I was just about to jump in when Gertie surfaced next to the piling again.
“What are you doing?” Ida Belle asked. “Get out of there.”
“I can’t,” Gertie said. “The gun went off and shot a spear through my T-shirt. I’m pinned to the piling.”
“Unbelievable,” I said. “She managed to shoot herself.”
“If you two hadn’t made me wear a T-shirt, this wouldn’t have happened,” Gertie said.
“Well, tear it,” Ida Belle said. “Just get moving.”
The water near the boat rippled and I peered into it. “Holy crap! Move now! There’s something huge down there and it’s coming straight toward you.”
I pulled out my pistol and fired into the water where I’d seen the shadow. Nothing happened so I fired again, but I couldn’t see any movement anymore. In the meantime, Gertie was yanking on the shirt, trying to tear it away from the piling. Ida Belle had thrown the anchor in the boat and was climbing back into the driver’s seat to move us closer.
“Did you hit something?” Ida Belle asked as she started the boat.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I don’t see it anymore.”
Ida Belle scanned the water, then pointed to a place just past the piling. “There! Bubbles! Something’s surfacing. It’s an alligator! Get out of that shirt! Just take it off.”
Chapter Four
We reached Gertie and I leaned over and grabbed her shirt, trying to pull it off the spear, but it was wedged tight. I popped the release on her air tank and snagged the strap. “Go under and duck out of that shirt.”
Gertie threw her arms in the air and went under, wriggling out of the shirt. I seized the tank when her arms were clear of the harness and threw it in the bottom of the boat. The alligator went under and I fired off another two rounds at the ripples. Gertie sprang up and clutched the side of the boat, and I dropped my gun and pulled her over the edge, depositing her in a lump in the bottom.
The alligator surfaced in the spot where Gertie had just been, and she peered over the side.
“It’s Godzilla!” she said. “I hope you didn’t hit him.”
“I ought to shoot him right now,” I said. “I know you think you have some sort of connection with that animal but you’re wrong. He’s not a house cat. He’s a killing and eating machine.”
“He just recognized me and wanted food,” Gertie said.
“Maybe you should just shoot her and fix it all right now,” Ida Belle said.
Gertie gave her a dirty look. “He’s just hungry. I brought a casserole just in case. I haven’t seen him in weeks. I was worried poachers had gotten him.”
She dug into her duffel bag and brought out a casserole wrapped in tinfoil. I made a silent vow to check Gertie’s bags before going anywhere with her again. From this point on, I was the TSA of Sinful. At least when it came to Gertie and things with zippers. At least then my only concern would be what she could fit into her bra.
Ida Belle climbed into the driver’s seat. “Throw that food to the monster and sit down. If there were any fish around, they’re gone now and they’re not coming back with him hanging around.”
Gertie flipped the casserole over the side and into the waiting mouth of the gator. “Oh! There’s fish. Grab that piling, Fortune, and move us around to the other side.”
I leaned over the edge of the boat, careful not to fall onto Godzilla, who was happily munching down on his snack, and pulled the boat around the piling. Gertie glanced over at Godzilla, then leaned over the other side of the boat and reached into the water. A second later, she popped up with a thick fishing line.
“There’s several of these attached to a piling under the water,” she said. “Two of them still have fish on them.”
“That’s why Hooch wanted to fish here,” Ida Belle said. “That’s his regular cheat.”
“They’re alive?” I asked. “Where did he get them?”
“He fishes for several days before the tournament,” Ida Belle said, “then hangs some fish on a line early that morning before daylight.”
I frowned. “That plan is so full of holes I could drive my boat through it. What if something ate the fish—like Godzilla, the alligator always looking for an easy meal?”
“My guess is that’s why some of the lines are empty,” Gertie said.
“Okay,” I said, “but what’s to stop anyone who lives on the water from just keeping fish in a live trap for a couple days, then swinging by their house and pulling them up? Or to make things even easier, why not just collect the fish before you leave for the tournament and put them in your ice chest? It’s not like anyone came to inspect ours.”
“Walter is running the rodeo,” Ida Belle said. “That’s the only reason we weren’t asked to drive by for a boat inspection. He knows we don’t pull any of those shenanigans, and you don’t know about them, so…”
Gertie nodded. “But everyone else’s boat is checked, and he sends volunteers to the houses on the bayous to look at live traps. It’s not foolproof, but it cuts down on the laziest of cheaters.”
I shook my head and climbed into my chair, completely done with the entire mess. “Then steal those fish, or whatever you had planned, and let’s get out of here before someone sees you and you get eliminated.”
“That’s a really good specimen,” Ida Belle said of one of the fish Gertie had hauled in on the line. “It would be a shame for it to go to waste.”
“An even bigger shame would be if Hooch collected all these and won,” Gertie said, and tossed the fish in the ice chest.
“Like that’s going to happen,” I said. “You’ve got the world’s laziest alligator just feet away from a meal that can’t escape. Those fish wouldn’t have lasted another ten minutes.”
Ida Belle hauled in another big fish. “I’d rather grill these up myself than give that gator another free meal. I don’t suppose we have any way to haul Godzilla in, do we?”
“No,” I said. “And he’s never allowed in my boat. Not even if he’s sedated and in a straitjacket. That animal does not like me.”
“That’s because you startled him the first time you met him,” Gertie said.
“He was in your bathtub,” I said. “I’m the one who was startled.”
Gertie waved a hand in dismissal. “He was just cooling off.”
They hauled in four more large fish and then declared that was it. Gertie emptied a package of potato chips into the bayou and we headed across the lake and down one of the bayous, hoping that if we moved far enough away, Godzilla wouldn’t try to follow. Given what he’d just consumed, my guess was he would crawl up the nearest bank and take a nap, but either way, no one was going in the water
again. The speargun might have been lost, but there was no telling what else Gertie had in her bag of tricks.
“You guys are going to be the death of me,” I said. “This was supposed to be a quiet day on the water. I was in less danger with the CIA.”
“Wait until hunting season,” Gertie said.
After the great speargun debacle, I searched Gertie’s bag and confiscated a flare gun, two more sticks of dynamite that she swore she didn’t know were in there, and a set of Chinese throwing stars. I didn’t have any idea how she’d intended to use throwing stars in a fishing rodeo, but there was no way I was going to find out.
With the tricks in the bag of horror safely locked away, the rest of the day was reasonably uneventful. Of course, Gertie managed to fall in twice and one time, got caught on the bow of an old shrimp boat that was partially sunk. It took both Ida Belle and me to lift her off of it. An alligator that had been hiding in the marsh grass on the bank slid into the water as we worked to get her off the bow, but he apparently decided a silver-haired woman hanging off a piece of rusty metal didn’t look all that appetizing. He surfaced once and paused, studying her, then turned around and headed the other direction.
True to form, Gertie was offended.
It was a long, hot day, but lunch was great, and I finally managed to finish my book. I also talked PI shop with Gertie and Ida Belle, talked about when we’d take that vacation we kept mentioning, and talked about everyone in Sinful finding out the truth about me, especially Celia. Basically, we drank water, ate a fantastic roast beef sandwich and homemade cookies, got sunburned, ran our mouths, and caught some fish. Well, Gertie and Ida Belle caught fish. One was bigger than Hooch’s stash, and Gertie was sure it would get her the coveted title and case of beer. When I pointed out that she hadn’t even cheated to do it, she told me not to get used to that.
The official weigh-in was happening at the dock behind the General Store, so we headed back thirty minutes prior to quitting time just in case we ran into any problems on the way. Gertie had informed me that “problems” could include anything from engine trouble to sabotage. I kept a watch out for any troublemakers along the way, but honestly, unless they were equipped to hit a target moving as fast as lightning, I’m pretty sure Ida Belle outdrove any shenanigans someone might have planned.
We drove the airboat up on the bank next to a glowering man in overalls and a Dale Earnhardt hat. Since his glare was mostly directed at Gertie, I assumed he was another fisherman used to finishing outside the top three. Ida Belle and I grabbed the ice chest and headed for the dock, where Walter was manning the scale and tape measure. Everyone leaned in as we set the ice chest next to Walter, and Gertie reached inside. When she came up with the big fish, the grumbling began.
Walter took the fish and inspected it up and down on both sides—I assume looking for blast damage or bullet holes or whatever other insane way people cheated. Satisfied that the fish was good, he then inserted a thermometer and checked its temperature, which he recorded on a notebook. Then he took out a tape measure and measured the fish from front to back, calling out the length as he recorded it next to the temperature.
More grumbling ensued.
Finally, he placed the fish on the scale and everyone stared as the needle moved up. When it stopped rocking, the grumbling turned to cursing.
“Second place,” Walter said. “We’ve still got one more fisherman to weigh in.”
“Second?” I looked at Gertie and Ida Belle.
“Who’s missing?” Ida Belle asked.
“Hooch,” Walter said.
“There’s your second place,” I said.
“If he don’t get here in time, it don’t count,” a man in the crowd yelled.
I assumed he was currently sitting in third and already trying to figure out exactly how many cans of beer were in a case.
“He’s got six more minutes,” Walter said, “so everyone just chill out. I’ve never known Hooch to miss a weigh-in.”
Everyone shuffled around, glancing at their watches and mostly grumbling. “Is this normal?” I asked.
“At least one person always shows up at the last minute,” Gertie said, her voice low. “They don’t catch something they think will place and stay out as long as possible. And since Hooch wasn’t able to snag his stash, he’s probably pushing the limit, trying to land a legit catch.”
Ida Belle nodded. “I am a little surprised, though. Hooch isn’t overly ambitious. With his cheating cut short, I figured he’d give it a couple hours, then head back in for air-conditioning and a nap. He rarely stays out past lunch.”
“Maybe he passed out drunk in his boat,” I said.
“Anything is possible,” Gertie said. “Except him not showing up at all.”
But as the minutes ticked by and there was no sound of an approaching boat, I began to wonder if this was going to be the first time for something.
“Ten seconds,” Walter called out.
The crowd started counting down and I looked over at Ida Belle, who was frowning. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Maybe nothing,” she said. “But something doesn’t feel right.”
The crowd got to one and started cheering.
Gertie sighed. “Like I need another rod and reel.”
“You didn’t need beer,” I said.
“Everyone needs beer,” Gertie said.
I laughed. “What I need is a shower and some AC. I scammed cream puffs from Ally yesterday. Wardrobe change, then meet at my place for dessert? I have beer.”
“You had me at cream puffs,” Gertie said. “But the beer is always a nice touch.”
Gertie collected her rod and reel and a trophy that looked like a bass and we headed for my boat. We were just climbing in when I saw Carter pull up to the sheriff’s department’s dock, and he didn’t look happy.
“I wonder why Carter was out in the boat,” Gertie said.
“I figured he’d be policing the fishermen, no?” I asked.
Ida Belle shook her head. “Law enforcement has a long-standing tradition of staying out of the middle of fishing rodeos. It’s just easier all the way around.”
“Even when they use dynamite?” I asked. I could see turning a blind eye to drunken boating and trespassing as long as no one got injured, but I figured no way would Carter ignore the use of explosives. Especially considering a lot of the fishermen were probably both trespassing and drunk.
“He would investigate any reports of explosives,” Ida Belle said, “but we only heard the one and that was first thing this morning. He wouldn’t have been out all day over that one blast.”
I watched as he stalked to the building, not even glancing over at us. He had his cell phone pressed to his head and his expression was grim. “Something’s going on,” I said. “Look at his face.”
“Maybe it’s Hooch,” Gertie said. “Maybe he fell in and drowned.”
“I told you something didn’t feel right,” Ida Belle said.
Carter entered the sheriff’s department, slamming the door behind him without so much as a backward glance. A minute later, Deputy Breaux hustled out the back door and hurried over to the boat Carter had just exited. He quickly started it up and took off down the bayou.
The rest of the fishing tournament crowd had dispersed, and none of them seemed to notice the interesting actions of the local law enforcement. Except for Walter. He was still standing on the dock and staring at Deputy Breaux as he passed in the boat.
“You hear anything?” Ida Belle called out.
He looked over at us and shook his head, but I could tell he had the same bad feeling Ida Belle did. I had a strange suspicion that a second-place opening in local fishing rodeos might be coming available. And I was pretty sure I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.
“Let me know if you get something,” Ida Belle said.
Walter nodded. “I should be telling you that. Those womenfolk of yours will have the scoop before my nephew opens his mouth about police b
usiness. But I’ll be watching. If I get a whiff of something, I’ll let you know.”
I climbed into the boat and took my seat. “What do you think is going on?” I asked.
Gertie shook her head. “An accident of some kind, maybe.”
“If it was just an accident, Carter wouldn’t look that worried,” I said.
“She’s right,” Ida Belle said. “Hooch doesn’t have any family he’s responsible for, so there’s no one depending on a paycheck come Friday. If it was an accident, Carter would have looked a bit sad and gone about his paperwork. Worried is a whole different animal.”
Gertie looked up at me. “You think he’ll tell you?”
“Please,” I said. “We’d hear about a conviction on the evening news before Carter shared anything about an investigation with me.”
Gertie shook her head. “In the movies, having the inside connection always gives a person the scoop.”
“That’s why they’re fiction,” Ida Belle said. “I wouldn’t count on Fortune getting us anything unless Carter talks in his sleep.”
Gertie gave me a hopeful look.
I shook my head. “He doesn’t even snore.”
“Well,” Gertie said, “I suppose that’s a plus, at least.”
“Might as well get going,” Ida Belle said. “We’ll know soon enough.”
I clutched the armrests as Ida Belle took off, but this time, her driving was more subdued. I had no doubt that by the time we’d showered and reconvened, Ida Belle would have heard from one of the Sinful Ladies. One was a dispatcher at the sheriff’s department and even though Carter had threatened her with firing if he found out she was feeding information to Ida Belle, it wasn’t going to stop her.
Added to that, the Sinful Ladies had nephews and nieces in almost every arena of employment—the phone company, hospital, paramedics, fire department, and coroner’s office covered most bases. One of them was bound to know something. Ida Belle wouldn’t even have to put the word out. As soon as one of them got wind of anything outside the Sinful norm, the first call they made would be to her.
