by Jana DeLeon
Gertie gave me a thumbs-up and headed up the sidewalk. Ida Belle looked over at me. “Are you planning on gaining any domestic skills now that you’re not running around killing people for a living?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, sometimes I think I should learn how to cook a couple of my favorite things at least, but then I figure Francine or Gertie will cook them for me and mine would never be as good, so why bother. I’ve made it to this age without starving, and trust me, until coming here I hadn’t had a decent home-cooked meal since my mom died.”
Ida Belle nodded. “I suppose your dad wasn’t much of a cook.”
“My dad was the king of takeout. Where do you think I got the habit? Granted, in DC there’s a ton of choices. In Sinful, I’m limited to Francine’s opening hours and friends who will take pity on me.” I looked over at her. “What about you? I don’t think I’ve seen you cook anything except on the grill.”
“It’s not really my thing. Neither is sewing. I mean, I’ll put a button back on or fix a hem, but I don’t want to do it for sport, and I don’t see anything relaxing about it regardless of what Gertie claims. I tried to make a shirt once. Gertie pestered me about the cost of buying in the store versus the cost of material until I figured I ought to give it a try.”
“How did that go?”
“I outgrew the shirt before I finished sewing it.”
I smiled. “How old were you?”
“Fifteen. But I figured it was a clear indication of how things were going to be. I can do wonders with duct tape, though.”
“My preferred method of dealing with missing buttons and loose hems was to buy cheap clothes and replace them when something went wrong. The CIA had to cover a lot of my wardrobe costs anyway. God, the things I had to wear…makes me cringe just to think about it.”
“What kind of things?” Ida Belle asked. “Thick camo in the desert? Those awful hiking boots?”
“Worse. Designer dresses and heels.”
Ida Belle laughed. “Yeah. I can see that.”
I pulled into her driveway and she hopped out. “See you in a little while,” I said.
She gave me a wave and headed inside. I put Walter’s truck in gear and started for my house, thinking about everything that had happened since I’d returned to Sinful. A dead fisherman, a night in jail, a friend up for murder charges, and a defrocked nun. It was pretty impressive for only two days, even for me. At this rate, I might not make it a week as a regular civilian.
I managed the drive to my house without incident, which I gave myself a brownie point for, then headed straight for the shower. I had bits of cake on me and had worked up a sweat trying to chase down Gertie the Flying Nun-Stripper. Merlin greeted me as I walked in the door, which was strange. So strange that I stopped short and stared.
He meowed. That loud, piercing meow that only an irritated cat can manage.
I frowned. I’d fed him this morning before I left the house and he’d eaten everything, then gone outside for a bit to do his business. But ever since the summer heat had rolled in, he preferred sleeping inside on the couch or on my bed to sleeping outside. Or maybe he was on alert since Godzilla had chased him up the tree. Regardless, he hadn’t shown much interest in being outdoors.
The only other time he got this peeved was when something wasn’t right in the house. Like when I’d replaced the doormat in the kitchen because Bones had chewed the ends off and it kept shedding fibers on the floor. Merlin had protested for a week by refusing to step on the new rug. I’d had to let him out the front door, which was a real hassle. But less of a hassle than an angry cat who has to pee locked up inside your house.
I automatically reached for my hip, but my gun wasn’t there. Damned civilian living. Fortunately, I kept a spare in the rooms I occupied, so all I had to do was make it to the end table by the window and I had a nice nine-millimeter tucked in the drawer. If someone was inside, they’d heard me come in. I hadn’t exactly been quiet about it, but then, I hadn’t had any reason to be.
Now I did.
I crept over to the end table and slid open the drawer, reaching inside for the gun.
“You looking for this?” Mannie’s voice sounded from the hallway.
I whirled around and saw him standing there, an amused look on his face and my nine dangling from his finger.
“Jesus, you scared the crap out of me,” I said.
He handed me the gun. “I find that extremely hard to believe. I couldn’t even scare the cat. He’s as ornery as you.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
He grinned. “Maybe I meant it as one.”
I looked around him toward the kitchen. “You got anyone else stashed in there?”
“No. The Misters Hebert are busy with prior obligations, but they asked me to come speak to you.”
“I have beer and cookies in the kitchen.”
He stood back and waved me past. “The more I get to know you, the more I like you.”
“Really?” I asked as we walked into the kitchen. “Then how about you tell me how you keep getting into my house? Because I’ve checked and there’s no sign of entry. I’m not exactly a layman, so either you’re that good or you can walk through walls.”
Mannie took a seat at the kitchen table and tilted his head to one side. “I suppose I could leave you thinking I’m that good, but I have too much pride in my actual work to claim something I didn’t do. Marge’s locksmith is a cousin of Big and Little. He might have furnished them a key.”
I sat two beers on the table and took a seat. “Remind me to change my own locks.”
“Do you really think that would matter?”
“Not in your case, but you’re not who I’m worried about.”
He frowned. “You’re worried about someone?”
“No. I just meant that if someone else was trying to gain access to my home besides you, that would be a problem.”
His expression relaxed. “But your previous situation is resolved, correct?”
“Yes. Completely.”
“No chance of someone else picking up the torch?”
“No way. The organization is in shambles, with a bunch of Ahmad’s top men fighting for control. Word is none of them are happy with the heat Ahmad brought onto them with his vendetta. Don’t get me wrong—if one of them saw me on a street, they probably wouldn’t hesitate to shoot, but no one is motivated to come looking.”
“Good. If anything ever changes, you let me know. I’m always available for backup.”
I grinned. “I think I have more backup here than I did with the CIA.”
“It’s southern Louisiana. Land of many hidden skill sets.”
“Lord, isn’t that the truth. And a lot of them really scary. Well, I’m sure you didn’t come all the way over here to have a beer, so what’s up? Is everything okay with Big and Little?”
“The Heberts are well. I’ll relay that you inquired. But they are a bit concerned. They always have an ear to the ground, so to speak, and have heard about the fisherman who was poisoned yesterday.”
“Wow. They’ve got really good ears or good ground. The police haven’t even released the cause of death.”
“But yet you are not the least bit surprised, which tells me you were already aware of that fact. I assume Ida Belle’s ladies are on the job. They probably knew it was murder before he drew his last breath.”
“Close enough. What’s the Heberts’ interest in this?” I was certain they weren’t associated socially in any way, and I couldn’t fathom Hooch trying to strike a business deal with them.
“Mr. Carre contacted the Heberts last week about obtaining money.”
“As in a loan? The man who made perpetual excuses to get out of work had the nerve to ask the Heberts to lend him money? Was he drunk?”
“I’m pretty sure Big asked him the same thing. Mr. Carre wasn’t interested in a loan but in an exchange. He claimed he would sign over the rights to property that would cover
the amount he wanted.”
“What property? Ida Belle said he lived in some shack out in the bayous. What was he asking for—a hundred bucks?”
“Half a million.”
I almost dropped my beer. “Pennies?”
“Dollars.”
“And they’re sure he wasn’t drunk?”
Mannie put his hands up.
“Property in Sinful? Is there a gold mine here? Or diamonds?”
“There’s oil but you can’t exactly dig a hole and harvest it for sale. Besides, mineral rights are closely guarded.”
“Then I don’t get it. I mean, let’s just indulge the fantasy for a moment that Hooch had property worth that kind of money. Why not just sell it outright? If he wanted money from the Heberts then he knows they’re not doing it for free. So if he wanted half a million, he’d need property worth, what?”
I looked at Mannie, who was silent for a couple seconds, then he leaned forward. “Let’s just say eight hundred thousand. Maybe more.”
“Wow! That’s some serious profit.”
“There’s appraisal, legal and administrative costs and facilitator’s fees. It adds up. The Heberts don’t exactly take on simple transactions. There’s a steep cost for the risk they assume.”
That kind of fee was on the wrong side of legal, but then, the people who went to the Heberts for money weren’t the type that could afford to turn them in.
“But it also makes my point,” I said. “Why take a three-hundred-thousand-dollar hit? Why not sell the property and pocket it all?”
Mannie frowned. “I don’t know, and the Heberts said Mr. Carre was very vague about why he needed the money quickly. You have to understand, it’s against their policy to ask too many questions. That’s the reason people come to them in the first place.”
“Sure.”
“Nonetheless, when the Heberts heard of Mr. Carre’s demise and the manner in which he exited, it raised some questions. When they got word that your friend had been arrested, they grew concerned. I’m sure that whatever reason Mr. Carre needed that money is directly tied to his death. The Heberts felt so as well, which is why we’re having this chat. They did not want to see your friend railroaded for something she wasn’t responsible for.”
“That’s not going to happen. I’ve already got her released from custody and if the ADA has a lick of sense, he won’t touch pursuing charges with a ten-foot pole. But there’s still the problem of local talk.”
Mannie nodded. “She has to live here. I understand she wants to open a business as well. That kind of speculation tends to linger unless something is definitively resolved.”
I sighed. “Yeah. One of the many hazards of small-town living.”
“Right up there with undressing nuns.”
I stared. “Is there anything you don’t know?”
“Unfortunately, plenty. This summer’s crime spree proved that even the Heberts don’t have their pulse on everything, and neither do Ida Belle and her crew. But a half-naked nun story tends to make the rounds rather quickly.”
“I suppose it would.”
He rose from his chair. “I don’t want to hold you up any longer, and I apologize for once again showing up without calling first. But the Heberts wished for you to have the information as soon as possible, and they don’t like to relay such things on cellular devices.”
“Their assumption being that I was about to stick my nose into police business?”
“No use fighting DNA.”
“Ha! You think Carter would buy that one? That I’m physically unable to mind my own business because of my DNA?”
“Carter is no fool. I don’t think he’d believe it, but he might accept it in passing because of his feelings for you.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a little peeved at me right now.”
“And that will likely be an ongoing place you two visit, but it will never be boring.”
I perked up a bit. “I guess it is more interesting to fight over undressing nuns than something mundane like taking out the garbage.” I looked up at Mannie. “What about you? Is there a Mrs. Badass tucked away somewhere?”
Mannie grinned. “I have not yet found my match. I didn’t have the time or inclination when I was serving. And the sort of women I encounter as part of my job now aren’t the type I’d roll the dice on.”
“Makes sense. Well, if you’re ever interested in going older, I know Gertie would love a run at you.”
He laughed. “I’d worry about my longevity dating Ms. Hebert. Although she does seem to have quite an interesting collection of explosives.”
“Just what a man looks for in a woman.”
“It was good seeing you again, Fortune. If there is anything we can do to assist with this, please let us know. “
“Tell the Heberts I said thank you. And thanks for delivering the information.”
“It was my pleasure. Good to have you back.”
He gave me a nod and exited. I leaned back in my chair and marveled over how the politest of people always seemed to be the most deadly. Except me. I was as abrasive as heavy-grit sandpaper.
Eight hundred thousand dollars.
What the hell did Hooch own worth that kind of cash? And why did he need the money so badly he was willing to pay top dollar to get it now?
For something that had appeared as simple as an out-of-condition drunk having a heart attack, this was shaping up to be as convoluted as everything else I’d encountered in Sinful. I chugged down the rest of my beer and hurried upstairs for a quick shower. Gertie and Ida Belle would be arriving soon, and we had a lot to discuss.
Chapter Thirteen
“Half a million dollars?” Gertie snorted. “He’s lost the plot. Or I guess I should say he’d lost the plot. Either way, no one in their right mind would give Hooch a half-million dollars regardless of the collateral. That goes ten times over for the Heberts.”
She shoved a chicken casserole into my oven and started buttering a big loaf of French bread. Ida Belle and Gertie had arrived ten minutes earlier, and I’d just finished filling them in on Mannie’s impromptu visit.
Ida Belle frowned. “I have to agree with Gertie’s assessment. The Heberts are not the people to acquire money from unless one is in dire straits, but to approach them with that kind of request is lunacy even beyond what I thought Hooch capable of.”
“What in the world would he need that kind of money for?” Gertie asked. “The man has never owned anything worth more than a couple thousand bucks. Hell, I don’t think he even knew how many zeroes were in five hundred thousand.”
“It certain makes you wonder,” Ida Belle said. “Clearly our friend Hooch wasn’t the run-of-the-mill redneck we thought he was. He had something going on. Something that led him to believe his property was worth a lot of money.”
“Or he was insane enough and desperate enough to try to convince the Heberts that was the case,” Gertie said.
“Is anyone that insane?” I asked.
“Well, this is Sinful,” Ida Belle said. “But I agree. Even the least intelligent among us knows not to get on the wrong side of the Heberts.”
“Okay,” I said, “so if we assume he wasn’t that insane and actually thought he had property worth that amount, that still doesn’t tell us why he’d approach the Heberts for the money. Why not sell the property and pocket way more?”
“I can only think of two reasons,” Ida Belle said. “First, he didn’t want people to know what the property was worth. A sale would have produced public records and then all the people he stiffed on jobs would have lined up for repayment.”
Gertie nodded. “And I heard Hooch liked to gamble, so he might have owed bookies and the like.”
“What’s the second reason?” I asked.
“He needed to leave quickly and quietly for some reason far more urgent than monies he owed,” Ida Belle said. “With that kind of cash in hand, it would be easy to disappear.”
“So either he wanted to skip out on his deb
ts,” I said, “or he needed to skip out on something worse. But what? If something big was going on with Hooch, could he have really kept it a secret in Sinful?”
Ida Belle shook her head. “At one time, I would have said no. And I would have been wrong. I mean, I’ve always believed you never really know a person, but this past summer was a rude awakening for me when it comes to just how much I didn’t know about my town and the people in it.”
“People work really hard to keep the kind of things we’ve exposed a secret,” I said.
“Yes, but most aren’t all that good at it,” Ida Belle said. “Some of this has been happening for years, and right under our noses. If you’d told us last year about all the things that have happened the last few months, I would have laughed off half of it.”
“But the other half?” I asked.
“Well, I have a lower opinion of human beings than a lot of people,” Ida Belle said.
“I can appreciate that,” I said. “So we have to assume that Hooch had more going on than you would have ever guessed. But surely someone knows something. So where do we start?”
Ida Belle’s phone rang and she glanced at the display and frowned. “It’s Walter.”
She answered and did one energetic “really” and several “uh-huhs,” then ended with a “thanks.” She placed her phone on the table and looked at us.
“Hooch’s ex-wife and son just walked into the General Store,” she said.
Gertie’s eyes widened. “What? Seriously? She swore she wouldn’t step foot back in this town.”
“If you remember correctly,” Ida Belle said, “she swore she would never set foot back in this town as long as Hooch was here.”
“Fair enough. Dead doesn’t count as here,” I said. “So what’s the story? Did Walter get any information out of her?”
“Not much,” Ida Belle said. “Just that Carter had tracked her down looking for Hooch’s son. He’s next of kin, so he’s in charge as far as decisions go on burial and such. She came with him to help. He’s in his twenties. Probably doesn’t know the first thing about planning a funeral.”
