Reel of Fortune

by Jana DeLeon

  “Especially for a father he barely knew,” Gertie said. “Junior couldn’t have been six, maybe, when Margarita left.”

  “I don’t suppose Hooch left a will,” I said.

  “I doubt it,” Gertie said. “Most people around here don’t. Wills are for those with a lot of assets and kids that will fight over them.”

  “But if he really had property worth half a million…” I said.

  “She’s right,” Ida Belle said. “If Junior inherits anything of value, we have to take a harder look at him and Margarita.”

  Gertie shook her head. “But if no one in Sinful knew Hooch had something of value—assuming he really did—how in the world would the son he hasn’t seen in well over a decade know?”

  “I don’t know,” Ida Belle said. “But you watch enough of those forensics shows to know if you follow the money, you usually find the answers.”

  “So first up is figuring out if the property story is true,” I said. “I assume we can get the details on Hooch’s property online?”

  “And we still have our other list of suspects,” Gertie said. “I know following the big money trail usually gets the answer, but we still don’t know for certain that Hooch had anything of value, and if he did that anyone else knew about it.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “We can’t ignore the personal angle. It’s still possible this was all over some botched construction job or someone who felt scammed or cheated by Hooch and his crappy business ways.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “While a half a million is definitely an amount that might spark a murder, the reality is a couple thousand could do it as well, given how little some people have.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “It’s all relative. So we check everyone.”

  I grabbed my laptop off the kitchen counter and started a search. “First up, Hooch’s property holdings.”

  With guidance from Gertie and Ida Belle, I searched the local parish and several surrounding parishes, but the only property that came up with Hooch’s name was the piece he was living on.

  “But it’s just like every other shack on the bayou, right?” I asked.

  “As far as I know,” Ida Belle said. “I’d think if he had built a mansion on it, we’d have heard about it by now.”

  “And we’d have seen an oil derrick,” Gertie said.

  “I thought mineral rights were a weird deal here,” I said. “Would Hooch even hold them?”

  “Someone does,” Ida Belle said. “You can sell the surface property and hold the mineral rights, but they revert to the new owner after ten years. Unless the land is put in use. Once a well is drilled, the ten years starts all over.”

  “So how are people keeping mineral rights forever?” I asked. “I thought you said it was practically impossible to get them nowadays. And people are still building. I know sometimes the building is somewhat sketchy, but it’s still a structure. They can’t all be squatters.”

  “It’s because of the leases,” Ida Belle said. “Estates won’t sell the land, so no reversion. But they’ll do long-term leases of the land that are transferable if the person sells the property.”

  “So people still own the structure, but not necessarily the land it’s sitting on,” I said. “Isn’t that risky?”

  Ida Belle shrugged. “I’m talking about leases for fifty or a hundred years.”

  “I see,” I said. “Sorta like some properties in Hawaii. I saw that on a television show.”

  “Maybe,” Ida Belle said. “I haven’t been in the market for property in Hawaii so I’m not sure if it works the same.”

  “Probably a lot more expensive to lease there, and I’m going to guess the view is probably a heck of a lot better,” Gertie said. “Leases are negligible here. Not a lot of people want to lease some of this land, especially the campsites. Too off the beaten path, hard to get utilities, hard to sell if you need to clear out.”

  “A lot of the camps are on long-term leases of the land,” Ida Belle said. “The oil companies lease the land, too. The mineral rights–holder negotiates the terms, but it usually includes a share of the profits from any drilling that occurs on the property.”

  “So since Hooch bought the property rather than leasing it,” I said, “and more than ten years ago, doesn’t that mean he owned the mineral rights?”

  “Unless an oil derrick was erected at some point by the previous owner and we didn’t notice, it’s a good possibility,” Gertie said.

  “So it is possible that Hooch owned property worth half a million or better,” I said.

  “It’s possible,” Ida Belle said, and pointed to my screen. “But not overly probable. That’s a small piece of land. And assuming there’s oil, he’d still have to find a company interested in drilling. It’s not like there’s a shortage of oil here.”

  “How would he find out if there was oil?” I asked.

  “Geologists and geophysicists inspect the land and use special equipment to see if there’s a probability that it contains oil,” Ida Belle said. “Based on their findings, you then pitch to an oil company and see if they’re interested in drilling. The testing isn’t cheap, though, and convincing an oil company to drill isn’t like selling a used car. The companies invest serious money in equipment and manpower to drill. If they come up empty, everyone loses.”

  “But if they come up full?” I asked.

  “Then some people may never have to worry about working,” Ida Belle said.

  “You know a lot about this,” I said.

  Gertie rolled her eyes. “Why do you think she never talks about her previous profession? Ida Belle is an oil baron.”

  “Please,” Ida Belle said. “It’s nothing that dramatic. And I worked. I just didn’t take anything overly seriously after the military. I inherited some land and a little money, so I rolled the dice and spent it on testing. The dice roll paid off. But I’m not a baron. I’m not even rich. I made some decent money until the land went dry, and I was smart with investing and never liked debt, so I’m in good shape.”

  “That’s very cool,” I said. “If you were that good at investing, we might need to talk. I have to do something with my inheritance. It’s been dumped with some dude in DC, but I honestly don’t know if he’s doing a good job.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “I’m happy to take a look at your investments. I am no expert, but I don’t do badly. And I know some people I can refer you to if you’d like to change managers.”

  “Okay,” Gertie said, “now that the Forbes part of our discussion is complete, can we get back to murder?”

  “Right,” I said. “Sorry.” But I was still processing this new information I had on Ida Belle. She was one layer of mystery after another. I wondered how long I’d have to live here to know even half of the woman’s life.

  “I say we take a look around Hooch’s property and see if there’s any sign that testing has happened,” Gertie said. “At least then we’d know where he was coming up with that half a million request.”

  “Testing won’t give you a dollar amount of worth,” Ida Belle said.

  “And you think Hooch knew that?” Gertie said. “He probably just picked the biggest number he could think of that he figured would support him forever and that’s what he used.”

  “Sounds like the way Hooch lived, ten thousand could have supported him forever,” I said.

  Ida Belle sighed. “Probably true. You know Carter is going to be covering his place with a fine-tooth comb.”

  “And he’s not going to want us messing with his investigation,” Gertie said. “Blah, blah, blah. So what? We sit here and wait for things to happen to Ally?”

  “I’m not saying that,” Ida Belle said. “I’m just saying that we might want to give him time to take a look and clear out before we go tromping down there, especially since we’ve been ordered to sit still the rest of the day.”

  I frowned. I hated when the man I had strong feelings for was also the biggest obstacle in the way of helping a friend. It someti
mes felt like my constant state of existence in Sinful was being torn between two obligations.

  Oh well. One of those obligations was looking at having her future destroyed. The other was looking at being annoyed for a while. Guess which one trumped?

  “I suppose Deputy Breaux will be by to make sure we’re complying with orders,” I said. “So I have to agree with Ida Belle. I think we should check out the property, but now probably isn’t the best time.”

  “Checking it out at night might be safer as far as the Carter angle is concerned,” Gertie said, “but it’s going to be harder to spot anything, and getting out there in the dark might not be the picnic you imagine.”

  “Since when is anything in Sinful a picnic?” I asked. “A picnic with ants and mosquitoes and the occasional alligator maybe.”

  Gertie grinned. “But it’s never dull.”

  We finished up lunch and did some Googling on Margarita and Junior but didn’t turn up much of anything. I thought it was a little strange at first, but then Ida Belle pointed out how many people were in the world and most of them didn’t have an online presence. I supposed unless one was highly successful, famous, a criminal, or enamored with what they ate every day, there was probably no reason for them to appear in a basic internet search.

  Since we were more or less on house arrest and didn’t really have anything to work on until Walter showed up, we decided to use some of the time wisely and take a nap. Gertie was stretched out on the couch with Merlin at her feet. Ida Belle and I occupied the recliners. Everyone but me was snoring, including the cat. But despite having little sleep the night before and not good sleep at that, I couldn’t get my mind to stop whirling long enough to doze off.

  Finally, I gave up and headed back into the kitchen. If I couldn’t sleep, I might as well eat. I had some leftover cobbler and decided if I was going to be awake for a while, I should make some coffee and perk myself up a bit. I was just about to sit down when I heard a knock at the front door. It was rather a polite knock, so that meant it wasn’t Carter. Maybe Walter had headed off from work early.

  I hurried to the front door before the knocking woke everyone up and swung it open. Deputy Breaux stood there, a somewhat anxious look on his face.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said, “but Carter insisted I check on you.”

  I waved him into the living room where he could witness the snoring firsthand. “All inside and accounted for. Tell Carter his house arrest is in full effect.”

  Deputy Breaux shuffled a bit. “You’re not really under arrest, which is why I’m kinda uncomfortable with this whole thing. But Carter has seniority…”

  I patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I don’t hold Carter’s insecurities against you.”

  He blushed. “Oh, I didn’t say nothing like insecurities.”

  “You didn’t have to. Tell me, why didn’t you just peek in a window?”

  He swallowed. “Carter told me to do just that, but I figured you probably know ten ways to kill me with just household items alone.”

  “At least,” I said. “But this house came with an arsenal, so I wouldn’t have to work that hard. There’s also the illicit dynamite that Gertie has in her purse. If all of that fails, I could throw the cat on you. He’s tough.”

  He gave me a slightly pained look, which I attributed to the arsenal and the dynamite, but it might have been the cat comment. A lot of people were rightly afraid of cats. I was just about to offer him something to drink or maybe a snack when a thought crossed my mind.

  Carter’s asking Deputy Breaux to check up on us didn’t really surprise me, although I thought it was a bit of overkill. And Deputy Breaux’s discomfort didn’t really surprise me, especially given his newly acquired information about my former profession. But the checkup had come sooner than I’d expected, and Deputy Breaux seemed more nervous than I imagined he would be.

  Something was up.

  “So,” I said, “what innocent person is Carter about to harass that he doesn’t want us to know about?”

  The dark red flush that flooded Deputy Breaux’s face was a dead giveaway. “Uh, no one. I mean, Carter doesn’t harass people. We’re cops. We question people because, uh, you know, that’s what cops do. And we’re cops. So we, uh, do that.”

  “Who is it? He sent you here to prevent me from getting in the middle of another interview. Ida Belle and Gertie are on my couch. I exchanged texts with Ally just minutes ago and she was about to go back to bed. So who? Come on, Deputy. I’m going to find out anyway. Either you tell me now or Ida Belle’s phone starts ringing in a couple seconds. Regardless, the secret is going to be out.”

  He gave me a pained look. “Walter. He’s questioning Walter.”

  “What?” Of all the names I’d expected to hear, Walter wasn’t even on the list. He was Carter’s uncle, for Christ’s sake. And while I had no doubt Walter was capable of killing someone in self-defense, there was no way he would waste his time and future on someone like Hooch.

  I didn’t even bother asking any more questions because there wasn’t a thing the good deputy could say that would make sense. Instead I stalked over to the recliner and shook Ida Belle. “Wake up. Carter’s gone bat-crap crazy.”

  Ida Belle opened one eye and stared at me. “I’m gonna need more than that.”

  “You’re too loud,” Gertie grumbled. “Take it to the kitchen or something. People are trying to get their beauty rest.”

  “Carter is questioning Walter!” I shouted.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Both of them bolted upright as if they’d been shot.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “There’s no way!”

  They both started talking at once.

  I held up my hand to stop the barrage. “The good deputy was sent here to make sure we stay put while Carter does his dirty work. How many are in favor of ignoring a direct order from Deputy LeBlanc?”

  Ida Belle’s and Gertie’s hands shot up along with mine. Deputy Breaux stared at us for a second, then slowly raised his hand.

  “Please don’t tell Carter,” he said.

  “Some say the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom,” Gertie said. “I think the fear of women is the beginning of wisdom. At least for men.”

  “What makes you think God’s not a woman?” Ida Belle asked.

  “Because she would never have allowed men to invent pantyhose,” Gertie said.

  “Good point,” Ida Belle said, and pulled on her tennis shoes. “Well, let’s go raise some hell. I mean, it’s been at least an hour or two. We don’t want to get rusty.”

  I looked over at Deputy Breaux. “We were already gone when you got here.”

  I thought he would faint from relief.

  “Well, go on,” Gertie said. “Get out of here before someone sees you and tells Carter we were still here.”

  Deputy Breaux shot out of the house like a bullet. We waited until he’d pulled out of the driveway to jump in Walter’s truck and hurry into town. I screeched to a stop in front of the sheriff’s department, a move that got me an approving nod from Ida Belle, then we hurried inside. The new day dispatcher, a local young man who had his sights set on being a deputy someday, jumped up when we entered.

  “Can I help you ladies?” he asked, his voice polite but strained.

  “We need to speak to Carter,” I said. “It’s urgent.”

  “Um, he’s not here right now,” the dispatcher said. “Can I give him a message?”

  There was something about the way he delivered the first sentence that sounded rehearsed.

  “Are you sure he’s not here?” I asked. “Because I’m guessing he’s in his office with Walter.”

  His strained look turned into full-blown panic. “I can’t let anyone go back there. Deputy LeBlanc gave strict orders.”

  “You carry a gun, Gavin?” Ida Belle asked.

  His eyes widened. “No, ma’am. I just answer the phones and stuff.”

  “This is Louisiana
,” Ida Belle said. “Most people carry a gun shortly after learning to walk.”

  “Some before,” Gertie said.

  “Anyway,” Ida Belle continued, “your job does not necessarily dictate whether or not you’re packing.”

  He sighed. “Carter won’t let me have a gun. He makes Deputy Breaux frisk me every day when I get to work. It’s embarrassing.”

  “Good. Then throw a stapler at us when we walk past,” Ida Belle said. “Because nothing short of a bullet is going to stop us, and that way you can tell Carter you tried.”

  He brightened. “Hey, maybe then he’ll realize I need to have a gun.”

  “Yeah, that’ll do it.” Ida Belle rolled her eyes and stalked off toward Carter’s office. Gertie and I fell in line and let her lead. I figured as Walter was Ida Belle’s man—whether she acknowledged that fact or not—she was the one who ought to do the talking. As the girlfriend of the man causing all the trouble, I figured keeping my mouth shut was my best course of action. Of course, that didn’t mean I’d actually be able to accomplish it.

  I could hear heated voices as we approached Carter’s office but could only make out the last thing Carter said before we arrived.

  You should have told me.

  Ida Belle glanced back at us, clearly angry, then grabbed the doorknob and shoved Carter’s office door open. Neither of the men so much as flinched at the flying door, which told me just how intense their conversation was. Walter’s jaw was clenched and he barely glanced at us when we entered. Carter took one look at us and sighed.

  “This is official police business,” Carter said. “And the three of you are disobeying a direct order by leaving your homes.”

  “Oh, stuff your direct order,” Ida Belle said. “Everyone who knows anything knows you can’t tell us where to stay unless we’re under arrest. So unless you want to arrest us and babysit the jail again tonight, I don’t want to hear another word from you. I’m a little old to be grounded and certainly not by someone young enough to be my grandchild.”

  Carter looked over at me with a ‘why do you allow this to happen’ look. I shrugged. No way I was getting in between Ida Belle and the object of her anger, even if I was sleeping with him.