Swamp Spook

by Jana DeLeon

  “Well, her sense of humor is still intact,” I said.

  Gertie looked up and I noticed her face was red and blotchy.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked. “You’re flushed.”

  Ida Belle narrowed her eyes and stepped closer. “That’s not a flush. Jesus, woman, did you get a hold of poison ivy?”

  Gertie’s eyes widened. “I hope not. I’m allergic.”

  “I know you’re allergic. I’ve known you were allergic since you ate some in kindergarten and had to be helicoptered to New Orleans. We’ve got to get her a Benadryl and put some calamine lotion on that right away. How in God’s name did you manage to touch your face through the mask?”

  “I had an itch, okay?” Gertie said.

  “Well, next time we’re traipsing through the woods and you get an itch, you should just suffer through it until you take your gloves off,” Ida Belle said.

  “It’s not like this happens often,” Gertie said. “Heck, we’ve been in the woods a hundred times this year. First time I’ve gotten hold of poison ivy. What are the odds?”

  Ida Belle shook her head. “I’m not sure the odds apply to you.”

  “Hey, what was up with that Mace you used?” I asked. “Sands shouldn’t have been running after a blast in the face.”

  Gertie dug in her fanny pack and pulled out the can. “Well, crap,” she said.

  Ida Belle grabbed the can and laughed. “You shot Sands with Silly String.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure whether to be amused at Sands’s screaming over a kids’ toy or concerned for the general public that he’s supposed to be protecting.”

  “Good God, woman,” Ida Belle said. “Will you please get new glasses before we’re running from real bad guys and need Mace and instead, you hit them with shaving cream? What will you do then, follow up with a razor and shave them?”

  “I don’t know why this is all my fault,” Gertie said. “We were supposed to get in and out of the maze without being seen.”

  “That’s always the plan,” Ida Belle said. “But as it never actually happens that way, everyone has to play their role. Fortune and I are guns and knives. You are alternative weaponry. We need you and your bag of tricks to be on point.”

  My cell phone went off, signaling a text, and I frowned. The only person who would text me at 1:30 a.m. was Carter, and he knew better than to do it tonight. I reached for my phone and sucked in a breath when I saw the message.

  State police on way to your house now!

  “Holy crap!” I said. “The state police are on their way here.”

  If Carter knew, then he’d either gotten a tip-off from dispatch or they had knocked on his door first. Either way, we didn’t have much time. Maybe only a minute or two.

  “Clothes off!” I said, and we all stripped off our black gear. “You have spare pajamas in the laundry room.”

  “Slumber party?” Gertie asked. “Our hair is wet.”

  I started to panic and that’s when Ida Belle The-Great-Fixer-of-Problems swung into action.

  “My mask is water-resistant, so my hair is good,” Ida Belle said. “Gertie, grab the pajamas and we’ll get changed. Fortune, hurry upstairs and throw our clothes into the secret closet. If you’re allergic to poison ivy, don’t touch the gloves and wash your hands. Then shed your undergarments, put on a robe and bring a towel back down with you. Gertie, get on the couch as soon as you’ve changed. Move, people! Now!”

  I sprinted upstairs, only half understanding what Ida Belle was going for. Coming out of the shower would account for my damp hair, but she still had Gertie to deal with. Trusting that Ida Belle always came through, I tossed our black sneaky wear into the hidden panel in the master bedroom closet, then yanked off my undergarments and pulled on a robe. I grabbed a towel from under the sink, turned on the shower long enough to wet the tub and wash my hands, then ran back downstairs just in time for the knock at the front door.

  Ida Belle was at the bottom of the stairs waiting on me with a spray bottle. She started squirting my head before I even hit the living room. I held up a hand to cover my face.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Your hair’s not wet enough,” she said. “Now, put that towel over it and answer the door. We were watching movies tonight and Gertie got ill, so we’re staying over.”

  “What were we watching?”

  “Magic Mike,” Gertie said, and pulled the DVD from her purse. “It stops them from asking more questions.”

  I didn’t even bother to ask why she carried the DVD with her because there wasn’t time and I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know the answer, especially if it involved details. I popped it in the DVD player, turned it on, fast-forwarded, then paused it.

  Figuring I’d stalled enough to make it look as if I had come from upstairs to answer the door, I headed for it.

  “Who is it?” I asked.

  “State police,” they said. “Open up.”

  I unlocked the dead bolt and inched the door open, peering outside. Sure enough, the two sourpusses were standing on the porch. It was all I could do not to laugh when I saw the Silly String clinging to Sands’s collar. Carter stood behind them, looking both worried and unhappy. When he saw me, his eyes widened and his lips twitched. He knew the show was on. He’d seen it enough times before.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “Can we come inside?” Davies asked.

  I stepped back. “I suppose that’s better than me standing here freezing in front of an open door. What is this about?”

  They looked over at Gertie, who was lying on the couch, covered up with a blanket, and Ida Belle, who was standing next to the couch, holding a glass of water.

  “Where were you tonight?” Davies asked.

  “Why?” I asked, not about to make it easy.

  “We’re asking the questions here,” Davies said.

  “Yeah, I can see that,” I said. “And even though I don’t owe you anything, I’ve been here all night, with my friends.”

  “Do your friends always spend the night?” Sands asked.

  “When one of them gets sick, they do,” I said. “I didn’t realize I needed permission from the state police to have people in my home overnight. Do Carter and I need to get a permit as well? He stays over sometimes.”

  They frowned. “Someone was in the maze in the park tonight. That’s an official crime scene.”

  “So?” I asked. “Why aren’t you out looking for that person?”

  “It was multiple persons,” Davies said. “At least two, maybe more. We have it on good authority that the three of you are often up to illegal activities.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Ida Belle said. “When are you two going to get that Celia Arceneaux is wasting your time? And her ‘authority’ is worth less than chewed gum. We’ve been here all night. Had dinner, talked for a while, watched a movie, then when Fortune was going to take us home, Gertie got ill.”

  Ida Belle leaned over and pulled back the covers from Gertie’s face. “She’s having an allergic reaction to something and running a fever. Look at that rash. Can’t you see the sweat coming off her forehead? Do you really think she’s fit to be running through the park?”

  I had to give it to Ida Belle. Her plan was perfect. Gertie’s face and neck were a red splotchy mess and her eyes were watering and puffy. They took one look at her and grimaced.

  “Water,” Gertie said, her voice raspy, and reached for the glass Ida Belle was holding.

  “What movie?” Sands asked.

  Good Lord, he actually thought he was going to catch us in a lie. I mean, yeah, we were lying, but it took someone with far more skill than him to figure that out. I was fairly certain that given the right circumstances, we could get a lie past the twelve disciples.

  I stalked over to the remote and pressed Play. Half-naked men grinding on a stage filled the screen. “It’s Gertie’s favorite,” I said. “We
thought it might make her feel better. So unless getting sick or watching sexy movies is a crime, I think our discussion is over.”

  “Or you could pull up a chair,” Gertie said. “I heard that twenty-five percent of male cops are gay. One of you might be interested.”

  Carter coughed and headed out of the house. I was fairly certain Davies would have shot her if there weren’t so many witnesses.

  Davies pointed his finger at me. “You think you’re smart. You and your boyfriend. But you will not make fools of us.”

  “You’re doing a fine job of that all on your own,” Ida Belle said. “And as long as you keep company with Celia, it’s not going to stop.”

  I stared him straight in the eyes. “I’ve grown tired of the harassment. From now on, if you want to speak to me, you’ll do it through my lawyer. I mean it. Not even so much as a hello when passing me on the street. Do you understand? If you knock on my door in the middle of the night for any reason other than I called you here or you’re pursuing a mass murderer who ran inside, I’ll have both of you and Celia up on harassment charges. Do you need my lawyer’s name again or do you remember?”

  They both glared. No one forgot the Grim Reaper. No one in law enforcement, anyway.

  “Get out,” I said and pointed to the door.

  They were pissed but they didn’t have any basis for staying and certainly none for arresting me. I followed them to the door and watched as they stepped off the porch and turned their anger on Carter.

  “You’re making a big mistake being involved with her,” Davies said. “I don’t care what her past service is. It’s clear she’s nothing but trouble.”

  Carter grinned at me. “So I’ve been told. Now, if there’s nothing else you need me for, I’d like to get back to bed. Perhaps a little sleep would help the two of you with your focus.”

  “Don’t tell me what I need,” Davies said. “Get in the car.”

  “Don’t bother,” Carter said. “I’ll walk home. I like the air quality better out here.”

  “It’s pouring down rain,” Davies said.

  “And yet,” Carter said, “that’s still preferable to being in a car with you.”

  He gave me a wave and headed off down the sidewalk. Davies shot me one last angry look, then hurried to his car and pulled away from the curb, tires squealing. I closed the door and locked it.

  “That man has some serious anger issues,” Gertie said.

  I nodded. “He’s pissed and needs someone to blame. He thought I would be an easy target. Plus, Gertie kicked him in the crotch. It might take a while for him to get over that one.”

  Ida Belle laughed. “I’m sure. He couldn’t be more wrong about you being an easy target, but all the same, I don’t think they’re going to let up.”

  “No,” I agreed. “This just pissed them off more. They’ll be watching even more closely.”

  “Good luck with that,” Ida Belle said. “They don’t call CIA ‘spooks’ for no reason.”

  “They want a simple answer so they can clear out,” Gertie said. “If this situation had one, we’d have already figured it out.”

  I nodded. “There are a lot of layers here and they’re not checking on any of them.” I looked over at Ida Belle. “Genius move on calling the poison ivy an allergic reaction.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Except we have to get rid of it before they see her again. Allergic reaction rashes usually don’t linger as long as poison ivy.”

  “Benadryl is in the kitchen pantry. I’ve got calamine lotion upstairs,” I said. “I’ll grab it when I put on some clothes and bring it back down. Someone get the coffee going. Now that we’re pretty sure we know where the body was stashed, we have a list of suspects to go through. Unless anyone is sleepy?”

  “Hell no!” Gertie said, and popped up from the couch, tossing the blanket aside.

  “Not a chance,” Ida Belle said.

  “Hey,” Gertie said. “Do we get overtime pay for after hours?”

  “You’re a contractor,” Ida Belle said as they headed for the kitchen. “There’s no such thing as after hours.”

  “Well, I’m writing off my explosives,” she said. “I’ve already decided.”

  “Go for it,” Ida Belle said. “Assuming you have a receipt.”

  “These are not the kind of people who deal in paperwork,” Gertie replied.

  “That’s a shocker,” Ida Belle said.

  I grinned and ran upstairs. I had the absolute best friends.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gertie scratched her neck and pushed the plate of cookies to me with a napkin. “You don’t think Carter’s going to drop by again tonight, do you?”

  “No way,” I said. “The state police are probably watching one or both of us. Carter’s not stupid. Besides, what could he gain? Might as well go home and get a good night’s sleep. He sent a text checking on us and I said we were fine.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “He’s smart enough to heed Fortune’s advice and stay out of whatever we’re doing. Not that I doubt Carter’s ability to lie, but I don’t think he’d take that talent to the witness stand, were things to go that far.”

  Gertie sighed. “Carter’s lies would end with his hand on a Bible, but I almost feel guilty leaving him out. Weird, right? I mean, usually we’re going to all kind of extremes to hide things and now that we have permission to do whatever, I can’t quite wrap my mind around it.”

  “It’s definitely weird,” I agreed. “And I feel a little bad about it as well. I think it’s because Carter has been backed into a corner that he doesn’t deserve to be in.”

  “Asking for our interference definitely says everything we need to know about the situation,” Ida Belle said. “I’m sure if there were another choice, he would have made it, but the reality is there’s no one else he trusts who will take the chances we take.”

  “And we’re good,” Gertie said. “Don’t forget that part. We’ve caught a lot of bad guys this summer.”

  “I’m not sure about the caught part,” Ida Belle said. “We’ve certainly flushed some out, but our track record on final showdowns is somewhat sketchy.”

  “Hey, as long as we live and the bad guys go down, I’m okay with sketchy,” Gertie said.

  Ida Belle shook her head.

  “Don’t look at me,” I said. “I was CIA. My middle name was Sketchy. Heck, sometimes my first and last as well.”

  Ida Belle laughed and pulled out the copy we’d made of Meg’s festival documents. “Okay, Sketchy Senior and Junior, let’s review this maze volunteer list. Looks like seven names.”

  “Awesome,” I said. “Maybe we can eliminate some off the top and make it even shorter.”

  “I think we can,” Ida Belle said. “Here we go. We’ve got Kevin Broussard, Shorty, Walter, Deputy Breaux, Dylan Sims, Pastor Don, and Greg Bullard.”

  I had been typing the names into my laptop as Ida Belle talked and looked them over. “Okay,” I said. “Unless anyone has an objection, I think we can eliminate Walter and Pastor Don straight off.”

  “I don’t know,” Gertie said. “Those religious guys are sometimes the biggest surprise.”

  “Totally,” I agreed. “But didn’t Pastor Don almost pass out a couple weeks ago when a kid in a front pew got a nosebleed?”

  “He had a death grip on the lectern,” Ida Belle said. “I could see his white knuckles across the church. No way he could cut off a head. He’d never stay conscious long enough to finish the job.”

  “What about Deputy Breaux?” I asked. “I don’t see him for it but I’ve been wrong before. You guys would know better than me.”

  “I can’t fathom him capable,” Ida Belle said. “Nor can I come up with any possible motive, unless we’re going with just plain crazy. But then I suppose that potentially covers anyone.”

  “I don’t think it’s just crazy,” Gertie said. “I still say it’s something personal. But I don’t think it could have been Deputy Breaux. He was working the night the body was s
tolen from the morgue.”

  “So?” Ida Belle said. “Not like Sinful is a hotbed of activity overnight once the drunks are cleared out. Maybe he sneaked out and nabbed the body while he was on patrol.”

  “That’s true enough,” Gertie said. “But I might have accidentally dialed 911 that night and ended up talking to Myrtle a bit. She told me Deputy Breaux had a cold and was sleeping in the break room. She was supposed to wake him if a call came in.”

  “How do you accidentally dial 911?” Ida Belle said. “You know what, never mind. So that lets Deputy Breaux out. That leaves four.”

  “Surely it’s not Shorty,” Gertie said. “We’ve known him forever.”

  “You’ve known a lot of people forever,” I said, “and some of them turned out to be very bad people. Unless we alibi Shorty for the night the body was stolen, I’m keeping him on the list. He has big knives and knows how to cut through bone.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “I don’t like to think it could be him but I agree. We keep him on the list.”

  “That leaves Kevin Broussard, Dylan Sims, and Greg Bullard,” I said. “I don’t know the last two at all and I only know Kevin from what I saw at Meg’s. So fill me in.”

  “Kevin is a local boy,” Gertie said. “Quiet, and a tad slow, I guess is the polite way of putting it. He struggled in school but his parents always refused to have him tested, so I can’t say if it was a learning disability or something more. His dad got Parkinson’s and is in a facility in New Orleans. His mother moved there to be closer a couple years ago. He works his dad’s shrimp boat and sends her money when he has some extra. Clearly, he’s sweet on Meg, although I’m sure that doesn’t go both ways.”

  “Definitely not,” Ida Belle said. “They’ve been friends since high school, though I think he was a grade ahead. Everyone always thought it was an odd pairing, but Kevin seemed to calm her. Maybe him being so low-key was a good influence on her.”

  “Do shrimpers have saws?” I asked.

  “Sure,” Ida Belle said. “But then most everyone in Sinful will have some power tools. Most don’t have the money to hire out for repairs. Still, I can’t picture Kevin cutting off Garrett’s head. Especially not given how he feels about Meg. And besides, what would be his motive? That only hurts her.”