by Jana DeLeon
As I crawled up onto the bank, the gator launched out of the water and latched on to the bag. I lost my balance when he yanked and fell backward. I scrambled back up, managing to keep my grip on the bag, and began a game of tug-of-war with the giant reptile.
“Let it go!” Ida Belle yelled.
“I’ve got it!” Gertie yelled.
“Don’t you dare fire a gun at that thing!” Ida Belle shouted.
I could hear the arguing behind me but I couldn’t turn around. I was focused on the gator, who seemed hell-bent on keeping the bag. Every time he shook his massive head, I felt the muscles in my arms and back burn and I knew I couldn’t hold on for much longer.
Then I heard a sizzle behind me and a red fireball flew over me and exploded right over the gator’s head. Gunshots must have been regular enough for the gator to ignore but apparently, fireworks were sorcery that he hadn’t yet seen. He released the bag, whirled around at an alarming rate of speed given his mass, and disappeared.
Just in case he’d only retreated a bit and was waiting to launch again, I hurled the bag over my shoulder and scrambled around. I heard a thud along with clanking and Gertie’s shout. I turned around just in time to see the bag bounce off her head. She stumbled sideways and slipped off the overhang. As she slid past me, I grabbed her arm and stopped her progression. Then I helped her up and we both slogged our way up the bank and onto the overhang where Ida Belle stood.
“Those exploding red bombs are awesome,” Gertie said. “I need to get some more.”
“I’ll send out a bulletin warning the general public,” Ida Belle said. “Now let’s see what’s in that bag that you risked your lives for. Just dump it on the ground. The whole lot is compromised anyway.”
I untied the rope at the top and turned the bag over. By the clanking of metal inside, I had high hopes that a saw was about to hit the ground. Instead, a picture frame, a sweater, and a small ring box tumbled onto the dirt.
“What the hell?” Gertie asked.
I bent over and picked up the picture frame, turning it over. It was a young woman in the photo.
“It’s an old photo,” Ida Belle said. “At least ten years, based on the hairstyle.”
Gertie pointed to her hand. “This is the ring she was wearing.” She showed us the ring box with the engagement ring still inside, its tiny diamond reflecting the sunlight.
“Bullard’s fiancée,” Ida Belle said. “That sweater must have been hers.”
“Closure,” Gertie said. “Finally letting go of everything from the past. Garrett’s death and our visit probably prompted him to do something he should have done a long time ago.”
I looked out at the bayou. “I wonder if he let go of a saw in here as well.”
“If he did, you’re not going to find it now,” Ida Belle said. “Best to tip Carter off about his connection to Garrett and let him see if he can work up a good reason for a warrant. If he hacked off that head on his property, there could still be evidence.”
“Or at least a big puddle of bleach,” Gertie said. “Given his mental state, he might admit to everything if pushed.”
“We have a bigger problem now,” Ida Belle said.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“The two of you,” she said. “You’re not getting in my vehicle like that. I’d have to burn the interior to get that slimy goo out of it.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Gertie asked. “I don’t think we’re going to get an Uber out this way and it’s too far to walk.”
“I have a tarp in the back,” Ida Belle said. “You can leave the clothes here. It’s not like they’re designer wear.”
“You want us to throw away our clothes?” Gertie said.
“Have you taken a whiff?” Ida Belle asked. “It would take days of fumigating to get the smell out. Maybe even the EPA.”
“Come on.” I recovered my pistol and started the trudge back to the SUV. “It’s pointless to argue and you know it.”
“At least my hat made it,” Gertie said.
“Praise the Lord,” Ida Belle said, not bothering to hide her sarcasm.
“I’ll buy you a replacement outfit,” I said. “Business expense and all.”
Gertie perked up. “I have been thinking about some tights for the winter. Maybe with long sweaters and some of those hoochie boots that come up to your important assets.”
Ida Belle stared at her in dismay. “Those assets were fully depreciated a century ago, and you don’t need boots blazing a trail to ancient history.”
“I’m just going to write a check,” I said. “You can buy whatever you want as long as I don’t have to go shopping with you.”
“Why not?” Gertie asked. “I know you order the yoga pants and tees online but you’ll need new tennis shoes.”
“I have five pairs of these,” I said. “When I find ones I like, I buy everything they have in my size. Then I don’t have to shop again for years.”
Gertie sighed. “Have you thought about getting one of those estrogen patches?”
When we got to the SUV, I pulled off my T-shirt and yoga pants and Ida Belle and Gertie stared.
“Why are you wearing biking shorts and a sports tank for underwear?” Ida Belle asked.
“It’s my new business practice,” I said, shoving my pistol in the shelf bra of my very comfortable turquoise-and-black spandex. “If there’s any chance at all of my going to jail, I’m wearing comfy undergarments that offer more coverage.”
“You think they’re going to strip-search you?” Ida Belle asked.
“Who knows?” I said. “Besides, it’s not like I haven’t come home sans my clothes before today. I’m just planning for all possibilities.”
“Great minds,” Gertie said.
We looked over and saw her standing there wearing a leopard print G-string leotard over glittery red spandex leggings. The leggings had a bit of built-in padding on the back.
“What the heck is that on your rear?” Ida Belle asked.
“More rear,” Gertie said. “Cool, right? I look like one of those dancers in a rap video.”
She leaned over and wriggled her butt. I think she was attempting to twerk, but it looked more as though she’d bent over and was having trouble getting back up. Or maybe she was having a seizure.
Ida Belle rolled her eyes and looked upward.
“I suppose you’re worried about a strip search in jail as well?” Ida Belle asked when she looked back down.
“Or maybe looking forward to being a stripper in jail,” I said.
Gertie gave me a look of dismay. “You too? I’m more concerned that my best undies are getting paraded around Sinful. How am I going to impress the right man when I meet him if he’s already heard about all my sexy stuff?”
Ida Belle’s jaw dropped. “I just…I can’t… You still have to wrap up with a tarp. You’re both soaked and I don’t want truck drivers following us.”
She climbed into the driver’s seat, still shaking her head. Gertie put her hat back on and repositioned her extra rear, then we spread the tarp on the seat and climbed in.
We almost made it home without incident.
Almost.
Ida Belle pulled into my drive, as close to the garage door as possible. The plan being she was going to go inside and open the door, then Gertie and I would dash for the house before anyone could spot us in our backup undergarments. Ida Belle hurried off and in no time, the garage door began to lift. I opened the door and we both began hopping and sliding down the seat trying to work our way out of the vehicle. The entire process was made more difficult by the fact that the tarp stuck to the leather seats and we had to synchronize movement or there was no progress. After five seconds of struggling, I finally half stood, dragging the entire tarp up with me, and jumped out of the SUV.
And that’s when Sheriff Lee rode up into my yard.
He took one look at me standing behind the car door in my workout gear with a pistol shoved between my boobs and Gertie,
sliding out of the SUV with her fake booty on full display, and immediately reined the horse in. To further add to my dismay, Carter pulled into the driveway and the state police were behind him—with Celia Arceneaux in their car.
“Good Lord,” Sheriff Lee said. “You can’t run around in just your lady garments. I don’t care how progressive people want to make this holiday stuff. It ain’t happening in Sinful.”
Carter, the state police, and Celia climbed out of their vehicles as the sheriff made his declaration and headed our way. I grabbed the tarp and wrapped it around Gertie and myself, hoping to buy enough time to come up with a plausible story.
“What in the world is going on here?” Officer Davies asked.
“I’m trying to go into my house,” I said, acting as if I arrived wearing tarps every day. “What are you doing here?”
Carter’s lips quivered and I figured he was probably remembering an incident with me in a trash bag. “There was a report of witchcraft being conducted here,” he said and rolled his eyes toward Celia.
“And you took that seriously?” I asked.
“I didn’t,” Carter said. “But others are easily convinced.”
I heard the crow before I saw it. A single loud cry echoing over the top of the SUV. Then a second later, he dived onto Gertie’s head, snagged her hat, and took off with it. Gertie bolted from the tarp and set out after the bird.
Chapter Twenty-One
I’m not sure who was more surprised—the state police or the bird.
Gertie yelled as she ran, the fake butt bouncing as though she’d stuffed Jell-O in her leggings. The bird, struggling with the weight of the hat, couldn’t get airborne fast enough to jet off, so he cruised the yard, just out of Gertie’s reach, and headed straight for Sheriff Lee. I cringed, waiting for the horse to spook and run over everyone on my lawn trying to get away, but apparently, he was sleeping in place.
The bird slammed right into the side of his head, dropped the hat, and took off with an ear-splitting squawk. The crow’s cry jolted the horse out of his stupor and he spotted the hat on the ground. Before Gertie could snatch it up, he snagged half of it in his mouth and started chewing.
“She’s controlling that crow,” Celia yelled. “It attacked the sheriff on purpose. It’s witchcraft. I’m telling you!”
My back tightened and my jaw clenched, and all of the frustration from the months of crap I’d taken off that woman bubbled over. I dropped the tarp and slammed the SUV door, exposing my exercise gear to the entire neighborhood.
“Yep,” I said. “There’s all manner of witchcraft going on here. We were just in the woods sacrificing a small child. That’s why we’re only half dressed. You have to perform those rituals skyclad. That means naked for those of you not up on the dark arts. I’ve even got a black cat inside. He can turn you into ash with just one scratch. You want to see?”
“That’s it!” Celia shouted. “She admitted to everything. I want her arrested. And I want you to check on the whereabouts of every infant in the county. Then I want that cat destroyed.”
Officer Davies glanced over at Celia and I think the extremity of her views finally started to click. He cleared his throat and looked back at me. “As amusing as that story is, it would save us all a lot of trouble if you’d just tell us why the two of you were riding around town dressed like that and wrapped up in a tarp.”
“Is that against the law?” I asked.
“Only for one week in 1967,” Gertie said and adjusted her sagging rear.
“Then I guess you’ll have to live without that answer,” I said. “Unless you want to arrest Gertie and me for wearing exercise clothes. I’m sure you could make a big deal out of it if you tried. And Alexander would have a heck of a time defending me in court. In fact, you should probably arrest me just for his entertainment value alone.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Davies glanced at Gertie and grimaced. “Perhaps you could just go inside.”
“Happy to,” I said, and then I pointed my finger at Celia. “If you come anywhere near my cat, you’ll find out just how good I was at my previous job.”
Celia’s eyes widened and she took a step back. “Did you hear her? She threatened me. That’s a threat. I want her arrested.”
“Oh, put a sock in it,” Sheriff Lee said. “You wanted her cat killed. I would have threatened you too.”
“She’s got a weapon,” Celia said.
Carter grinned. “She’s got several.”
“I have a permit,” I said, even though technically the pistol wasn’t concealed. Not all of it, anyway.
“Well, at least arrest her for indecent exposure,” Celia said, refusing to give up the ghost.
Sheriff Lee glanced over at me, then looked back at Celia. “Looks decent to me although the tarp was a little drab. If we’re all done here, I need to get this horse back to pasture. It’s almost time for his afternoon poop. Mine too, for that matter. And after eating that hat, he might be on an earlier schedule.”
Davies threw his hands up in the air. “This whole town is certifiable.”
“Welcome to Sinful,” Ida Belle said as we headed for the house.
Carter grinned and turned around, heading back to his car.
“Celia’s probably trying to convince the state police to burn me at the stake,” I said as I closed the door.
“I’m sure,” Ida Belle said, “but did you see Davies’s face? He’s finally onto her.”
“About time,” Gertie said as she stalked down the hall to my laundry room. “I’m borrowing some clothes and taking a shower before I go home.”
“I’m going to hit the shower as well,” I said. “But first, since Carter is alone, I’m going to give him a call to see if he has those backgrounds and fill him in on our friend Greg Bullard.”
“You going to tell him about Dylan and Francesca?” Ida Belle asked.
“Probably. He has no obligation to tell the state police because there’s not a crime. But maybe if Greg is the one behind the maze stunt, they can get the evidence to book him, then get the heck out of Sinful. Then Carter can dig more into Garrett’s death.”
“His body’s not going to be around much longer,” Ida Belle said.
“I know,” I said. “But if Greg’s our man and there’s evidence at his house, then we might only need another day. They won’t be burying him that quickly.”
I pulled out my phone and dialed Carter.
“I was going to call,” he said when he answered. “But I figured you might be locating some clothes. I can’t wait to hear the story.”
“Business first,” I said. “Were you able to run the background checks?”
“Yep. And I got some interesting results. Kevin Broussard is the cleanest of the bunch, but I figured he would be. Nothing on his record. Not even a traffic citation. An expired tag on his boat trailer is all I’ve got on him.”
“That’s not surprising based on what I’ve been told.”
“Dylan Sims is the next cleanest of the bunch. A couple of parking and speeding tickets. One drunk-and-disorderly when he was twenty-two, but nothing beyond the traffic violations since. I even called his previous employer and they said he was a hard worker, reliable, and they hated to see him go.”
I frowned. For some reason I’d been thinking a guy who was sleeping with another man’s wife would have a few more skeletons in his closet. But maybe Dylan’s skeletons weren’t the illegal kind, just the immoral.
“Greg Bullard was a bit of a surprise,” Carter said. “He had several arrests back in New Orleans for disturbing the peace and drunk-and-disorderly. One involved vandalism to a car. Another time he threw a brick through a restaurant window. His own restaurant. And you’ll never guess who took out a restraining order on him back in the day.”
“Garrett Roth.”
“Why am I not surprised that you’re not surprised? Does this have anything to do with you being soaking wet and sharing a tarp with Gertie?”
I filled him in on our conversation with Bullard and my subsequent fight with the gator for the bag that we thought contained evidence. When I was done, there was several seconds of silence and I thought we’d been disconnected, but then I heard him sigh.
“I’m not even going to bother telling you how stupid it was to dive in the bayou after that bag, because I’m guessing almost being eaten by an alligator filled you in.”
“The gator wasn’t there when I jumped in. I checked.”
“You didn’t see him there. That’s kinda their MO. And since they’ve existed for millions of years without much evolutionary change, I’m going to hazard a guess that the system is working for them.”
“Fine. You’ve made your point. It’s not like I wanted to go swimming in the bayou. And I certainly didn’t want to share a tarp with Gertie or flaunt my undergarments to the state police. I’m surprised I didn’t give Sheriff Lee a heart attack.”
“I think he likes you,” Carter said. “A lot of the older guys do. A couple of the younger ones as well.”
“I don’t think I’m winning any popularity contests with Davies.”
“No, but Sands thinks you’re hot. When he got a look at you in your exercise gear, the back of his neck turned red. He kept trying not to stare but wasn’t successful. Davies is so jaded that the only things attractive to him anymore are his recliner and his own bed, and as long as he’s stuck here, he doesn’t have either.”
“Can you do anything to speed up the process? Greg Bullard sounds like our guy. He was really, really mad. And my guess is that if he did it, whatever he used to cut off the head went into the bayou before his fiancée memorabilia did.”
“I could always bring it up to the state police as old drama that I heard years ago. Quite frankly, I’m shocked that it never circulated through Sinful. Bullard must have taken that legal threat seriously.”
“And held a grudge for a decade,” I said. “That’s a lot of time for hate to build.”
