by DeLeon, Jana
“Yes, he would. Ahmad is arrogant and more importantly, fearless. No one ever attempts to take over his business because he isn’t afraid to make the kill himself. And they always suffer. His reputation keeps the jackals at bay. If he had an opportunity to send people a reminder, he would take it.”
“So if the guns the ATF found running through Sinful originated with Ahmad,” Ida Belle said, “and the same counterfeit money is here—”
“And Ahmad is missing,” Gertie finished.
“Yeah,” I said. “It means Ahmad could be on his way to Sinful.”
Gertie bit her lower lip and gave Ida Belle a worried look. “Would Ahmad recognize you?” she asked. “I mean, you look completely different, right?”
“He’d recognize me,” I said. “It’s his business to know people, and he hates me. He won’t forget. Not a single line or dip on my face. These extensions and a dress won’t make a difference.”
“Then you have to get out of here,” Gertie said.
“At the moment, that’s not an option, which is what I just spent a good sixty seconds trying to explain to Harrison.”
“As soon as the storm is over,” Ida Belle said, “we’ll get you out of Sinful and somewhere safe. In the meantime, you keep a lower profile than dirt. As far as you know, Ahmad has no reason to suspect you’re in Louisiana. Maybe he’ll finish his killing and go on his merry way.”
“Maybe,” I said, but I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be that simple.
Chapter Four
The blinding rain and hurricane winds ceased sometime in the middle of the night and switched to a gentle patter of rain. I dozed on and off on the pew, but never fell into a deep sleep. Ida Belle shifted a lot during the night, so I know she wasn’t making much more of it than I was. Gertie, on the other hand, was dead asleep, splayed out on the pew like snoring roadkill. Really loud snoring roadkill. A couple people suggested stuffing her skein of wool into her mouth, but finally settled on shoving some of it in their ears. Carter and Walter sat at the back of the church near the doors, but I never saw either of them getting any shut-eye.
By the time the storm stopped raging, I was so ready to go home, I would have crawled if there were no other options. The only thing that kept me from going was Ida Belle pointing out that I had no idea if Sinful bayou was currently running through my living room, and that was something best investigated during daylight hours. The thought of swamp creatures inhabiting my downstairs was enough to put me back in the pew.
When the first ray of sunshine peeked through a crack in the storm shutters, a cheer went up in the church. Everyone was exhausted and tired and praying that the damage was minimal. People started heading for the door, stir-crazy and anxious to get outside. Carter pushed open the doors and a line of people trailed out of the church, dragging garbage bags and ice chests of personal items.
And then we heard the first yell.
“Money! The streets are full of money!”
People who were slogging along suddenly gained the energy of fifty Olympic athletes. They bolted for the doors, almost knocking Carter off the steps in their pursuit. Gertie leaped up from the pew and ran with the crowd. “Wait for me!”
I looked over at Ida Belle. “She was there when we discussed how there was a good chance the money was counterfeit, right?”
“She was as ‘there’ as she ever is.”
“Never mind. We better go check.”
We headed out of the church and stopped on the steps next to Carter and Walter, who were surveying the situation on Main Street with helpless expressions. A frantic mob of people ran like rats on acid through the streets, some of them practically tackling the bills on the ground before another person could scoop them up. Gertie was right in the middle of the fray, stuffing hundreds into the front of her shirt as fast as she could nab them.
“Should we do something?” I asked.
Ida Belle and Walter simply shook their heads. Carter looked conflicted. “You and my mom keep reminding me I’m on medical leave,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “Please. You’re not going to try to pass off your concern for your mother’s and my feelings at this late date. If you had any desire to jump into that fray, you would have already done it. Maybe you should just fire your weapon or something.”
“I’m not sure what they’re doing is illegal,” he said.
“Only on the first Tuesday in September,” Ida Belle said.
“There you go,” Carter said, apparently committed to staying right where he was.
I didn’t bother to ask for an explanation. Sinful had all sorts of strange laws, all dating back to when Columbus discovered the earth wasn’t flat. For all I knew, the first Tuesday in September was the only day designated as illegal to roll around in money.
“The cavalry has arrived,” I said and pointed to Sheriff Lee, who was headed down the street on his horse. Technically, I suppose he was the former Sheriff Lee given that Celia had fired him and replaced him with her criminal cousin who was now behind bars and awaiting trial, but apparently that hadn’t stripped the ancient swamp cowboy of his sense of duty. If only his ability, and that of his equally ancient horse, matched his devotion to his job, things might go better than they usually did.
Sheriff Lee pulled out a gun and I waited for him to lower it at someone and set off the “Bang” flag that was inside, but this time, he wasn’t playing around. He pointed the gun in the air and pulled the trigger. A second later, a flare shot out of the gun and into the sky, stopping people in their tracks.
“I can pull out the real one if needed,” Sheriff Lee shouted.
Deputy Breaux, who was serious about his job but young and inexperienced, ran down the street toward the sheriff, waving his arms. “Don’t shoot!”
Gertie stepped in front of the horse and glared up at Sheriff Lee. “What the heck are you doing, you old coot?”
Gertie’s shouting must have registered with the elderly horse, who hadn’t even twitched when the flare shot off, because he lowered his head to look at her…but the lowering didn’t stop. The bills that Gertie had been stuffing into her top were spilling over the neckline and the sheriff’s horse had zeroed in on the green stuff, which he apparently took for a tasty horse-type snack. He stuck his nose right into Gertie’s shirt and snagged a mouthful of the bills.
Gertie screamed and tried to shove his head out of her cleavage. “Your horse is molesting me! I’m pressing charges.”
The horse, realizing that the wad of paper in his mouth wasn’t a tasty snack after all, threw his head up and snorted, spitting the slimy bills and a good wad of horse snot onto Gertie. Deputy Breaux ran up and grabbed the horse’s reins to lead him away from Gertie, who was standing stock still, eyes closed and hundred-dollar bills stuck to her face.
She reached up to grab the bills, but instead of flinging them away as I would have, she clenched them in her hand. She looked over at us, and I imagine we were all wearing the same look of disgust and disbelief. “I have Febreze,” she said.
“Well, at least the horse snorting cleared the street,” I pointed out, not certain what to think about a group of people who were more afraid of horse snot than Sheriff Lee firing a loaded weapon.
“There’s more back here!” A voice sounded from somewhere in the woods behind the Catholic church.
“Shut up, you moron!” another voice shouted.
The few people lingering around on the sidewalk took off like a shot around the church. Gertie cast a wistful glance at the runners, then sighed. “I’m not going to run in the forest in these stockings. They attract ticks.”
I stared. Why the heck were ticks attracted to stockings? And if she knew that, why in the world was she wearing them? The mind boggled.
“My Jeep made it through the storm,” I said. Ida Belle, Gertie, Ally, and I had all taken my Jeep into town to wait out the storm, figuring it would be a better choice to get around in the aftermath. “Should we make the rounds?”
; Ida Belle and Gertie nodded. “There won’t be power,” Ida Belle said, “but at least we can get an idea of what repairs might be needed. The sooner you get your supplies order in, the better.”
“Be careful,” Carter said. “I’m going to drive around and make sure no one is stranded in the storm. Let me know how everything looks.”
“Wait for me.” Ally ran down the church steps. “I hope the storm didn’t blow my new construction away.” Ally’s kitchen had been the victim of an arsonist and was being rebuilt. In the meantime, she was staying with me and I was reaping the benefits of living with a baker extraordinaire. Unfortunately, my taste buds weren’t the only part of me reaping. My butt and thighs needed that kitchen to be complete, or the only thing I was going to fit in was clothes with elastic waists.
“What about Merlin?” I asked.
“Leave him here for now,” Ida Belle said. “He’s safe in the church, and you can come back and get him once you know where you’ll be staying tonight.”
“Cool.” We climbed in the Jeep and I drove to Ally’s house first. She hopped out of the back and jumped onto the sidewalk.
“Show off,” Gertie mumbled.
“Go ahead and take off,” Ally said. “It will take me a bit to go through everything. Are you staying at the church again tonight?”
“No,” I said. “Assuming the bayou isn’t running through my living room, I’m staying home.” I’d spent three nights in a ditch and one memorable occasion tucked partially under a camel’s stomach. I could deal with no electricity. No electricity was child’s play.
“If it’s not habitable,” Ida Belle said, “you guys can bunk with Gertie or me.”
“Thanks,” Ally said and headed off for her house.
“Do either of you have a microscope?” I asked, figuring it was a long shot, but in Sinful, you never knew.
“Of course,” Ida Belle said. “I’ve been working on my own gunpowder mixture. I like to get a good look at it.”
Gertie shrugged. “I just use mine to check my fingernail polish.”
I headed for Ida Belle’s house, figuring she’d know exactly where to find her microscope. Gertie was far less organized. I’d found a box of tissues in her refrigerator last week and a Weed eater in her pantry. She’d been looking for the Weed eater for at least the three days before.
We made a quick run through Ida Belle’s house and gave it a pass. A couple of trees had lost limbs that would need to be hauled off, but other than a good debris cleanup, everything was otherwise undamaged. Ida Belle’s microscope was in the middle of her dining table along with several canisters containing black powder.
“Why can’t you just keep flour like everyone else?” Gertie asked.
“Because I don’t want to be like everyone else,” Ida Belle said.
I glanced out the window at the sunshine peeking through the clouds. “Let’s take this outside. I need more light.” We headed into the backyard, where I righted the picnic table and put the microscope on it.
“You want one of mine?” Gertie asked, pulling a hundred from her bra.
“This one will do,” I said, and pulled the bill out of my pocket.
I stuck it under the microscope and moved it over until I was focused on the corner of the eye. The markers Harrison had told me to look for were all there.
“Damn,” I said and straightened up.
“It’s a match,” Ida Belle said, not even bothering to ask.
I nodded. Somehow, I’d known it would be, but I was still hoping I was wrong—that my instincts were all off-kilter because of the storm and had gotten mixed up.
“What do we do now?” Gertie asked.
The knot in my stomach slowly dissipated and I smiled.
What do we do now?
That one simple word made all the difference. I wasn’t alone. In five weeks, I had made friends who cared about me enough to get in the way of the deadliest arms dealer the world had seen in at least a decade.
“You have to lie low,” Ida Belle said. “And that’s going to be more difficult because of the storm.”
“Crap,” Gertie said. “I hadn’t even thought of that, but she’s right. Every hotel between here and Mobile will be booked from people evacuating. But there’s other places to hide. Not as comfortable and won’t have room service, but Ahmad wouldn’t find you.”
“I’m not hiding out on Number Two,” I said. The swamp island got its name because of the stench of the mud that made up most of it. It was a favorite for local fishermen, but I was fairly certain their nostrils had gone numb and they could no longer smell it.
“Number Two is known by too many locals anyway,” Ida Belle said. “Someone might see you and mention it in passing, then it’s all over.”
“There’s another problem to consider,” I said. “How am I supposed to explain my sudden desire for lonely places to Carter?”
Ida Belle frowned. “I hadn’t thought that far, but that’s a problem. If the hurricane hadn’t hit, we could have passed off a trip to New Orleans and gotten you out long enough to get our bearings, but now, I don’t know.”
“You have to tell him,” Gertie said.
Ida Belle looked at her, then at me, and sighed. “I’m afraid she’s right. I know in the beginning you felt you were protecting people by not telling them the truth, and I agree, to an extent. But now, I think you’re not telling Carter because you’re afraid to.”
I felt my chest constrict. Ida Belle was always direct, but she didn’t usually tackle the emotional side of things. Unfortunately, she’d exposed the biggest lie I’d been telling myself. I was afraid to tell Carter the truth. My feelings for him were unlike anything I’d ever experienced, and selfishly, I didn’t want it to end. Carter was an honorable man. When he found out I’d been lying to him, he was going to be angry and hurt and disappointed. When he found out why I had been lying to him, and who and what I really was, he’d be even angrier, and maybe even disgusted. Sure, he’d served in the military and had probably known a sniper or two, but it was a completely different thing to wrap your mind around your girlfriend’s being an assassin.
“What if he doesn’t want to be around me anymore?” I asked.
Gertie put her hand on my arm and squeezed. “Honey, this day was always going to come. Don’t you think it’s better to get it over with than let it linger until the end of summer? At some point, you’re going to leave here. That’s always been the case.”
“I know,” I said. “I guess I never figured things would go this far. I’m not exactly girlfriend material.”
“Maybe you weren’t before,” Gertie said, “but you’ve changed since you’ve been here. Can’t you see that?”
“I guess so.” It was more than a guess. I knew I’d changed, but I still wasn’t comfortable with it. Admitting I’d changed meant thinking about whether or not I was the person I was supposed to be. Finally assessing how much my mother’s death and father’s neglect and professional reputation had shaped the decisions I’d made.
It meant that I had to figure out who I was, because I’d never really known.
Ida Belle’s phone buzzed and she looked down at the display and frowned.
“It’s Marie,” Ida Belle said. “She said something is wrong at Celia’s house and to get over there.”
“Of course something is wrong at Celia’s house,” Gertie said. “Celia lives there.”
“Marie’s not an alarmist,” Ida Belle said. “We better go see what’s up.”
As we made our way back through the house, Ida Belle tried to call Marie, but the call wouldn’t go through. We jumped into my Jeep and made the couple blocks’ drive in less than a minute.
Marie was standing in Celia’s front lawn, next to a man sitting on the ground, his hands clutching his head. “That’s Norman Phillips,” Gertie said. “He’s a friend of Celia’s.”
I screeched to a stop and we hurried over. Norman didn’t even look up when we approached, but it didn’t take a medic to s
ee that he wasn’t well.
Five feet eleven inches. A hundred ninety pounds. Weak liver. White as a corpse and shaking like a Chihuahua. A Chihuahua would probably be a bigger threat.
“What happened?” Ida Belle asked.
Marie shook her head. “He must have stopped to check on Celia’s house for her. I heard someone scream and when I looked out the front window, he was running out of the house and fell down on the front lawn. He hasn’t said a word. Just sits here shaking.”
“He’s in shock,” I said. “Did you go inside the house?”
Marie’s eyes widened. “No way. I sent a 911 text. The paramedics are on the way and hopefully some form of law enforcement, but with the storm…”
“I’ll go look,” I said.
“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Marie said. “Norman isn’t the toughest man in the world, but he’s no pansy. I don’t have any idea what could have done this to him.”
“Is Celia still at the church?” I asked.
“I saw her standing in the doorway when we pulled off of Main Street,” Gertie said.
“I’ll be right back.” I headed for the front door and Ida Belle hurried beside me. I didn’t bother to tell her not to come. Ida Belle was me in forty years, and I was as stubborn as they came. We walked up onto the porch and I slipped through the partially open door. The living room looked fine, so we headed toward the back of the house. It took a single step into the kitchen to know what had Norman working on the fetal position.
What was left of Max Arceneaux lay facedown on the kitchen floor directly in front of Celia’s sink.
“Shotgun,” Ida Belle said. “Two blasts at least.”
I nodded. “Shot point-blank. The cabinet kept him from launching backward.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Ida Belle said. “You didn’t touch anything, did you?”
“I never do. Professional habit.”
“Good. Because the last thing you need right now is to get caught up in a mess like this.”
