by Jana DeLeon
“I’m really hoping it wasn’t. This town has had enough bad things happen lately. It would be nice to have something be just a tragic accident.”
“We have plenty of those—but mostly Gertie causes them and usually no one dies.”
He gave me a small smile as he stood. “Anyway, I just dropped by to check in. I’ve got to get down to the sheriff’s department and coordinate those sweeps. Then I’ve got a mountain of paperwork to start on. I assume if I ask you to stay off the water, you’ll completely ignore me, so instead, I’ll just ask that you call me immediately if you feel that anything is off. Anything at all. Your intuition is better than most people’s eyesight.”
I nodded and he leaned over to kiss me, then left. I waited until I heard the front door close, then poured the rest of the coffee in my mugs and started another pot. Then I grabbed my phone and sent a text to Ida Belle and Gertie.
Meeting at my place whenever you’re up and moving. Just started another pot of coffee. Use your key. I don’t want to get out of the chair again.
About fifteen minutes later, the front door opened and I heard them arguing as they walked toward the kitchen.
“I’m just saying that a bouquet would be nice,” Gertie said. “No one’s telling you to carry a bush around. You’re so drama these days.”
“I already told you that these hands carry exactly two things when I’m wearing camo—guns and dead things. I’m guessing neither would be appropriate for a wedding.”
Gertie threw her hands in the air and flopped into a chair as Ida Belle poured them some coffee. They both looked as bad off as I felt.
“Looks like we could all use another round of sleep,” I said.
“I had cucumbers on my eyes for thirty minutes,” Gertie said. “I finally gave up and pulled out the Preparation H.”
Ida Belle gave her a look of dismay. “Those kinds of problems have nothing to do with a lack of sleep. And we don’t want to hear about them.”
“I put it on my eyes,” Gertie said. “It reduces inflammation. Doesn’t matter if it’s your eyes or the thing you don’t want to talk about. Those beauty pageant girls have been doing it for years. I’ve told you about this.”
“I probably zoned out when you got to the Preparation H part,” Ida Belle said.
Gertie shook her head and looked over at me. “I have some in my purse if you’d like a swipe before Carter sees you looking like a Walking Dead extra.”
“Carter has already seen me,” I said. “I sent that text right after he left and since he didn’t look any better than we do, I’m calling it an equal rights thing and moving on. Plus, I don’t care, which pretty much solves everything.”
Gertie looked at Ida Belle and sighed. “She’s you. A younger, better, prettier you.”
Ida Belle grinned.
“So what did Carter have to say?” Ida Belle asked. “Are we on search duty again? What time are they starting?”
“They’re not,” I said and relayed what Carter had told me. They both frowned but neither seemed surprised by the news.
“I figured we’d go out and do our own thing, though,” I said. “I mean, if you think that’s the best plan.”
“What do you think?” Ida Belle asked. “Does this feel like something more than an accident?”
I shrugged. “I don’t have enough information to know. But I don’t like it. Molly seemed more than capable of handling herself but if you combine her disappearance with that phone call, then it doesn’t sound good. I’d love to know if that blood on the anchor was Molly’s. Because if it was, and it was recent, then no way she slipped and hit her head on it, then fell overboard but somehow managed to put it back in the storage bench before she drowned.”
“Seems like a really stupid thing to do if you were the killer,” Gertie said. “Why not just throw it overboard?”
“Because most criminals are dumb as rocks,” Ida Belle said. “And thank God for that.”
“It might be nothing,” I said. “For all we know it could be from fish or an older injury.”
“If Carter keeps investigating, then we’ll know, right?” Gertie asked.
“I thought the same thing earlier,” I said, “but now that I’ve had a couple cups of coffee, I’m not sure. I don’t know anything about insurance and estates and all that legal mess, but I’d think anyone standing to gain would have to have some sort of evidence that Molly was deceased. I mean, the CIA has its own set of criteria for operatives, but I figure it’s got to be worse for civilian cases, which means he’ll need as much information as he can get for a report, right?”
Ida Belle nodded. “It’s one of the biggest problems around here when it comes to drownings. They don’t find the body a lot, and families are stuck trying to prove that if someone didn’t reappear from a boat trip, then they likely aren’t around anymore.”
“How long do they have to wait?” I asked.
“In general, five years,” Ida Belle said. “But if you have circumstances that indicate death is the most likely event, then you can get it pushed through sooner. In this case, she went out on her boat, she’s missing, and if the blood on the side is hers, then that’s an indication of some kind of accident. Then if she doesn’t reappear and there’s no changes to her cell phone, bank accounts, and credit cards, heirs can make a case for having her declared legally dead before that five-year mark.”
“Which is good,” Gertie said. “Can you imagine being a widow with kids to support and having to wait five years for an insurance payout because your husband is a commercial shrimper or fisherman and went missing in a storm? We saw that play out several times with Sinful residents. It was always a hassle to get it pushed through earlier, but at least no one lost their house.”
“So what do you guys think?” I asked. “You know Molly way better than me, although it doesn’t sound like anyone around Sinful knew her well. Do you think she could have been careless enough to get herself killed?”
“It seems rather a long shot in good weather,” Ida Belle said. “These bayou towns are full of old people. Despite how it sometimes appears, it’s harder to accidentally kill yourself than one might think, even in a place with as many dangers as Sinful.”
“Unless you’re drunk,” Gertie said. “All bets are off with the stupid things drunks get up to.”
I shook my head. “I’m really sorry about Molly. And your catering, Ida Belle.”
She nodded. “I think people would have enjoyed her food even more than me and Walter finally tying the knot. Oh well, I’ll figure something out.”
“You’ve got less than two weeks,” Gertie said.
“Need be, we’ll bake a ton of beans and make potato salad,” Ida Belle said. “It won’t be nearly as good as Molly’s but there will be plenty of beer. People won’t complain.”
My cell phone rang and I saw Ally’s number in the display.
“Speaking of great food,” I said and answered.
“Fortune! Come quick. There’s a crazy guy at my house. I called the police but no one’s available except Sheriff Lee and he’s hopeless.”
“Stay inside with the doors locked,” I said and jumped up from the table. “We’ll be right there.”
Chapter Six
Ida Belle and Gertie had no idea what was going on, but the great thing about awesome friends is they just rolled with it. They were right behind me as I ran out the door and jumped into my Jeep. I tore out of the driveway backward and told them what Ally had said as I broke every traffic law as I raced through the neighborhood.
“What in the world is going on now?” Gertie asked.
We made it to Ally’s house in record time and sure enough, there was a man standing on her porch, yelling and shaking his fists at her front door. I recognized him immediately as Molly’s boyfriend.
Sheriff Lee was on the front lawn, messing with a bag on his horse’s tail.
“Darn bag keeps him blocked up,” Sheriff Lee said as the Jeep slammed to a stop. “Stupid
laws.”
I had no idea what that meant and given the position of the bag, I was certain I didn’t want to know. Besides, the bruiser at Ally’s door was definitely my biggest concern. I jumped out of the Jeep and ran for the porch, pulling out my gun as I went.
“You’re going to want to back away from that door,” I said.
He turned around and sneered. “You’re big and bad with your gun, aren’t you?”
“And you’re big and bad threatening a woman one-third your size,” I shot back. “If you want to step off that porch and test me, I’m happy to put my gun down and finish what Molly started.”
He gave me a nasty grin and called me an even nastier word, then lumbered down the porch straight at me, gaining speed as he moved. Which made everything so much easier. He was going to help knock himself out.
When he got within kicking distance, I spun around and nailed him on the side of the head with a spinning hook kick. His eyes grew as big as an owl’s just before snapping shut, then he crashed headfirst into the ground and didn’t move.
“Did you kill him?” Gertie asked.
I shook my head. “I just knocked him out.”
“That’s a shame,” Gertie said. “I really don’t like him.”
“Neither do I,” I said. “But I don’t want Carter stuck with the paperwork.”
Ally flung open her door and ran out onto the lawn, throwing her arms around me.
“Oh my God!” she said. “Thank you so much. I was terrified. I’ve never seen that guy before in my life and he shows up at my door yelling a bunch of nonsense at me.”
“Got it!” Sheriff Lee yelled and we looked over to see him holding the bag triumphantly over his head. His horse promptly jogged over to Molly’s boyfriend and expressed his relief at being freed of the bag—right on his head.
We all laughed and Sheriff Lee started clapping as he approached his horse.
“That’s a good boy,” he said. “Don’t we feel better now?”
“One of us doesn’t,” Ida Belle said.
I heard an engine racing up the street and looked over to see Carter’s truck pulling up to the curb. He jumped out of his truck and hurried over, took one look at the guy on the ground with a steaming pile of horse poo sitting on his head like a hat, and smiled.
“I see you decided not to wait for backup,” he said, looking at me.
“I had backup,” I said. “Sheriff Lee’s horse finished him off.”
His lips quivered. “Really? And here I was afraid you’d handled the whole thing yourself and I was going to have to reassess my choice of a girlfriend.”
“I’m still cocked,” I said. “Keep talking.”
“My horse is still cocked too,” Sheriff Lee said. “No way that was all of his breakfast.”
Carter shot him a look of dismay, then looked back at us. “Someone want to tell me what’s going on?”
I shrugged. “Got me. Ally called in a panic about some crazy man threatening her. When we got here, we spotted Poopyhead banging on Ally’s door. I suggested he pick on someone more suitable, a fight ensued, Sheriff Lee got the bag off the horse’s rear, and here we are.”
Ida Belle gave me an approving nod. “That was both descriptive and brief.”
“It wasn’t much of a fight, though,” Gertie said. “Just one kick and lights-out.”
Carter looked at Ally. “Do you know this guy?”
“Lord no!” Ally said. “And I don’t want to.”
“Did he bother to allude to the source of his anger while he was yelling?” Carter asked.
Ally frowned. “He just kept calling me a thieving b-word and said no way Molly was cutting him out of everything, not after all the support he’d given her. Is he talking about Miss Molly?”
“That’s her boyfriend,” I said. “Did you know Molly well?”
“No one knows Molly well that I’m aware of,” Ally said. “Knew her well. Knows her well?” She gave Carter a hopeful look.
“I’m afraid past tense might be more accurate,” he said.
“Oh no,” Ally said. “That’s too bad. I didn’t know her but her food was legendary. The few times we interacted she was very nice and extremely complimentary about my baking. I’d kinda hoped if I ever got my bakery opened that we could partner up a bit—you know, recommend each other for gigs, maybe cater together with her providing the main meals and me the desserts.”
“Looks like we’re going to have to wait until that kick wears off before we find out what this is about,” Gertie said.
“We are not going to wait on anything,” Carter said. “I am going to handcuff this idiot, hose him down, then call for some help to get him into the bed of my truck. No way he’s riding up front.”
“The hose part might wake him up and then he can get in himself,” Gertie said.
Carter secured the handcuffs on Poopyhead, then nodded. “Let’s give it a shot.”
Ally indicated a hose tucked on the side of her porch and Carter turned on the water and stretched it out. He stood back far enough to avoid splatter and pulled the trigger on the hose nozzle. The water hit the poop, scattering it across the lawn.
“Good fertilizer right there,” Sheriff Lee said. “If you’d like, I can save you up some more and you can do the whole lawn.”
“I’ll pass,” Ally said.
Sheriff Lee shrugged. “Suit yourself, but you’re going to have dark spots everywhere that crap takes up residence.”
“She’ll live,” Ida Belle said. “Why don’t you get that horse back to the barn before he makes the whole neighborhood look like a green leopard?”
“Might as well,” Sheriff Lee said. “It’s almost our nap time anyway. And one of us hasn’t had our constitutional yet this morning. Might need to drink some prune juice.”
“That’s an overshare!” Gertie yelled as Sheriff Lee climbed on his horse and headed off.
Carter had managed to get all the poop off of Idiot Boy’s head, and he was starting to move a little. Then he came to and realized his arms were in a bind and started flopping around like a giant, poop-smelling fish that badly needed a shave and better tattoos.
“What the heck?” he yelled and managed to flip over so he could glare up at us.
Carter flashed his badge. “Hello, Dexter. Remember me?”
The man’s face flashed with anger. “I told you it’s Nutter Butter.”
“Because that’s better than Dexter?” I asked.
“That’s my stage name and it’s what I prefer,” Dexter said.
“What the heck kind of fighting name is Nutter Butter?” Gertie asked.
“Last name’s Nutters,” he said. “And I like the cookies. You got a problem with that?”
“Your name is Dexter Nutters?” I asked.
Ida Belle shook her head. “No wonder you’re a fighter.”
“And angry,” Gertie said. “Don’t forget angry.”
“Mr. Nutters,” Carter said, “you and I are going to have a talk down at the sheriff’s department.”
“I ain’t going nowhere,” Dexter said.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Carter said. “Either you climb in the bed of that pickup truck and ride nicely down to the sheriff’s department, or I’ll call the sheriff back over and he can drag you behind that horse with digestive problems. Your choice.”
“Whatever.” Dexter scowled.
“I take that to mean I should help you up and we’ll head down to the station,” Carter said. “Here we go.”
Despite the fact that Dexter outweighed Carter by well over a hundred pounds, Carter grabbed him under one arm and hauled him to his feet. Dexter looked at the three of us and glared. “If you think I’m going down on this one, you’re wrong. I’m going to get my due. Molly and I had an agreement and she ain’t weaseling out.”
“I’m pretty sure dying isn’t the same as weaseling,” Ida Belle said.
“Whatever,” he said again. Apparently his manners and his vocabula
ry needed work.
He lumbered off with Carter and we all stared as they left.
“What the heck is he talking about?” Gertie asked.
“That seems to be the pertinent question,” Ida Belle said.
“It sounds like Molly promised him something and now he thinks he won’t get it because she died,” I said. “But what in the world does Ally have to do with it?”
“I don’t have a clue,” Ally said. “And honestly, I don’t want to know. I never had any agreement with Molly about anything. I barely knew the woman and I know all I need to about her choice in men.”
“I don’t suppose Carter will bother filling us in,” Gertie said and sighed.
“Not us, but he has to say something to Ally,” I said. “He can’t keep Dexter locked up forever, and Ally needs to know what he thinks is going on so she can set him straight and keep him from coming back.”
“You think he’d be stupid enough to do that?” Gertie asked.
“I think some people are stupid enough to do anything,” I said.
Ally crossed her arms across her chest and glanced around. I could tell the entire thing had spooked her.
“Come on,” I said and motioned to her house. “Let’s go in and have something to drink. We’ll wait with you until Carter offers up an explanation.”
“Really?” Ally perked up.
“Of course,” Ida Belle said.
I felt a tiny bit guilty as we strolled inside. Yes, I’d suggested we wait with Ally to help quell her fear, but I had to admit that I was dying to know why Dexter had made that scene.
“This is perfect, actually,” Ally said as we walked into the kitchen. “I was just working on icing for your wedding cake. I have several made. I’d love for you to test them. I also have some new cookies that I was thinking about adding to the list but I’m not sure if it will fly—mint chocolate chip. I thought the mint might be refreshing since it will be so hot out, but I’ll have to keep them chilled to keep the chocolate chips from melting.”
“Flies with me,” Gertie said. “I love the ice cream. If the cookies are half as good, I want them. Of course, if Ida Belle would have an indoor wedding and reception, like a normal person, ‘refreshing’ wouldn’t be necessary.”
