Gators and Garters

by Jana DeLeon

  “Can’t pick your family. And she shouldn’t have picked Dexter. But yeah, I wish Silas could have gotten what he has coming. You sure there’s nothing else you could come up with there?”

  I shook my head. “I wish there was, but I just don’t see what it could be. And I covered the old ground too—about Johnny. I was hoping to be able to draw a correlation between the two disappearances.”

  “You didn’t find anything there?”

  “Nothing that mattered. I mean, his behavior that day is completely inconsistent with the man people who knew him well described, but based on the timeline alone, I can’t see how Silas could have been involved. And that’s not even taking into account his physical limitations.”

  Nickel sighed. “Yeah. That makes sense given how you laid it out. I guess I was just hoping you’d see something that someone else didn’t. Or put things together differently and have that moment where you got it and no one else had. You know, like the movies.”

  “I wish I had done that too.”

  “Well, I appreciate the heck out of everything you did. I can’t imagine anyone else could have done better. So I guess both matters are closed. Now everybody just has to figure out how to live with it.”

  I nodded. That was the hardest part.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I didn’t do much the rest of the day. Gertie was busy preparing for the upcoming party, and Ida Belle was probably over at the church praying or begging her doctor to commit her for the weekend. At the very least, infect her with a twenty-four-hour flu. Carter was busy wrapping up the paperwork on the case and I had absolutely nothing to do or avoid. Well, except laundry. I always had laundry to avoid.

  I supposed I should have been happy but the truth was I was pouting. I couldn’t do anything to bring Molly back but I was really hoping I could balance the scales just a little. Silas inheriting completely ruled out the possibility of remotely fair and I was pitching a toddler fit. Internally, of course. Merlin, who had sensed my aggravation and unrest, had promptly asked to go outside after breakfast and I hadn’t seen him since. The fact that he wanted to be outside in a thousand-degree heat rather than inside with the AC and sleeping on something cushy spoke volumes about my mood.

  I managed to pace, sleep, and sigh away the afternoon and finally headed up for a shower. I blow-dried my shoulder-length hair—finally my own and not extensions—and threw on jeans, tennis shoes, and a T-shirt. I knew Gertie would probably come in a ball gown or something so slinky everyone else spent the entire night blushing, but I was shooting for comfortable. When Gertie was involved, you never knew if you might need to run or fight, plus jeans allowed for easy access to my gun and my cell phone.

  I arrived thirty minutes early, in case Gertie needed some help setting up, and thought for a minute that I was late. Vehicles lined the street on both sides and I could already hear music pumping from inside. Gertie had apparently foreseen the parking issue and had put cones in her driveway with a sign indicating that it was reserved for Ida Belle and me. I jumped out to move a cone on one side, then pulled in and parked. I didn’t bother knocking because no one would have heard it over the music. Instead, I said a quick prayer and walked inside.

  Sinful Ladies Society members swarmed like ants, putting up streamers and setting up snack stations. They all looked over as I entered and called out greetings, wearing big smiles. I located the stereo and turned the music down just a bit and shook my head at them.

  “I’m surprised you guys are so happy given that your fearless leader is crossing to the dark side,” I said.

  Myrtle waved a hand in dismissal. “This is Ida Belle and Walter we’re talking about. For all intents and purposes they’ve been dedicated to each other forever. Besides, Ida Belle’s too old for Walter to change her.”

  “I’m pretty sure Jesus couldn’t have changed her when she was five,” I said.

  The ladies laughed and one of them shoved a container of mixed nuts at me.

  “Dump those in the pink bowls that you see around the living room and kitchen area,” she said. “We’re spreading things out so everyone doesn’t have to lump in one place to get a snack.”

  I distributed the nuts, working my way through the living room and back to the kitchen. Gertie was busy taking mini pizzas off a cookie sheet and putting them on a serving tray. A bevy of other goodies were scattered across the countertops.

  I drew up short in order to examine her outfit.

  The good news was Ida Belle didn’t have to worry about Gertie wearing the camo miniskirt to her wedding. The bad news was she was wearing it now. And that whole tuck-under thing wasn’t working too well as Gertie had a typical white woman booty, which meant very little. The skirt ended a couple inches below the relevant parts but as she bent over to pick up a wayward pizza, I saw that all bets were off.

  “Doesn’t lime green clash with camo?” I asked.

  Gertie straightened up and whirled around. “How did you know my panties were lime green?”

  “How do you think?”

  The rest of the outfit was just as scandalous. The tank top was black but cut so low that her panty-matching bra showed off a good inch of fabric and pushed-up cleavage, and it fit like a wetsuit would, leaving not even a mole to the imagination. She was wearing a wig of straight silver and pink strands that hung in a blunt cut at her chin. Her eyes were covered with silver glitter, and a row of lime-green sequins rested just beneath the eyebrow.

  But her shoes were the real kicker. They were thigh-high black patent leather boots with a platform heel, giving her an extra six inches. I gave her thirty minutes max before she twisted an ankle and spent the rest of the night on crutches.

  “How in the world did you get in those?” I asked, pointing to the boots.

  “Myrtle helped. Myrtle and a little baby oil.”

  “Wouldn’t that make your feet slide?”

  “No. I got the boots a half size too small to help with the slipping. Trust me, I’ve done my research.”

  “Been talking online to strippers again?”

  “They have a lot of beauty tips. I mean, they have to look perfect everywhere and without the benefit of filters and Photoshop.”

  “Where’s Francis?” I asked, changing the subject. The last time Gertie had got going on the online stripper group she lurked in, I’d received entirely too much information about hair removal, and not from the locations you might discuss with other people.

  “I moved him into one of the upstairs bedrooms. I’m afraid someone might accidentally let him out.”

  So Francis had the best seat in the house.

  “Looks like no one will go hungry,” I said.

  “Oh, this is just the snacks,” Gertie said. “I’ve got a truckload of barbecue coming.”

  “What can I do?” I asked.

  Gertie shoved a wineglass at me and poured us both a drink. “You can have a quick drink with me and toast my best friend finally marrying the only good man left in Sinful besides Carter.”

  I clinked her glass and smiled. “I can drink to that.”

  Gertie tossed back a drink and sniffed.

  “You’re not going to get weepy on us, are you?” I asked.

  “Maybe a little, but as soon as the games start, I’ll be having too much fun to be emotional. And there’s the big surprise.”

  I wasn’t even going to ask.

  By the time Ida Belle arrived, everyone else was already there and had thrown back a glass of something. A huge cheer went up when she walked through the door and even Ida Belle couldn’t help smiling at the greeting. Before she could make it two steps inside, someone had put a sash over her shoulder that read The Bride. Another lady gave her a tiara and a glass of wine. I took a picture because I didn’t give anything but the wine two seconds before they disappeared.

  By the time Ida Belle made it to the chair reserved for her in the middle of the living room, Gertie was wearing the tiara, the sash was hanging on the lamp, and the wine was c
onsumed. She took a seat and waved for a refill on her glass while I slipped onto the ottoman next to her.

  “I haven’t been this nervous since my last CIA mission,” I said.

  “Tell me about it,” Ida Belle said. “Vietnam didn’t have as many potential land mines as this party.”

  “Ladies!” Gertie yelled, and turned down the stereo. Everyone finally quieted and Gertie raised her glass. “To my best friend, Ida Belle. I never thought this day would come but here we are. And I couldn’t be happier for you. To Ida Belle and Walter—may they live happily ever after!”

  We all cheered and clinked glasses. Ida Belle looked a little concerned with the ‘happily ever after’ part of the speech, but then she had the Hallmark channel blocked on her cable service, so it wasn’t surprising.

  Gertie clapped her hands to get attention again. “And now, for the first game of the night—pin the macho on the male!”

  A big cheer went up even though I doubted anyone knew what she was talking about. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know but I was equally sure I didn’t have a choice.

  “Come on up, Ida Belle,” Gertie called.

  Ida Belle rose from her chair but the suspicious look was already in place. When she got to where Gertie was standing, Gertie pulled out a blindfold.

  “No way,” Ida Belle said.

  “It’s like pin the tail on the donkey,” Gertie said.

  “Oh no,” I mumbled, having figured out exactly what was about to happen.

  Ida Belle was running behind on her Gertie comprehension and finally allowed herself to be masked. Once she was blindfolded, Gertie put a poster of a naked man, missing a vital part, on her wall and then put the missing part, complete with double-sided tape, in Ida Belle’s hand.

  I saw Ida Belle stiffen and took a picture before the moment was over, and I had acted none too soon. Ida Belle tore off the blindfold and stared at the part, her eyes widening, then let out a yell and chunked the macho across the room. Francis, apparently deciding the party downstairs was more interesting than his quiet space upstairs, chose that moment to break out and fly into the living room. The macho hit him right in the chest and stuck. Francis, thinking he was under attack, flapped frantically around the room as half the women chased him and the other half collapsed on the floor in laughter.

  I snagged some gelatin shots and passed two to Ida Belle before downing one myself.

  “This is going to be a long night,” she said.

  After the macho fell off Francis, he retreated to his perch in the kitchen. Gertie gave him a grape and he seemed somewhat mollified, although he spent a good minute telling everyone about the hot place they were going to. Gertie ditched the boots in favor of tennis shoes and the party continued. The rest of the games mostly involved drinking and no body parts, so everything was reasonably calm.

  Then at 10:00 p.m. Gertie called for everyone to head onto the back porch because it was time for the big surprise. Ida Belle and I were half drunk already, but we took one more shot for good measure before heading outside. Gertie’s back porch looked as if it had collected every old folding chair from all of southern Louisiana. Ida Belle and I were directed to reserved seats in the middle of the porch, right in front of the steps. I was somewhat fearful because it appeared as if Gertie had constructed a stage in the middle of her backyard, but I couldn’t quite make it out in the dark.

  Once everyone had a chair or a place to squat on the lawn, Gertie went up to the stage and I heard a familiar hissing sound. A couple seconds later, fireworks lit up the sky over Gertie’s backyard and exploded into a million colors. All the women yelled as though they’d never seen fireworks before. When the last of the embers had flickered out, Gertie turned on the lights. And I mean lights. Flood lights illuminated the stage in her yard as if she were hosting a concert. Then the music started—loud, thumping music, pumped into the air by enormous speakers on each side of the stage.

  “How long until the cops get here?” I asked Ida Belle.

  “They’re not coming,” Myrtle said, overhearing my question. “Carter already told dispatch to ignore all calls originating about this address.”

  “Smart,” I said. “Carter doesn’t want any part of the things happening here.”

  “I’m not sure I want any part of things happening here,” Ida Belle said. “That stage scares me. I’m not doing karaoke.”

  “I don’t think Gertie would qualify karaoke as a big surprise,” I said.

  “That scares me even more,” Ida Belle said.

  I nodded.

  Gertie reached down and grabbed a microphone and tapped it, causing all of us to cover our ears with our hands.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Is that better?”

  We all nodded.

  “Tonight,” she said, “we celebrate an occasion that none of us ever thought would happen. And there’s no way I was letting this moment pass without throwing the most exciting party I knew how to put together. So without further ado, I present to you—Tricky Ricky!”

  As Gertie ran off stage, the music started up again and then smoke wafted from below the stage, the lights dancing in it. Then the lights changed colors and started flashing, and a man wearing a black suit and cape walked onto the stage.

  Midtwenties. Six foot two. A hundred eighty pounds of nothing but muscle. The suit was kind of tight. And he was gorgeous. Should have called himself Pretty Ricky. Threat level high for all husbands whose wives got a look at Ricky. Fortunately for husbands, this group was devoutly single. Probably unfortunate for Ricky.

  There was a split second of silence and then the women cheered. Ricky walked to the center of the stage and in a single move, yanked off his entire suit, revealing red bikini bottoms and a really great set of abs. The women went wild. Ida Belle gripped my arm and leaned in.

  “We might have a stampede,” she said.

  “I might start it,” I said.

  She stared at me for a second, then laughed. “He is really good-looking.”

  I nodded. As far as big surprises went, Gertie might have finally hit a home run.

  Ricky started dancing and then paused and we saw what the cape was for—apparently, Ricky was also a magician. First, he pulled flowers out of…well, somewhere. I didn’t want to speculate. The women went absolutely crazy when he jumped off the stage and knelt on one knee to offer the flowers to Ida Belle.

  I swear she looked as though she was blushing.

  Then he jumped up and straddled her chair and all doubt was removed. It was hot outside but Ricky was sending the temperature into the stratosphere. Ida Belle kept scooting lower and lower in her chair as Ricky gyrated above her and Gertie ran up and shoved some dollar bills in her hand. She looked momentarily confused, then her eyes widened and she shoved the bills at me.

  No way was I going to be any part of stripper gossip, so I shoved the bills back at Gertie, who gladly took them and wooted before stuffing them into the back of Ricky’s bikini. By this time, all of the women were either on their feet or standing on their chairs, creating an orthopedist’s dream situation. No way this night was going to end without someone breaking a hip.

  Ricky made a round across the porch, dancing with different women and giving everyone a thrill when he took off his cape and tossed it into the audience. I couldn’t help but laugh when Marie, one of Ida Belle and Gertie’s best friends and the current mayor of Sinful, snatched the cape up before the other women could grab it and then promptly threw it around her own shoulders.

  A second later, the worn-out slats broke on Myrtle’s chair and she fell right through it. Fortunately, she didn’t break a hip, but much hilarity ensued as women crowded around, trying to get the chair off of her. Finally, Gertie broke out a drill and unscrewed the frame. Everyone cheered and Ricky went back on stage to finish his show. Gertie came back out during the cheering, caught sight of Marie in the cape, and mistaking her for Ricky, gave her a big slap on the rear.

  I looked over at Ida Belle and grinned.


  She struggled to keep a straight face but finally started laughing.

  “Maybe this whole girls’ night thing isn’t such a bad idea,” Ida Belle said.

  “Are you prepared to see that again?” I asked and pointed to the lawn.

  Gertie had climbed up on the stage and was dancing with Ricky. It probably would have been better on the eyes if the cape had been there to block some things. A rap song came on and Gertie bent over and started shaking.

  “Is she having a seizure?” I asked.

  “She’s twerking!” one of the Sinful Ladies yelled.

  Ida Belle and I looked at each other and spoke at the same time.

  “No, she’s not.”

  Then we collapsed in laughter again.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I was back in the desert on a mission, except this desert had a river running through it. A river filled with alligators. I had to cross the river to get to my target so I started swimming, even though the water was moving fast. I made the other side and ran for an old shack. The smell of rotting fish hit me as soon as I ran inside, and I lifted my mask over my mouth and nose. I slipped to the back of the shack, careful to avoid the worst of the rotted wood floor, and peered out the window.

  There he was.

  My target was standing on a rise behind the shack. I lifted my weapon and took aim but then he turned. It wasn’t my target after all but the man who wanted to take over his command. He was wearing my target’s gold band on his arm—the one given to him by his father, the terrorist cell’s previous leader. Perhaps he’d already done my job for me.

  I radioed in my position and the situation, then held until I got the order to abort. My legs ached as I ran through the sand and back to the river. I battled the current once more, then I sat behind a dune and waited for my retrieval unit.

  * * *

  I bolted out of sleep and promptly fell onto a shag rug that I was certain I didn’t own. I yanked my pistol from my waistband and jumped up, tracking the room with my gun. It took a couple seconds to realize I was at Gertie’s house and I’d fallen off her couch, which is where I’d crashed the night before.