Jana DeLeon - Miss Fortune 05 - Gator Bait

by Jana DeLeon

  “Mom,” Carter said, “I thought you were going to get some rest.”

  She waved a hand in dismissal. “I tried, but every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was you lying here with those awful bruises. Then I’d get mad all over again. I finally gave up. When I get tired enough, nothing will keep me from it.”

  She placed a brown paper bag on the table. “This is from Francine.”

  The smell of chicken and dumplings wafted past me and my stomach grumbled. I suddenly realized I hadn’t had anything to eat except for croissants that Gertie had thrown together for our ride to the hospital.

  Carter laughed. “Sounds like you can use it worse than me.”

  “No, you go ahead,” I said. “Unlike you, I can go get refills.”

  Carter looked at Emmaline. “Did you check my television?”

  She nodded. “The History channel.”

  “Was anyone at my house when you stopped by?”

  “No, and it’s a good thing. The place is a mess. I swear I raised you better than that.”

  Carter stiffened. “Assholes.”

  “Good Lord.” Emmaline’s eyes widened. “What in the world has gotten into you?”

  Carter’s jaw flexed and I could tell he was steaming mad. I explained to Emmaline about the ATF and the search warrant.

  “You mean those rude men are the ones who made a mess in your home?” Emmaline asked. “Is that even legal?”

  “Probably,” I said. “I think if someone isn’t a suspect then they’re supposed to be more considerate. I had a friend whose apartment got searched because the police had the wrong address. They broke two pieces of her deceased mother’s china. She came unglued on them and waylaid one of the cops with a lamp.”

  “I like your friend,” Emmaline said. “But I suppose she got arrested for the lamp stunt.”

  “Yeah, but the department had been running into some bad publicity at the time so they dropped the charges and wrote her a big check for the damage to keep it out of the newspapers. She’s still mad, though, and that was a good ten years ago.”

  Emmaline put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Well, I just think it’s a shame that we pay our taxes and follow the rules and this is how we’re treated. You can bet that someone at the ATF will be hearing from me.”

  I grinned. I’d pay to hear that conversation.

  Chapter Eleven

  With Emmaline back on guard at the hospital, I wasn’t needed any longer. I could tell Carter wanted me to stay but wouldn’t ask. I hesitated for a bit, wanting to stay a little longer myself, but I needed to check in with Ida Belle about our plans for tonight. She’d said she’d handle it, but walking into things blind with Ida Belle and Gertie was never a good idea.

  Besides, my stomach had a reason to protest and my leg and shoulder muscles could do with another round of ointment. If I planned on going through with the storage facility break-in, I needed to be in the best shape possible. Sore muscles reacted slower. The more I could loosen them before tonight, the better my reflexes would be,

  Downtown was still a mess, filled with voters and random fighting. I saw Deputy Breaux trying to break up a fight between two women with strollers. He looked as if he was ready to resign right there on the spot. I couldn’t imagine how aggravating his job was right now. If I were there, I’d turn the fire department hose on the entire street, which was probably why it was a good thing that I didn’t work with the general public.

  I made a left turn and skirted downtown to get to my street. At least my house was far enough from the fray that it hadn’t spilled over here. I pulled into the garage and headed inside, mentally running through the options in my refrigerator. There was leftover meatloaf and at least one piece of apple pie. I could do a lot worse than a meatloaf sandwich.

  As soon as I opened the garage door and entered the house, the smell of barbeque wafted over me and I felt my knees buckle. I hurried into the kitchen and saw Ally opening up a huge tray of barbeque brisket.

  “Emmaline told me you were at the hospital when she stopped by the diner,” Ally said. “I figured you probably skipped lunch and would be starving.”

  “Ally?” I’d officially made up my mind.

  “Yeah?”

  “Will you marry me?”

  She smiled. “How sad is it that you’re the first person to ever ask?”

  “Very, very sad. Because that means that all men are morons.”

  “You’re great for a girl’s ego. Sit down before you pass out. You’re practically salivating.”

  She didn’t have to ask me twice. I dropped into a chair like a death row prisoner presented with my last meal. Ally placed two plates on the table and another container that proved to be mashed potatoes. One last tray held garlic bread, and she topped the entire thing off with a jug of sweet tea.

  Ally had barely slid into her seat before I’d heaped a pile of brisket on my plate and reached for the potatoes. “I owe you forever,” I said. “I have no idea how I’ll pay you back, but I’ll figure out something.”

  “You’re letting me live in your house. That’s payment enough.”

  I shrugged. “It’s not like it’s my real house. Heck, I’m not even paying the bills. The estate is.”

  “The estate that you inherited,” Ally pointed out. “You’re still paying the bills, just not directly.”

  “I guess you’re right.” At least, she would be right if I were the real Sandy-Sue Morrow. “But still. It’s hardly an inconvenience. In fact, my quality of life has increased quite a bit since you moved in, at least where food is concerned.”

  I stabbed a hunk of the brisket with my fork and practically inhaled it. An explosion of sweet and tangy with a touch of heat tantalized my taste buds. I didn’t dare open my mouth to comment, but the brisket was too good to go without compliment, so I pointed to my lips and nodded.

  Ally laughed. “Francine’s secret BBQ sauce is almost as big a mystery as her banana pudding recipe. She’s actually had people break into the café at night trying to find her recipe book.”

  I shook my head. Francine wasn’t foolish enough to write her recipes down. I’d bet anything they were all stored safely in her head, and when she died, they would go with her.

  “How’s Carter doing?” Ally asked.

  I swallowed the brisket and chugged down some sweet tea. “Better physically, but his memory is still blank from Saturday night on, except for a couple of minutes.”

  Ally’s eyes widened. “He forgot your date?”

  “No. He remembers all that and going home, showering, and turning on the television, but after that, it’s all gone until he woke up in the hospital.”

  “That sucks.”

  “In a million different ways,” I agreed and scooped up a helping of mashed potatoes.

  “Walter told me he had to let the ATF in to search Carter’s house. He was mad enough to spit when he came into the café. Said they made a right mess of Carter’s place and talked to him like he was an idiot.”

  “That sounds about right. He should have let Tiny loose on them.”

  “He was tempted, but he was afraid the cowards would shoot the dog.”

  “Also sounds about right. Did he figure out how Tiny got out?”

  “Yeah, there’s a section of the fence that’s broken. Best he could figure, Tiny was trying to get at something behind the fence line and broke it out.” She frowned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s probably nothing, but I wondered if maybe it was someone Tiny was trying to get at.”

  “Could be, but don’t people walk along the bayou all the time?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. It was probably an extra smelly rabbit or something equally as enticing to a big dumb dog. He told me about the burro incident. I haven’t laughed that hard in years.”

  “It was a thing of beauty.”

  “It’s a shame they aren’t still trapped in the car. Anyway, Walter took Tiny to his house until Carter can ge
t the fence fixed. The last thing he needs is Tiny running around Sinful, terrifying the residents. Aunt Celia would have more ammo for her ‘fire the entire sheriff’s department’ campaign.”

  “You heard about that?”

  “Hard to miss when she was carrying on with a microphone and speaker right down from the café. And residents kept coming in and talking about it.”

  “What are they saying?”

  “Most people think she’s being foolish. Unless there’s widespread corruption, you don’t just clean out experienced law enforcement.”

  “And the people who don’t think she’s being foolish?”

  Ally sighed. “They’re worried about everything that’s been happening in Sinful, and frustrated at what they perceive as inefficiency on the part of the sheriff’s department. But even then, they’re not suggesting everyone be replaced. I think most would be happy if Sheriff Lee would retire and let Carter step in, then replace Carter with another young man, maybe one more capable than Deputy Breaux.”

  “I can’t really say that I blame them, but if they want a younger crew protecting the town, then why do they keep reelecting Sheriff Lee?”

  “No one runs against him. Carter has already said he won’t run until Sheriff Lee retires. He’d see running against him as disrespectful, even though that’s exactly what needs to happen.”

  “Maybe some of you could talk to Sheriff Lee about retiring. Make an argument that he’s paid his dues and deserves a break.”

  “Ida Belle and Gertie have been trying for years, but Sheriff Lee is from the old school where real men dropped dead while working. He’s not about to have it any other way.”

  “How old is he, anyway?”

  “Heck if I know. I can remember Old Lady Crandal, who lived next door to me, calling him an old codger before she passed. I was only five years old then, and Old Lady Crandal seemed ancient. I guess that makes Sheriff Lee walking dust.”

  I laughed.

  “I do know that his wife was the one exception in membership the Sinful Ladies Society ever made.”

  “Really?”

  Ally nodded. “Gertie said that Sheriff Lee was so stubborn he would outlive Milly just to ensure she didn’t get to be a member. So Ida Belle decided that Sheriff Lee hadn’t influenced Milly since transistor radios were the rage and let her join. She passed away several years back.”

  My cell phone beeped and I pulled it out of my pocket and checked the display. “Speak of the devil.” It was a text from Ida Belle.

  Get downtown. We have a situation.

  I jumped up from my chair, grabbing a piece of French bread on my way.

  “What’s wrong?” Ally asked.

  “Something’s going on downtown.”

  Ally jumped up and grabbed her purse. “I’m going with you.”

  I gave her a nod and hurried out to my Jeep. It was easier to let her tag along than argue; besides, it was still broad daylight. It was probably more of Celia’s election nonsense. At least, I hoped it was that simple.

  The scene downtown was both confusing and somewhat frightening. A huge cluster of people gathered at the end of Main Street, surrounding the area where Celia had been speaking earlier. Parking was nonexistent so I just stopped in the middle of the road as close as I could get to the fray, and Ally and I jumped out and hurried toward the mob.

  I caught sight of Ida Belle waving at us from about five feet up the town flagpole. She shinnied down as we approached. “What the heck is going on?” I asked.

  “Those idiots with the ATF decided Deputy Breaux couldn’t control the town and called in the state police. They’ve been arresting people left and right and shoving them on a bus for transport to New Orleans.”

  “I bet Celia’s loving this mess,” I said.

  “Not at the moment,” Ida Belle said. “I tried to stop her but Gertie came down here full of piss and vinegar and ready to take Celia down a peg or two.”

  Ally’s hand flew over her mouth. “Oh no!”

  “Oh yeah,” Ida Belle said. “They’re just yelling right now, but if we don’t break this up fast, they’ll both be on that bus with the rest of Sinful’s miscreants.”

  Ida Belle shot me a hard look. I knew exactly what she was trying to convey. Gertie could prove to be a liability at times, but for what we had planned tonight, we needed lookout. The risk of breaking into that storage facility with just Ida Belle and me was too high. We needed Gertie. She was the eyes in the back of our head.

  I pushed through the crowd toward the park bench Celia had been standing on earlier, Ida Belle and Ally close on my heels. As I drew closer, I could make out Celia’s voice and then Gertie’s, and it sounded as though things were escalating. The first slap echoed through the crowd like a gunshot and I shoved the last of the crowd out of the way and burst into the tiny open area surrounding the two fighting women.

  I had wondered at first who threw the first punch, but the red mark on Gertie’s cheek and Celia’s open hand, reared back for a second blow, was a dead giveaway.

  “You think that hurt, you old hag?” Gertie yelled. “I’ve been hit by mosquitoes that hurt worse.”

  “I could do it again,” Celia yelled back.

  “You could try. But I’m warning you, I’m a lot harder to hit when my back’s not turned.”

  “Ladies,” I yelled, waving my hands at both of them. “This is not the avenue you want to take.”

  “Who the hell are you calling a lady?” Celia asked. “Because I only see one standing here.”

  “I’m glad you recognize,” Gertie said. “That’s probably the only honest thing you’ve said all day today.”

  Celia’s face turned a shade of red that I didn’t think was even possible. I could practically see the steam coming off her head.

  She pointed her finger at Gertie. “You are a disgrace to the women in this town. It’s bad enough that you show your butt with your shenanigans, but today, you’re quite literally showing it to the entire town.”

  “You think this is showing my butt?” Gertie shot back. “Heck, I’m barely giving you a peek, but I can fix that.” She spun around and leaned over, flipping what remained of her tattered skirt up over her hips, giving Celia a clear view of the camo underwear.

  “That does it,” Celia shouted. She rushed over and grabbed Gertie’s skirt with both hands and gave it a hard tug, apparently attempting to cover Gertie’s butt.

  Unfortunately, no one accounted for the fact that the dress was older than the planet and probably dry-rotted. I heard the fabric rip and cringed, praying that it was just a hem that pulled loose.

  No such luck.

  The entire dress split right down the middle. A stunned Celia backed up, jaw dropped and clutching one piece of the dress in each hand.

  Gertie popped up and swung around. “You ruined my homecoming dress!” She reached into her purse and I said a silent prayer that she wouldn’t start slinging those Chinese stars. I felt only a speck of relief when I saw her clutching a white tube, mistakenly thinking it was breath spray. Then that second of incorrect identification passed and I realized Gertie was about to blast Celia with Mace.

  No way that could end well.

  I jumped toward Gertie, attempting to grab the Mace from her hand, but as I leaped, she moved forward and my aim was off. Instead of grabbing her hand, I got the handle of her purse. Already off-balance, I lurched forward, pulling the handle with me and spinning Gertie around. She cried out and involuntarily clenched the Mace, sending a shot of it directly in my face.

  I released the purse, flinging my hands over my eyes, but it was too late. The burning mist coated one of my pupils and I fell to the ground, yelling for water. With my good eye, I saw Gertie spin around as I released the purse strap, still depressing the canister.

  Directly in the face of a state policeman.

  The policeman screamed—a less than manly response—and grabbed Gertie by the arm. Another cop, this one much younger, came running up to see what w
as wrong and slid to a stop, clearly confused by what he saw.

  “Sir?” the younger cop asked. “What happened?”

  “She sprayed me with Mace. Arrest her and the other one in the pink suit.”

  “Wait!” Ida Belle shouted at the young cop as he handcuffed Gertie and motioned for another officer to do the same with Celia. “It was an accident.”

  “They can work that out with the judge down in New Orleans,” the young cop said. “My orders are clear.”

  He tugged on Gertie’s arm and she shot us a wide-eyed stare before stumbling through the crowd toward a school bus where the state police were apparently loading up offenders for transport to New Orleans. Celia wailed as the other officer cuffed her, and part of the crowd cheered. A couple of people booed.

  Ally stared in dismay. “I’ll go find Deputy Breaux,” she said and dashed off into the crowd.

  Ida Belle crouched down beside me and dumped a bottle of water in my eye. I sputtered and jumped up from the ground, flinging water as I went. “You could have warned me before you did that.”

  She grabbed my arm and tugged me toward the bus. “No time. If they put Gertie on that bus, we got bigger problems than we can fix.”

  I stumbled along behind her, my blurry eye making hurrying a bit of a challenge. When we arrived at the bus, the younger officer who had Gertie in custody was arguing with the older one she’d sprayed with Mace.

  “The bus is full, sir,” the young officer said. “I can’t, in good conscience, force two old ladies to stand all the way to New Orleans in the middle of a bunch of redneck men. Especially when this one doesn’t have on clothes. Our legal department would have my badge.”

  “Then get them over to the sheriff’s department,” the Maced officer yelled, “but do not release them. If you do, I’ll have your badge.”

  Ida Belle and I followed behind as the policemen escorted Gertie and Celia into the sheriff’s department. “At least they’re not on the bus to New Orleans,” Ida Belle said. “Maybe we can get them to release Gertie.”