by Jana DeLeon
I am pretty sure I was out before my head ever hit the pillow.
Chapter Fifteen
I had no idea how long I’d been asleep when I awakened. It felt like only minutes before, but my alert mind and stiff body told me I’d been there much longer. I glanced at the clock and was surprised to find five hours had passed and it was past lunchtime. I reached for my cell phone on the nightstand and felt a wave of relief pass over me when I saw no messages or texts waiting for me. No drama while I was out. Thank God.
Ida Belle must have been as exhausted as I was, but I figured I’d hear from her as soon as she was up. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stretched, thinking about our fiasco at the storage facility the night before. Now that I’d had a break from the event and could process it more clearly, my respect for Ida Belle shot up about ten notches. She was in seriously good shape for her age. I hoped I was that lucky.
My doorbell rang and I peered outside and saw Gertie’s ancient Cadillac in my driveway. I grinned and pulled on a pair of shorts before heading downstairs. The ole girl must be out of Shawshank.
I let Ida Belle and Gertie in the house and they trailed off to the kitchen. Ida Belle clutched a big paper bag and from the smell wafting out of it, I assumed she’d made a stop by Francine’s before heading my way.
“Burgers and fries,” Ida Belle said and put the bag on the kitchen table. “I figure we’d all be starving and no one would feel like cooking.”
“I don’t even feel like making a sandwich,” I said, “but the sleep was stellar.”
Ida Belle nodded. “I got in a good four hours. Older bladders don’t allow for much more without interruption. It’s just as well. Gertie called right after I woke up.”
I looked over at Gertie, who was unpacking the food and sliding it across the table. “I guess that cop decided not to press charges?”
Gertie nodded. “Myrtle told him he’d have to come back here to file the report. I guess he wasn’t interested in a return trip.”
“Or admitting on paper that an old woman got the best of him,” Ida Belle said.
I handed out canned colas and took a seat. “I guess you managed to get back inside without Crawford noticing?”
Gertie shook her head. “Poor Crawford. He shouldn’t have been such a glutton with those brownies. He spent the entire night groaning and running for the bathroom. I finally shoved yarn in my ears so I could get some rest.”
“But he’s all right?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah. He was pale and a little shaky this morning, but the worst is over. In a day or so, he’ll be back to normal.”
“Good,” I said. “I felt a little guilty over that one. Crawford didn’t seem like a bad guy.”
“Collateral damage,” Gertie said. “It happens, and there’s a lot worse things than spending a night on the throne. Ida Belle filled me in on what happened at the hospital.”
“Lots of drama and very little information,” I said and took a bite out of my burger.
Ida Belle nodded. “Now that you’ve had time to sleep on it, have you come up with anything?”
I shook my head. “I had these wild dreams all night…like there was something right there on the edge and I couldn’t quite grasp it.”
“Something your subconscious is wrestling with that your conscious hasn’t put together,” Ida Belle said. “Isn’t that what you said about Carter?”
“Yeah, I guess I did. But aside from that, I know I’ve forgotten something but for the life of me, I can’t remember what.”
“You should try deep hypnosis regression,” Gertie said, “like they did on that X-Files episode.”
“That’s it!” I jumped up from the table and grabbed my laptop. “The television. Remember, we wanted to know what Carter was watching Saturday night. Emmaline said the television was on the History channel, but with everything else that was going on, I completely forgot to check and see what was on.”
I accessed the website for the History channel and looked at its schedule. “Monday, Sunday, Saturday.” I scanned through the day and into late night. Then I sat back in my chair and frowned. “They were doing a twenty-four-hour marathon. Missing persons files.”
“Missing persons?” Gertie said. “I don’t see—”
And then it hit me. I sprang up out of my chair again. “I’m an idiot!”
Ida Belle looked up at me. “I’m going hold off on agreeing with that statement until after I hear what you have to say.”
I sat back down. “I read Carter’s note as ‘He shouldn’t have been there’ but it wasn’t ‘he’ it was ‘HE’—the first two letters were capitalized. I thought it was lazy typing.”
“What do you think it is now?” Ida Belle asked.
“Initials. HE—Hank Eaton.”
Ida Belle’s eyes widened and Gertie sucked in a breath.
“But Hank’s been missing for over a year,” Gertie said.
“Maybe he wasn’t missing,” I said. “Maybe that’s just what he wanted everyone to think.”
Ida Belle’s lips set in a hard line. “Then that would make Hank the smuggler.”
I nodded. “And the man who tried to kill Carter.”
“Poor Laurel,” Gertie said. “First her husband disappears and she’s left with all those bills and now this. What in the world is she going to do when she finds out he didn’t die at all but ran off to be a criminal?”
“Even worse,” Ida Belle said, “what’s she going to do when the insurance company tells her she has to pay back those life insurance proceeds?”
“How could he do that to her?” Gertie asked, clearly dismayed. “What is wrong with men?”
“Plenty,” Ida Belle said. “Which is why we don’t have any.”
“He’s not doing it without help,” Gertie said. “I mean, Hank has the knowledge to move the product in from the Gulf without raising suspicion, but no way could he have gone unseen all this time if he was doing more than that. He may have been dropping the guns here, but someone else was picking them up and carrying them out.”
The ice chest of AK-47s from the storage unit flashed through my mind, followed by the memory of an ice chest of fish. “Lucas Riley?” I suggested, and told them about seeing him Saturday evening with the ice chest of fish.
Ida Belle blew out a breath. “Whew. You could be onto something.”
“You said they go way back, right?” I asked.
“Yep,” Ida Belle said. “Best friends from the crib.”
“Did Hank hang around anyone else?” I asked.
“Not that I can recall,” Gertie said. “It was always just those two. They never got on much with the other students.”
“So the only person in Sinful that Hank would trust is Lucas.”
“And vice versa,” Ida Belle said. “I don’t think Lucas ever trusted anyone but Hank.”
Gertie shook her head. “It just doesn’t seem like Hank. He was such a nice boy. I can certainly believe it about that Lucas, who was always trouble. I never understood why Hank and Lucas were friends. They didn’t seem to have anything in common.”
“That’s what people always say,” Ida Belle said. “They want to blame one person for being the bad influence that turned the other person into something they’re not. I don’t agree. I’m going to stick with the old saying that water seeks its own level. Something was just as broken in Hank, or he would never have taken up with Lucas.”
Gertie sighed. “I suppose you’re right, but I still can’t believe he left Laurel and the baby like that.”
“You said his son was sick, right?” I asked Ida Belle. “Maybe he figured it was the perfect solution. Laurel would collect the insurance and use it for the baby and he’d become the master criminal he always wanted to be without the domestic responsibilities that had become more than he bargained for.”
“Looks like the time stamp on the perfect solution just ran out,” Ida Belle said.
“Yeah, and I have no idea what to do now,” I sa
id. “Even if we tell Carter, we still don’t know if he’ll remember, at least not until the swelling goes away.”
“True,” Ida Belle said, “and if he does remember, then it will make him more anxious to get out of the hospital and track him down, which is the last thing he needs to be doing.”
“What about Riker?” Gertie asked. “Where do you think he stands on this?”
“Riker is sure Carter saw the smuggler, but I don’t think he has any idea who the smuggler is. That’s why he’s so hell-bent on digging out Carter’s memory.”
“If we told Riker who it was,” Gertie said, “he wouldn’t listen.”
“True,” Ida Belle said, “and even if he did listen, he wouldn’t know where to start looking.”
“So what the hell do we do?” Gertie asked. “We can’t just sit around and wait for Hank to make another attempt on Carter, and until Hank is dead or behind bars, Carter is going to remain his biggest threat.”
“What about Lucas?” Gertie asked.
“What about him?” Ida Belle asked. “His involvement is only speculation on our part. Granted, I think we’re right because it’s the only thing that fits, but Riker isn’t going to take our word for it. If he goes in half-assed, it will tip Lucas off.”
“And then they’d both disappear,” Gertie said.
“Probably,” I said, “but maybe not in the way that you think.”
“What do you mean?” Ida Belle asked.
“If Hank and Lucas are smuggling guns from the Middle East, they’re dealing with people who do not leave loose ends—loose ends being the kind that talk. If their supplier gets even a hint of an idea that either of them has been made, they’ll clean house. Hank, Lucas, Carter, Riker, Mitchell, maybe even Emmaline, Dr. Stewart, and us…basically anyone who might know anything at all about the product.”
The blood washed out of Gertie’s face. “You’re talking about a bloodbath.”
I nodded. “Arms dealers are the most ruthless form of sociopath I’ve ever seen. They make serial killers look pleasant.”
“What can we do?” Ida Belle asked. “It sounds hopeless.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “What we need is to break the chain.”
“What do you mean?” Ida Belle said.
“If Riker arrested Hank, then Carter would no longer be a target because Hank’s identity would be known.”
“Or if Riker killed him,” Gertie said. “I’m okay with that if Hank’s the one who tried to kill Carter.”
I nodded. “Either would take the heat off Carter and anyone else in Sinful. If Hank rolls on Lucas, Riker will arrest him. If he takes too long, the supplier will eliminate the threat, but with Hank exposed, the supplier won’t have any reason to kill Carter.”
“Because the only thing Carter will have on him is that he’s supposed to be a dead man,” Ida Belle said. “Brilliant.”
“Yeah,” I said, “except for the part where we need Riker to arrest Hank.”
“And Riker doesn’t even know he’s looking for Hank,” Gertie said, “much less where to look.”
“And we’re right back around to how to get Riker to find Hank without alerting Lucas that he’s onto them,” Ida Belle said. “Even if we could convince Riker that Hank was their man, he’s not equipped to locate someone in these bayous.”
“You think Hank is hiding somewhere nearby?” I asked.
“Not permanently,” Ida Belle said. “It’s too risky given that everyone in Sinful knows him, but I bet he has a sort of safe house to use if things get hairy. A problem could be as simple as a storm blowing in that prevents him from heading back out right after a drop.”
“Or as serious as a deputy seeing a dead man,” I said.
Ida Belle nodded. “You said yourself that the supplier would clean up this mess, so I figure Hank won’t leave until he thinks he’s no longer in danger of being fired, so to speak, by the supplier.”
“This whole thing is making my head hurt,” Gertie said.
“Then let me sum it up for you,” Ida Belle said. “We need to find Hank’s hideout and get that idiot Riker over there to arrest him before the supplier gets word of the problems here and comes to clean house.”
“My head hurts worse now,” Gertie said.
“Mine too,” I agreed.
“But at least we have a plan,” Ida Belle said. “Sort of.”
“A sort of plan is what we live for,” Gertie said.
“Does anyone have a sort of boat?” I asked. “Because the last time I checked, none of us had wings.”
“We could borrow Walter’s,” Gertie said.
Ida Belle shook her head. “Not this time. Hank knows Walter’s boat.”
At first, I didn’t get her comment but suddenly, it made sense. “And Walter is Carter’s uncle. If Hank saw the boat, he’d automatically assume Walter was looking for him. So what now? Ally has a boat, but it’s a small one and wouldn’t provide much protection.”
“No, we need something larger and with a cabin,” Ida Belle said. “Fortune can stay out of sight, but use a scope to search the banks. You and I will don stupid floppy hats decorated with lures and blend with the other fishermen.”
“That sounds great,” I said, “but unless cabin cruisers are sitting around for rent, I don’t see how that helps us.”
“I might know where one is just sitting around,” Ida Belle said.
By the glint in her eyes, I knew I wasn’t going to like the answer to the next question, even before I asked it. “And where might this boat be sitting around?”
“The dock behind the butcher shop.”
“You want to steal the butcher’s boat?” I asked. I’d been in the butcher shop. The knives in that place were scary, and the butcher wasn’t any better.
“It’s not his boat,” Ida Belle said. “He’s leasing it from the owner until he can put together the money to buy it.”
I frowned. So far, it didn’t sound so bad. “Can he lend us the boat if he’s only leasing it?”
“Of course not,” Ida Belle said. “And the owner would never lend it to us. We’ll have to steal it.”
Okay. It was getting worse.
“Who’s the owner?” I asked.
“Celia.”
I blinked. “Celia Arceneaux? Your sworn enemy?”
Ida Belle grinned.
“Surely there’s another boat with a cabin in Sinful,” I said.
“Only shrimp boats,” Ida Belle said. “Celia’s departed husband owned the only cabin cruiser used for fishing in Sinful. Everyone else uses a regular bass boat.”
Gertie chuckled. “I still remember the day he drove into town towing that boat. Celia had forbidden him to purchase it, but then his uncle died and left him some money. He went straight from the estate attorney’s office to the boat shop. Celia stopped him in the middle of Main Street and yelled at him for twenty minutes before Sheriff Lee managed to drag her out of the road.”
Ida Belle laughed. “Ally said Celia made him sleep in the boat for a month.”
“Probably the best month of his life since marrying Celia,” Gertie said.
“So let me get this straight,” I said. “All we need to do is load up on weapons, binoculars, scopes, and fishing gear, then head downtown and in broad daylight, steal a boat from a dock just a couple of buildings down from the sheriff’s department.”
“It’s not like Deputy Breaux can chase us,” Gertie said. “The sheriff department’s boat is in Big and Little’s storage facility.”
“And we can put all the weapons and gear in your backyard and pick it up on our way out,” Ida Belle said.
If it had been about anyone but Carter, I would have said no, a million times no. But it was Carter, and it was life or death. And beyond that was my own vested interest. The last thing I needed was a Middle Eastern arms supplier sending cleaners to Sinful. One chance crossing of paths and I would be dead before I could even request extraction.
“Fine. Great,” I said. “We’
ll steal a boat.”
After all, it had been at least twelve hours since I’d broken the law.
Chapter Sixteen
“Hurry up.” Ida Belle looked back at a lagging Gertie. “We’re burning daylight.”
Since we were going to take the stolen boat to pick up our equipment, we’d decided to leave the cars at home and walk to the dock. That way, one of our vehicles wouldn’t be parked on Main Street all day, potentially causing questions. Gertie had fallen behind a half block into the walk and Ida Belle had been razzing her for it ever since.
“I’m tired,” Gertie said. “It’s been a long week.”
“It’s only Tuesday,” Ida Belle said.
“All the more reason to be complaining about being tired, then,” Gertie said. “Imagine how I’ll feel if I make it until Friday.”
“What are you bitching about? Tired? At least you got to sleep all night,” Ida Belle said.
“With a blow-up doll on a prison cot. Hardly the Ritz.”
I grinned. “Wonder how many angry wives have heard that one before?”
When we got to downtown, we skirted the side of the flower shop and headed behind the row of shops that ran along the bayou. Toward the end of the row was the butcher shop dock, complete with Celia’s cabin cruiser. “Nice,” I said as I took in the good-sized vessel.
“I heard it even has a toilet,” Gertie said.
“You should use it,” I said. “Just to spite Celia.”
Gertie pulled a roll of toilet paper out of her purse. “Ahead of you on that one.”
“Crap,” Ida Belle said and pulled up short.
“I don’t have to yet,” Gertie said.
“What’s wrong?” I followed her gaze down the bayou to the activity at the back of the butcher’s shop. “He’s cooking?”
“Hogs,” Ida Belle said. “Not everyone has a spit big enough for a whole one, so they pay him to cook it for them. It’s a long, boring job, so he usually waits until he has two or three on order then does them all the same day.”
