Jana DeLeon - Miss Fortune 05 - Gator Bait

by Jana DeLeon

  “So you’re saying he’s going to be out back, twenty yards from the boat we need to steal, all day long.”

  “He will unless we figure out a way to get rid of him.”

  “I have an idea,” Gertie said.

  Ida Belle and I both gave her a skeptical look.

  “No, seriously,” she said. “Remember those dogs that ran over me and Celia on Sunday? They belong to the guy renting the old Cooper place.”

  “That place right past Main Street that looks like half of it is caved in?” I asked.

  “That’s the place. If those dogs were to get loose, with all those smelly hogs cooking…”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said. “Since I’m the quickest, I’ll let the dogs out. Can you hot-wire the boat?”

  Ida Belle nodded. “Gertie and I will head down the bank toward the dock. As soon as the dogs cause a commotion, we’ll board the boat and get it running.”

  “If you find an opening to get the boat away from the dock without the butcher noticing, don’t wait for me,” I said. “Take it. I can sprint back to my house and you can pick me up there.”

  I took off down the bayou, doing my daily jogger imitation, and gave the butcher a wave as I passed. He was struggling to lift an enormous side of meat wrapped in plastic wrap onto a folding table and barely noticed me. All the better.

  The old Cooper place was about fifty yards from the butcher shop, set back into the swamp a good twenty yards in. The swamp allowed good coverage for my approach, and I was happy to see that the carport was empty. Hopefully, that meant the renter was away. As I approached the backyard, the dogs hurried to the back fence, barking their greeting.

  “Hey, fellows,” I said, looking over the fence.

  The two hounds looked up at me and wagged their tails. At least they weren’t scary, like Tiny. These two were younger versions of Bones, the ancient hound I’d inherited and who had unearthed the bone of a murder victim before I’d even had a chance to unpack. Bones was living out the rest of his sleeping days with Marie, who’d loved him since he was a puppy.

  “You guys want some excellent dinner?” I asked. “I know a great place…more meat than you can eat.”

  They both barked and wagged harder. I took that to mean they were up for the challenge. “Okay. Let’s go.” I opened the gate and took off running back through the swamp toward the butcher shop. I stopped at the edge of the swamp, but the hounds didn’t even notice. They’d already locked onto the smell of the cooking pig and leaped out of the tree line in a dead run at a glorious dinner.

  The butcher looked up from the spit when he heard the dogs barking and his eyes widened when he saw them bearing down on him at full speed. He stepped in front of the spit, waving his arms to stop them from attacking his cooking pig. While his back was turned, Ida Belle and Gertie ran down the dock for the boat.

  And one of them made it.

  Ida Belle sprinted to the end of the dock and leaped into the boat as though she’d been running hurdles for a living. Gertie sprinted, sort of, almost all the way down the dock before her giant purse gained too much momentum and swung up, smacking her directly in the face. She pitched forward and her purse flew off her arm and right into the back of Ida Belle’s head. The weight of the purse sent Ida Belle sprawling to the bottom of the boat deck as Gertie lost her footing and tipped off into the bayou.

  I heard the giant splash all the way over where I was hiding and swung my head back toward the fray at the butcher shop to see if he had seen the dock drama. Fortunately, the dogs had his complete attention. The smart hounds had given up on the spit and went for the side of hog on the folding table. One of them was on each side of the table, clenching a wad of the Saran wrap in their jaws and pulling it like they were engaged in an Olympic-sized tug-of-war contest.

  The butcher alternated yelling and spraying the dogs with the water hose, but they weren’t even remotely fazed. I heard the boat fire up and looked over to see a dripping wet Gertie drop over the side and crash onto the bottom of the boat. Then the butcher let up a huge yell and I turned back to see the hounds pull the pig completely off the table and race off down the back of the shops, each of them clutching the pig in its mouth. All the racket had Walter hurrying out the back of the General Store, some patrons close on his heels.

  The last one out the door was Celia Arceneaux.

  She was also the only one who lacked the good sense to stay close to the building and out of the way. Holy crap! It was like watching a train wreck. She pushed past Walter and the other patrons, and I could see her mouth wide open, yelling as usual. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but it didn’t matter. With Celia it was always the same sort of thing.

  Her second step out from the pack landed her smack in between the running dogs. And they weren’t the least bit interested in stopping. The side of pig hit her at full speed, flipping her legs completely out from under her. Her pink skirt flew up to her waist and she crashed down onto the ground, her giant white underwear shining like a full moon over the bayou.

  As the patrons rushed to help Celia up, Ida Belle took off in the boat, ducked low behind the driver’s column and speeding past the fray. Walter watched the boat as it passed and shook his head. I figured I had been standing there long enough and set off for the front of the building and sprinted down Main Street for my house. I could hear Celia’s wailing and ranting two blocks away.

  I made the run in five minutes flat. Gertie was tossing the last of the fishing equipment into the boat when I ran into my backyard and leaped inside. “Get down,” Ida Belle said.

  I ducked through the cabin door and sat on the floor just inside. Gertie climbed back into the boat and Ida Belle set off at a good pace down the bayou toward the lake, which is where we agreed was the best place to start our search. My cell phone beeped and I pulled it out, then noticed Ida Belle and Gertie were both doing the same. It was a message from Walter to all three of us.

  You just stole your new mayor’s boat.

  Crap.

  We all started talking at once.

  “Oh my God!” I said.

  “My worst nightmare,” Ida Belle said.

  “It’s the rise of the Antichrist,” Gertie said.

  “Well, the Antichrist just mooned all the customers in Walter’s store.” I told them about the dogs hitting Celia with the side of hog, and Gertie laughed so hard she literally sat down and rolled onto her side, heaving with laughter.

  “Serves her right,” Gertie said when she came up for air. “It was all her fault half of Sinful saw me in my skivvies. If they’d all seen her giant white underwear before the election, they might not have voted for her.”

  “Call Marie,” Ida Belle said. “I haven’t heard from her, and that makes me think something is up.”

  Gertie dialed Marie, who must have started talking the instant she answered the phone because all Gertie managed was nodding and the occasional “uh-huh.” But I could tell by her expression that whatever Marie was saying wasn’t good. Finally Gertie disconnected the call and looked up at Ida Belle.

  “We got trouble,” Gertie said. “Marie’s pissed.”

  I stared. “What does that look like exactly?” I’d seen Marie scared, anxious, worried, and upset, but I had no idea what outright pissed entailed.

  “It’s not pretty,” Ida Belle said. “What’s up?”

  “Sarah Gunderson said Wilma Tillery voted for Celia.”

  Ida Belle’s eyes widened and she made a hissing sound.

  “What did I miss?” I asked.

  “Sarah Gunderson is a Sinful Lady,” Gertie said. “Also one of the vote counters. There are representatives from each side—to keep things on the up-and-up. Wilma Tillery died six years ago, so Sinful has it own election episode of The Walking Dead going on. It looks like someone stuffed the ballots.”

  “What can you do about it?” I asked.

  “Marie is already filing a motion for an audit,” Gertie said.

  “But unti
l then,” Ida Belle said, “we’re screwed.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Gertie shot me a worried look. “I mean that this was an emergency election, so until that vote is recounted, Celia is mayor of Sinful. Which means Carter’s job is on the line.”

  “One situation at a time,” Ida Belle said. “Let’s make sure no one is going to try to kill Carter again and then we’ll worry about his continued employment. Fortune, we’re almost to the mouth of the lake. Head to the front of the boat and use the binoculars to scan the bank. The cabins near the bank aren’t our mark. They’re too visible. If he’s got a hiding place, it’s going to be back some from the bank and hidden in an area with thick foliage and trees.”

  “So I’m looking for a point of egress,” I said, “not the structure itself.”

  “Exactly, and it’s not going to be easy to spot. Hank will cover his tracks.”

  Ida Belle pulled the boat over as close to the bank as she could and cut the engine speed to a bare minimum. She motioned for Gertie to hand her a fishing pole and cast the line in the water off the back of the boat. Gertie pulled a mangled straw hat out of her purse and plopped it on her head. Between the awful hat and her wet clothes hanging on her, she looked like a pitiful scarecrow.

  I pulled the binoculars and a scope out of the duffel bag and opened a porthole on the front of the boat. It was easy to discard most of the bank as it consisted of mostly tall reeds, and there’s no way a boat could have docked there without leaving a trail. I scanned ahead and saw a long stretch of reeds ahead of us that slowly turned to muddy bank after about fifty yards. I was about to lower the binoculars until we reached the mud when I caught a glint of light about two hundred yards away.

  I lifted the scope and zeroed in on the object creating the glare. It was a shrimp boat.

  Lucas Riley’s shrimp boat.

  “Ida Belle,” I called.

  She ducked her head in and I motioned for her to come over. “About two hundred yards ahead and to the left. That’s Lucas Riley’s shrimp boat.”

  Ida Belle peered through the scope. “He’s coming straight at us.” She hurried out of the cabin, pulled on a ball cap and cut the engine to the boat. “Get ready,” she told Gertie as she picked up her fishing pole. “Lucas Riley is going to pass us in about thirty seconds.”

  I closed the porthole and ducked down below the line of circular windows. Someone peering out of a porthole might look a little odd. It was best that Lucas only register two old ladies fishing. I heard the engine approaching and was happy that he seemed to be moving fairly fast. He probably wouldn’t give our boat a second glance. I watched out the cabin door as he approached and saw Ida Belle and Gertie lift a hand in the air as he passed about twenty yards away from us. I saw his arm go up in the air, but he didn’t even bother to turn his head.

  Ida Belle watched until he rounded the bend, then dropped her pole and jumped over to the steering column to start the boat. “Let’s see if we can figure out where he came from,” she said.

  As she took off across the lake, I popped the hatch on the top of the cabin and poked my head up with the scope. I scanned the surface of the lake, looking for the ripples left from the wake from Lucas’s boat. As we neared an inlet, the ripples dissipated. I hurried to the back of the boat and pointed out the channel to Ida Belle.

  “I think he came out there,” I said.

  Ida Belle cut the engine speed and directed the boat into the smaller channel.

  “Do you know where this goes?”

  Ida Belle shook her head. “There’s hundreds, maybe thousands, of channels like these off the lake. They sometimes shift with time.”

  I watched as the channel grew narrower, until it was probably only forty feet across. Trees started to sprout up along the bank, replacing the tall reeds and marsh grass. In some places, cypress roots created banks, pushing the land above the channel by a couple of feet. I climbed onto the seat across from Ida Belle and lifted the binoculars, alternating my scan of both sides of the bank.

  “Wait!” I said and jumped off the seat to grab Ida Belle’s arm. “I think I saw something.”

  Ida Belle cut the boat engine off and I grabbed the cypress roots to stop our progress. “Look there,” I said and pointed to a section of roots about ten feet behind us. “There’s a piece of rope tied to that big root on top.”

  Ida Belle leaned over the back of the boat and looked where I was pointing. “Looks like someone tied off there and the rope broke.”

  “The break’s recent,” I said. “The ends of the rope haven’t frayed enough for it to have been that way long.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?” Gertie asked. “Let’s check it out.”

  I looked at Ida Belle. “What do you think? Is this the hiding place or the drop-off location?”

  Ida Belle studied the area and frowned. “I’m more inclined to say hiding place. This channel is shallow. When the tide goes out, a larger boat wouldn’t be able to travel down this without hitting bottom. I don’t think they’d choose a drop location that was cut off every time the tide went out.”

  I pulled my Glock out of my waistband and checked the magazine. “I think we should assume that if Hank is hiding here, he’s well armed.”

  “We’re not going to walk up and sell him Girl Scout Cookies,” Ida Belle said. “We just need to get close enough to verify he’s there and then we get the hell out of here and call Riker. This is no time for any of us to play the hero. Our necks are already stuck out enough.”

  I nodded, relieved that Ida Belle and I were in agreement on how this should play out. We could not afford a showdown in the middle of the swamp, especially one that was smack-dab in the middle of ATF business. Besides which, we were neither qualified nor sufficiently equipped to come up against an arms dealer’s security unit. If the supplier had gotten wind of problems and dispatched more personnel to Sinful, they would be as skilled as me and there would be more of them.

  “What if Lucas comes back?” Gertie asked.

  “Already thought about that,” I said. “As soon as Ida Belle and I take off, I want you to move the boat down the channel around that bend. Take point on the bank behind the foliage and watch for anyone approaching. Make sure the boat is far enough around the bend that it can’t be seen from this channel, and turn it around so you’re ready to haul butt this direction to pick us up.”

  “We’ve got no cell service out here,” Gertie said. “How do I signal you?”

  “Worse case, if Lucas returns, wait until he enters the swamp and shoot a flare. We’ll keep a watch for one. Same thing on our end. If we need a quick evacuation, we’ll fire a flare and you get to this bank as fast as possible.”

  “Got it,” Gertie said.

  I jumped out of the boat and onto the bank, Ida Belle close behind. As we stepped onto a path in the swamp, Ida Belle turned around and looked at Gertie. “Now might be a good time to start praying Lucas doesn’t return.”

  Gertie nodded and started the boat. Ida Belle and I slipped into the swamp, and the boat disappeared from our sight. The path was narrow and rarely traveled. In fact, only someone adept at tracking would have noticed it at all.

  “Someone’s been down this recently,” Ida Belle said.

  “You’ve got good eyes.”

  “I’ve done my share of hunting…here and in Vietnam. You think they have any kind of security out here?”

  “Unless they’re running a generator, they wouldn’t have the power for cameras. Sound from a generator would carry for miles out here, and I haven’t heard anything.”

  “What about trip wires…you know, military sort of stuff.”

  “It’s certainly possible, and for the drop site, I’d say more likely, but if this is only a hideout, then I don’t know that much security is necessary. You’d only have one person out there and the hideout was probably constructed with a view from every side. With good visibility of anyone approaching and a store of weapons that will cu
t a human in half, they probably don’t need anything else.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “I guess with all the storms and flooding, they’d be running a risk of coming up against their own security if they set up anything like that out here.”

  “The risk definitely increases in hostile weather environments.” I pointed to a branch in the path. “The right side was traveled more recently,” I said as I veered off that direction.

  “He’s trying not to leave a trail, but he’s not that good at it.”

  “Not when he’s up against professionals.” I stopped short and put my finger up to my lips, then pointed to our left.

  Ida Belle nodded and followed me as I crept into the brush and followed the noise. It hadn’t been much—a scratching sound like two pieces of wood rubbing together—but in the stillness of the swamp, it stood out. I eased between the cypress trees, pushing aside the hanging moss and dense weeds, then drew up short.

  About ten feet away, the trees thinned out. Behind them I could see the edges of a square structure. I pointed and pulled out my scope. Ida Belle nodded and did the same. I locked in on the structure immediately. It was a small building—maybe ten feet square—constructed of plywood and tin, with long narrow windows on the two walls I could see. I had no doubt the other two walls contained the same windows, giving someone the ability to check the entire perimeter.

  I lined my scope up with the window I had the best view into and scanned slowly across the opening, looking for movement. When I reached as far right as I could go, I saw a shadow move along the back wall.

  “Someone’s in there,” I whispered, “but I can’t see clearly from this angle. Move right.”

  Ida Belle nodded and I eased over, choosing every step for maximum silence, until I had the right angle to see the other side of the structure. I lifted my scope and scanned right.

  And then I stopped cold.

  Chapter Seventeen