by Jana DeLeon
Ida Belle nodded. “But there’s nothing to stop us from renting the room next door.”
“You think the walls are that thin?” I asked.
“I’m sure the construction is shoddy,” Ida Belle said, “and we might be able to hear through the wall, but I’m positive we’ll be able to hear through the ceiling.”
“Oh!” I clued into what Ida Belle had in mind. “It’s those ceiling tiles like in the sheriff’s department. So we could slide one to the side on our end, inch one over on theirs, and have a bird’s-eye view of the room and the conversation.”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” Ida Belle said.
“Wait. You don’t know for sure it’s the ceiling tiles?”
“Of course not,” Ida Belle said. “Why in the world would I have been in one of those rooms? But given the year of construction, it’s likely.”
“What’s the worst thing that can happen?” Gertie asked. “We get nothing?”
“I guess so,” I said. “But we have to be extra careful that Nelson doesn’t see us.”
“Goes without saying,” Ida Belle said.
“So what’s the plan?” I asked.
“We head out now for the hotel,” Ida Belle said. “We’ll take Gertie’s car. It’s so beat-up it won’t stand out in the parking lot.”
Gertie frowned but didn’t argue.
“You and I will go into the room and handle the recording part.” Ida Belle reached for the backpack she’d brought inside and pulled out a tiny camera that looked like nothing more than a small plastic tube. “This will record to a cell phone. All we need to do is put it in place and wait for Benedict to show up.”
“What am I supposed to do while you’re having all the fun with high-tech gadgets?” Gertie asked.
“You’re going to stay in the parking lot and make sure no one gets the jump on us. We need to be certain the coast is clear before we leave the room.”
“I guess it’s only fair since you had getaway boat duty on the last mission,” Gertie said.
“So that’s it,” Ida Belle said. “We get the footage, get out, and send the whole lot to the state police. I’ve already gotten information on the lead detective on the drug task force.”
“I hope they jump on it quickly,” I said. “We can’t hold off the Heberts forever.”
“I think they will,” Ida Belle said. “I know they can’t use the video in court, but I would bet everything I have that Nelson’s been sloppy.”
“I think we both agree on that one,” I said. “Well, if that’s it, then let’s get this show on the road.”
Gertie stuck her fist out. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
The three of us bumped our fists together.
Swamp Team 3 rides again.
Chapter Sixteen
It was still daylight when we arrived at the motel. Ida Belle hadn’t been exaggerating about the place. It looked as if it had been condemned decades ago, and that was the nice description. The parking lot had a couple of cars in it, each one in worse condition than the other, and none of them Nelson’s Mercedes.
Ida Belle hurried into the office with cash and came back out with the room key a couple minutes later.
“I guess it doesn’t take long when there’s no paperwork,” I said as she hopped back into the passenger seat.
“You can’t be called to testify on what you don’t know,” Gertie said.
“Nelson’s room is 106.” Ida Belle pointed. “The one next to the breezeway. Ours is on the other side.”
“Cool. Gertie, drop us off in front of our room and park at the other end of the parking lot away from the light pole. Make sure you give yourself a clear view of the rooms.”
Ida Belle nodded. “And remember to stay crouched down until dark. If someone sees you sitting there, it will raise alarms.”
Gertie waved a hand at us. “I know. I’m not an idiot.”
I grabbed the backpack, jumped out of the car after Ida Belle, and hurried to the room. I stepped inside, closed and locked the door behind us, then turned around and froze. “Good God!”
The room was something straight out of a horror movie. The bedspread was gold and red and had been washed so many times that it no longer completely covered the mattress. The mattress sagged so much in the middle that I could see it touching the green shag carpeted floor. The walls were covered with gold wallpaper that had some sort of felt-looking texture to it. Everything in the bathroom dripped and the fixtures were so rusty, I would be surprised if the faucets turned at all.
“Not exactly the Ritz,” Ida Belle said.
I shook my head. “I’m afraid to touch anything. I had better quarters the last time I was in Iraq.”
“There’s some nice hotels in Iraq.”
“Yeah, but I was sleeping in a dugout.”
Ida Belle glanced around. “You’ve had a tetanus shot, right?”
“Requirement of the job. You?”
“Requirement of being friends with Gertie.”
The desk appeared to be the least sketchy spot in the room, so I put the backpack down there and pulled out the camera.
“Can you reach?” Ida Belle asked.
“Oh yeah.” I climbed up onto the dresser and pushed one of the ceiling tiles to the side, praying that the wall between the rooms didn’t go all the way up to the ceiling. I smiled when I saw the long line of ceiling tiles. “It goes straight through.”
“Thank goodness.”
I reached over the wall and pushed a ceiling tile in Nelson’s room over a half inch in one corner and slipped the tube into the hole. “Hand me the duct tape.”
Ida Belle pulled the duct tape from the backpack and tossed it up to me. I secured the tube with a little piece and jumped off the dresser. “I should be able to dislodge the camera with a good tug. Just in case we need to leave in a hurry.”
“For once, I’d like a leisurely stroll away from one of these situations.”
“Me too, but I’m not counting on it.”
I plugged the other end of the camera into my cell phone and brought up the app. A view of Nelson’s room flashed on the screen. “We have picture. Now let’s see if we have sound. Hold this.”
Ida Belle took my phone and I climbed back up onto the dresser. “Watch the indicator on the bottom of the screen and see if it spikes up.” I tapped my finger on the ceiling tile near the camera.
“We’re good,” Ida Belle said.
I hopped off the dresser again and pulled out the desk chair. “Then I guess there’s nothing left but the waiting.”
Ida Belle dragged a chair from the corner over near me and sat. “It’s eight thirty now.”
“Thirty minutes to wait, and that’s if Benedict is on time.” I tapped my fingers on the chair. That thirty minutes was going to feel like forever. I wished I had brought a book. Even if the ancient television worked, we couldn’t afford to have the noise.
“Hand me the backpack,” Ida Belle said.
I passed the pack over to her and she pulled out two sodas, individual bags of chips, and a deck of cards.
“Will you marry me?” I asked.
Ida Belle laughed. “I thought you’d already proposed to Ally.”
“Maybe I’ll become Mormon and have several wives.”
“It’s probably easier and a lot cheaper to have good friends.”
I lifted my soda can in the air. “I’ll drink to that.”
We finished off the chips quickly, and I owed Ida Belle forty-two dollars when I finally got a text from Gertie.
Nelson just pulled into parking lot.
“Nelson’s here,” I whispered.
“Fifteen ’til,” Ida Belle said. “I hope he and the hooker don’t decide to get happy before Benedict gets here.”
“Yuck. Thanks for putting that image in my head.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
I lifted my phone and sent a text back to Gertie.
With hooker or alone?
Alone.
“We’re in luck. The hooker must be working or something.”
I switched my phone over to the video app and watched as Nelson entered the frame. Ida Belle moved her chair over closer and we watched as he flipped on the television and flopped on the bed. I cringed and closed my eyes. “Please tell me he’s not renting porn.”
“No, looks like car racing.”
“Thank God.” I opened my eyes and plugged in a set of earbuds to the phone. I handed one to Ida Belle and popped one in my ear. The sound of car racing instantly filled my head. I looked over at Ida Belle, who gave me a thumbs-up. I checked the flashing red recording button and then the time. Ten more minutes. I pressed the button to pause the recording.
“I’m preserving memory,” I said. “I’ll start it up when Benedict arrives.”
“Good thinking.”
We sat for another ten minutes, me drumming my fingers on the desk and Ida Belle tapping her foot on the green carpet. I was so on edge that when my phone vibrated, I almost dropped it. I checked the screen.
Benedict just arrived.
“Showtime,” I said and started recording.
We stuck the earbuds back in our ears and I lifted the phone up so that both of us could see the video feed. Nelson got up from the bed and walked toward the door. A couple seconds later, he walked back into view, followed by Benedict. Nelson sat in the chair in the corner and Benedict sat in the desk chair.
“I priced out the lumber this afternoon,” Benedict said. “Everything I need to rebuild will run about two grand.”
“Not a problem,” Nelson said. He opened the desk drawer and pulled out an envelope, then counted out a stack of cash and handed it to Benedict.
“What’s the deal with the cooker?” Benedict asked.
“I’ve got someone lined up,” Nelson said. “He should be available next week.”
“I hope he’s better than Dewey,” Benedict said.
“Dewey was a good cook. He just got impatient. I should have monitored him more closely.”
“You sure there’s no one looking into the explosion?”
“I’m the sheriff. Deputy Breaux is a fool, and Carter is out on medical leave. Who else is there?”
“I guess, but I don’t like surprises. I agreed to build and run security for you because I’ll make enough money to get to Mexico and live like a king, but I’m not interested in making a stop-off in prison.”
“Stop worrying. I’m telling you, no one’s investigating. Everyone thinks it was a still, and since it’s an unwritten rule that no one in Sinful talks about their stills, I haven’t heard so much as a peep about it.”
“What about Lynne? She seems a little on edge.”
“Lynne’s not a problem.”
“I’m more worried about her husband.”
What the hell? I looked over at Ida Belle, who shrugged. What kind of hooker had a husband?
“He’s in too deep to back out now. If it looks like he’s becoming a problem, I’ll take care of him.”
“If the cooker starts next week, what are you going to do about transport?” Benedict asked.
“The trailer has been ordered but it will take a while,” Nelson said. “I’ll improvise for now. If I have to, I’ll drive the meth to New Orleans myself.” He smiled. “Maybe I’ll take it in the sheriff’s department’s SUV. Wouldn’t that be a ripper?”
Benedict laughed. “I guess you could always claim you confiscated it if you get stopped, right?”
Nelson started to say something, then paused and pulled out his cell phone. He frowned and motioned to Benedict. “We got a problem.”
They both jumped up and headed off camera. I heard the door to the room open, then slam shut. I switched my phone over to text and sent Gertie a message.
What’s going on?
Nelson is outside talking to Benedict. Lots of arm flapping.
“Wrap this up,” I said. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”
I tugged the wire and the camera popped out of the ceiling. Ida Belle shoved the equipment in the backpack and I checked the magazine on my nine-millimeter. My cell phone buzzed again.
He’s pointing at your door. Get out!
How were we supposed to get out? There was only one door and a tiny window over the bathtub. “They’re coming,” I said. “Go out the back window.”
“What about you?” Ida Belle asked.
“I’ll be right behind you as soon as you’re clear.”
Ida Belle hurried to the bathroom and opened the window. I stood in the bathroom doorway, my nine pointed at the room door. Ida Belle tossed the backpack out the window, climbed on the edge of the tub and pulled herself headfirst through the window. I heard a thud and thought she’d hit the ground, but when I glanced back, I saw her feet disappearing over the ledge. Then I realized the thud was Nelson and Benedict trying to break down the door.
I whirled around and leaped onto the edge of the bathtub, then pulled myself through the window. As my body weight tipped over the ledge, I dropped my pistol to the side and put my arms out to slow my fall, then tucked and rolled. Broken glass pierced my hands and body as I rolled and weeds slapped against my face. I popped up and reached back for my weapon but before I could bend down, I heard a woman’s voice.
“Try it and the old lady gets it.”
I knew that voice!
Chapter Seventeen
I looked up and saw Kayla standing in front of me, holding a .45 against Ida Belle’s head.
Blood rushed to my head as it hit me at once—the huge miscalculation we’d made. The big weight loss, all the dental work…Kayla was a meth addict. And I’d bet anything that the trailer on order that Nelson had just mentioned was the food trailer to replace the one that had burned. It was the perfect cover for transporting drugs. They traveled to different cities every week and with the huge refrigerators could carry a ton of meth without sacrificing the quality of the drugs.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” I said.
Kayla sneered. “What way is that? The one where I have the upper hand?”
“You don’t have to hurt either of us.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Nelson blackmailed me into doing this gig, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to prison for it. If you would have minded your own business, killing you wouldn’t be necessary.”
“You’re Lynne Fontenot,” Ida Belle said.
“Yep. Known associate of Dewey Parnell,” Kayla said. “I went by my middle name then.”
“And you married the Fontenot twin,” Ida Belle said.
“He didn’t like the extracurricular activities I picked up freshman year, so we had to part ways.”
“Why Nelson?” Ida Belle asked. “You know better.”
“Yeah, well, Nelson works for some suppliers in New Orleans and he had the goods on me. I’m at my limit for arrests, and not interested in going to prison. With the payout from a job, Colby and I could have skipped town and started over.”
I appreciated that Ida Belle was keeping Kayla talking. Buying time was never a bad thing when you had a gun pressed to your head, but my options for a rescue were essentially none. Even if I dived for my gun and got off a perfect shot, it would take me at least two seconds to execute the move. Kayla could squeeze the trigger in less than a second, and even though I would get her in the end, it would be too late for Ida Belle.
“Kayla!” Nelson’s voice sounded to the side of me as he came through the breezeway and into the weeded plot of grass that separated the motel from the swamp.
“You were right,” Kayla said. “They’ve been watching you.”
Nelson walked closer, smiling. “Those tattoos. I recognize them from the Swamp Bar. I had a feeling about you two.”
“This is bullshit.” Benedict walked out of the breezeway and stared. “I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Actually,” Nelson said, “this is exactly what you signed up for. You’re security, remember?”
�
�I ain’t killing no old lady,” Benedict said.
“Then I’ll do it myself,” Nelson said. “Where’s the other one? They travel in threes.”
“She was sitting in the beat-up Caddy at the far end of the parking lot,” Kayla said. “I clocked her good. She’ll be out for a while.”
Nelson grinned. “Like forever.”
“I say we do this here and dump the bodies in the swamp,” Kayla said. “There’s cameras up front.”
“Sounds good.” Nelson pulled a pistol out of his waistband and started to lift it at me.
The shot came out of nowhere and I crumpled to the ground, certain that Kayla had shot Ida Belle, but when I forced myself to look, I saw Kayla staring at us, mouth and eyes wide open and a single exit wound in the middle of her forehead. She pitched forward on the ground and I sprang for my nine, yelling at Ida Belle to run.
Nelson fired a round at me and as I rolled, I could hear the bullet whizzing by me. I jumped up and fired back, then dashed into the swamp after Ida Belle.
“We have to circle around for Gertie,” I said, and pointed to the right.
We changed direction and ran through the brush. I could hear Nelson and Benedict thrashing behind us and hoped they didn’t start firing. Even an idiot could get off a lucky shot. I could see the parking lot lights through the top of the trees and veered right again when I saw the last light pole.
“Who shot Kayla?” Ida Belle managed to huff out as we ran.
“I don’t know, and we’re not waiting around to see.”
I burst out of the swamp and hit the edge of the parking lot, but Gertie’s car wasn’t parked where it was supposed to be. I looked over at Ida Belle, panic setting in. A second later the ancient Cadillac screamed around the corner of the motel and squealed to a stop beside us. The passenger door flew open and Mannie yelled, “Get in!”
I’d never been more confused in my life, but I dived into the front seat, Ida Belle right behind me. She didn’t even get the door shut before Mannie floored it and shot across the parking lot and out the entrance. I turned around and saw Gertie slumped over in the backseat.
