Jana DeLeon - Miss Fortune 06 - Soldiers of Fortune

by Jana DeLeon

  “Gertie!” I yelled.

  “She’s just unconscious,” Mannie said.

  I looked up as Nelson and Benedict burst out of the swamp. They both started firing but neither was a good enough shot to make it count. Mannie swung the car around the corner and we disappeared from line of sight.

  “They’ll come after us,” I said.

  “No they won’t,” Mannie replied. He made a hard left and launched the car into the swamp, then killed the engine.

  “What the heck are you doing?” I asked.

  Mannie pointed to the road, and that’s when I realized sirens echoed across the swamp. Seconds later, two cars with red flashing lights on the dashboard and the words “Louisiana State Police” on the door sped by.

  “Only one way in,” Mannie said and winked. He started the car and backed out of the weeds, then floored it, not slowing at all when he took the turn for the highway. As soon as we hit the paved road, he pressed the accelerator even harder and we sped off toward Sinful.

  So many questions raced through my mind that I didn’t even know where to begin. “How did you know where we were?”

  “Little thought you might take risks,” Mannie said, “and if you did, you’d need backup.”

  “You were following us?” Ida Belle asked.

  “Actually, we put trackers on all your vehicles back when you broke into the storage facility. Given the things you tend to get involved in, Little thought it would be a good idea to keep tabs on you.”

  I wanted to be mad, but it was hard to be when Little’s paranoia had just saved our lives. “Who shot Kayla?” I knew it couldn’t have been Mannie, because the shot had come from the swamp, and he couldn’t have made the shot, then gotten to the car that quickly, not with Nelson and Benedict right there.

  “You don’t need to know that,” Mannie said. “What you need to know is that the state police got an anonymous tip that a drug deal was going down at the motel. One of the drug dealers shot another one.”

  “But the gun…” How in the world could Little make that one work?

  “The gun was appropriated from Nelson’s private collection when he took the position of sheriff…insurance for Little in case he decided to occupy the position for too long.”

  “Looks like Little got a two-for-one deal on this one,” I said.

  Mannie grinned. “He’s really happy about that.”

  I stiffened. “The backpack! We left it on the ground behind the motel.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” Mannie said. “My associate retrieved it.”

  “We have video of Benedict and Nelson talking about the explosion and the meth deal,” Ida Belle said.

  “Really?” Mannie glanced over at us.

  “Yeah,” I said. “We know it’s not admissible in court, but it should encourage the state police to build a case.”

  “Where’s the footage?” Mannie asked.

  I held up my cell phone.

  “Send it to the number Little gave you,” Mannie said. “We’ll handle the rest.”

  I wondered what Little’s plan for delivering evidence to the state police involved, but I wasn’t about to ask. All that fell under things we were better off not knowing.

  “So we’re in the clear on this,” I said, not quite believing it.

  “Looks like,” Mannie said. His cell phone rang and he answered. “Yep, got them right here. One down, two on site.” He paused for a minute and I could hear Little’s voice, but couldn’t make out what he was saying.

  Finally, he hung up. “Little says to tell you it was excellent work. And he’d like you to keep the airboat as a token of his thanks.”

  “Oh, I really appreciate it,” I said, “but I can’t do that.”

  Ida Belle elbowed me in the side.

  “I’m afraid he insists,” Mannie said.

  “Well, if he insists.” I looked over at Ida Belle, who was grinning from ear to ear.

  Who was I to argue with the mob?

  ###

  It took Gertie another ten minutes after Mannie delivered us to her house before she started to stir. Or maybe “stir” wasn’t a good description. Mannie had carried her inside and placed her on the couch per Ida Belle’s instructions before hurrying back outside and jumping into a black sedan that disappeared as quickly as it had materialized.

  When Gertie came back to life, she flew straight up off the couch, grabbed a lamp, and darn near clocked Ida Belle with it before she got a good look at her surroundings.

  “What happened?” she asked. “I was reaching into my purse to get my gun and someone hit me across the head.” She reached up to touch the back of her head and swayed.

  I grabbed the lamp and Ida Belle hurried to the kitchen. “Sit down,” I said, “before you fall down.”

  Ida Belle came back with aspirin and a glass of ginger ale. “Take these. I think we should take her to the emergency room.”

  “No way,” Gertie said. “It’s just a knot.”

  “You’ve been out for a while,” I said.

  “If I still have a headache tomorrow, we’ll go then,” Gertie said. “Now will someone please tell me what happened before I explode?”

  Ida Belle and I took turns filling Gertie in on everything that had transpired at the motel, and played the video for her. She was shocked when we told her that Kayla was involved and was the one who’d knocked her out.

  “I can’t believe it,” Gertie said. “She was never a wild one. Always kind of quiet and, I don’t know, forgettable. I can’t connect the girl I knew with meth dealing.”

  “I think she’s an addict,” I said, and told them my theory about the weight loss and teeth replacement.

  Ida Belle nodded. “That makes sense. She’d been busted for using and Nelson knew about it. So he blackmailed her into helping him transport through Sinful.”

  “She was the perfect choice. With her mother still living here, no one would question frequent visits to town, and then they would be off to the next festival.”

  “The next delivery location,” Ida Belle said.

  “I don’t think Colby was happy about it,” I said. “Remember, he made the comment after the fire that the only reason they were here is because of her. At the time, I thought he meant they took the gig because she was from Sinful, but I don’t think that’s it.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “And Benedict was afraid he was a weak link.”

  “Maybe he’ll roll on them,” Gertie said. “That would certainly make the state police’s job easier.”

  “With Kayla dead,” I said, “he has nothing to lose.”

  Gertie shook her head. “It’s all so surreal. And I slept through it all. What a ripper.”

  “Just be glad we’re out of this one clean,” Ida Belle said. “I can’t imagine trying to explain to the state police why we were even at the motel bugging Nelson’s room, much less being involved in a shootout where someone was killed. We’d be in jail until next week while they sorted it all out.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “and jail is definitely not a good option for me.”

  We were all silent for a minute, and then someone banged on Gertie’s door and we all jumped.

  “No one knows we’re here,” Ida Belle said.

  “Ally does,” I said as I headed for the door. “I texted her earlier after I sent the video to Little.”

  I peered out the peephole and saw Ally standing on the porch, looking ready to explode. I opened the door and she ran past me and turned on the television.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” she said and pointed to the special news report in progress.

  We all looked at the screen and saw the state police shoving a handcuffed Nelson and Benedict into the back of police cars. The female reporter turned around with the microphone and looked at the camera.

  “We’re on location at the Bayou Inn, where the drug enforcement task force with the state police acted on a tip and have arrested Nelson Comeaux and Benedict Granger, both suspected of cook
ing and distributing meth. This news comes as an even bigger shock because Comeaux was recently appointed sheriff of Sinful, Louisiana, by his cousin Celia Arceneaux, who was just elected mayor with a vote that is being contested by her opponent. The police aren’t giving more details at the moment, but we’ll be reporting as this story unfolds.”

  Ally turned to look at us, her face flushed. “Can you believe it?”

  “Wow!”

  “That’s unbelievable.”

  “I never would have guessed.”

  We all spoke at once, and I had to admit, our surprise sounded darn convincing.

  “I bet Celia is having kittens,” Gertie said gleefully.

  “I know for a fact she is,” Ally said. “She was at the same shower I was. When the first report came on the news, one of the husbands yelled for us to come in the den. Celia passed out right there in front of the television, and I took off for Gertie’s house to make sure you guys saw it.”

  Ally flopped onto the couch on the opposite end from Gertie and let out a breath. “I broke forty major laws on the drive over here and I was only three blocks away. I still can’t believe it. I mean, we all knew Nelson was a piece of crap human being, but even I wouldn’t have pegged him for the meth business.”

  Suddenly, she stopped talking and narrowed her eyes at us. “You guys weren’t involved in any of this, were you? I never did find out what you were doing with the tattoos and wearing the fire extinguisher foam.”

  “We overheard Nelson saying he was going to the Swamp Bar for the crawfish boil,” Ida Belle said. “So Gertie and Fortune went undercover to see if they could catch him doing anything that would get him thrown out of office.”

  “Oh.” Ally looked slightly disappointed. “And the foam?”

  “There was an incident with Gertie falling and a Harley-Davidson,” I said. “She might have sprayed them and got a little on us.”

  Ally smiled. “There’s never a dull moment with you guys. But I’m glad you didn’t find out anything while you were there. Can you imagine if you’d clued in on Nelson’s drug dealing? He would have killed you.”

  “He would have tried,” Gertie said.

  We all laughed.

  My phone buzzed and I looked at the display. It was from Carter.

  You see the news?

  Yeah. Ally just busted into Gertie’s house and turned on the television.

  One problem down.

  I sat down in a recliner and leaned back, all the tension leaving my neck. This was going to work out. Nelson and company were going down, some of Sinful would revert back to normal, and Swamp Team 3 would come out smelling like a rose.

  We were getting better at this.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I had barely opened my eyes when I heard a knock at my front door. I forced myself out of bed and into a pair of shorts and trudged downstairs, desperate for coffee and with no desire at all to address whoever was on my porch. I swung open the door and squinted at the bright sunlight. I finally managed to get one eye partially open and saw Carter standing there staring at me.

  “You awake?” he asked.

  “Not really.” I stepped away from the door and headed for the kitchen. Coffee was a necessary thing. Like ten minutes ago.

  “It’s almost noon,” he said as he took a seat at my kitchen table.

  “Sunday or Monday?” I poured water into the coffeepot and yawned.

  “Sunday. Did you really think you’d slept through an entire day?”

  “I kinda wanted to.” I plopped into a chair and slouched back. “No banana pudding equals no race equals no church equals sleeping as long as I want.”

  He frowned. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know when I can feel again.”

  He chuckled. “Too much wine?”

  “Champagne. Ida Belle, Gertie, Ally, and I might have celebrated a while last night. And well into the morning.”

  “What time did you go to bed?”

  “I think it was around four, but my phone was blurry.”

  “No wonder you don’t want to move. Stay there.” He got up from the table and poured two cups of black coffee and placed them on the table.

  I took a sip and waited for the coffee to spike my system. It didn’t take long. By the time I finished the cup and poured myself another, I was well on my way to feeling human again.

  “Hey,” Carter said. “You’ve got both eyes open. That’s an improvement.”

  “What a day. Between the boating and the whole Nelson thing, I need a vacation.”

  Carter leaned back in his chair and looked at me. “Yeah, about that boating thing. Deputy Breaux said he heard that two women with tattoos caused a brawl at the Swamp Bar.”

  “And?” I forced my body to remain limp and my voice casual. “Deputy Breaux needs to be a little more specific, doesn’t he? I mean, were the tattoos spelled correctly? That might narrow things down.”

  “They were sleeves, not words, and the description of the two women sounded oddly like you and Gertie.”

  “Video or it didn’t happen.”

  He raised one eyebrow.

  “Fine,” I said, deciding to use Ida Belle’s lie to Ally from the night before. “Gertie overheard Nelson saying he was going to the Swamp Bar for the crawfish boil, and we went hoping to catch him doing something that could get him removed from office.”

  “Uh-huh. And the fight?”

  “That was an accident. Two women started fighting over one ugly husband and the end result was a Harley-Davidson biting the dust and Gertie getting the blame.”

  Carter shook his head. “It’s all a moot point now, but did you see anything damning?”

  “Just Nelson and the hooker. Oh, and they were talking to that Benedict dude who was arrested with him last night.”

  “Didn’t you promise me you wouldn’t get involved in this sort of thing?”

  “No. I promised you I wouldn’t get involved in the meth lab explosion. How the heck were we supposed to know Nelson was in it up to his neck?”

  Carter sighed. “You weren’t. Hell, that one came as a surprise even to me. I knew the guy was worthless but I never saw this one coming.” He sat up and leaned forward. “Deputy Breaux also told me that two men wearing sheets drove a boat into Mrs. Pickens’s backyard. They’re lucky Mrs. Pickens is a bad shot.”

  “That would have been worth seeing. What happened to them?”

  “They’re in jail right now, but Mrs. Pickens wants them charged with a hate crime.”

  “Driving a boat into someone’s backyard isn’t a hate crime.”

  “Mrs. Pickens is black.”

  “Oh.” I sat up straight. “OH!”

  “And the boat had fire extinguisher foam all over it.”

  “Maybe they were trying to put out an engine fire and lost control.”

  He grinned. “I suppose anything is possible.”

  “So,” I said, ready to change the subject while he was in a good mood, “have you heard any details on Nelson’s arrest?”

  He nodded. “I have a friend with the state police. I gave him a call this morning and got the skinny. He said they got a tip from an informant yesterday about Nelson running meth.”

  I stiffened. An informant? Surely not the Heberts? Informants for the state police? But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. And it certainly explained a couple of things—like how Little got the print check on Dewey, and why he wasn’t worried about how to get the video to them, and how they showed up at the motel based on a “tip.”

  “Our buddy Nelson wasn’t all that careful covering his tracks,” Carter said, “and they did the bust last night figuring they’d have enough evidence for a conviction by trial.”

  “You think they’ll get it?”

  “I don’t think they need it. Ballistics proved Nelson’s gun killed Kayla, and his were the only prints on it. And Colby rolled on them. Apparently, Nelson blackmailed Kayla into distributing
. Colby admitted they were both addicts, but said he never wanted to be involved with Nelson. He’s telling everything.”

  “Sounds like an open-and-shut case.”

  Carter nodded. “I can’t imagine him or Benedict walking on this.”

  “Doesn’t sound like it. Good for you and Sinful.”

  “Not to mention another chink in Celia’s armor. This isn’t going to look good for her, bringing the meth trade to town.”

  “Nope. If this election audit doesn’t put Marie in office, I bet enough has gone wrong to get Celia ousted. Any word on the man who lost his leg?”

  “Yeah, Colby said it was the cooker, Dewey Parnell. He was a local who left for New Orleans after high school. I don’t think I’ve seen him since, but I’d heard he wasn’t up for citizen of the year.”

  I opened my mouth to reply but before I could, I heard my front door open and bang shut. A couple seconds later, Ida Belle and Gertie came running down the hall and into the kitchen, blocking each other on the way. When they came to a sliding stop in front of Carter and me, they were both winded.

  “What is wrong with you two?” I waved at chairs. “Are you being chased by wild animals?”

  “Gertie’s car is broke so we walked to church,” Ida Belle said, “but then we saw something at Francine’s that you’re not going to believe. We ran all the way from the café.”

  “I want to tell them,” Gertie pouted.

  “Then tell, but hurry up before I burst,” Ida Belle said.

  Their excitement was contagious. “Someone tell. Please.”

  “You’re not going to believe who walked into the café,” Ida Belle said.

  “Who?” I asked.

  Ida Belle and Gertie looked at each other and grinned.

  “Celia’s husband!” Gertie said.

  Carter bolted out of his chair. “What? You’re lying.”

  “Gertie doesn’t lie on Sundays, remember?” Ida Belle said.

  “But he’s been missing decades,” I said, completely confused.

  Ida Belle nodded. “When he didn’t turn up for Pansy’s funeral, we all figured he was dead.”

  “Well, yeah, because that’s the only thing that makes sense,” I said.