Bayou Bubba

by Sam Cheever

I let him lead me toward the Jeep. “Do you think my father will be okay?”

  Cal opened the door for me. “He’ll be fine. But once he goes into protection, you won’t be able to see him. Are you all right with that?”

  I slid into my seat. “I guess I don’t have much choice.” He closed the door and walked around the car. As he slid into his seat, I touched his arm. “Thanks for helping me find him. I realize I’ve never told you how much it means to me.”

  He held my gaze for a beat and then smiled, the action completely transforming his gorgeous features from stern and fearsome to mouthwatering. “I hate to admit it, but it’s been fun.”

  That surprised a laugh out of me. “It has been fun, hasn’t it?” I thought about that as he pulled out onto the winding road and headed back toward Bent. “Well, most of it has anyway.”

  “Yeah. I meant to ask. What did happen to your face?”

  “Shut up.” I frowned, rubbing the fabric burns I’d managed to forget until he reminded me.

  The next morning, Cal went to the sheriff’s office to close the loop with Deputy Cooper while I met the ladies for a goodbye breakfast.

  It was fun filling Estime in on our adventures of the day before.

  I spooned up the last bite of strawberry cream pie and sat back, happily rubbing my belly.

  “Who eats strawberry cream pie for breakfast,” Dorrie Tae asked, shaking her head.

  I eyed her plate of syrup-drenched chocolate chip pancakes critically. “Somebody who’s never going to get to taste it again.”

  “Don’t say that, Felicity.” Irene arched a thin eyebrow. “I was hoping you’d come back occasionally to do some fishing.” She leered at me, making my stomach jump with alarm. “Feel free to bring your good-looking PI back with you. He’s fun to look at.”

  Dorrie Tae nodded enthusiastically, pushing her plate away. “Word.”

  Irene cocked her head. “So what was the deal between your dad and Bubba? You never said.”

  “Cal and I talked to Dad last night before Rouse hustled him away to protective custody. He knew there was a small chance someone might track him through the gold so, when he ran into Bubba in Tuscaloosa and realized how much they looked alike, he hired him to be his go-between with the pawnshop.”

  “And paid him in gold?” Fortune nodded. “I’m guessing he used gold because it couldn’t be easily traced like credit?”

  I nodded. “He said he couldn’t empty his accounts for cash. The guys who were looking for him were watching his bank. So he grabbed what he had in the safe at home and took off. He figured he could turn the gold into cash along the way.”

  “But you noticed the gold was missing and told Cal to watch for it.”

  “Yep.”

  “That was smart.” Irene nodded approvingly. Her approval made me feel good. I knew from being around her for just a couple of days that she didn’t give it easily.

  Estime arrived with our checks. Irene and Dorrie Tae stood and wrapped me in a hug. “Take care of yourself, honey,” Dorrie Tae said.

  “Come back and see us,” Irene added gruffly. She grabbed my check, and I thanked her for breakfast.

  The old ladies headed for the front register, arguing over who was going to drive home.

  I turned and walked out of Bent’s Eats, knowing I’d probably never come back to Bent.

  The thought made me sad. I kind of missed it already.

  THE END

  Read More Mischance & Calamity Mysteries

  If you enjoyed Bayou Bubba, you might want to check out the rest of the series. Please enjoy Chapter One of Bubba Dub Dub, Book 2 of the Mischance & Calamity Mysteries as my gift to you!

  * * *

  Bubba Dub Dub, three crooks in a tub, And only enough scratch for two!

  Felicity Chance returns to Bent, Alabama, looking for a message from her father. Following a trail of clues Felly hopes will help her find him, she enlists the invaluable…and distracting…aid of Bent Society members Irene and Dorrie Tae. Unfortunately, their search is complicated by the usual things—Deputy Cooper has made it his mission to keep a close eye on the three sleuths. The team also finds itself running from the Russian Mafia as well as the local bad guys. Will Felly and the BSers find her father before all the bad guys do? Or will she get bogged down by the swamp, and sucked into the muck of her father’s shady past?

  Bubba Dub Dub

  Looking back now, I realize I should have never answered the phone. But I suffer from an insatiable need to know who’s on the other end of a ringing phone.

  It’s a curse.

  “Hello.”

  “Chance. It’s Rouse.”

  “Huh?”

  A burst of frustrated air filled the line. “Detective Paul Rouse. The guy who put your dad into protective custody?”

  Fear did a little dance on my lungs. I nodded.

  “Are you nodding? You know this is a phone right. We’re not doing that Face Off thing.”

  “We’re not playing hockey either. It’s called FaceTime®. What do you want, Rouse?” Yeah, the guy had saved my dad from notorious Russian mobster, Nicolai Ruchoff. But he was a jerk of the first order and I didn’t have to like him.

  “Whatever. I need to know where your dad’s at.”

  “Where he’s at?”

  “That’s what I said. You hard o’ hearin’?”

  “Unfortunately, I’m hearing you all too well. Your speech is an affront to my Masters in English.”

  “You got a Masters in English? What for?”

  “I ask myself that every day.”

  “Just tell me where your dad’s at. Then you and me can go our separate ways.”

  “You tell me. The last time I laid eyes on him, he was looking out the back window of that big black car you were driving.”

  “You ain’t talked to him recently?”

  “That’s kind of how witness protection works.”

  Silence met my shrewd observation, and I had a horrible thought. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no!”

  “It ain’t my fault.”

  “How could you have lost him? He’s basically just a flippin’ accountant.”

  “He’s very cagey, your dad. One minute he’s soakin’ in a bubble bath and the next, he’s in the wind.”

  “Crisis on a cracker! Please tell me you didn’t fall for the bubble bath scam?”

  More silence.

  Then, “Where do you think he’s at?”

  I reached up and tugged on my hair, one dangling preposition away from going full frontal crazy on the guy. “I don’t bleepin’ know where he’s at! But you’d better find him. Because if Ruchoff finds him before you do, he’s a dead man.”

  “Okay, okay. Don’t bust somethin’. I’m sure we’ll find him. He kind of stinks at hiding.” Rouse laughed. “The last time he pretty much laid a trail of crumbs for me to follow.”

  “Funny how you couldn’t find or follow those crumbs until my PI found him first.”

  “Minor detail. Hey…by the way…you got that PI’s number you could give me?”

  I disconnected with a mumbled swear and started to pace, my mind racing. Where would my father go? Rouse was right about one thing, Felonius Chance was cagey. He was cagey enough, in fact, to do exactly what nobody expected him to do.

  He couldn’t take a flight anywhere. The feds would be onto him in a heartbeat. They’d also have the bus lines and train stations covered. He couldn’t use the ID they’d given him, and he couldn’t use his real name. He’d have to sink into the background…become white noise.

  He’d gone south before, burying himself in the Bayou. The Marshals would no doubt expect him to go an entirely different direction this time. Maybe travel north, crossing the border into Canada.

  I shook my head, grabbing my cell phone. My father would follow his initial instincts to get lost somewhere nobody wanted to look for him. But first, he’d want to touch base with me, because I’d told him I’d be really mad if he got himself lost again without fi
nding a way to notify me. I thought I knew what form that notification would take. It was a long shot, but at least it was a place to start.

  I quickly dialed Cal’s number and headed into my closet to pack.

  He answered on the fifth ring, right before I gave up and disconnected. “Hey, Felicity. We still on for dinner Saturday?”

  Heat filled my cheeks at the reminder. I’d been bleaching a lot of brain cells over the last few days, trying to forget about that date. I had no idea what I’d been thinking when I’d agreed to have dinner with my way-too-tempting PI. I was sooo not ready to get into an emotional clinch with Cal Amity. “Probably not. I need to hire you again.”

  “Oh? Are you in trouble?”

  I told him about my father disappearing.

  I pictured his stern, implacable expression in the silence that followed. “Why would he run away from witness protection? Does he not understand how dangerous Ruchoff is?”

  “He understands completely, which is why he probably ran. If he testifies against the mob, they won’t stop until they kill him.”

  “They’re not going to believe he won’t talk. As long as he’s alive, he’s a threat.”

  I swallowed the fear Cal’s unbending observation caused. “That’s why we need to find him, Cal. We need to try to make him see reason.”

  “Do you have any idea where he might be?”

  Finally, I thought, a man who knew how to ask a proper question without something ugly dangling at the end of it. “I think I might. Or at least I know where he might leave me a message for me.”

  “Where?” Movement noises told me Cal was jumping into action. I smiled. I really loved a man of action—especially one with bedroom eyes the color of the ocean and silky midnight-colored hair.

  “Pack your shorts and sunscreen, Cal. You and I are heading back to Bent.”

  Pulling up to the Backwater Inn was the ugliest kind of déjà vu. The long, squat building was just as I remembered it. The kitschy concrete alligator still crouched in front of the office door, and the long, brown ribbon of the Bayou still wound along behind the building, lending the dilapidated structure an unfortunate, mosquito-rich ambiance.

  “It’s good to be home,” Cal joked with a stern face.

  I laughed, shaking my head. “The only thing keeping me from turning tail and running right now is the thought of Bent’s Eats strawberry cream pie.”

  “There is that.” Cal’s Caribbean blue gaze went soft at the thought. He slammed the door of the dusty Jeep we’d rented in Montgomery, Alabama and started for the office. “I’ll get us a room.”

  “Two rooms, Cal. I’m paying.”

  He turned as he grasped the door handle and gave me a long, slow grin that made my knees knock together. That was the moment I knew the Backwater would be full, and there would only be one room. It was in my DNA to be just that unlucky.

  Not that spending a night or two in the same room with the gorgeous and capable Cal Amity would be horrible. My greatest fear was that it would be just the opposite. I suspected I’d enjoy the experience way too much. And I was trying hard not to give in to my growing feelings for him.

  At least not until I’d known him longer than a week.

  I leaned against the car and closed my eyes, letting the Alabama sun seep into my pores. Several hours in the stuffy confines of an airport, then an airplane, then a car had turned my posterior region doughy and my mind to mush. I thought about taking a walk along the Bayou later. After Cal and I ran the errand I hoped would send us on my father’s trail.

  The door slammed behind me. I turned to the valiant Cal, knowing before he opened his luscious lips what he was going to say.

  “The Inn’s sold out.”

  I nodded, saying the next sentence with him. “There was only one room.”

  Cal narrowed his Caribbean blues at me and lifted one eyebrow, a skill not everyone could master. “It really is sold out.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  His bite-able lips tightened at my obvious disbelief. “I’ll sleep in the car.”

  I’m ashamed to say that his attempt to make me feel guilty worked. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just teasing. I trust you to stay in your own bed.”

  He frowned, and the first inklings of terror crept through me. “I don’t like the look of that frown.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll sleep in the car. No worries.” Cal opened the hatch and pulled out our bags, handing me my beaded, alligator-shaped purse. Since returning from Bent the previous week, I hadn’t carried anything else. I’d bought the purse the last time we were in town and it had sentimental value. Also, it was adorably gaudy—my favorite fashion statement.

  I did love my purses. But even the alligator wasn’t enough to distract me from the horrifying realization I’d just had. “There’s only one bed in the room…isn’t there?”

  He scanned me a look that was probably supposed to be apologetic, but it contained far too much heat for a true apology.

  I gulped, knowing I should tell him it was all right. He could sleep above the covers, and I could sleep below them. But the words just wouldn’t come out of my mouth.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Cal. A more trustworthy man most likely never existed. But I knew in my heart of lascivious hearts that given a full night of imagination time, a couple of thin layers of cotton would not be enough to keep me away from the heaven that was Cal Amity.

  I was in deep, deep doody.

  We dropped into the dark, musty-smelling room just long enough to leave our bags and change into shorts and tee-shirts. I felt ridiculously better once I got out of my moist, wrinkly travel clothes. Cal traded a pair of khaki slacks with a perfect crease for a pair of khaki shorts with a perfect fit and donned leather sandals that showcased his wide feet, as well as toned calves that were speckled with soft, black hair.

  He grabbed his keys and headed for the door, opening it and looking back at me. I stood beside the bed with drool pooling in my mouth, thinking the heat had maybe melted my brain.

  “Felicity?”

  I blinked. “Oh. Sorry. I was having visions of strawberry cream pie.”

  “Are you hungry? Would you like to eat something before we go out to the cabin?”

  I considered his suggestion for a beat but shook my head. “No. Let’s get this over with. The sooner I can get the message from my dad, the sooner we can get out of here and find him.”

  He held the door for me and I slipped past.

  “I’m surprised you’re in such a hurry to leave Bent. I thought you liked it here.”

  “I do like Bent. I’m just worried about my dad. And it’s so hot and buggy here.”

  I grimaced as I said the words, realizing how hopelessly girly they made me sound. “It will be nice to see Irene and Dorrie Tae again.”

  Cal nodded and opened the door of the Jeep for me. I slipped into the passenger seat, feeling all warm and tingly inside. He was the only man I’d been around for years who treated a lady like a lady. It was kind of nice.

  As we drove out of the Backwater Inn’s gravel lot and headed toward Main Street, Cal glanced my way. “So, you never explained why you think your father will leave you a message at the old cabin where we found him.”

  I shrugged. “It’s just a gut feeling.” I was too embarrassed to tell Cal about our childhood game of clue. My father had been gone so much when I was little that I used to threaten to set out on my own, find him, and drag him home.

  He’d laughed at my childish threats and kissed the top of my head, promising the next time he’d leave me a path to follow. True to his word, the next time Felonius Chance went out of town on business, he left me a trail of clues that ended at a video of him telling me he loved me and that he’d be home soon.

  Over the years, the clues had started to lead to pretty little gifts or tickets to events he would take me to when he got home. The game was one of my fondest childhood memories.

  I believed it was the same for him. Which was the reason
I was sure he’d fall back on it to get in contact with me. Especially since it might be the only way I could find him.

  Since I couldn’t explain all that to Cal without embarrassing myself, I said nothing. And left him with his obvious doubts as to the eventual success of our quest.

  Check out the entire Mischance & Calamity Mysteries series here: http://www.samcheever.com/books/#Mischance

  Also by Sam Cheever

  If you enjoyed Bayou Bubba you might also enjoy these other fun mystery series by Sam. To find out more, visit the BOOKS page at www.samcheever.com:

  * * *

  Mischance & Calamity Mysteries - For more Felicity and Cal mystery fun!

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  Yesterday’s Paranormal Mysteries

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  Silver Hills Cozy Mysteries

  Country Cousin Mysteries

  About the Author

  USA Today and WSJ Bestselling Author Sam Cheever writes contemporary and paranormal mystery and suspense, creating stories that draw you in and keep you eagerly turning pages. Known for writing great characters, snappy dialogue, and unique and exhilarating stories, Sam is the award-winning author of 80+ books.

  To learn more about Sam and her work, visit her at one of her online hotspots:

  www.samcheever.com

  samcheever@samcheever.com