by Sam Cheever
Guilt sizzled in my belly like acid. I knew it was my fault my friends were in trouble. If the Russian mafia wasn’t looking for my father by following me around, none of them would have recently been almost killed in two high speed games of chicken.
“Where to?” Fortune asked, interrupting my guilty thoughts. I made a mental note to apologize to them later and then, as soon as I got the chance, slip away and call Cal. At least he was used to putting himself in danger and was getting paid handsomely for it. I knew I’d never forgive myself if one of my three companions was hurt or worse because of me. Feeling slightly better, I scanned the island, looking for a landmark I recognized. “I guess we’ll start at Bubba’s spot. That’s the only place Cal and I visited last time.”
“Was that where you found the cough syrup bottles?” Ida Belle asked. “Because don’t forget that was the clue he gave you.”
“We found several bottles there. We can always spread out and look for the still if Bubba’s hidey hole doesn’t pan out.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Fortune agreed. “Lead on.”
I started off through the tall grass, peering at the ground as I went. Too late, I remembered the wild and wooly nature of the island and my bare toes in my flip flops felt outrageously overexposed. I wished I’d thought to bring Cal’s wonderful scythe along.
And the wonderful Cal to swing it for me. I smiled at the memory of that delicious treat.
So distracted was I by the thought that I banged my foot on a large, rusted object mostly hidden in the weeds. I squealed as I fell forward, smacking my long-suffering middle on the bottom of the thing.
I lay there groaning for a minute before the weeds swished apart behind me and I felt the stares of my three companions beating down on me.
“Need some help?” Ida Belle asked.
Shoving upward, I sucked in a breath as the bruise over my ribs pulled. “I’m good. I was just looking for clues around this big metal thing.”
I could almost hear them grinning behind me.
“Find anything?” Fortune’s voice warbled suspiciously.
“Nope.” I jumped to my feet. “All clear on the ground on the other side.”
Gertie stepped past me, circling the metal monstrosity. “Maybe next time you could just walk around and look down.”
I glared at her retreating back. “See if I let you use me for an anchor on the way back.”
A suspicious snort sounded from her direction. I plunged after her, metaphorically licking the wounds to my pride.
An hour later the sun was beating mercilessly down on our heads and we hadn’t found a single clue. We’d torn Bubba’s campsite apart and my arms were covered in ash up to my elbows from digging in the campfire. Cal and I had found several gold coins hidden in the dirt under the fire the last time we’d visited Number Two and it seemed like a logical spot to look.
But our search had turned up nothing.
Fortune and Gertie had gone looking for the still which had made the moonshine that had once filled the cough syrup bottles we’d found, but after scouring the small island they hadn’t found it.
“Maybe Lyle got rid of it after you found out about it,” Gertie offered.
“Or moved it,” Ida Belle added. “He knew we weren’t too happy about the competition.”
The Sinful Ladies Society sold their own moonshine in cough syrup bottles. In fact they’d invented the useful ruse that allowed Sinful residents to imbibe to their hearts content in a dry town. Lyle Borne had benefited from that ruse by creating his own faux cough syrup to sell.
But my discovery of the plastic bottles at Bubba’s spot on Number Two had blown the lid off Lyle’s copycat operation.
It made sense that he might move the still, just to make sure the geriatric mafia didn’t get their hands on it. “Maybe.” I stood looking around Bubba’s sad little spot in hell. Though it had been only ten days since I was last there, the ramshackle mess of sticks and cardboard that had been Bayou Bubba’s last known residence was even more beaten down by nature than before.
Even the family of snakes that had made a nest under his blanket had found better accommodations. It was even more depressing than the last time I’d been there. “I guess I was wrong about the island being the next clue.”
“Maybe your father was referring to Bubba’s boat. He would have had to have one if he lived out here,” Fortune offered.
Suddenly realizing what a dolt I was, I smacked myself on the forehead. “Of course! Lyle!”
Ida Belle frowned. “What about him?”
I started toward the boat we’d stashed at the shoreline. “He took Bubba’s boat. That’s probably where father stashed his next clue.”
I just prayed Lyle hadn’t already gotten rid of it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Maybe I should wait in the car,” I suggested.
Ida Belle slanted me a look. “Why would you want to do that? This is your scavenger hunt, not ours.”
I gnawed a fingernail. “Yeah, but the last time I was here I got his sister arrested. I’m sure Lyle isn’t going to be happy to see me.”
Gertie shrugged. “As far as he knows, Carter arrested her. You were nice to her and bought a bunch of stuff in her shop. You should be okay. Besides, you’re the only one who’ll recognize the clue, if there even is one, in the boat.”
I sighed.
Fortune clapped me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll protect you if he gets hostile.”
From her confident manner, I could only assume she’d never met Lyle Borne.
I trudged up the rutted mud driveway, shoving moss aside as I approached the tiny cabin that seemed to have melted into the Bayou and become just another jutting root, like the cypress knees that turned the geography bumpy all along the Bayou.
The cabin had rough wood siding and a rusted tin roof, and it was close enough to the muddy ribbon of the Bayou that I figured a good rain would bring the snakes and gators right up to the back door.
I knocked timidly a few times and then got shouldered aside as Ida Belle gave the door a couple of whacks that shook rust from the roof down on our heads.
I brushed at the rust on my face. “I don’t think he’s here.”
Fortune wandered around the corner of the house and, a few seconds later, stuck her head back around. “Back here.”
Lyle was sitting in a lawn chair with a stone in one hand and a massive knife with huge teeth in the other. As we came around the corner of his house he scanned us a lazy look with his one good eye, the other hidden behind a black patch so he looked like a pirate. He didn’t seem surprised to see us.
Eying the knife, I stopped far enough away that he’d have to stand up and make a move if he was going to use the blade on me. Fortune stopped a few feet away from me, her gaze speculative. As always, I got the impression she was sizing Lyle up and, judging by the way her muscles tightened and her gaze sharpened, I figured she’d realized what I had when I’d first clapped eyes on him.
Lyle Borne was one of the biggest men I’d ever met. Despite having recently met Big Hebert and his newly incarcerated employee, Mannie, who was no doubt currently wishing for soap-on-a-rope in the Sinful jail shower, I still thought Lyle Borne was enormous.
As I had the thought, Lyle’s single-eyed gaze settled on me and his lips curled just a little with distaste. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here.”
Fortune blinked at the sound of Lyle’s voice, which was breathy and much higher than you’d expect for a man of his size. I’d had the same reaction when I’d first met him.
“I…”
Fortune stepped forward. “Nice knife. You hunt gators?”
I felt my eyes go wide. I knew Fortune was a recent transplant to Sinful and that she’d been a librarian up north somewhere before coming to the wild and wooly south, so I was surprised she’d figured that out so fast.
“I am. How’d ya guess?”
She shrugged. “I saw that knife at Walter’s. It was wi
th the hunting stuff.” She pointed to his disfigured left calf, a memento of a gator he surprised in the brush. “A guy in Francine’s Diner had a scar like that. He told me it was from a gator. I just put two and two together.”
He jerked his head toward the gator hide hanging from the flag pole on the end of his dock. “That probably gave you a clue too, huh?” His grin was sly and a little bit mean.
Fortune eyed him for a moment, her jaw tight as he lifted the big knife and slowly ran the edge over the rock a few times. He might have just been sharpening the knife, but it sure looked to me like he was threatening her with it. Judging by the way Fortune held herself, I figured it looked that way to her too.
As panic blossomed in my belly, I blurted out the first thing that came into my head. “I want to search Bubba’s boat.”
Lyle snorted as if he thought I was joking. When I just stared at him, his broad, red-hued face tightened. “Get off my property.”
Gertie started digging in her purse. I did a mental inventory of the stuff she had in there, trying to remember if there was anything that might work against Lyle. I was pretty sure nothing short of an elephant gun would stop him.
Ida Belle stepped forward, “Now, Lyle.”
He was suddenly on his feet and I yelped as he surged toward me.
Fortune stepped between us, her hands up and her legs in a fighting stance. I realized she was thinking about taking him on and I freaked. “No! Don’t hurt her. I’ll go.”
Gertie’s hand shot up and she sprayed something toward Lyle’s one good eye. He made a sound and his hand slammed into his eye, rubbing enthusiastically. Unfortunately he forgot he was holding the knife. He sliced a big chunk of his hair off with it and, as the strands filtered toward the ground, he uncovered his eye and growled at Gertie.
She turned a confused look at the can in her hand and grew pale. She’d sprayed a purse sized jolt of hairspray into his face. I was pretty sure she’d meant to use the mace, forgetting she’d given that to me.
As I struggled to remember what I’d done with it, Lyle started toward Gertie.
Fortune leapt into the air and did a perfect roundhouse kick, hitting him in the middle and causing him to stop, suck air, and then turn to her. He started toward Fortune.
Ida Belle bent over, picked up a large rock, dropped it into her purse, and hit him in the head with it. Lyle once again paused, like a water buffalo trying to figure out why the canary had hit him in the head, blinked, and then started for Ida Belle.
Fortune turned to me. “Go search your boat. We’ve got this.”
As I dithered, not at all sure they “had it” Gertie gave off a window rattling yell and snapped a baton, extending it and hitting Lyle on the forearm with it as he lunged for Ida Belle.
Fortune kicked him on the left calf and finally succeeded in bringing him down to one knee.
“Go!” she yelled at me.
I went. I ran toward the water, where Bubba’s boat still bobbed on the opposite side of the short, rickety dock from Lyle’s boat. Dodging around the stinky gator carcass, I hit the dock and stopped as it swayed beneath me. The board under my feet shifted and I scrabbled toward the center until it settled back down.
I dropped to my knees and crawled toward Bubba’s boat, quickly climbing inside.
The sounds from the shore were ominous and troubling. The meaty sound of flesh hitting flesh was terrifying, because I wasn’t at all certain Lyle wasn’t beating the bat snot out of all three of my friends. But I forced myself not to look. Because I was afraid the few seconds I’d take being distracted would be the seconds that would spell the end of my friends.
I quickly searched the small boat, pulling aside rancid pieces of clothing, a Ziploc holding something gooey and nasty looking, and a mildewed and torn boat cushion. I didn’t see anything that looked like a clue. A single push pole lay along one side and stuck out the back, a six inch long piece of pvc pipe glued to the end that rested inside the boat.
I quickly searched the length of the pole, cringing as someone yelled in pain, followed by a crash.
“Hurry up, Felicity!”
I sucked air as I realized I was holding my breath. Fortune was still kicking, probably literally, and that meant the geriatric 007 were still okay. Fortune wouldn’t let anything happen to her friends.
There was nothing carved or written on the pole. Frustration made me scream and I started to throw the pole down, but my gaze caught on the pipe handle. I hadn’t searched that. Scrambling toward the bow of the boat, I grabbed the pipe and lifted it, peering down its length. It took me a second to spot it. It had been taped along the inside of the pipe and was fairly well hidden.
But one corner of a small white envelope stuck up from the tape. I reached in and grasped it between two fingernails, ripping it out of the pipe, and stood up too fast, nearly falling into the water.
Screeching, I grabbed for the edge of the dock, and climbed out as fast as I could. As soon as my feet hit the warped wood I took off running, praying the half-rotted surface would hold. I made it to shore, punched the gator carcass out of my way, and was sprinting toward the house when Fortune spun around with the baton she must have taken from Gertie, hit Lyle on the side of the head with it, and kicked him in the gut as he started to fall.
He slammed backward, into the chair he’d been sitting in when we arrived, and it crumpled under his weight, folding him into it as he crashed.
We left him, big feet sticking into the air and limp as a dead snake, and ran around the house.
I didn’t even think to look at my treasure until we were several miles from Lyle’s house and I could finally breathe.
“Did you find anything?” Gertie asked from the front seat.
I opened my hand and looked at the rolled, white envelope. Unfolding it, I frowned. “It looks like a collection envelope.” I looked inside. “It’s empty.”
Ida Belle and Gertie shared a look. “Which church?” Ida Belle asked.
“Sinful Catholic.”
There was a collective groan in the car that made me wonder if the next phase of our clue collecting was going to be just as much fun as the last one had been.
###
When we got back to Gertie’s there was a long, black car idling at the curb in front of her house. We headed for the car and the back window slid down, framing the wide, fleshy face of Big Hebert. Little sat beside him and Mannie glared at us from behind the wheel.
Fortune waved at Mannie. “Hey! How was your stint at the Sinful jail?”
He gave her a tight smile. “Just peachy.” Hostility radiated off the big thug like heat off a Louisiana highway. Nobody seemed to notice it but me.
“You ladies are quickly rising to the top of my hit list,” Big told us.
Alarm bloomed in my chest at his words. When a guy like Big Hebert said “hit list” he probably really meant hit list.
Ida Belle glared back at him. “Don’t blame us for Mannie’s jail time. We tried to leave him safely at home. It wasn’t our fault he decided to show up and start shooting up the place.”
Big’s face wobbled dangerously as he shook his head. It was like watching Jell-O in an earthquake. For a moment I thought he might put out an eye with a dancing cheek. Fortunately the flesh was too dense to allow for such pinpoint damage. “You were told Mannie was to be your bodyguard. He was to go where you go. Everywhere you go. You ladies didn’t do as you were told. I don’t like when that happens.” He sighed expansively. “I’m afraid there are going to have to be consequences.”
Gertie’s hands started to flutter. Her eyes got round and she clutched her purse like it would keep her from sinking into the ground at her feet. Ida Belle and Fortune noticed and seemed worried about Gertie’s state. Ida Belle even went so far as to take a step toward Gertie.
But Gertie blew before Ida Belle could stop her. “Jesus is your savior, Mr. Hebert.”
The big man in the car narrowed eyes made small by all the flesh surrounding them. �
�What are you babbling about, old woman?”
“He’s calling you to his service,” Gertie said. She slid a glance toward Ida Belle, her gaze widening.
Ida Belle seemed to catch her meaning. “Yes. He’s calling you to the Sinful Catholic church,” Ida Belle said. “He has a special place in the front pew for you. There will be a collection made in your honor. You might want to go to the early service though. By the afternoon service the collection pickings are slim.”
Big seemed to be considering this. “A collection, you say?”
We all nodded.
“How much would this collection include?”
“A few hundred dollars,” Gertie said, nodding enthusiastically. “But the Lord might inspire more in your presence.”
Big didn’t look fully convinced. “I don’t know. This Lord guy and I haven’t always seen eye to eye on stuff. You know?”
“He’s a very forgiving guy,” I offered weakly.
Big frowned. “I’ll give that some thought, but just so you know. That doesn’t absolve y’all from the sin of seriously pissing me off.”
The ladies shrugged. I was impressed by their toughness. My heart was pounding so hard I thought I might pass out.
“In fact, I’m giving you twenty-four hours to get rid of these Russians and then I’m going to make my own deal with them. And you ain’t gonna like the deal I make.”
Alarm turned my stomach to acid, I stepped forward. I couldn’t let my new friends take the hit for my screw ups. “It’s my fault, Mr. Big. I brought the Russians here. I’ll take whatever consequences you think are necessary.”
Ida Belle and Gertie frowned. Fortune stepped in front of me. “Ignore her. She’s got wind burn of the brain. We told you we would take care of the Russian problem, Big. That thing last night was a personal issue. I asked them to come bail me out of a tough spot. I didn’t think it was a good idea to bring Mannie to Deputy LeBlanc’s house. We were trying to protect him.” She shrugged and slid Mannie a slightly hostile look.
A big truck slid to the curb behind the long black car and Big fixed me with a look. “Twenty-four hours, Miss Chance. Then you and your friends are gonna pay for ruining my week.”
