by Jana DeLeon
I spit out my coffee at the oiling part of the conversation, and Ida Belle whacked me on the back as I coughed.
“So I guess I’ll have to tell you all about it now,” Gertie said, completely ignoring my hacking. “First, he took me to dinner at the Italian restaurant downstairs. It’s overpriced, but the food isn’t bad. They didn’t have any high-quality wine, though.”
“You wouldn’t know high-quality wine if the grapes were growing in your backyard,” Ida Belle said.
“I don’t always drink my wine out of a box,” Gertie protested. “Anyway, after dinner, we took a walk on the beach and he kissed me under the moonlight. It was so romantic.”
Ida Belle rolled her eyes. “If Otis is so perfect, why were you in so early? Heck, why did you come home at all?”
Gertie gave her an indignant look. “You can’t just give everything away the first night. You have to play hard to get.”
Ida Belle stared. “At your age, you should be playing ‘get it before you both stop breathing.’”
“I’m going with Ida Belle on this one,” I said. “Not a lot of options in Sinful, and then there’s the judgment police flapping their jaws. What happens in Florida stays in Florida. And we’re only here a week.”
Gertie shook her head. “You two are hopeless. I’m building the sexual tension. It’s always better if you dance around it for a bit.”
Ida Belle cringed. “I don’t want to hear about dancing around sexual anything. You are absolutely forbidden to give us any details that involve you not wearing underwear.”
“I wasn’t wearing underwear last night at dinner,” Gertie said.
I said a silent prayer of thanks—again—for the lack of available firearms. But Ida Belle was dangerously close to a spoon. I’d done plenty of damage with less equipment. Before Ida Belle could make whatever move she was contemplating, someone banged on our door.
“Sheriff’s department,” a man’s voice shouted. “Open up.”
Gertie’s eyes widened. “Is there some law about not wearing panties to dinner that I don’t know about?”
I frowned and headed for the door. “I don’t think the cops here care about undergarments. People are half to mostly naked on the beach every day.”
I opened the door just as the man outside was about to bang on it again. He dropped his hand and gave me the tough-guy look that was meant to intimidate.
Five foot eleven. Two hundred twenty pounds. If the elevator broke, he’d be stuck on our floor forever. Zero threat unless he shoots me for smirking at the tough-guy look.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Sheriff’s department,” he said, clearly confused as to why I wasn’t cowering in a corner somewhere.
I nodded. “That’s what you said. Badge, please.”
His jaw flexed and he pulled his ID out and showed it to me. Deputy Sidney Benton.
“You got a problem with law enforcement?” he asked.
“Sometimes,” I said. “Especially when they have a problem offering proof of identity and are dressed like a tourist.”
The jeans and tropical print top didn’t exactly play into his attempt to look threatening.
“It’s Florida,” he said. “Everyone dresses this way.”
“No. Vacationers dress that way,” I said. “I’d expect more from law enforcement, but honestly, I can’t work up the effort to care. So I’ll ask again—can I help you?”
He reddened a bit and I could tell he was pissed, but he had also figured out he wasn’t going to get anywhere with me. “I need to speak to Gertie Hebert.”
“I knew it,” Gertie said. “There is a panty law.”
I waved him in Gertie’s direction. “This is Ms. Hebert. What’s this about?”
He stepped inside and walked toward Gertie, sizing her up as he went. By the time he stopped in front of her, the determined look he’d worn before was replaced with one of confusion. “You’re Gertie Hebert?” he asked.
Ida Belle threw her hands in the air, her patience for everything clearly shot. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, it’s her. Will you get on with it?”
He stiffened and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “Ms. Hebert, were you with Otis Baker last night?”
“Did he report the panty thing?” Gertie asked, slightly outraged. “That was supposed to be our sexy secret.”
Benton looked pained. “I don’t know anything about your undergarments. I’d just like some information about your time spent with Mr. Baker.”
“What kind of information?” Gertie asked.
“Can you please run through your night with me?” he asked.
“You really don’t want her to do that,” Ida Belle warned. “Especially when it comes to the sexy part.”
He grimaced. “Can you start with the last time you saw him?”
“When he walked me to the door,” Gertie said. “Around one a.m.”
“He walked you to this door?” Benton asked.
“What other door is there?” Gertie asked. “What is this about? He paid the bill at the restaurant. We didn’t have illicit sex in the resort tent, although I considered it. We didn’t take glass onto the beach. And we weren’t loud. Might have been if the tent thing had gone down.”
He waved a hand at her, probably trying to stop visions of Gertie and tents from rolling through his mind. “And he was fine when he left.”
I stiffened. I knew where this was going.
“Of course he was fine,” Gertie said. “Why wouldn’t he be?”
Benton narrowed his eyes at her. “Because maintenance found him dead in his room this morning.”
Gertie gasped. “Dead? No. You must have the wrong person. Otis told me he didn’t have heart trouble.”
“I never said it was natural causes,” Benton said.
“Well, it wasn’t a gunshot, because people would have heard it, awakened half the resort, and called the police last night,” I said. “And since you didn’t scan Gertie for defensive wounds, it wasn’t a stabbing or choking or other form of attack that results in a struggle. So either the ME hasn’t given a cause of death yet and you’re just enjoying agitating people or the cause of death was something that left obvious markers.”
Benton cut his gaze to me and stared. “You know an awful lot about murder.”
“Former CIA agent,” I said. “Comes with the territory.”
His eyes widened and I could tell he didn’t want to believe me, but there was something about my demeanor and tone that had him thinking I might just be telling the truth. “Anyway,” he said, “I need Ms. Hebert to come down to the station and answer some questions.”
“Is she under arrest?” I asked.
Benton hesitated, clearly aggravated at my blocking his play. “No,” he said. “We just need her to clear some things up.”
“What is there to clear up?” I asked. “Otis was alive and well when he walked Gertie to the door. I heard her come in. Clearly, something happened to him afterward and it has nothing to do with Gertie.”
“We’ll still need a statement,” he said. “And I’m sure there will be other questions.”
“And you know where to find us if there are,” I said. “Now if you’ll excuse us. We’ve got a full day planned.”
“There’s no reason to make this difficult,” he said.
“Then don’t,” I shot back.
I headed to the door and opened it. He stared at me for a long time. I have no idea why. The CIA practically invented the stare-down. Finally, he blinked and went stomping out. I watched until he got on the elevator, then closed the door and looked at Ida Belle and Gertie.
“Houston, we have a problem.”
Ida Belle, Gertie, and I stared at one another, no one speaking. Then we all began to speak at once.
“What the heck is going on?” Ida Belle asked.
“Why Otis?” I asked.
“I really thought this was going to be about flashing everyone at the beach yesterday,” Gertie said. “
Or some weird panty law.”
“I get the flashing thing,” I said. “But why on earth would there be a panty law?”
“Sinful has one,” Gertie said.
“Of course it does,” I said. Sinful had all kinds of unusual laws.
“You’re not allowed in public places without underwear unless you’re height-weight proportionate,” Gertie said.
“That seems a bit politically incorrect,” I said.
“But it saves a lot of money on therapy,” Ida Belle said. “Just think of all those times we’ve seen Celia’s underwear. Now imagine that law didn’t exist.”
I cringed.
“Exactly,” Ida Belle said. “But all talk of undergarments—missing or otherwise—aside, we do have a problem. So what’s our move?”
I grabbed my phone off the counter. “First things first. We find out how to proceed in case the sheriff’s department decides to take this to the next level.”
I dialed Carter’s number, dreading the “I told you so” that I knew was coming.
“You in trouble already?” he asked when he answered. “That has to be some kind of record. And you cost me twenty bucks.”
“How?”
“A bet with Walter. He didn’t give you twenty-four hours. I was feeling optimistic.”
“Serves you right then. Age and experience for the win.”
“How bad is it? Drunk and disorderly? Property damage? Indecent exposure?”
“All of those apply in some form and you could even throw in theft of private property if children’s beach toys count. However, our current problem is murder.”
“What?” All the joking was completely gone from Carter’s voice. “Are Ida Belle and Gertie okay?”
“Yes. The three of us are fine, but apparently, Gertie’s hot date from last night didn’t finish up things as well as she did. We just had a visit from a local deputy.”
“And he said it was murder?”
“No. He was cagey. I think he was under the impression that he was being smooth or intimidating. Honestly, I couldn’t tell because neither was working for me. But he asked Gertie some questions about when she last saw her date and then said he wanted her to come down to the sheriff’s department.”
“Is she under arrest?” Carter asked, now sounding slightly panicked.
“That’s exactly what I asked, and when the answer was no, I told him Gertie wouldn’t be going anywhere.”
He cursed. “Deputy Breaux went on vacation this morning, and Sheriff Lee has the flu. There’s no way I can leave.”
“That’s okay. I’ve got everything under control.”
“That scares me more than you’ll ever know. Naples is the nearest bigger city, right?”
“I think so.”
“There’s a guy in Naples that I served with in the Marine Corps. He went into criminal law when he retired and is a barracuda. Let me get in touch with him and verify the correct way to handle things in Florida, and I’ll get back to you with his contact information. It’s early, so it might be a while.”
“No problem.”
“In the meantime, until they arrest Gertie, she doesn’t leave the area. And if they do arrest her, she keeps her mouth shut.”
“Got it.”
“And Fortune?”
“Yeah.”
“Do not launch an investigation in another state when the woman you’re rooming with is suspected of murder. It has disaster written all over it. And I can’t cover for you there.”
“I know. We’re just going to stay off radar. I figure if they can’t find Gertie then they can’t arrest her, right? So we’ll leave and head down to the beach. Maybe set up camp some distance from the resort.”
“That’s a good plan.”
He sounded slightly relieved, and I felt guilty for lying. Well, sorta lying. I did intend to stay off radar. But no way in hell was I going to sit on my hands and wait for Gertie to be railroaded for something she didn’t do.
I hung up the phone and relayed what Carter had said to Ida Belle and Gertie.
“I’m glad Carter has a contact,” Ida Belle said. “I have a feeling we’re going to need him before this is over. I didn’t like that deputy. There was something off about him.”
I nodded. “I’m going to guess that murder isn’t something that happens often around here. The sheriff will be under a lot of pressure from the resorts that pay his salary to wrap this up quickly and quietly.”
“And Gertie is the quickest solution,” Ida Belle said.
“But not the quietest,” Gertie said.
“Understatement,” Ida Belle said and studied me for a moment. “I’m surprised Carter didn’t read you the riot act about not getting involved in the investigation.”
“Oh, he did,” I said. “I just didn’t tell you that part because I didn’t figure it was relevant.”
Ida Belle grinned. “Swamp Team 3 Investigations…road trip.”
Gertie clapped her hands, far too enthusiastic for someone who was on the hook for a murder rap. “Where do we start?”
The grin slipped from Ida Belle’s face and she sighed. “Good God, I never thought I’d say this, but we start with you recounting every excruciating second of your date with Otis.”
“All the details?” Gertie asked. “Really?”
I nodded. “Unfortunately, at this point we have no way of knowing what might be important. It’s best to get it all down while your memory is fresh.”
“I’ve got full charge on my phone,” Ida Belle said. “We should record this.”
I nodded. “I’ll grab my laptop and take notes. Plus, we need to poke around on the internet and find out more about this Otis. If he was murdered, there’s a motive. And I’m guessing it won’t be something he and Gertie discussed over dinner.”
“I don’t suppose we have time for room service?” Gertie asked. “I didn’t eat a lot last night because I didn’t want my stomach to pooch out.”
“You’d have had to cut back on eating in 1972 for your stomach to not pooch out,” Ida Belle said.
“I don’t think we can risk staying here any longer than necessary,” I said. “We need to put on bathing suits and cover-ups, stuff anything we might need into beach bags, and clear out of the resort.”
“There was a café near the bridge where we came onto the island,” Gertie said.
I shook my head. “You know cops and food. Our luck, that deputy eats there every day. Besides, anything local will be packed with tourists, and we need privacy. I say we head off the island to the nearest half-empty dive we can find and hole up in a corner. Once we get everything documented and saved onto the cloud, we can head to the far end of the island and beach it for a while.”
Ida Belle nodded. “Let’s get changed and packed. Hats and sunglasses are also a good idea.” She looked at Gertie. “And for the love of God, will you please wear something least likely to attract attention?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Like the evening gown?”
“I have casual resort wear,” Gertie said.
I had no idea what casual resort wear looked like but figured it probably still wouldn’t meet Ida Belle’s approval.
“You know what?” Ida Belle said. “Never mind. I’ll lend you some of my clothes.”
Gertie frowned. “Everything you own is some shade of black, gray, or navy blue. It’s boring.”
“Yep,” Ida Belle agreed. “But then boring people are rarely sitting in jail.”
Chapter Four
We managed to change, pack, and get out the door in ten minutes. I was ready in one minute, ten seconds. Ida Belle in two minutes. That left Gertie commanding the remaining eight. Something to do with the foam cups in her bathing suit top needing adjusting. Ida Belle and I were both afraid to ask. When we exited the elevator in the lobby, everything went south.
I shoved Ida Belle and Gertie behind a set of fake foliage and pulled them down. “Benton just walked into the lobby and he’s headed this way.”
&nb
sp; I scanned our options, but they were looking slim. Leaving our leafy hiding place in either direction left us completely exposed, but so did staying there long enough for Benton to get to the elevator. Directly across from us was a store with overpriced vacationer needs, but the front was all glass and there were no shelves to hide behind.
But I got an idea.
I dashed into the store and grabbed a float from a display near the counter. I tossed some money at the startled clerk, then ran back out and positioned the float on my shoulder, motioning for Ida Belle and Gertie to get behind me. I peered through the foliage and spotted Benton approaching the elevators from the right side. I angled us a bit and headed off to the left.
The downside of the plan was that if I was hiding behind a float, I couldn’t watch Benton in case he made a change in direction. So I’d just have to hope he stayed the course and we could make it across the lobby without him catching sight of us.
It was a good plan. Until it wasn’t.
We were just about to round a huge banana plant when two boys, about ten years old, dashed out of the store with water pistols. I heard yelling and peered around the float to see them blasting Benton right in the face with water. He flung his hands up in front of his face and made a hard turn, sending him right behind us.
I made a quick turn around the plant and pulled on the float, trying to get Gertie and Ida Belle to pick up pace. Ida Belle managed just fine, but Gertie must have banged her leg on the plant’s pot because all of a sudden, the resistance on the float was gone. I heard a whoosh of breath and the unmistakable crash of a body hitting the ground. I did a 180 with the mat and slapped a valet right in the head with the now-empty end. He dropped the suitcase he was carrying on the foot of the woman walking next to him, who tripped and lunged forward, grabbing a column to steady herself.
Benton was rubbing his eyes to clear them of the pistol water, and I stopped walking and stared in horror when I saw Gertie on the floor right next to him, wedged between his legs and the plant. She was trapped. And as soon as Benton got his eyes clear, she was caught.
I started to launch forward with the float, figuring if I could take Benton out, then Gertie could head off in one direction and I could outrun him. Maybe with my hair up in the hat and the sunglasses on, he wouldn’t recognize me. But before I could make my leap, Gertie reached up and pinched the butt of the woman who’d tripped over the suitcase the valet had dropped.
