Fortune Furlough

by Jana DeLeon

  First, they bitched about their boss, which was pretty standard fare for any human being who worked for someone else. Then one complained about his wife and the other bested him with an even bigger complaint about his mother-in-law.

  “Did you hear what about the murder on the Key?” Cop One asked.

  Cop Two seemed surprised. “That was murder? I figured it was a heart attack.”

  Cop One nodded. “Me too, but my aunt is dispatch down at the sheriff’s department and she overheard one of the deputies saying it was murder.”

  “What did the medical examiner say?” Cop Two asked.

  Cop One shrugged. “They don’t tell her anything. She just overhears things sometimes. Anyway, since the sheriff is out for back surgery that fool Benton is in charge of the investigation.”

  Cop Two snorted. “Benton is barely in charge of zipping his own pants.”

  “Yeah,” Cop One said. “Apparently he went to the resort this morning to bring in one of the suspects and almost got hit with a sexual assault charge after being slapped by a woman who claimed he pinched her butt.”

  “Benton?” Cop Two looked confused. “He doesn’t have the stones to do something like that.”

  “Oh, I know that,” Cop One agreed. “But my aunt had to send another deputy down there to talk the woman off the ledge. It was a real mess. Then they got back to the sheriff’s department and apparently someone had called the sheriff. Probably my aunt.”

  “Isn’t he in the hospital?” Cop Two asked.

  “Yeah, but he’s still trying to run the show by phone,” Cop One said. “And my aunt is aligned with him big-time. She has no use for Benton. Anyway, the sheriff got Benton and the other deputy on the phone and yelled for a good ten minutes. The walls are thin. She heard every bit of the assault story given the speaking volume.”

  “Did Benton acquire the suspect, at least?” Cop Two asked.

  “No,” Cop One said. “That was part of the yelling. By the time they got the assault woman handled, the suspect was gone. The resort staff couldn’t locate her, so now Benton is on the hot seat until he runs her down.”

  “Her?” Cop Two sounded surprised. “The suspect is a woman?”

  “Hey, these days it’s equal opportunity, right?” Cop One asked.

  “I guess so,” Cop Two said.

  “The sheriff ordered Benton to walk every inch of the island until he finds her,” Cop One said.

  Cop Two laughed. “I give him an hour before he collapses. Benton hasn’t seen a treadmill since high school football.”

  “Let’s hope he manages longer,” Cop One said. “You know if he can’t find the broad we’ll be called on to help.”

  Cop Two sighed. “Us and every other able-bodied cop in the area, and I hate walking in that sand with shoes on.” He shook his head. “It’s been a long time since they had a murder on the island. The mayor is probably having kittens.”

  The waitress showed up with their food and they broke off the conversation. They didn’t resume it after she left, but it didn’t matter. I was pretty sure I’d gotten all they knew, and that was enough to know we had to avoid the entire island until Byron arrived.

  I looked over at Ida Belle and Gertie and could tell by their expressions that they’d heard the conversation as well. We’d already figured that sitting on the beach wasn’t going to be an option. But clearly, not only did we need to avoid the island, we had to worry that Benton would collapse under the weight of his own lack of physical fitness and political pressure and put a call in to every law enforcement agency in the area.

  “I have an idea,” Gertie said and reached into her purse. She pulled out a tourist pamphlet and set it on the table.

  Ida Belle looked at the pamphlet, then stared at Gertie. “You want to go deep-sea fishing?”

  I considered it for a moment. “It’s not a bad idea.”

  Benton would never find us on a boat, and neither would anyone else. And the cops couldn’t argue that Gertie was hiding from them if she didn’t know they were looking for her and we were simply doing something that normal vacationers did. It’s not like we were leaving the area. Not really. In fact, the more I thought about it, the better it sounded, especially when the alternative was spending the entire day avoiding everyone with a badge. Just dodging Benton this morning had proven to be problematic and we’d already run into more law enforcement in the first place we stopped. I didn’t want to push our luck.

  Or the Gertie factor.

  Ida Belle must have come to the same conclusion as me because she nodded. “Fishing it is.”

  I picked up the bill from the table and tossed some tip money down. Ida Belle and Gertie followed me silently to the front of the café and headed next door to the convenience store to pick up fishing snacks while I paid the bill. A couple minutes later, we hopped in the rental car and Ida Belle called up the fishing charter. Not only was the boat not booked, but since it wasn’t high season, the captain gave us a discount on the cost when Ida Belle told him we were interested in a full day.

  When she disconnected, Ida Belle looked up the location on her phone and directed me to the marina.

  “It’s on Quiet Key?” I asked, not as confident as I’d been a moment before.

  “Yes,” Ida Belle said, “but it’s on the opposite end from the resort and on the sound side. Hopefully, Benton will be held up scouring the resort long enough for us to get out to sea.”

  “But he’ll eventually make it to the dock,” Gertie said.

  “I rented the car with points,” Ida Belle said. “So it won’t come back to Fortune or you if he runs a check.”

  “What if he shows someone at the dock a picture and they tell him we’re on the boat?” Gertie asked. “He can call the boat back in.”

  Ida Belle shook her head. “It’s either this, run around looking over our shoulder all day, or you turn yourself in now.”

  “No way,” Gertie said. “I’d rather run the risk of fishing.”

  “You realize there’s no escape from that boat, right?” I asked. “Bailing into the ocean and swimming to Cuba is not an option.”

  Ida Belle looked back at Gertie. “I swear to God, woman, if you bail into that ocean, I will leave you for the sharks. I won’t even throw you a life preserver.”

  “You act like I always need rescuing,” Gertie protested.

  No one answered.

  “Wow,” Gertie said. “You have one little date that ends in murder and everyone labels you as trouble.”

  “You’ve been labeled as trouble since the womb,” Ida Belle said. “Your mother was bedridden her entire pregnancy. This tragic date is merely one blip in a long line of things you manage to get yourself into.”

  Gertie threw her hands in the air. “No one will have to fend off sharks or throw a life preserver. If Benton finds us before Byron gets here, I’ll go happily with him, then proceed to drive them crazy down at the sheriff’s department until they wish they’d left me on the boat. But they will regret holding me. You can bet on that.”

  I wasn’t about to bet on that. Even without her purse, Gertie could cause more trouble than any ten people put together. And that was without trying. If she set her mind to push the sheriff’s department to the edge, they’d all be jumping off it before the day was out.

  “So we fish,” I said. “Or go out on a fishing boat. I’m not fishing, though. Fishing is work. I came here to relax.”

  “Because solving a murder is so relaxing,” Ida Belle said drily.

  “It’s more relaxing than my previous job,” I said.

  “The apocalypse will be more relaxing than your previous job,” Ida Belle said. “Turn here.”

  She pointed to a dirt road that led away from the beach highway and into the weeds. Although here, they called them something fancy. Sea oats, I think. Still looked like weeds to me. I slowed as the car dipped in potholes. The road was a mix of sand and shells dumped there to make it passable, I assumed. They’d barely succeeded. />
  “I feel like I’m back in Sinful,” I said as we hit a particularly deep hole and I bounced off the seat.

  “Except we’re not in Ida Belle’s Time Machine of Death doing 180 miles per hour,” Gertie said.

  “I’m happy to drive slower as soon as we’re not being chased by the police or someone who wants to shoot us,” Ida Belle said. “I drive slow to church.”

  “You do not,” Gertie said. “Last week, you slid into a parking space and jumped out of the car and took off while it was still running. Fortune barely hit the brake before we took out four Catholics.”

  “I was late for choir,” Ida Belle said. “And I’d already assessed the Catholics. None of them would have dented my bumper.”

  The car lurched through one last big dip and the sea oats disappeared to reveal a clearing that ran right up to the water and served as a parking area. To the right was a marina with rows of boats in slips. Directly in front of us was a boat launch and a small dock. An old cabin cruiser was tied off at the end.

  “Are you sure that thing can float?” I asked.

  “It’s floating now,” Gertie said.

  “I’m not concerned about now,” I said. “That’s three feet of water with minnows in it. I’m more concerned about thirty feet of water with God knows what in it.”

  “It’s pretty clear offshore,” Gertie said. “You’ll be able to see God knows what.”

  “Great,” I mumbled. “I love knowing what might kill me.”

  Ida Belle grinned. “Boats last a long time unless Gertie owns them. Some peeling paint won’t stop it from floating.”

  “Good thing,” I said and climbed out. We retrieved our beach bags, stuffed the snacks inside, and headed for the boat. As we stepped onto the dock, a man emerged from the boat cabin and smiled.

  Midthirties. Six feet tall. One hundred ninety pounds. Nose broken several times before. Has never used sunscreen. Surgical scar on right elbow and left ankle. Even without my pistol, those weaknesses gave me the edge. Threat potential medium unless he started hitting on me.

  “You must be the ladies who called about the boat,” he said. “I’m Deep Sea Dave.”

  “Nice to meet you, Deep Sea,” Gertie said. “I’m Saltwater Sally. This is Crabby Cathy and Landlubber Lisa.”

  Dave grinned. “Well, you guys come on board. I’ve already got the fishing equipment loaded and picked out a good spot a ways offshore. Should take a couple hours to get there. Unless you guys want to stay closer to shore.”

  I struggled with the options. Farther out meant less likely to be seen or accosted and a longer ride in if Benton managed to track us down. But closer to shore meant the option of swimming to safety if things went south. And things always seemed to go south.

  “I wouldn’t mind staying closer to shore,” I said. “You never know when an emergency will arise.”

  Dave nodded. “The sea is unpredictable. Lots of people prefer to stay closer in. Except the men escaping their wives, of course. They want me to go as far as possible. Would probably settle for Mexico.”

  “Their wives would probably settle for one of those uncharted islands inhabited by cannibals,” Ida Belle said.

  “Ha!” Dave laughed. “You guys are going to be a hoot. I’m going to grab the ice.”

  He jumped onto the dock and headed for an old pickup truck parked near our rental. We stepped onto the boat and headed into the cabin to take a look around. It was old but clean, which surprised me. Dave didn’t strike me as the type of guy with a woman cleaning up after him, which meant he was doing the housekeeping himself.

  The first room of the cabin was a small living area with kitchenette. It contained a mini fridge, a microwave, and a coffeepot. Basically, the things you had to have to live. Someone like me could move in and retire here. The front part of the boat was a bedroom and a tiny bathroom. And I mean airplane-size tiny. But you could sit on the toilet and take a shower at the same time. There was something to be said for efficiency.

  As I popped back into the main cabin, Dave poked his head in. “I’m ready to shove off if you ladies are.”

  “We’re ready,” Gertie said and clapped her hands, the fact that she was suspect #1 in a murder investigation apparently long gone from her mind. Louisiana people really loved their fishing. It seemed to cure most any ill.

  “Cool,” Dave said. “I’ll be driving from up top if anyone wants to come up and take in the view. It’s a little tight, but two people fit up there well enough.” He gave me a suggestive look and I struggled not to grimace.

  “We’ll probably unpack our snacks and then just lounge on the back until we anchor,” I said.

  Dave looked a bit disappointed but headed off.

  “Looks like I’m not the only one picking up stray men,” Gertie said, and elbowed me.

  “I am not picking up any men, stray or otherwise,” I said. “I already have a man, and that’s one more than you guys recommend anyway.”

  “Got that right,” Ida Belle said. “Besides, Landlubber and Deep Sea aren’t exactly a good combo. Even if Fortune went blind, deaf, and dumb, I don’t think Dave is on her list of things to do.”

  “That’s because she’s got Captivating Carter waiting for her back home,” Gertie said and giggled. “I crack myself up.”

  “That’s one person, at least,” Ida Belle said. “And what’s with calling me Crabby? I’m not crabby. I’m a pragmatist. It’s not my fault most things swing toward the negative.”

  “Let’s unpack,” I said, interrupting the argument that I’d already heard a million times. “As soon as we round the end of the island and head into the Gulf, we can leave the cabin. But until then, I think we should stay put.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “Good idea. If someone spots us, they might pass along the information to Benton.”

  “You really think Benton is likable enough that people would want to help him?” Gertie asked.

  “No,” Ida Belle said. “He’s obnoxious enough that people would give him information so he’d go away.”

  We put our sodas and some chocolate bars in the fridge and placed bread, peanut butter, chips, and peanuts on the counter, then flopped on the couch to wait.

  “Do you think Dave is a local?” Gertie asked.

  “Probably,” Ida Belle said. “Why?”

  “I was thinking he might know the local gossip,” Gertie said. “You know how fisherman talk back in Sinful. Heck, fishing is an excuse to drink and gossip for most of them.”

  “But Otis didn’t turn up dead until this morning,” I said. “Even if he’s heard about it, there hasn’t been enough time for speculation to start.”

  “If there’s been enough time to drink beer,” Gertie said, “that’s enough time for speculation.”

  “True,” Ida Belle said. “But it sounds like the only leak in the sheriff’s department is the dispatcher and they keep her in the dark as much as possible. If there’s no gossip available, Dave couldn’t hear it.”

  “No,” Gertie agreed. “But he might have known Otis. He’s been on the island for a while and he told me his favorite thing to do was deep-sea fishing. Dave might have taken him out before.”

  I nodded. “It wouldn’t hurt to travel down that road. And it should be an easy enough conversation to start. It’s not every day a tourist is murdered in a resort you’re vacationing in.”

  Ida Belle sighed. “You mean we have to do the worrywart woman act?”

  “If I can do it, you can,” I said. “It’s just one conversation. It won’t kill you to pretend you’re scared of something for a bit.”

  “I’m scared of plenty of things,” Ida Belle said. “Uninsured motorists, the contents of Gertie’s purse, seeing Celia’s underwear again…”

  I laughed and looked out the window. “Well, we’ve rounded the island and are headed for deep water. Let’s get the heck out of here and avoid this carpet that smells like stale beer and fish.”

  We headed out of the cabin and stretched out acros
s the benches that circled all three sides of the open deck. The sun immediately began to warm my skin. I lay back on the bench and sighed.

  If it weren’t for murder, this would be such a nice day.

  Chapter Six

  A splash of cold water hit me directly in the face, jolting me upright. I sputtered, blowing the water everywhere, and blinked. Gertie stood over me, her hands dripping wet.

  “Thought you could use a little cooling off,” she said. “Your face was red.”

  “You could have fanned me,” I said then looked around. “Are we there yet?”

  Gertie nodded. “And anchored. Ida Belle went up front to help Dave haul out the fishing gear.”

  “Then that’s my cue to break out my e-reader,” I said, and ducked back in the cabin to snag the device from my beach bag. I wasn’t addicted to fishing like other people in Sinful. Maybe it was part of their DNA.

  Gertie was shaking her head when I came back onto the deck. “You’d really rather read than fish? I thought you’d grow out of that.”

  “I hate to tell you, but I’m sorta already grown,” I said.

  Gertie waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m a couple years older than you and I’m not grown.”

  Ida Belle snorted as she exited the cabin. “In dog years you’re still a decade older. And I took that ‘grown’ thing off the table a long time ago.”

  Dave stepped out beside Ida Belle and looked over at me. “You’re not fishing?” he asked.

  “No thanks,” I said. “I’m big on eating fish. Just not so much on catching, cleaning, and cooking them.”

  “She’s more of a hunter,” Ida Belle said.

  “Big game?” Dave asked.

  I plopped down on the bench and stuck a pillow behind my back so I could lean against the cabin. “You could say that. Used to be, anyway.”

  He frowned. “Don’t tell me those people from PETA converted you.”