by Jana DeLeon
“That doesn’t sound very encouraging,” Ida Belle said.
“He’s made a career out of lazy,” Dave said. “I sat in jail for two days over trumped-up charges just because he didn’t want to do his job. If Benton is supposed to figure out who killed Otis, it’s the killer’s lucky day. Benton could have video of the whole thing and wouldn’t know what to do about it.”
“Maybe we should get an attorney before Gertie talks to the cops,” I said and nodded at Dave. “Thanks for the heads-up. And for lying. You didn’t have to do that. But it will give us time to run down an attorney.”
“Heck, I’d hole up Jack the Ripper on my boat if Benton was looking for ’im,” Dave said. “Besides, a group of Boy Scouts is more dangerous than you ladies.”
I struggled not to smile. “You gotta watch those Boy Scouts. They’re sneaky.”
“Darn right,” Dave said. “That’s why I said so. I had a group of ’em on the boat once and I won’t ever do it again. They cleaned me out of all my best lures and a six pack of beer.”
“You’re not going to get into any trouble if Benton finds out we were on your boat, are you?” Gertie asked.
Dave waved a hand in dismissal. “How’s he gonna find out? He’s too lazy to drive out to the dock. That’s why he had Garfish radio me. Besides, all I have to do to avoid him is stay on my boat. That idiot is afraid of water.”
I stared. “He works on an island.”
“I know,” Dave said. “Dumbest thing ever. We had a floater down at the dock a couple years back. Local drunk, so no one was really surprised, but we wasn’t pulling him out of the water, either. That ain’t our job. Anyway, Benton shows up and tries to fish the body over with a pole and falls off the dock. He’s in maybe three feet of water and can see the bottom and was still thrashing around like he was in the middle of the ocean. We watched him and laughed for a while, but when we realized he wasn’t going to get himself out, a couple guys went in and dragged him onto shore. Had to call the paramedics to get him oxygen.”
I looked over at Gertie. “Well, if Benton gets sideways with you during the questioning, throw a glass of water in his face.”
Dave wagged his finger at me. “I like you. You wanna grab a hot dog or something later?”
“I appreciate the offer,” I said, “but I imagine we’ll be busy with this Otis thing, and besides, I have a boyfriend.”
“He ain’t here, is he?” Dave asked.
I blinked. “Does that matter?”
“Matters to me,” Dave replied.
“Well, it matters to me, too, but in a different way,” I said. “So it’s still a no.”
Dave shrugged. “Suit yourself. If you change your mind, I’ll probably be at the Shark Bar tonight. Well, and tomorrow night. Come to think of it, you can probably find me there most any night.”
“I’ll keep that in mind in case I lose my moral compass,” I said.
“Sounds fancy,” Dave said. “Hope you have it insured.”
I just sighed.
Finally, the time came when we had to head back to the dock. We were just approaching the channel to the sound when I got a text from Byron that he was ten miles out and would meet us at a coffee shop down the street from the sheriff’s department so that he and Gertie could go in together.
I passed along the information to Ida Belle and Gertie. “Guess we better pack up and get ready to deboat. Or whatever you call it.”
Suddenly, the boat slowed so much that we swayed a bit. A second later, Dave peered over the rail.
“We have a problem,” he said. “A buddy just phoned me. Benton is at the dock.”
“How did he find out we were on the boat?” I asked.
“I thought he never came to the dock,” Gertie said.
Dave shook his head. “I got no idea on either. What do you want me to do? I can take you on an overnight.”
“We appreciate the offer,” I said, “but Gertie’s attorney is almost here and plans on meeting us in town. We were going to review things first, but I suppose we might as well get this over with.”
Dave nodded. “I’m real sorry he figured it out. Kinda surprises me. Someone must have seen us going down the channel. Someone with a warrant, probably. People will give up their own mother to avoid a night in jail. Even if it means helping Benton.”
“No worries,” I said. “We’ve dealt with worse than Benton.”
Dave didn’t look convinced but he disappeared and the boat started moving again.
“So what’s the plan?” Ida Belle asked.
I pulled out my cell phone. “First, I call Byron and tell him there’s been a change in plans. He can meet us at the sheriff’s department. Then we repeatedly stress to Gertie how she needs to keep her mouth shut until Byron is there.”
Gertie frowned. “I know how to keep my mouth shut.”
“You might know how,” Ida Belle said, “but you rarely elect to.”
I dialed Byron and updated him on our situation, then disconnected. We were approaching the dock and I could see Benton standing back about ten feet from the water.
“Look at that coward,” Ida Belle said. “I bet he can’t even take a bath.”
“What coward?” Gertie asked, squinting at the dock.
Ida Belle sighed and explained Benton’s choice of standing location to our nearsighted friend. Gertie smiled.
“I’m about to have some fun,” she said.
“Oh no,” Ida Belle said. “This isn’t Sinful. You can’t go having fun with law enforcement in Florida. Remember Freddy Flounder?”
Gertie waved a hand in dismissal. “Everyone knows he was sick of Freda and ran off with a cocktail waitress.”
“Except said cocktail waitress is still employed at that dive bar,” Ida Belle said, “but Freddy never surfaced.”
“So he found another cocktail waitress to buy his line of bull,” Gertie said. “There’s never a shortage of foolish women.”
“Who’s Freddy Flounder?” I asked, unable to help myself.
“A former Sinful local,” Ida Belle said. “He came to Florida on a fishing trip, had a run-in with local law enforcement over a bar fight, and we never saw him again.”
“And you think law enforcement did what?” I asked. “Dumped him in the Gulf? Fed him to alligators?”
“Law enforcement didn’t do anything to him,” Gertie said. “If anyone bumped off Freddy, it was his wife Freda.”
“Freda had an alibi,” Ida Belle said. “She was at that fat camp.”
“And came back even fatter,” Gertie said. “Some alibi.”
That familiar feeling of confusion washed over me. It was a common occurrence when Ida Belle and Gertie started discussing some of the more colorful happenings in Sinful. My mind was full of questions— Did Florida law enforcement really bump people off for being drunk? Did Freda kill her husband? And was Flounder a real last name?
But all those questions would have to wait because Dave was pulling up to the dock. I glanced over at Benton and saw him glaring at us. I grabbed my beach bag and prepared to issue the rebuttal to his accusations because I knew there was no way in hell I could keep my mouth shut. In some ways, Gertie and I had that in common.
Dave came down the ladder to tie off the boat. Even though I could have jumped off from ten feet away, I saw no reason to rush the process. Might as well irritate Benton a while longer. Apparently, everyone else had the same idea. Dave took his time with the ropes, cautioning us to wait until the boat was secure before we attempted to disembark. Benton was practically fuming before I finally stepped off onto the dock. Ida Belle followed behind, making a big production of passing me her bag first and pretending she needed help from Dave and me to make the step out. Dave stood there politely, letting her use his arm for support, struggling not to smile.
Then it was Gertie’s turn.
Ida Belle and I stood by, waiting to make sure she made it onto the dock without incident, but Gertie had other plans. She stood in the bac
k of the boat and just stared at us. Finally, she put down her bag and crossed her arms. Benton, who’d been anxiously tapping his foot, couldn’t take it any longer. He stepped forward about five feet and started in on her.
“Get off that boat right now,” he yelled, “or I’m placing you under arrest.”
“For what exactly?” Ida Belle asked.
“For hiding from law enforcement,” Benton said. “I’ve been looking for you all day and you intentionally fled the resort.”
“Excuse me?” I said. “We’re on vacation and went fishing. Are you trying to tell me that people who vacation here never go fishing? Because I don’t know a judge or jury in the world that’s going to buy that one.”
“Back off, Benton,” Dave said. “These ladies booked two weeks ago and we’ve got three ice chests full of fish to show for the day. Ain’t their fault some piece of crap who was scamming women finally bought it. If you guys did your job, people like Otis wouldn’t be in business.”
“You might want to watch your mouth,” Benton said. “I’m sure I could find a reason to bring you in as well. Harboring fugitives comes to mind.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” I said. “Since no one has been arrested, much less tried and convicted, we’re hardly fugitives. Unless you consider everyone on a boat with a fishing pole a fugitive.”
“If she hasn’t done anything, then she’ll get off that boat and come with me,” Benton said.
“Famous last words of every incompetent cop who railroaded a witness,” Ida Belle muttered.
“Am I under arrest?” Gertie asked.
“Yes,” Benton said.
“Really?” I asked him. “On what grounds? May I speak to your DA?”
A flush ran up Benton’s face. “My DA is too busy to be bothered with your nonsense.”
“And you’re too busy to be bothered with the law,” I said.
“Fine,” Benton said. “I’m detaining Ms. Hebert for questioning. Just as soon as she gets off that boat.”
“You’re going to have to come get me,” Gertie said and plopped down on the bench.
I smiled, now understanding Gertie’s plan. If Benton wanted to play hardball, she was going to make him walk on water in order to take her in. It was clever and just a tiny bit evil. I loved it.
I moved over and waved Benton by. “You heard the woman,” I said. “Break out the cuffs if you have to. But apparently, she’s not getting off that boat unless you make her.”
Gertie pulled a bag of chips out of her beach bag and started to eat. Benton’s face got so red, I thought it might explode. Dave jumped back on the boat and reached for an ice chest.
“While you guys work this out, I’m just gonna unload the fish,” Dave said. “I got a hot date tonight with a six-pack and these fish ain’t gonna clean themselves.”
I watched as he positioned the ice chest on the side of the boat, then repositioned his hands on the bottom of the chest to set it over on the dock. It was an inefficient move given that the chest had handles, but then I noticed the plug in the bottom side of the chest had been pulled loose and water was seeping out onto the dock. Dave gave me a wink, then headed to the other side of the boat for another chest.
Benton had finally decided he didn’t have a choice in the matter and pulled out his handcuffs. “Since you’re going to make this difficult,” he said, “I’m going to have to put you in cuffs.”
Gertie waved a hand in dismissal. “No matter. As bad as you’re dragging butt, I’ll be done with my chips by then. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re one of those pansies who’s afraid of water.”
That did it. Anger and insult surpassed fear and Benton stomped toward the boat, looking mad enough to shoot her. He hesitated slightly before stepping onto the dock, but his pride was too strong to actually stop. So he barreled forward, slamming his foot down right in the slimy, fishy water that had leaked out of the ice chest.
His shoe connected with the fish water and shot right out from under him. His momentum sent him spiraling down onto the dock. He hit right on the edge and desperately clutched at the weathered wood, trying to keep himself from falling, but it was outside of his control. His hands dragged across the wood and I cringed, knowing he’d be digging splinters out of them for hours. Then he looked back at us, his eyes wide with fright, before he dropped into the sound.
He surfaced immediately, yelling like he was being attacked by sharks. Ida Belle and I strolled over and stood on the dock, looking down at him. Gertie had finished her chips and got off the bench to peer over the side of the boat. Dave simply laughed and set off to his truck with one of the ice chests.
“Help!” Benton screamed. “Please!”
“Stand up, you idiot,” Ida Belle said. “You’re in three feet of water.”
“No!” Benton insisted, still thrashing about. “It’s deep. Really deep.”
“I can see your shoes,” I said. “No one is getting in that water to drag your big butt out. Now put your legs underneath you and stand up.”
Gertie leaned over the side of the boat with a life preserver and Benton gave her a grateful look. Then she slapped him across the face with it. Benton gasped and took in a mouthful of salt water, then he started choking. Finally, Dave ended his horror by snagging his pants with a gaff and pulling him upright.
“You better lock those knees,” Dave said. “I don’t hold dead weight unless I can eat it for dinner.”
Benton finally managed to get control of himself and gathered his legs underneath him. Clutching the dock, he staggered up the bank. He was soaking wet from head to toe, and there was a big hole in the back of his pants where Dave had hooked him. His underwear was pink. I took that to mean Benton either had delicate taste in undergarments or had no idea how to do laundry properly.
When he was finally firmly on dry land, he turned around and shook his fist at Gertie. “I should arrest you for assault.”
“You mean you should arrest the dock for assault?” Gertie asked. “Because I never touched you. But hey, go for it. I’m sure the judge and everyone in the courtroom would love to hear about you screaming like a sissy in three feet of water.”
“Get off that boat or I’m calling the state police to get you off for me,” Benton said.
Gertie rolled her eyes. “I’m done with my snack anyway.”
She grabbed her bag and Dave assisted her onto the dock. “I don’t suppose I can ride with Fortune?” she asked. “You kinda smell.”
I swear, if there hadn’t been so many witnesses, Benton would have throttled her with his bare hands.
“Not only are you riding in the back of my car,” he said, “you’re wearing cuffs.”
Gertie smiled. “I usually make a man buy me dinner before he puts cuffs on me.”
Dave laughed and Benton shot him a dirty look. Gertie dropped her bag and stuck out her hands. Benton snapped on the cuffs and marched her to his car where he shoved her in the back, doing that head thing that I saw on those real cop shows. Then he put the car in Drive and floored it, throwing dust and gravel all over.
I pulled a hundred out of my wallet and passed it to Dave, who looked shocked.
“I can’t take this,” Dave said. “You already paid me.”
“Consider it a bonus,” I said.
“For what?”
“For not taking us back in when you knew Benton was looking for us. For lying about when we made the reservation. And most importantly, for leaking that fishy water out on the dock. That was genius.”
He grinned and slipped the hundred in his pocket. “I got him good, didn’t I? That guy has had one coming from me for a long time. You best get to the sheriff’s department and help out Ms. Gertie. If you want to take another trip, just let me know. You’re the best customers I’ve had this year. And by far the most entertaining.”
I smiled. “We get that a lot.”
Chapter Eight
Ida Belle and I met Byron outside the sheriff’s department. I h
ad called to update him on the situation as soon as we’d pulled away from the dock. Since Carter had probably already warned him about what he was getting into with the three of us, I saw no reason to skimp on the story and gave him the full fishy tale. He had a good laugh over all of it and promised me that he’d have Gertie back at the resort in no time.
He was sitting on a bench one building down from the sheriff’s department when we pulled up. I’d never seen him before, but I knew it had to be Byron. He had that successful lawyer look. Expensive suit, perfect hair, looked like someone had just ironed him. I parked and as we headed over, I took a harder look.
Six foot two. A hundred ninety pounds. Low fat content. Probably a six-pack. No discernable flaws other than being a lawyer and agreeing to represent Gertie.
He saw us coming and rose from the bench, smiling as he extended his hand. “Carter has told me a lot about you,” he said.
“I’m surprised you’re not still on that phone call,” I said.
He laughed. “I assume he gave me the condensed version.” He gave me a once-over. “CIA operative, huh? That’s hard-core.”
“Retired CIA operative,” I said.
“But just as deadly, I bet,” he said. “The training never really disappears.”
“I hope I don’t need to find out,” I said, “but you’re probably right. I am learning to think before I react…not that the pause has changed my decision very often.”
He grinned and turned to Ida Belle. “I hear you’re practically sniper caliber with a rifle. Hopefully, we won’t have to call you to action. So are you ready to get Gertie out of here?”
Ida Belle hesitated before answering. “I suppose we better. I mean, a day or so off sounds like a good idea, until I think about the level of trouble she can get in staying here.”
“Most people don’t get into more trouble when they’re detained,” Byron said.
“You don’t know Gertie.” Ida Belle and I both responded at once.
Byron nodded and looked over at me. “I figure you’d like to be in the questioning?”
I blinked, surprised. “Sure, but Benton’s not going to allow that to happen. Especially sitting there fuming and dripping all at the same time.”
