Soldiers of Fortune (16 page)

“Sure,” Stumpy said. “The show was worth a couple of fish.” He reached down and grabbed two of the trout. He righted the ice chest, laid them on top of it, and pulled out a hunting knife. “If you give me a couple minutes, I can fillet these for you.”

“Great,” Gertie said, and looked at me. “Maybe we can build a bonfire behind your house and cook them up.”

“No!” Ida Belle and I spoke at once.

Fire and Gertie didn’t sound like a good combination at all.
 

Carter shook his head. “Sure, listen to them, but when I say it, I’m the bad guy.” He waved his hand at Walter. “Let’s get out of here. These jeans are sticking to me.”

“In all the right places,” I said.

A slight blush rose up his neck. His lips quivered and I could tell he was trying not to smile. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said.

“Helluva way to go,” Stumpy said.

Carter grinned and motioned to Walter. “Let’s get going before I say more things I shouldn’t. I’ll call you later.”

“Remember, we’re chaperoning the dance tonight,” I said.

“I remember,” he said. “I’ve been praying for those kids all morning.”

“Hhmmpff,” Gertie said. “What does he know? I’ve been praying for
us
since I knew we were chaperoning those kids.”

I nodded. I had to admit that the thought of running herd over a bunch of teenagers put fear into me in a way my job never did. “Maybe it will be fine,” I said.

Ida Belle shook her head. “Maybe you shouldn’t go armed.”

###

“Will you get a move on?” Ida Belle said. “We’re going to be late.”

I dashed on a bit of lip gloss and hurried downstairs where Gertie and Ida Belle were waiting for me. They both took in my outfit and nodded. Earlier that afternoon, while we were eating fish and packing ice for Gertie’s arms, we’d discussed wardrobe for the dance—specifically, my wardrobe.
 

Gertie had suggested that I was attractive and young enough to catch the interest of high school boys, which would make it easier to get information out of them. The whole suggestion of underage boys looking at me that way was totally ick—hell, I hadn’t completely come to grips yet with a very grown Carter being interested in me—but I figured she was probably right. At least if all those teen movies she’d had me watch were to be believed.

Dress for the event was casual, so I’d donned my tightest set of jeans and a black tank top with a glittery skull on it. Gertie had furnished the tank top. Ida Belle and I had wisely stayed away from any questions like “where did you get this?” and the even worse “who did you buy it for?” A pair of new Nikes completed the outfit and I had to admit, I did look considerably younger.

“You look great,” Gertie said. “You could pass for a teenager.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” Ida Belle said. “Just because she looks a hundred years younger than you do, that still doesn’t make her a teen.”

Gertie shot her a dirty look. “I beg your pardon. I look hot.”

“Your arms are wrapped in bandages and you reek of Bengay,” Ida Belle said. “And one of those bandages is coming loose. You look like an extra in a zombie movie.”

Gertie lifted her arm and frowned at the dangling bandage.

“And you,” Ida Belle said. “You look fine except for the accessory.”

“What accessory?” I wasn’t even wearing a watch, and I didn’t think lip gloss counted.

Ida Belle pointed to my right foot. “Your sock is sagging. Lose the gun.”

“You were serious about me not going armed?” I asked.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Gertie asked. “Some kid tries to feel her up and finds her gun?”

“If some kid tries to feel me up and starts with my ankles, there’s bigger problems afoot than my being armed,” I said.

“No weapons,” Ida Belle said. “We can barely deal with adults. This is a herd of hormone-driven, drama-laden half humans who think they know everything and don’t think they can die. It’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Fine,” I said, and pulled the ankle holster off. “Are you going to frisk Gertie’s purse? Because what she’s hauling could probably put the US military out of business.”

Gertie clutched her purse close to her side. “Traitor.”

“No way am I going unprotected with you packing an arsenal,” I said. “That’s more dangerous than the kids, unless you have a bulletproof vest in there.”

“I’ve got one on order,” Gertie said.

“Of course you do,” Ida Belle said. “Did you order one for everyone else you come in contact with?” She stuck her hand out. “Hand it over.”

Gertie clenched harder and shook her head.

“We’re not leaving here until you do,” Ida Belle said.

“Bunch of Nazis,” Gertie said and thrust her purse at Ida Belle.
 

Ida Belle grabbed the purse, her arms dropping a bit, then set it on the coffee table. I leaned over as she pulled out a small retail store. Nine-millimeter, handcuffs, rope, Mace, rape whistle, duct tape, box of tissue, aspirin, sports rub, bandages, bottle of peroxide, roll of antacids, earplugs, matches, panty hose, Sinful Ladies cough syrup, two protein bars, and a can of ravioli.

I stared down at the collection, trying to make some sense of it. “Okay, the weapons I understand, and I’d include the duct tape and rope in that description. The first aid supplies are probably a good idea, as are the earplugs. I sorta get food although the ravioli is a strange choice, and I suppose the matches could be for lighting a fire to heat the ravioli, but I’m at a loss on the panty hose. You’re not even wearing hose.”

“That’s in case we need a disguise,” Gertie said.

“You’ve been watching too much television,” Ida Belle said, and started repacking the purse. The first aid, food, and cough syrup went back inside, along with the earplugs.
 

“That’s it?” Gertie asked. “We’re solely responsible for wrangling a group of teenagers, who are already plotting on how to spike the punch, and you’re giving me a first aid kit and earplugs?”

“Fine,” Ida Belle said and tossed the rope and Mace in the purse.

“Mace?” I asked.

“Have you ever tried to restrain a drunk teenager?” Ida Belle asked. “The last thing we need is someone yelling that we tried to molest little Johnny. Mace won’t kill anyone, but it will definitely stop whatever undesirable behavior they’re currently engaged in.”

“You’re right,” I said. “Distance is better.”

Gertie grabbed her purse and slung the strap over her shoulder, grunting as she bent her arm. “Now that you’re done robbing me, can we go?”

I headed out of the house, locking the door behind me. Not that it did any good. I figured if Mannie wanted in, he’d find a way. It was why I hadn’t gotten in any hurry to change the locks. What I really needed was a better set of acquaintances.
 

The park was only a couple of blocks away, but we drove over in my Jeep anyway, in case we had an emergency that required transportation faster than feet. Besides, after her fateful alligator ride, Gertie was even less energetic than usual. She’d be lucky to make the entire event without slouching under a tree to sleep.
 

A group of about twenty teens were already standing around a pile of lumber in the middle of a sandbox. One of them held a milk jug with a brown liquid in it that I suspected was gasoline. Another jug sat on the ground next to his feet.

I pointed. “This is either the beginning of a horror movie or a comedy special.”

Ida Belle jumped out of the Jeep as I rolled to a stop, hurrying toward the arsonists.

“Isn’t it illegal to have gasoline in milk jugs?” I asked.

“Sure, but if they enforced that, half of Sinful would be sitting in jail,” Gertie said.

Frightening. I watched as Ida Belle stepped in front of the jug holder and wrestled the container from his hands. Then she pointed to the second jug on the ground and the teen picked it up and walked away, looking more than a little agitated.

“I guess the party’s over before it begins,” I said.

“Oh, she’s not going to stop the bonfire,” Gertie said. “She wants to do it herself. Ida Belle is
that
person. You know, the one who thinks no one can fire up a grill correctly?”
 

I watched as Ida Belle popped the top off the milk jug and started dousing the pile of wood. Then she waved her hands around like a crazy woman until all the teens had stepped back a good ten feet, and she pulled a box of matches from her pocket.
 

“Isn’t that your matches?” I asked Gertie.

“Yes,” Gertie said. “Bitch.”

She lit one of the matches, then stuck it inside the entire pack and threw the whole flaming mess onto the lumber before leaping backward. And it’s a good thing she moved so quickly. The flames shot out and upward in a giant ball, and I wondered if she hadn’t lost a bit of hair, or maybe an eyebrow. The kids cheered and Ida Belle took a bow before turning around to wave at us.
 

“What are you waiting for?” she yelled.

“For you to finish setting the place on fire,” I grumbled as I climbed out of the Jeep.

“Told you,” Gertie said. “And you thought I was the dangerous one.”

I was starting to wonder.
 

We headed over to Ida Belle, who still looked entirely too gleeful for my taste. Her face was flushed with excitement, or maybe a flash burn. Only time would tell.

“Did you see that flame?” she asked.

“People in Montana saw that flame,” I said. “It probably singed Pluto.”

Ida Belle nodded. “I think it was better than the Big One of ’84.”

“Was anyone injured in that one?” I asked.

“Of course not,” Ida Belle said. “I’m careful when I do things. But you should ask Gertie about the Big One of ’73.”

I looked at Gertie. “Did you burn the park down or something?”

“Ha,” Ida Belle said. “We were attending a candlelight wedding.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Gertie said and stomped off toward a group of teens spiking their sodas with Sinful Ladies cough syrup.

“I’m not sure I want to hear about it,” I said.

Ida Belle patted my arm. “Just make sure if you and Carter ever get married, you do it in broad daylight.”

I squirmed. The thought of marrying Carter was even more uncomfortable than the thought of Gertie probably burning a church down. “I think we’re safe.”

Ida Belle laughed. “For now.”

“So what are our official duties, anyway?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.

“Not much, really,” Ida Belle said. “Just mill around, confiscate alcohol, and if you come across a student who’s had too much to drink, signal me, and I’ll call his parents.”

“No police?”

Ida Belle shook her head. “Even if Nelson weren’t honking up the department, we never involve law enforcement unless there’s a brawl. Parents can lower the boom on drunken teens better than the sheriff’s department, anyway.”

I wiped my brow. “I hope the sun sets soon. Between that and the fire, it’s hot as hell out here.”

“All the sun setting is going to do is bring mosquitoes.”

“All kinds of things to look forward to.” I pointed to a group of boys standing near the merry-go-round. “I’m going to head over there and see if I can work my wiles on them.” I shook my head. “That sounded all kinds of wrong.”

“It’s for a good cause,” Ida Belle said. “The teen you tempt may be a life saved from meth addiction.”

“There is that.”

I headed off for the merry-go-round, assessing the group as I approached.

Five males. All around eighteen years of age. Ranging in height from five feet ten to six feet one. Weight one-thirty to two-twenty, and that was the shortest one. Decent physical conditioning on two of them. Three looked like they played video games all day. Threat level—likely to annoy me to death.

“What’s up?” I asked as I stepped up to the group.

Their eyes widened and they glanced at one another, their uncertainty clear. Finally, they all looked at the tallest one, who must have been the leader.

“Uh,” tall one said. “Nothing.”

I held in a sigh. If it had taken that long to get such a simple response, I didn’t hold out much hope for real information. “I’m Fortune. I’m visiting for the summer.”

“Dale,” the tall one said. “This is Kenny, Mark, Adam, and T-Boy.”
 

“Hi.” I waved a hand at them, feeling more idiotic every second.

“You in high school?” Kenny asked.

“No. I’ve already finished.”

Kenny nodded, looking pleased with himself. “I didn’t think so. College girl. Cool.”

The rest of them smiled.

“Hmmm.” Technically, I was a college girl, just not in recent years.

“What are you majoring in?” Adam asked.

I paused for a second, trying to think of a major that would get me the most mileage. “Chemistry.”

“Wow,” Kenny said. “You must be smart.”