Swamp Sniper (9 page)

I was just about to yell at Gertie to slow down when she cut the speed completely and I splayed across the bow of the boat, barely avoiding rolling off into the bayou. I rose up just in time to see Walter’s dock inches from my face and grabbed the edge before we crashed into it.

“Maybe I should drive on the way back,” I said as I jumped onto the pier and tied off the boat.

“You don’t even know how to drive a boat,” Gertie said.

“And yet, I’m certain I could do a better job than you.”

“Everyone’s a critic lately,” Gertie grumbled as she climbed out of the boat. “Let’s get inside before everyone sees us.”

After that morning’s mob run-in, she didn’t have to tell me twice. I double-timed it to the back of the General Store and slipped through the back door and into the storeroom, Gertie hot on my heels. I cracked open the door to the front of the store and peeked inside, but the store appeared empty, except for Walter, who sat on his usual stool behind the cash register.

“Pssssstttttt,” I whispered.

Walter lowered his newspaper and looked over at the door, his eyes widening when he saw my head poking out.
 

“I need to talk to you,” I said.

He tossed his newspaper on the counter and hurried into the storeroom faster than I’d ever seen him move.
 

“Is Ida Belle all right?” he asked as soon as he closed the door behind him.

“She’s fine,” I assured him. “Carter questioned her and she’s been released. She’s at home now under the general orders not to leave town.”

“Why not? What the hell is going on? I’ve left Carter three messages already today and apparently my nephew has conveniently forgotten I’m family.”

“I don’t think he’s forgotten,” I said, my heart going out to the obviously distraught store owner. “He’s just doing his job. I imagine he’s not any happier about it than we are.”

Walter sighed. “I know you’re right, but he’s still going to hear about it when I get a hold of him. So what’s going on? Do you know anything?”

I nodded and brought him up to date on everything except my CIA business. Ida Belle and Gertie were the only people in Sinful who knew my true identity, and even they didn’t know my full name or job title. I figured they’d guessed the latter, but some things were better left unsaid.

When I was done, Walter rubbed his temples and took a deep breath. “It’s worse than I thought. No wonder Carter won’t return my calls. I have money. I can get Ida Belle the best attorney in the whole state.”

The heart that I tried to pretend I didn’t have clenched just a bit at Walter’s devotion to his unrequited love. I swear if I were thirty years older, weren’t a CIA assassin with a price on my head, and wanted to disappear forever in this ridiculous bayou town, I’d totally make a move on Walter.

“I don’t think we’re at that point yet,” I said, “and God willing, we’re not going to get there.”

Walter shook his head. “Unless you’ve got a miracle up your sleeve, I don’t see how we’re going to avoid it.”

“Gertie, Ida Belle, and I are going to do our own investigation and catch the real killer.”

Walter stared at us for several seconds, his expression a mix of disbelief and fear. “I believe you’re actually serious.”

Gertie threw her hands in the air. “Of course we’re serious, you old goat. Do you think I’m going to stand by and watch my oldest and dearest friend get railroaded for something she didn’t do?”

Walter stiffened, his face turning light red. “No, what I think you’re going to do is fall headfirst into something you’re not the least bit qualified to do and end up sitting in the cell next to Ida Belle.”

“Fine then.” Gertie crossed her arms across her chest. “Now we all know our roles according to Jeff Foxworthy—you’re the good friend that we’ll call for bail. I’m the
great
friend that will be sitting in jail with her.”

“Hmmm,” I said. “A bit reckless, but I respect this Foxworthy’s code. Is he a Sinful resident?”

Gertie sighed. “Later. Right now, we need to get on with business. That is if Mr. High-and-Mighty here will lower his standards to helping us. Unless, of course, you’re afraid talking will get you arrested.”

Walter shook his head. “Fine, you old fool. What do you want to know?”

“A reason someone might want to kill Ted,” I said.

Walter’s eye widened. “Straight to the point. But I’m afraid my answer is going to disappoint you. I have no idea why someone would want him dead.”

“Not even a little reason?” I asked, unable to believe that Ted’s used-car-salesman personality hadn’t rubbed someone the wrong way.

“I think the women considered him a bit of a letch,” Walter said, “so they mostly avoided him. The men mostly thought he was full of hot air and he could drive you to drink when he got on a roll and wouldn’t stop talking, but that’s not something you kill a man for.”

“What about an affair?” I asked. “You said he was a letch. Maybe there’s a woman in Sinful who didn’t want to avoid him. Someone with a jealous husband.”

Walter frowned. “I guess anything’s possible, but I’d have no idea who it could be. I’ve never seen him talking to anyone in particular and certainly not carrying on in a way that I would suspect an affair.”

Gertie sighed. “This is a pointless line of questioning. Walter would have to see Ted in bed with another woman to know he was having an affair. Men have blinders on when it comes to that sort of thing.”

“Really?” I asked. My experience with men had mostly been limited to other CIA operatives. Being observant tended to keep you alive, so I was unaware of this pedestrian male blind spot.
 

“Maybe,” Walter said, looking a bit indignant, “it’s that women are underhanded and sneaky and men don’t want to believe the worst about them.”

Gertie waved a hand in dismissal. “Keep telling yourself that. Angelina Jolie could be a known archcriminal and men would still line up to have sex with her.”

“Hmmm,” Walter said, apparently lacking a good argument.

“Sex with Angelina Jolie aside,” I said, “can you think of anything at all that Ted might have done to make someone angry enough to kill him?”

“I wish I could,” Walter said, “but I haven’t seen or heard anything that would make me think someone was gunning for him. If one of the men around here was out for Ted, either he was damned quiet about it or it’s so recent the rumor mill hasn’t gotten it around.”

“Have you had any interaction with him recently?” I asked.

“Sure. He’s been to see Scooter the last two weeks for repairs. That man really shouldn’t own anything with a motor.” Walter looked a little sheepish. “Well, I guess he doesn’t anymore. That was awfully rude of me.”

“You forgot,” I said. “What kind of repairs?”

“Brake problems on his truck—nothing out of the ordinary. His boat motor was a different story. Damn thing melted—bad wiring, probably. Scooter said it wasn’t worth repairing, so he had to buy a new one.”

“And he seemed normal when he was here for those repairs?” I asked.

Walter nodded. “He was talking a blue streak about some show on cable. I pretty much tune him out once he gets going, but he seemed same as always to me.”
 

“Maybe we’re thinking about this the wrong way,” Gertie said. “We’re assuming someone was trying to kill Ted because of something he did, but maybe Paulette was the one having an affair.”

I frowned. “You think a jealous lover killed Ted so he could have Paulette to himself?”

Walter grimaced. “If that’s the case, he’ll get off on an insanity plea. No one in their right mind would want that woman.”

“I agree,” Gertie said, “but most men aren’t as discerning as you are, Walter.”

“You did say Paulette spent most of her time in New Orleans,” I said.
 

Gertie brightened. “That’s right. Claimed she was at spas, but that would give her all the opportunity in the world to cat around.”

I nodded. “And Ted or anyone else in Sinful wouldn’t have been the wiser.”

“Great,” Gertie said. “So all we need to do is verify what Paulette does when she’s in New Orleans.”

“How do you propose we do that?” I asked. “She’s not likely to take a spa trip given that her husband was just murdered.”

Gertie scrunched her brow in concentration. “We need receipts. Then we could figure out where she was and maybe figure out a way to question staff.”

I shook my head. “No way,” I said, knowing already where she was going. “We’re not breaking into Ted’s house. Might as well wave a banner that says ‘Arrest me. I did it.’”

Walter nodded. “Carter would put you under the jail.”

“Well then, I’m out of ideas,” Gertie said. “You got any better idea?”

“Just because I don’t have a better idea,” I said, “doesn’t mean this is a good one.”

“But it’s the only one.”

I stared out the storeroom window at the bayou, frantically seeking any alternative to Gertie’s suicidal suggestion.

“You’re thinking about doing it,” Walter said. “I can’t believe it. You’re as crazy as the other two.”

I smiled. If he only knew. “Since Paulette is Catholic, won’t she go to church for something? If the house is empty…”

“Okay,” Walter said, “this is where I take my leave so if Carter ever asks me, I don’t know a damned thing. Call me if you need anything…of the legal variety.”

Gertie waited for Walter to leave the storeroom before replying. “They sometimes do a prayer vigil right after the death. I figure Ted will be sent back east for burial, so there’s a good chance Father Michael will do some sort of service tomorrow.”

I nodded. “We’ll break into the house then.”

“And we have the added advantage of a good portion of Sinful being at the service. Most of those hypocrites don’t step into church unless it’s a wedding or a funeral, but it’s less chance of being seen by one of the neighbors.”

“Then it’s a plan. Let’s get the heck out of here before someone sees us and we cause trouble for Walter.”

Gertie nodded and we headed out the back door and down to the dock. I untied the boat as Gertie fired up the motor, already dreaming of the hot shower I still hadn’t managed. I push the boat away from the dock and jumped in it.

“Slower this time,” I admonished Gertie, who rolled her eyes then twisted the throttle so hard the boat practically leaped out of the water.
 

Even worse, she was headed directly at another boat that was moving down the bayou.
 

“Look out!” I yelled.

Gertie yanked the motor to the side and the boat swerved, missing the other boat by an inch but throwing a wave of water over it. I looked over in time to see the shocked driver hold one arm up to protect his face from the sheet of water, then he dropped his arm and his gaze locked directly on me.
 

Crap. It was bitch-slap guy from this morning’s mob.

I looked back at Gertie, who had slowed down to wipe the water from her eyes. “Remember when I said you needed to drive slower?”

“Yeah?”
 

“Forget everything I said.”

She squinted at me, looking completely confused. “What—”

Bitch-slap guy’s eyes widened. “Yankee, murdering bitch!”

Gertie looked back. “Oh no!” She twisted the throttle on the motor again.
 

The boat jumped forward once more and I braced my feet against the bottom of the hull to maintain my balance. A second later, Bitch-slap cranked the motor on his boat and came after us.
 

Gertie glanced back. “Looks like we got ourselves a boat chase!”

Oh goody.

I grimaced as the boat slammed down over the ripples the wind made on the surface of the bayou. The ride to the General Store hadn’t seemed near as rough. I glanced back at Bitch-slap and felt my pulse tick up a notch when I saw he was gaining on us.
 

“Can you go faster?” I asked.

“Are you kidding me? I’m already going so fast I’m getting younger. Besides, my motor is maxed out.”

I scanned the bank as it rushed by, trying to gauge how close we were to the dock. I thought we were close, but I wasn’t sure. And at the rate he was gaining on us, we weren’t going to make it to the boat launch, much less out of the water, before he caught up with us.
 

When I heard the first ping, I thought we’d hit something on the bayou, like a soda can, but then something tore through my sleeve and grazed the side of my arm. I peered around Gertie for a better look at Bitch-slap just in time to see him lower a pistol directly at my head.
 

I dove for the bottom of the boat. “He’s shooting at us!”

Another ping echoed beside me.

“It’s just a pellet gun,” Gertie said. “It stings but it can’t kill you. Just don’t give him an eye to aim at.”

“I don’t want to give him anything to aim at. If he gets any closer, those pellets are going to do more than sting.”

I scanned the bottom of the boat, looking for something I could use as a weapon. The anchor looked promising, but the rope attached to it looked too weak to allow me to catapult it. Instead, I grabbed an oar.