Cajun Fried Felony

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Cajun Fried Felony Page 2

by Jana DeLeon


  “Well, get on with it,” Sheriff Lee said. “We’re burning daylight.”

  “What’s up with Sheriff Lee?” I asked. “He’s always been direct but not quite that honest.”

  Ida Belle frowned. “I have noticed a difference lately. I wonder if he’s hitting that late stage in life that a lot of people do.”

  “What stage is that?” I asked.

  “The one where you stop filtering anything before you say it,” Ida Belle said.

  “Ida Belle hit that stage before she started talking,” Gertie said.

  “All contestants, please enter the playground,” Walter yelled again.

  “Wish me luck,” Gertie said and headed off.

  “I’m wishing for a miracle,” Ida Belle said. “You know, the kind where things don’t end with Gertie visited by the paramedics.”

  “Unless a bear or a bad guy with a gun starts chasing her, she’ll run herself out quickly.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “There is that.”

  I watched as Sheriff Lee left the picnic table and stomped in our direction, then I elbowed Ida Belle. “Here comes Mr. Sunshine.”

  I waved at him as he approached. “Good morning, Sheriff Lee. Everything okay?”

  He scowled. “Same crap, different day.”

  “Are you feeling all right?” Ida Belle asked.

  “Why do people keep asking me that?” Sheriff Lee asked.

  “Maybe they’re worried about you,” I said.

  “Another waste of time,” Sheriff Lee said. “I can take care of myself. Young woman, do you know how old I am?”

  “No, sir,” I said.

  He frowned. “That’s too bad. I don’t either.”

  He shook his head and headed for his horse, who was tied to a fence post about twenty feet away. I looked over at Ida Belle.

  “I got nothing,” Ida Belle said. “Something’s definitely up with him, though.”

  We watched as Pastor Don approached Sheriff Lee, a concerned look on his face.

  “Sheriff Lee,” Pastor Don said, “you appear distressed. Is there something I can do to help?”

  Sheriff Lee threw his hands in the air. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I don’t need any help. Maybe you should spend your time praying for the people that woman harasses, because I don’t think it will do any good to pray for her. She’s been batting for the wrong team for a long time.”

  Sheriff Lee stomped off, leaving Pastor Don staring after him, a dumbstruck look on his face.

  “Maybe he shouldn’t be riding a horse with a loaded weapon and that attitude,” I said.

  “You want to tell him that?” Ida Belle asked.

  I shook my head. “Guess I’ll just let Pastor Don get on with the praying.”

  “Good call,” Ida Belle said. “In the meantime, I’ll see if I can figure out what’s stuck in Sheriff Lee’s craw. But don’t tell Gertie. She’ll be on it like we were hired to investigate.”

  “Handlers,” Walter called out. “Bring in the turkeys.”

  Chapter Two

  Ida Belle and I hurried to the fence with our cell phones. I wasn’t about to miss one second of this. Gertie and eleven kids, ranging in age from around ten years old to fourteen, stood in a long line at one end of the playground. The handlers carried in the crates of turkeys through a gate about thirty feet away.

  Twelve contestants. Ten turkeys. Five minutes on the clock.

  Each handler leaned over a crate and prepared to let the turkeys exit. Walter lifted a bullhorn and a couple seconds later, a huge blast of sound ripped through the playground. The handlers opened the crates, and turkeys ran out of their confinements and into one another, trying to get away. The contestants ran straight for the turkeys, which led to more flapping and gobbling and general disarray as the birds tried to get away from the children.

  And Gertie.

  The kids were faster, of course, but Gertie was giving it everything she had. She sprinted—sort of—at the frantic birds, but every time she got within two feet of one, it zigged and she zagged. The kids weren’t faring much better. They all scrambled one direction then the next, tripping over one another and falling, then jumping up and trying again. Some of them even gave it the full commitment and dived at their target.

  A few of the birds headed toward the playground equipment, probably in an attempt to find a place to hide. One of them tried to run up the slide but kept sliding back down. As a young boy reached out to grab it, the turkey let out a cry, flapped its wings, and managed to leap to the top of the slide.

  “I didn’t think turkeys flew,” I said.

  “Wild ones can in short bursts,” Ida Belle said. “A lot of them sleep in trees, but they can’t sustain it over a distance.”

  I smiled. “So they can get just enough lift to give them an advantage over the runners.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “That’s why we use wild ones instead of tame. It takes a bit for the hunters to trap them, but it’s worth it.”

  The boy scrambled around the slide and up the ladder, snagging the bird by the feet. The turkey flapped furiously, but the boy managed to get it tucked in his arms and jumped off the ladder, still clutching the angry bird.

  “He got it!” I yelled.

  “Now all he has to do is get the bird over to one of the cages,” Ida Belle said as she pointed to a spot inside the playground near where Walter was standing. “They’ll put his name on the cage.”

  The boy half jogged a bit sideways, clutching the struggling bird. He managed to get it into the crate and the door shut, a huge grin on his face. A man standing close to the fence let out a giant hoot and started high-fiving with the other men standing nearby.

  “The father, I presume?” I asked.

  Ida Belle nodded. “He won four years running when he was a kid. Probably even happier now, as we had a retailer donate a prize this year. First one to snag a bird gets a hundred-dollar gift card to Fisherman’s Headquarters. I see some new fishing tackle in father and son’s future.”

  “Oh look!” I said and pointed. “Gertie’s close to one!”

  Gertie had chased a turkey onto the merry-go-round and was just about to attempt a grab over one of the bars, when one of the other contestants ran by and gave the merry-go-round a good shove. The round disc began to whirl and Gertie fell backward onto her rear. Another kid ran by and gave the wheel another shove, laughing as he passed, and the turkey flapped wildly, trying to maintain its balance as it inched toward the outside of the whirling playground equipment.

  Realizing the turkey was getting away, Gertie managed to get onto her hands and knees and started crawling toward it, Gertie and the turkey swaying like two drunks. The wheel was starting to slow so both picked up speed as they approached the edge. Gertie reached out with one hand, ready to snag the bird, when another kid gave the wheel a whirl. Gertie and the turkey flew off the side of the merry-go-round and crashed into the dirt.

  The bird immediately righted itself and started off away from Gertie, weaving as it went. Gertie managed to get onto her feet and staggered after it, both of them moving like extras from a zombie movie. She made it three steps before tripping and falling onto the bird. I heard a squawk and cringed, then let out a sigh of relief when Gertie rolled over, clutching the struggling turkey.

  Ida Belle looked over at me and laughed. “You know that turkey’s fate is the same, one way or another.”

  “Yeah, but being tortured on a piece of playground equipment, then crushed by a spin-drunk contestant doesn’t seem a very dignified passing.”

  “Nothing about this is dignified, but I get your point. If she gets that bird in a cage, she’ll finally be one of the winners.”

  “Maybe she’ll give it up then.”

  “Ha! Not if we have another gift card up for grabs. She’d rise from the dead for a shot at free fishing tackle.”

  “She sorta looks like she just did,” I said, and pointed at Gertie as she stumbled across the playground, clutching the angry bird. “You
think she’s going to make it to the cage?”

  “I wouldn’t put money on it.”

  I started cheering, hoping my yelling would give Gertie additional strength or balance, and Ida Belle and the crowd took up the cry with me. Everyone was laughing and cheering and having a great time watching Gertie wrangle the turkey.

  Except Celia.

  Satan’s right-hand woman stood at the fence line in front of the cages, glaring at Gertie as she stumbled her direction. Gertie looked up as the cheering started and grinned, and that’s when things went the way things with Gertie tended to go.

  All the way south.

  She stumbled on a patch of uneven ground and lunged forward. She was too far off balance to keep herself from falling, so she did what most people do when they’re about to crash into the ground—throw their arms forward to break their fall.

  The bird took advantage of the liftoff boost and flapped its wings, determined to get away from the crazy woman who had almost killed it on playground equipment. But with its limited flying capabilities and still in recovery from its bout on the merry-go-round, its flight path was as sketchy as Gertie’s walking had been. The extra boost from Gertie flinging it had allowed the bird to get decent lift and distance, and it headed straight for the fence. It clipped the top of the metal fencing and pushed off again, but without Gertie’s thrust behind it, couldn’t gain the same height as before. I’d been so focused on the bird that I hadn’t looked ahead, but a bloodcurdling scream had my gaze shifting right.

  Just as the bird flew directly into Celia’s face.

  Celia, as usual, was wearing a ridiculously huge hat with flowers on it, which had probably prompted the panicked turkey to think she was shrubbery. The scream let the bird know it had grossly miscalculated. It scrambled on her head in a tangle of straw hat, fake flowers, and hair as Celia whirled around in a circle, trying to get the bird off her head.

  I glanced over at Ida Belle, who was still filming.

  “This is getting good,” she said, answering my unasked question of whether or not we should attempt to help. I looked around and realized that everyone with a cell phone had it trained on the turkey fiasco. Carter, Sheriff Lee, Walter, and even Pastor Don were in on the action.

  Gertie scrambled up and yelled at Celia to stop assaulting her bird, then ran for the hurricane fence and started to climb over. Her ascent was wobbly, but she managed to get to the top rail and then sorta slid off the other side onto the ground. But a little bruising wasn’t stopping Gertie on her quest to nab the turkey.

  The crowd parted and she pushed herself up and half jogged, half staggered toward Celia just as the turkey managed to get itself free from her hair and leaped off her head with one of its feet shoved clean through the straw hat. Between the merry-go-round, Gertie’s capture, the fight on Celia’s head, and the hat, the turkey was so panicked it had no idea what to do anymore. It attempted flight, but the hat seemed to prevent liftoff, so it resorted to running, the leg with the hat on it flung out a bit to the side, which sent it off at an angle.

  Celia yelled at the turkey about her hat, then took off after it. Gertie was hot on her tail and seemed to be maintaining a semi-straight line. The turkey took off toward a section of the playground that was under construction. I’d been told the half court for basketball was completed earlier that year and had been such a success that they were now working on a sand volleyball court. A small bulldozer sat nearby, ready to clear the ground the next week while the kids were out on holiday.

  Gertie inched up next to Celia and then either stumbled or pulled a hockey check on her. Either way, Celia came out the loser. She flew off to the right and tackled some guy filming the whole event, and they both fell into a thick hedge. I could hear her screaming as she went. Probably, people in Alaska could hear her. Or maybe it was the guy. I couldn’t be sure.

  The turkey was oblivious to the shrubbery crisis behind it and continued its mad dash for freedom. Gertie closed in on it as it reached the construction area. The bird must have sensed that it was in the crosshairs again because when it got close to the bulldozer, it turned on the afterburners, then gave flight one more chance. This time, the hat dislodged from the turkey’s foot as the bird took off, and it hit Gertie in the face. She whirled around in a circle, clutching the hat, and finally managed to fling it behind her.

  Where it caught Celia just as she staggered out of the shrub. She must have been disoriented by the fall, because she threw her hands up in front of her and batted the hat away, yelling for someone to shoot it. I assume she thought the turkey was coming at her again. Unfortunately, this was Sinful, so a guy who’d been standing next to the shrub when Celia made her entrance pulled out his pistol and blasted a hole through the hat, sending Celia screaming backward again into the bush.

  From the shrub, I heard a feeble cry for help that was definitely male. I glanced into the shrub as I hurried past and saw the guy who’d been filming flat on the ground, an angry Celia on top of him.

  “Assault,” he called out.

  “You wish!” Celia yelled.

  I was sure that about this time, film guy was probably regretting living in Sinful, much less coming to the turkey run, but I couldn’t stop to rescue him. I had to catch up with Gertie before things went to that whole other level that things often did where she was concerned. Besides, I wanted to see how it ended.

  The turkey had managed to reach the cab of the bulldozer and Gertie scrambled up after it. The bird hopped onto the driver’s seat and was preparing to exit the cab when Gertie made a lunge for it. Just as she was about to latch onto its foot, the turkey made a leap down and disappeared on the other side of the dozer. Gertie fell onto the driver’s seat and then slid off onto the metal floorboard.

  And then the dozer started to move.

  It was sitting up on a tiny incline, and dislodging the brake was all it took to send the heavy machinery down the slope. Everyone started yelling and several of the men sprinted for the runaway dozer. Gertie popped up and scrambled to get upright and grab the brake, but she couldn’t reach it in time. The dozer slammed into the basketball goal, pushing the entire thing over and bringing up a huge hunk of the court with it.

  “You moron!” Celia yelled as she pulled leaves out of her hair. “I want her arrested for the destruction of taxpayer property! And my hat!”

  “Your hat is ugly,” Ida Belle said. “And the court is insured.”

  Gertie staggered down from the dozer, clutching her head with one hand. The turkey poked its head around the hunk of raised cement, took one look at the descending mob, and set off for the woods. At least five people pulled out guns and started firing. Without even thinking, I dived behind a park bench and pulled out my pistol, ready to return fire.

  “Stop shooting!” Carter yelled, waving his arms at the shooters.

  Ida Belle looked over at me, clearly amused. “If you’re still inclined, there’s a couple of them that people wouldn’t miss much.”

  I shoved my pistol back in my waistband and stood. “Former occupational hazard.”

  “At least retirement hasn’t slowed your reaction time.”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t pull my weapon on the guy who shot the hat.”

  “Only one guy and you were looking at him when he drew. Doesn’t count.”

  “What happened to the turkey?”

  “He got away. The people shooting couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.”

  I felt a little guilty at how happy that made me. The part where the turkey got away. Not the part where a bunch of clearly unqualified people decided to start firing while standing in a crowd. But that was Carter’s business to sort out.

  Ida Belle and I headed over to Gertie, who had ducked down behind a dozer wheel when the shooting started, but was now creeping out, a bit unsteady. We clutched her arms, trying to help her balance.

  “Are you all right?” Ida Belle asked. “What’s your name?”

  “Depends on who you’re aski
ng,” Gertie said.

  “She’s fine,” Ida Belle said. “Probably just a good knock on the head.”

  I waved the paramedics over and pointed to Gertie. “Check her out, please.”

  A crowd of people gathered around the raised cement, trying to assess the damage. Some of the men were already arguing about the best way to repair it. Carter whistled to get everyone’s attention, then waved at them.

  “I need everyone to move away from this area and back to the playground,” he said. “It’s a holiday, people. Let’s all try to get through it without injury.”

  “What about my hat?” Celia ranted. “What about the damage to the school’s property? That woman is a drain on this community. What are you going to do about it?”

  “Well, let’s see,” Carter said. “I could cite her for chasing a turkey. No, wait, that’s what she was here for. Or maybe you’d rather I cite the turkey? Because Gertie didn’t tear up your hat, and if the turkey hadn’t run out of bounds and through the dozer, then Gertie wouldn’t have followed him. Seems to me that all this trouble comes back down to that bird.”

  Sheriff Lee stepped up beside him and nodded. “I need all available men to form a posse. I’m going to deputize the lot of you to go after that turkey. Wanted dead or alive.”

  Celia glared as everyone began chuckling. I grinned and stepped past the crowd as they began to wander away, wanting to get a closer look at the damage. The chunk of concrete that the basketball goal had lifted out of the ground was a pretty good size. At least eight feet square. As I didn’t know much about playground construction, I had no idea whether it could be repaired or if the whole shooting match had to be redone. Either way, no one was playing basketball anytime soon.

  I caught a glimpse of something pink underneath the lower edge of the cement and bent down to get a closer look. I frowned and got down on my hands and knees, then crawled under the chunk of cement.

  “Are you crazy?” Carter’s voice sounded behind me. “That could break off from the pole at any minute. Get out of there.”

 

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