by Jana DeLeon
“Hey,” she said as she sat. “This is nice.”
“It’s memory foam,” I said. “I told you I’d fix you up.”
There was only one other official seat in the airboat, and that was the one next to Ida Belle. I wasn’t about to relinquish my spot—partly because it was my boat and I shouldn’t have to, but mostly because it offered the best location for a sniper shot, and that was sorta my wheelhouse. Then there was the part where Gertie couldn’t necessarily be relied upon to remain in the seat. Not with Ida Belle driving. She was the Dale Earnhardt of the swamp.
Since the bench in the middle was almost level with the sides, it had also presented problems on the ejection-of-Gertie side of things. So for her own safety, and my sanity, I’d started insisting she ride in the bottom of the boat with her back against the bench. We’d had fewer out-of-boat incidents since then, but even perching on a life jacket, Gertie had left every boat adventure unable to sit without a cushion for a couple days.
So I’d talked to Walter and we’d found a cushion specially made for office chairs for big and tall men. Not that Gertie was big or tall, but given that people tended to bang around in the boat far more than they did an office chair, I figured the extra support would be needed and appreciated.
Gertie squirmed around a bit on the cushion, then leaned back. “Firm but also comfortable. I can’t even feel the bottom of the boat or the back of the bench.”
“Wait until I start driving,” Ida Belle said.
I untied the boat, shoved it off the bank, and jumped inside. Then I took my spot next to Ida Belle and braced myself for launch. As soon as the boat had enough clearance, Ida Belle started up the engine and we took off, the boat practically leaping out of the water. I clung to the arms of my seat as Ida Belle sent the boat sideways around a bend in the bayou, and I noticed that Gertie seemed fairly fixed in place tucked into the foam. If only I could put a racing harness on my seat without Ida Belle calling me names.
When we got to the point where the bayou dumped into a huge lake, Ida Belle cut the engine. “Okay, Gertie,” she said. “You’re up. I didn’t see any sign of Godzilla on the bayou, so where do you think we should start?”
“I didn’t see anything but the world coming at me at warp speed,” Gertie grumbled.
“But I bet your butt feels great,” I said.
“It is rather comfortable,” Gertie agreed. “I might need one of these for my recliner. It’s getting old and my butt goes to sleep when I sit in it for more than an hour.”
“You bought that recliner when you bought the house,” Ida Belle said. “It’s not old. It’s prehistoric.”
“Further discussion of recliners and butts will have to wait until another time,” I said. “Preferably a time when I’m not with you. Gertie?”
Gertie rose from the bottom of the boat and glanced around. “There’s a bit of wind today. I’ve never found him in open water when it’s choppy.”
“So one of the bayous?” I asked. There were only about six billion of them in the area. How hard could it be?
“Where did you find him last?” Ida Belle asked. “Alligators are territorial. He’s probably found one place away from town that he hangs out in.”
“That’s true,” Gertie said. “I found him a couple days ago in the bayou off Rabbit Island.”
“Sit down,” Ida Belle ordered as she fired up the boat. Gertie had barely gotten her butt back on the cushion before Ida Belle launched the boat across the lake toward Rabbit Island. It wasn’t a long trip, but we made it in probably half the time normal people would have. When we reached the opening of the bayou, Ida Belle threw the boat sideways and we slid across the top of the water, bouncing as we went across the waves, then she shot forward into the bayou and immediately cut the throttle.
It was a good thing I was holding on to my seat, because I was about one inch from pitching out of it. “Do you have to do that?” I asked.
Ida Belle grinned. “I don’t have to. I like to.”
“I’m getting a seat belt,” I said. “I don’t even care anymore if you call me a pansy.”
“You can call me a pansy all you want,” Gertie said. “As long as you don’t take the foam from me.”
“Grab the binoculars out of that bench and get to looking,” I said. “As much fun as this is, I don’t want to spend all day looking for Godzilla.”
Ida Belle nodded. “Especially when the real work comes into play once we find him.”
“Don’t remind me.” I still wasn’t completely sold on the alligator-in-the-toolshed plan.
Gertie handed Ida Belle and me binoculars from my bench stash and then opened her giant bag. Ida Belle and I gave each other worried glances, but she came out with a riflescope.
“I find this works better,” Gertie said.
“I don’t care if you use smoke signals and a magnifying glass,” I said. “Just find that gator.”
Ida Belle guided the boat slowly down the bayou, occasionally lifting her binoculars to scan the water. I moved my head back and forth, figuring the three of us probably looked as if we were at a tennis match, but nothing stirred on the surface. We continued a good mile down the channel before Gertie finally shook her head.
“I’ve never found him this far back,” she said.
“Maybe he’s still somewhere close to town,” I said.
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Ida Belle said. “I’m sure he prefers the easy meal to the one he has to acquire himself. I checked the bayou off Main Street when I picked up the sheet metal, but didn’t spot him. Walter said he’s been checking and he asks everyone who’s been out on the water, but no one has seen Godzilla since the panties-in-the-face incident.”
“Maybe one of the offshoots that wraps toward homes?” I suggested. “To Godzilla, people equal dinner. Even though they’re not all tossing them out like Gertie, sometimes they’re carrying tasty treats, like Celia with her butcher shop package.”
Gertie frowned, clearly worried. “I overheard one of the teens downtown talking about seeing a gator when they were playing in the swamp behind the park.”
“And you didn’t think to tell us?” Ida Belle said. “This is so not good. If that gator turns up anywhere around kids, someone will shoot him for sure. Everyone take your seats. We’ll head back to Sinful and cover the channels around the town.”
Ida Belle turned the boat around, and we jetted back to town. I usually tried to do a round of sit-ups before bed, but I was skipping tonight. Riding in the boat with Ida Belle driving was all the core workout I needed. On the plus side, despite her obvious worry about Godzilla, Gertie had managed to escape the day bruise-free so far. But I didn’t want to pat myself on the back for my cushion acquisition just yet. There was still daylight left.
When we hit the channel behind my house, Ida Belle slowed and we scanned the water and the bank, looking for any sign of the wayward gator. We continued all the way up to where the channel ran behind the shops on Main Street, and Ida Belle pointed to an offshoot of the main channel that headed to the right.
“I’m going to start here,” she said. “This one runs behind part of the neighborhood and the park.”
She took the turn and we continued our scan for several miles of channel, but there was no sign of the hungry gator. After thirty minutes of checking side bayous and marsh, Ida Belle finally stopped the boat and looked down at Gertie, shaking her head.
“I don’t know where else to look,” she said.
“Me either,” Gertie said. “He’s never been this hard to find.” Her eyes widened. “You don’t think someone’s got him already, do you?”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Ida Belle said, although I could tell by her worried look that’s exactly what she’d been thinking. “Maybe all the recent excitement was too much for him and he’s lying low for a while.
“Or maybe he’s full,” I suggested. “How often do alligators eat?”
“They don’t have to eat often,” Ida Belle
said.
“I’ve heard they can go years without eating at all,” Gertie said. “By living on their fat stores.”
“If that worked for people, there’s some I know that could live into the next life,” I said.
“Sadly for us mere mortals,” Ida Belle said, “I don’t think it works that way. But the food point is a good one. Given the number of easy meals he’s acquired lately and with all the noise surrounding those meals, he might have made himself scarce.”
“I’m guessing that if an alligator doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be,” I said.
“In these swamps?” Ida Belle said. “We’ve had people disappear in these bayous for years, then pop back up just when everyone figured they’d moved or died. If people can stay off radar that long, then I’m certain a gator can, especially if that’s his goal.”
I blew out a breath. I knew Ida Belle was as worried about Gertie as I was. Despite the fact that it was completely ludicrous, the reality was Gertie had formed an attachment to Godzilla and she would take it hard if something happened to the gator. Mostly because she’d blame herself for creating the situation in the first place by feeding him. It had probably seemed harmless to toss him some bait while fishing, but then the poacher had shown up, and things had escalated to where we were now.
Unintended consequences. The story of my life.
“Let’s head home,” I said. “We’ll all feel better after a shower.”
“Not to mention sitting in a non-moving chair for a bit,” Ida Belle said. “My butt is going numb.”
Gertie just nodded. I could tell she was disappointed, but at this point, there wasn’t anything else we could do. We could spend the rest of our lives roaming the bayous and Godzilla could spend the rest of our lives dodging us. There were too many places for him to hide, especially when one of them included under the murky water.
We had just cruised past Main Street when Ida Belle tapped my arm and pointed up the bayou. I picked up my binoculars and focused on a boat in the distance, but it only took a glance to zero in on Celia’s bad haircut and tacky pink outfit.
“I’d know that polyester anywhere,” Ida Belle said.
“And that old lady hair,” Gertie said. “Celia and Dorothy.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “We’ve been out here for hours and haven’t so much as caught a glimpse of Godzilla. No way they found him.”
“Not on purpose,” Gertie said. “But Celia could have called in a favor.”
“A favor from whom?” I asked.
“Satan,” Gertie said. “You know they’re in cahoots.”
“Isn’t that a rather harsh statement for a Southern Baptist?” I asked.
“The alternative would be lying,” Gertie said. “I figure that’s worse.”
“Stop your truth-telling and look,” Ida Belle said. “They’re up to something, because no way Celia would be standing in a boat otherwise. What’s she got in her hand?”
I lifted my binoculars and zeroed in on Celia’s clenched fist, then watched as she flung whatever she held across the bayou. I shifted in the direction of the toss and my heart dropped when I saw the alligator moving toward whatever she’d just tossed in the water.
“It’s Godzilla!” Gertie said. “Go! Go! She’s killing him!”
Chapter Seven
Ida Belle grabbed a handful of throttle and we launched toward Dorothy’s boat at breakneck speed. As the boat grew larger and larger in my blurred vision, I kept thinking surely Ida Belle was going to cut the throttle, but she kept barreling at them as if she intended to run the other boat right over. For a split second I thought about bailing, but in the time it took to consider it, we’d covered so much distance it was too late.
Then Ida Belle swung the boat sideways and it dug into the bayou as it tilted, throwing a blanket of water over Celia and Dorothy. I heard them scream and looked over at the two drenched women. Both were furious.
“I’ll have you arrested,” Celia ranted at Ida Belle. “You could have killed us.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Ida Belle said. “If I wanted to kill you, I’d shoot you. I wouldn’t tear up a perfectly good boat to do it.”
Gertie, who’d finally discovered the grip breaking point for the cushion, picked herself up from the bottom of the boat and glared at Celia.
“You’re trying to kill Godzilla!” she yelled.
“Darn right I am,” Celia said. “That alligator is a menace and so are you. Unfortunately, I can only get away with killing one of you.”
“Bring it on,” Gertie said. “It would give me a reason to put you down.”
I held my hands up. “Now, let’s everybody calm down.”
I didn’t think for a moment that Celia could actually kill Gertie. Not with her bare hands, but there was that rumor about her buying a gun, and I had a lot of concern about what Gertie had in that huge duffel bag of hers. If Celia pulled a gun out, I had no doubt we’d find out.
“Don’t you open your mouth, you harlot,” Celia said. “Cavorting with the police like a cheap floozy. We all know that’s why you’re not in jail, but I’ve filed my complaints with the state, and when they investigate, you and Carter will both go down.”
“Last time I checked,” I said, “dating wasn’t illegal.” I looked over at Ida Belle. “Is it?”
“Not really,” Ida Belle said. “There’s some rules about the lunar eclipse and triple-X tides that come with a full moon, but since Carter’s not a shrimper, you’re good.”
“No one cares!” Celia yelled, her face beet red. She reached down and grabbed something nasty-looking from a bucket and flung it out in the bayou. Godzilla had wisely disappeared, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t lurking beneath the surface.
“You hateful bitch!” Gertie yelled and pulled what looked like a bazooka out of the bag.
Holy crap! While Ida Belle and I were busy arguing with Celia, Gertie had opened the bag of doom and the end days were upon us.
Dorothy took one look at the giant cannon-looking device and twisted the throttle on her ancient boat. I leaped off my seat to tackle Gertie, but she managed to get off a shot. I grabbed her shoulder, and we both went down in the bottom of the boat. I heard screaming and jumped up to look, figuring at least they weren’t dead.
Yet.
A wave of relief washed over me when I saw that the bazooka was a net gun. And Gertie’s shot had been a direct hit. The net had landed right on top of Celia and Dorothy, and now they flailed around in the boat, trying to get it off them as the boat turned and faced our direction.
“Something’s wrong,” Ida Belle said. “The boat is still moving even though Dorothy’s not touching the motor. The throttle’s stuck. Hold on!”
Ida Belle gunned the engine and we shot away, Dorothy’s boat scraping the side of mine as it flew past. The net draped over them had hooked on the side of the boat and was probably the only thing preventing them from pitching out into the bayou.
“Look out!” Ida Belle shouted and pointed at the bank.
Dorothy looked up and then grabbed for the motor, but it was too late. The boat hit the bank and flew up the grassy incline as if it were simply another bayou channel. A thick row of azalea bushes completely hid the backyard of the house, but the boat didn’t even appear to slow as it plowed through the bushes and continued into the yard. Gertie glanced at the torn bushes, then looked skyward, and I figured she was either praying no one was in the backyard, as I was, or that Celia had died of a heart attack. I was betting on the second option.
The two women had screamed the entire ride up the grassy slope but now, more voices joined the fray. So much for hoping no one was in the yard. An occasional “floozy” and “sleaze” drifted our way but the rest of the conversation was too garbled to make out. I could only assume that Celia was up there blaming the entire incident on me.
“We should call 911 and then get out of here before someone calls the sheriff,” I said.
Ida Belle pointed down
the bayou. “Too late.”
I looked over to see Carter approaching in the sheriff’s department boat. Crap. No way we were getting out of this one.
Ida Belle motioned to Gertie. “For Christ’s sake, put that hand cannon down. And where the heck did you get that thing?”
“eBay,” Gertie said. “You can get all kinds of things on eBay. The same guy that made this one also makes one that shoots six-foot subs.”
I tried to come up with a good reason for launching a sandwich into the air but short of a stadium full of hungry people who couldn’t move, I couldn’t come up with anything.
“You better start working up a story,” I said. “You’ve got about two seconds.”
“I don’t need a story,” Gertie said. “Celia deserves whatever she got and so does Dorothy for helping her.”
“But whoever was in that backyard didn’t,” Ida Belle said. “And you’re on the hook for it unless you come up with some reasonable story about why you fired a net on them.”
I slouched back in my chair as Carter approached. I didn’t need binoculars to know he was frowning. I knew this entire situation with the alligator wasn’t going to be trouble-free, but I’d hoped to stay off law enforcement radar for a couple of hours. I figured the next call was going to be from my neighbor Ronald, reporting a monster in my shed. Instead, it was round four million eighty-two of the Gertie and Ida Belle Versus Celia Chronicles.
If their feud kept affecting other people, the Sinful City Council was going to write some new laws. Probably starting with forcing them all to either leave town or make a schedule for leaving their homes so their paths never crossed. Although now that I thought about it, Sinful residents did seem to enjoy the entertainment value. Maybe not seeing Celia’s butt, but in a perverse way, I could see where people might find some things hilarious. If I weren’t smack in the middle of them, I would still be laughing.
Carter slowed his boat as he approached and pointed a finger at us. “Don’t move. I’m going to want to talk to you.”