Change of Fortune

by Jana DeLeon

  We climbed out of the SUV and headed up the porch. The paint was showing some wear in a couple places but there were no signs of rotted wood, and the grayish-blue paint color looked good against the green backdrop of the swamp. Ida Belle knocked on the door and we waited for a bit, but there was no noise inside.

  “Best give it a second round,” she said, and this time, she pounded on the door like the police. “Anyone home?”

  We waited again, but still heard nothing.

  “Either they’re not home or they’re passed out drunk,” Gertie said.

  “This is my territory,” I said. “Ida Belle, you’re the breacher. Unlock the door and push it open, but stand aside. I’ll enter and head for the nearest doorway to clear the room; you follow and clear the next doorway. Gertie, you back up Ida Belle. Continue until every room is clear.”

  Gertie raised an eyebrow. “One might think you did this for a living.”

  “Occasionally,” I said. “If anyone spots a person, yell for backup and attempt to wake them, but not before checking for a weapon on nightstands or other places where they’re easy to secure. Ready?”

  Ida Belle nodded and stuck the key in the door. I pulled my pistol from my waist and got in the ready position. I glanced back and saw Gertie remove a Desert Eagle from her purse. “Absolutely not,” I said. “That thing would blow out an entire wall of this place. Pick something smaller.”

  She sighed but put the cannon back in her purse and pulled out a nine-millimeter. “Boring enough?” she asked.

  Ida Belle shook her head and turned the key, then she pushed the door open and I stepped inside, casing the room in a second. It was one large room with the living area in front and a kitchen along the back wall. A doorway to the right was the closest, so I headed that direction, stopping at the edge of the doorway to listen. Ida Belle had entered directly behind me and was mimicking my actions at a doorway on the opposite wall.

  I didn’t hear breathing inside, so I stepped around the corner, but it only took a second to ensure the tiny bedroom was clear. I headed out of the room and for the interior doorway on the back wall. I could see a pedestal sink, so I’d already figured it was the bathroom, and I was right. Ida Belle came out the other doorway, Gertie right behind her.

  “This bedroom’s clear,” Ida Belle said. “I mean, it’s filthy, but no one’s inside.”

  “Same with the other bedroom,” I said, “and you don’t even want to look in the bathroom. Shorty might need to burn the place down and collect on insurance.”

  “As much as it pains me to do,” Ida Belle said, “let’s look in the refrigerator and get the hell out of here before we catch something.”

  Gertie headed for the kitchen and pulled open the top and bottom of the refrigerator. “Nothing in here but beer and moldy cheese.”

  “Would they have a deep freeze?” I asked. “I thought everyone in Sinful had frozen seafood somewhere in their house.”

  “Maybe on the back porch,” Ida Belle said. “There’s not really room for one in here.”

  We headed out the back door and onto the screened porch. Sure enough, there was a small deep freeze close to the door. I lifted it and stared inside in dismay. “This thing is packed.”

  “Start unloading it then,” Gertie said. “The bacon boxes could be in there.”

  I started lifting out milk cartons with frozen shrimp and fish and stacking them on a table near the freezer. “At least they dated this stuff,” I said.

  “You plan on coming over for dinner?” Ida Belle asked.

  “No. I just meant maybe they’re not completely stupid.”

  “Oh, no one ever said they were stupid,” Gertie said. “Just mannerless, shiftless, and lazy. They were both actually quite clever in school. Unfortunately, they tended to use that skill to steal from other students rather than apply it to their classwork.”

  “Should I even ask what they do for employment?” I asked.

  “Last I heard, Zit was still working a commercial shrimp boat,” Gertie said. “As a hand, mind you. He doesn’t own it. And Poot works road construction when he bothers to work. The rent’s not high, so my guess is they’re working mostly for gas and beer money.”

  “Well, they’re not scamming frozen goods from the café via Clarissa,” I said as I pulled the last package of fish from the freezer. “No bacon, pot roast, or chickens.”

  “Maybe they already ate it,” Gertie said.

  “Two boxes of bacon?” Ida Belle asked. “Unless they were hosting a breakfast gathering every day, I don’t see how.”

  “They could have used it as bait,” Gertie said.

  “That’s true,” Ida Belle said. “But that’s still a lot to go through in a short amount of time, even as bait. Besides, I checked the trash at the side of the house while you two were emptying the freezer and there are no boxes or anything else to indicate the bacon was ever here.”

  “Then maybe Clarissa isn’t our thief,” I said. “Bummer. She seemed perfect. Guess we better get this put up and get out of here before someone returns home.”

  It had been one of the least dramatic investigative outings we’d ever had, and I was anxious to keep it that way. Gertie started feeding me the packages and I attempted to arrange them all somewhat as they were when I’d taken them out. We were down to our last ten packages when I heard the gunshot.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I dropped to the ground and yelled at Gertie and Ida Belle to take a dive, but by the time I got the words out, they were already flat on the deck with me. “Where did it come from?” I asked.

  “The bayou,” Ida Belle said as a second rifle shot ripped through side of the porch and lodged in the wall next to the freezer.

  The porch was walled halfway up and screened on the top, but the wall was nothing more than a thin sheet of plywood. It was no protection from serious fire. We needed to get clear, but the door into the cabin was located directly behind the screen door off the porch, which meant exposing ourselves in order to get away. Three people crawling against the speed of a rifle shot wasn’t very good odds.

  I tucked behind an ice chest and inched up to peer over the half wall and spotted the Lowery brothers about twenty yards away in their bass boat. The one with the shaved head fit the description Gertie had given me on the way over of Zit. That meant the one with the New Orleans Saints hat and the rifle must be Poot.

  “Did you hit ’em?” Zit asked. “They’re stealing our fish. Make sure you hit ’em.”

  “Stop shooting!” Ida Belle yelled. “Shorty gave us permission to look at the property. We have a key.”

  “Shorty gave you permission to steal our food?” Zit yelled back. “I don’t think so.”

  “They’re never going to buy that,” I said.

  “We have to do something,” Gertie said. “We’re sitting ducks.”

  I pulled out my pistol and looked over at Ida Belle. “You’re closest to the door. I’ll draw them off with gunfire, and you make a dash for it and get the SUV running. Gertie and I will follow.”

  Ida Belle nodded and I popped up from behind the cooler, narrowed in on the brothers, and squeezed off three rounds in the water surrounding them. Ida Belle scrambled through the door and into the cabin. Poot did exactly what I’d expected and dropped into the bottom of the boat. Unfortunately, Zit was either drunk or feeling invincible. He bent over and came up with a pistol.

  “Crap,” I said. “Zit’s got a pistol. Get ready to run.”

  “I got this,” Gertie said, and pushed herself up on her hands and knees. “I’ll lob a flare in their boat. That will keep them busy.”

  Before I could respond, she positioned a gun around the edge of the screen door and leaned over to fire. I got a glance at the gun and panicked.

  “Wait!” I yelled. “That’s not a flare gun.”

  The Desert Eagle sounded like a cannon when it fired. The recoil sent Gertie rolling over on her side. I bolted up, grabbed her shirt collar and the gun, and hauled b
utt inside the cabin.

  “Keep going,” I told Gertie, and I stopped on the back side of the kitchen wall and peered around. I could hear two voices yelling and hoped it was angry yelling and not “call 911” yelling. I let out a breath of relief when I saw both brothers standing in the boat, neither showing the signs that they’d taken a .50 cal bullet.

  Unfortunately, their boat hadn’t fared as well. It was tipped to one side and sinking fast. They weren’t far from the bank, so I had no reason to think they were in danger, therefore I did what any rational human being would do in that situation.

  I ran.

  I didn’t even get the passenger door shut before Ida Belle stomped her foot on the accelerator and sent the SUV flying backward. She slammed on her brakes as quickly as she’d stomped the gas, turned the wheel, and launched the vehicle back down the trail, sending a shower of dirt a good ten feet behind us.

  “What happened?” Ida Belle asked.

  “Pandora’s purse happened,” I said.

  Ida Belle glanced at Gertie in her rearview mirror. “You didn’t set off dynamite again, did you?”

  “What?” Gertie yelled.

  “She’s deaf from the blast,” I said. “Rambo decided to launch a flare into the brothers’ boat, except she fired the Desert Eagle instead.” I held up the gun.

  “How did you get my gun?” Gertie yelled.

  I slumped in my seat and put the gun on the floorboard. Ida Belle glanced back again and shook her head. “I swear to God, woman, you are going to kill us all one day. You have to get new glasses.”

  “That’s right!” Gertie yelled. “I saved your asses.”

  “I’m going to kill her in her sleep,” Ida Belle said. “Before she takes the two of us with her.”

  “I don’t think you’re going to have to,” I said, and pointed to the vehicle that was coming straight at us. “Just turn her over to Carter.”

  Ida Belle groaned. “This is the last thing we need.”

  “Not the absolute last,” I said, “but it ranks right up there.”

  Ida Belle slowed until she was a couple feet in front of Carter’s truck, then stopped. When neither Ida Belle nor I moved, Carter climbed out of his truck and headed for Ida Belle’s door. She pressed the button to lower the window.

  “Send Carter to arrest those fools!” Gertie yelled.

  Carter raised an eyebrow, then looked at Ida Belle and me. “When someone reported an explosion, I knew it was you.”

  “That’s just playing the odds,” Ida Belle said.

  Gertie nodded. “Whole place has gone to the dogs!”

  “Based on the guilty looks two of you are wearing,” Carter said, “it would seem the odds are correct. And since the defiant one is apparently deaf, I’m going to assume she’s the perp.”

  “You’re not having to work very hard for this at all,” Ida Belle said. “Here’s what happened—a friend of mine is interested in buying Shorty’s cabin. He’s been renting it to the Lowery brothers but gave me a key and said it was all right for us to check it out. We knocked, no one was home, so we looked around. When we were standing on the back porch, the Lowery brothers arrived by boat and thought we were robbing them and started firing.”

  “Makes sense so far,” Carter said. “Get to the part about explosives. Do I have to tell Shorty you blew up his cabin?”

  “No,” Ida Belle said. “You have to tell the Lowery brothers you don’t know who sank their boat. Otherwise, they’ll come after Gertie.”

  His eyes widened. “She threw dynamite at them?”

  “No. Of course not,” Ida Belle said. “Fortune returned fire—in the water only—to get Poot to stop firing long enough for us to get the heck out of there. I got out and Gertie was supposed to go next.”

  “So why didn’t she?” he asked.

  Ida Belle motioned to me. “This is where Fortune has to take over. I ran for the SUV to prepare for the getaway.”

  I sighed. “Poot stopped firing but Zit took it upon himself to pull a pistol and help out. Gertie decided she was going to provide me cover and fire what she thought was a flare at their boat.”

  “I take it the gun in question wasn’t a flare gun?”

  I lifted the Desert Eagle from the floorboard and passed it to him through the window. “We’re all safer if you collect it as evidence,” I said.

  “It’s a beauty, right?” Gertie yelled.

  He looked at the gun, then at Gertie, then at me. “You knew she was carrying this and you let her in the vehicle with you?”

  “We didn’t know she had it,” I said. “I mean, not exactly.”

  “We don’t search her purse every time we go somewhere with her,” Ida Belle said.

  “Why the hell not?” Carter asked.

  “Plausible deniability?” I said.

  “What does it say about all of us that what you just said makes perfect sense?” Carter asked.

  “That we’re all intelligent,” Ida Belle said, “and somewhat afraid of Gertie’s purse.”

  “Did the brothers get a good look at you?” Carter asked.

  “Through the tree limbs and the screen…I doubt it,” I said.

  “Good. Okay, I’m going to keep the gun for now,” Carter said. “And I’ll figure out something to tell the Lowerys, but I suggest you call Shorty and ask him to keep your names to himself. He can always claim an out-of-town buyer that he didn’t know.” He stared at us for several seconds. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why you were really there?”

  “See,” Ida Belle said. “Intelligent.”

  He shook his head. “Let me back up so you can get out of here before someone sees you. And I highly suggest you make Gertie carry a wallet only.”

  “Wouldn’t help,” I said. “She has this whole padded bra thing going on.”

  He held up his hand. “That is all stuff I never need to know.” He turned around and headed back to his truck.

  “Where’s he taking my gun?” Gertie yelled.

  “Hopefully to the smelter,” Ida Belle said.

  “To the homeless shelter?” Gertie yelled. “What the hell for?”

  I grinned. It was hard not to.

  The great food caper had spent the pent-up energy I had acquired that afternoon, so we decided to call it quits for the day. I tried to limit being shot at to once in a twenty-four-hour period. That was harder than it should have been in Sinful, but I’d sorta come to expect it. When we got back to my house, we had some cobbler and discussed the remaining suspects on the food theft. Well, Ida Belle and I discussed it. Gertie continued to misunderstand everything and yell about Carter not returning her gun.

  I agreed with Ida Belle that Marco was probably the next best suspect. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a clever way to access his kitchen so unless we resorted to breaking and entering, we had to figure out another way to check him out. Finally, we’d settled on going through his trash to see if he’d discarded the bacon boxes in there. Trash pickup was the next morning, so tonight was our only chance. Marco’s house was one block over from Ida Belle’s so I told her I’d meet her there at midnight. That gave me time to have dinner with Carter and bring him up to date on what I wanted him to know about the takedown. He was grilling at his house, so I’d just claim being tired as an excuse to cut out for my place. It probably wouldn’t be a lie. I had a feeling this entire day was going to catch up with me at some point.

  “See you at midnight,” Ida Belle said as she and Gertie walked out.

  “The sun is shining,” Gertie yelled. “That’s not moonlight.” She shook her head and stepped off the porch.

  “If her hearing isn’t back to normal by tonight,” Ida Belle said, “she’s not invited.”

  I nodded. “Probably a good idea. It’s hard to be sneaky with someone yelling.”

  I gave them a wave and headed back inside. I only had an hour to kill until I headed over to Carter’s house, and I could spend part of that with a long, hot shower. I decided to spend
the rest of it giving the kitchen a good cleaning and throwing on some laundry. I’d never had a big wardrobe at all and had even less to speak of in Sinful. Combine that with the frequent need to change outfits more than once a day and it easily led to a clean clothes crisis.

  What I needed to do was order some more stuff. It wasn’t as if I was shopping for evening gowns. Yoga pants and T-shirts were easy enough to get in bulk and didn’t require trying on. You just got more of what you already had in different colors. And Walter was happy to order anything I wanted that he had access to, which was great because I preferred to give my business to locals. But every time I’d sat down with my laptop to put together an order list, something stopped me.

  At first I thought it was because my mind wasn’t really made up about staying in Sinful, and maybe that was the case. But now I think I was avoiding it because I was afraid something would go wrong and I wouldn’t be able to stay in Sinful even though I wanted to. I don’t know why it mattered. I would need clothes wherever I went, but somehow, the thought of packing up a bunch of garments meant to wear here seemed more depressing than packing up the stuff I’d worn a bunch of times. It was a stupid, sentimental, completely girlie sort of thought, and I blamed Sinful for all of it.

  I threw a load of clothes in to wash and turned on the dishwasher, then stared at my laptop. To heck with it. I sat down at the kitchen table and put together a list of tanks, tees, shorts, yoga pants, and socks and sent the whole list to Walter, asking him to process it whenever he had time. It would probably take a week or better for him to get it in. This was my leap of faith. I was placing that order determined to be here to collect and wear every single item in the mix.

  I closed my laptop, ready to head upstairs for my shower, and heard yelling outside. Worried that Godzilla had come back and chased someone into my yard, I pulled my pistol out of my waistband and ran out the back door. At first I didn’t see anything, but then the yelling started again and I realized I’d been looking too high.

  All the noise was coming from the cage. But it wasn’t Godzilla in it. It looked like…well, a zebra.