by Jana DeLeon
“Anyway,” I interrupted. “What’s the plan? It’s not like we can stroll in without someone knowing who we are. Not anymore. That whole mess with the poacher that went down at the Swamp Bar was big news and you two were the main witnesses.”
“But no one knows you were there,” Gertie said, “so you weren’t in the news or the local gossip.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m just going to throw out a guess that announcing on Main Street that I’m a former CIA agent who just relocated permanently to Sinful has probably made the rounds.”
“That’s true,” Ida Belle said. “It was an unfortunate loss of cover, but it was bound to happen when Fortune made her home here. Not only will she not be able to fool men into talking to her, it’s highly likely that most of them will be afraid of her.”
Gertie threw her hands in the air. “So what is the point then? If no one will talk to any of us, this whole thing is a waste of time.”
“Maybe not,” Ida Belle said. “Hooch wasn’t well liked. That might be enough to get some gums flapping.”
“Look,” I said. “Maybe we’ll get nothing here. I say we go inside and check the temperature of the room. If someone appears open to talking, then we try them out. If no one does, then we make our exit and figure out another way to get the scoop on Marks.”
“That’s a sound plan,” Gertie said. “I baked a coffee cake today, so worse case we go back to Fortune’s early and have shots of whiskey and coffee cake.”
“I’m voting for shots of whiskey and coffee cake regardless of outcome,” I said.
“Me too,” Ida Belle said as she pulled into the parking lot.
As per usual, she parked at the end and backed in, just in case we had to flee in a hurry. That had sorta been our standard fare.
“Looks busy,” Gertie said.
“Only bar in town,” Ida Belle said. “When is it not?”
I climbed out of the SUV and took a long look at the building that was my nemesis before starting across the parking lot. Gertie was practically skipping. I had the fleeting thought that she should probably conserve her energy for the exit but decided that I was going to think positive and this time, we were not going to have to flee.
The music blared out of the bar and into the parking lot and I sighed as we walked up the rickety wooden steps and headed for the front door. Live band. With music that loud, there was no way we’d be able to have a conversation. We’d be lucky to leave there without partial deafness. I pulled open the door and stepped inside. Smoke left a haze in the entire building and I felt my eyes water a bit.
I glanced around and spotted a couple open stools at the bar, so I headed that direction. Couples usually occupied the tables. Singles were at the bar and that was where we would be more likely to find someone drunk enough to talk. I slid onto the stool and motioned for Gertie to take the one next to me.
She shook her head and leaned close to me. “I see my plumber over at the dartboards. I’m going to say hi and see if he’ll talk.”
“Do not play darts,” I said.
“I can’t,” Gertie said. “I’m banned for life from the dartboard, remember?” She hurried off for the darts area and I shook my head.
Oh, I remembered. All too well. I just hoped Gertie respected the ban and kept her paws off the darts. The last time she’d handled them, she’d almost caused a riot and had narrowly escaped by stealing a boat.
“I’m going to take a lap,” Ida Belle said. “See if I can spot Ricky anywhere.”
I gave her a nod and she headed off into the crowd. I pulled my cell phone out of my pants pocket and shoved it in my sports bra. It was easier to feel it vibrating there, especially when the stool was shaking from the loud music. I was just about to pray for a power outage when the song ended and the lead singer announced they’d be taking a short break. He stepped off the stage and the jukebox fired up, but it wasn’t half the volume of the band.
I was scanning my options at the front of the bar when I heard someone call my name. I looked over behind the bar and saw one of the bar owners, Whiskey, give me a nod.
“Beer?” he asked.
“Please. I’m sorta surprised to see you here.”
He nodded and pushed the beer over to me. “I got lucky. Cut a deal with the DA for testimony. I have to pay a steep fine for the poaching and I got a couple years’ probation, but it was a lot better than what I’d hoped for.”
“I’m glad,” I said. Whiskey had gotten caught up in a poaching-murder case back in the summer and had almost taken a bullet. Unfortunately, while he hadn’t been the perp of the major offense, he was guilty of some lesser crimes.
“Carter put in a good word for me,” he said.
“Really?” That was somewhat surprising. Carter was all about right and wrong, to the point of things being almost black and white.
“My dad’s pretty sick,” he said. “Cancer. He doesn’t have very long.”
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “Carter’s mom volunteers at the church to deliver meals to people who can’t get out or do for themselves, so I figure he found out from her. Never said anything to me, but the DA told me the judge had gone easier on me because of a conversation she’d had with the arresting deputy. I tried to thank him, but he pretended he didn’t know what I was talking about.”
“That sounds like Carter. While we’re handing out thanks, I need to thank you again for not ratting me out for being here.”
He smiled. “At first, I thought maybe you had warrants out and were looking at jail time. Then I heard you and Carter had a thing, so I thought you were trying to avoid relationship problems. Can’t have a criminal and a cop together. Doesn’t work out too good for the cop, you know?”
“Probably not.”
He leaned over the bar. “But then I heard you were actually CIA. That true?”
“Former. I’m retired now, unemployed, and a new Sinful resident.”
“So were you down here undercover, on some secret mission or something like that?”
“Something like that.”
He nodded. “You can’t talk about it. I get it. That’s badass. But then I find myself wondering what you’re doing in my bar. Because let’s face it, you and your lady friends usually bring trouble with you.”
“Or we’re here because this is where trouble hangs out.”
He smiled. “Maybe.”
“The truth? We’re trying to figure out who killed Hooch.”
“Why? Shit, Hooch ain’t the kind of guy anyone is crying over.”
“Probably not, but my friend Ally is a suspect and she’s being harassed by some anonymous douchebag cowards who like to throw rocks through windows.”
He frowned. “The cute little waitress from Francine’s?”
I nodded.
“Well, hell, that’s ridiculous. Even if she had a reason to kill Hooch, that girl is about as dangerous as a box of kittens.”
“Yeah, but you know what this town is like. If Carter doesn’t figure out who killed Hooch, then Ally will keep getting harassed.”
“People suck.”
“We’re in agreement there. So anyway, we know Hooch hung out here, so we thought we’d come and see what the talk was. Assuming anyone will talk.”
“Anyone in particular you looking at?”
“We don’t have any reason to suspect anyone, but I was wondering about Ricky Marks. No one seems to know much about him, but we heard he hangs out here some.”
Whiskey nodded. “Yeah, he’s in here fairly regular, or at least, he was.”
“When was the last time he was here?”
“The night before the fishing rodeo.” Whiskey looked around and leaned across the bar. “He’s been in here steady since he came to town. I’ve tried to talk to him a time or two, but he never said much about himself. Then lately, he had questions, and you know how questions in a bar go.”
“Makes the patrons suspicious.”
“You got it.”
&n
bsp; “What was he asking about?”
“Not what. Who—Hooch.”
“Really? That’s interesting. Did he ever let on to why he was asking?”
He shook his head. “I asked once, and he made some noise about thinking he recognized him from a job in New Orleans, but he was lying. Hell, Hooch don’t work here. No way he’s going to drive all the way to New Orleans to piss people off with his lousy work ethic.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t sound very likely.”
“No, it doesn’t. And I’ll tell you something else. That night—the night before the rodeo—Ricky got into an argument with Hooch.”
“Had he ever talked to him before that night?”
“Not that I’d seen.”
“What was the argument about?”
“I have no idea. He said something to Hooch and they went outside. I was curious so I walked up front and looked out the window. They was arguing something fierce. Hooch’s face was all red and he was almost shaking. Ricky looked mad as hell.”
“You couldn’t hear them?”
“No. Window was closed and the jukebox was going. I started to step outside but then I figured I was probably better off not knowing. Sometimes knowing is a liability you don’t need.”
I nodded. “Did you see them leave?”
“Hooch pointed at the kid and said something, then stomped across the parking lot and tore out of here like he was on fire.”
“What did Ricky do?”
“Punched the No Swimming sign on the dock. Sign’s made of metal so it made out better than Ricky. He jumped around a bit and I figured he was cussing, then he got in his truck and left. Haven’t seen him since. You think he did it?”
“I have no idea, but it sure looks like he had a problem with Hooch.”
“Yeah, him and a bunch of other people. Wasn’t no shortage of people wanting to take a poke at him. That fishing broad he’s been seeing cracked him with a beer bottle a couple weeks ago.”
“Dixie? Not Dixie?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“Hooch and Dixie were…dating?” I had to force myself to say the last word.
He shrugged. “Don’t know if it was official, but they came in here together some and based on their behavior, whatever it was went beyond fishing buddies.”
“Fascinating. I wonder why she hit him.”
“My experience, women get mad over a lot of things, but they only get violent over one of them. Another woman.”
Which would fit with what Margarita said about Hooch being a serial cheater. “Hey, I don’t suppose Hooch ever mentioned coming into money, did he?”
“Hooch? Money?” He laughed. “Half the time he was in here, he hit somebody up to cover his beer. Hooch drank away money as quick as he got his hands on it. Hey, it was nice talking to you but I better go serve the natives before they get restless. The beer’s on the house.”
“Thanks,” I said as he walked off to handle two impatient-looking men at the other end of the bar. I glanced around and saw Ida Belle next to the bandstand talking to a large gentleman wearing overalls and no shirt. Both of them appeared relaxed so I assumed things were going as she wanted. I spotted Gertie hovering at the edge of the darts area, but her hands were empty so I didn’t have to worry. Not yet, anyway.
I scanned the rest of the bar. Most of them I’d seen at some point in time, but I didn’t really know any of them. Not well enough to plop down and strike up a conversation anyway. And then I spotted a lone figure sitting in the corner.
Dixie.
Granted, we’d never officially met, but women had that whole bonding thing over crappy men. At least, that’s what I kept seeing on television, so it must be right. I grabbed my beer and threaded myself through the crowd until I reached her table.
“You mind?” I asked and pointed to the empty chair next to her.
She glanced up at me and scowled. “What do you want?”
I took that as permission to sit and dropped into the seat next to her. “Just looking for a spot away from the general maleness of the room.”
“Then you better try your house, because men aren’t going to ignore you just because you’re sitting in the corner with me.”
I studied her, a bit confused, because I was certain she didn’t know me. But she’d delivered that statement with a lot of anger that I could probably warrant if she gave me a minute or two but hadn’t warranted yet.
“I’m Fortune,” I said and stuck out my hand. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
She glanced at my hand but didn’t make a move to shake it. “I’m sure we haven’t.”
“I’m sorry, but have I done something to offend you?”
She sighed. “All you Barbie bitches are alike. You go out to a bar full of men then complain when they hit on you. What are you expecting?”
I retracted my hand before I used it to throat-punch her. “Barbie? I assure you there is nothing about me that warrants the title of Barbie. I’ll allow the bitch part.”
“Blond hair, blue eyes, probably live on lettuce and air. Definitely a Barbie.”
“Not unless they make Lethal Barbie. Out of curiosity, is your problem with me or with men looking at me?”
“Look, I don’t even know you, but with women like you around, women like me don’t get a second look. So I guess my problem is with both of you, although I suppose you can’t help the way you look.” She gave me an up and down assessment. “And you sure didn’t go out of your way to look hot.”
It was an accurate statement, but somehow, she managed to make it sound like an insult. But since I wanted information, I figured I’d let it slide. “Maybe because I just wanted a beer and didn’t feel like sitting alone at home.”
She stared at me for a moment, a little suspicious, but finally, curiosity won out. “Man trouble?”
“What other kind is there? You?”
“Nah. My man trouble is all over.”
“That’s good. What did he do?”
“He died.”
I stared at her, attempting to feign surprise. “Oh! I’m so sorry. Wait, you don’t mean that fisherman guy, do you?”
She nodded. “Hooch.”
“But I thought he was your competition. I mean, that’s what I heard people say anyway.”
“When it comes to competitive fishing, even Jesus would be my competition, although I wouldn’t expect to beat him. I’m in it to win and to win every time. But you can’t spend all your time fishing.”
“No. I guess not. I’m just a little surprised. I didn’t know Hooch well, but what I did know didn’t portray him as highly desirable. I guess I have to wonder what you saw in him.”
I knew it was possible that my question would make her mad, but I couldn’t help asking.
“It’s easy for you to say something like that,” she said. “You could have your choice of any man in Sinful. But a woman like me…our options are somewhat limited. Hooch wasn’t a good catch—and I would know—but he was someone to pass some time with. And we could talk about fishing. Like you said, it was better than sitting in my house alone.”
I studied Dixie as she spoke. She’d attempted to sound nonchalant—almost businesslike with her delivery—but her voice had broken just a tiny bit on the last sentence. She’d cared more for Hooch than she was letting on.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said.
She shrugged. “He was already a loss before he died. I’d ended it a couple weeks before.”
“Can I ask why?”
“Same reason as always.”
“Another woman.” I made it a statement rather than a question.
She looked over at me and nodded. “You too, huh? I guess the leopard really doesn’t change his spots. I’d been warned, but I chose to ignore it. I got him back, though.”
“You cheated on him?”
“No. Better. I took his fishing spot in the rodeo. He’d already baited it with fish he’d caught the week before. Thought he was going to scr
ew me in the bed and out of it. But I showed him.”
“I bet he was fit to be tied,” I said, now understanding why Hooch had been so mad when he confronted Dixie on the lake. “Did you know her? The other woman? I mean, it sucks no matter what, but when you know them, it’s worse.”
“Nah. Hooch never dipped his wick in the same pool at the same time. He did all his catting around in New Orleans. I don’t know who she was, but I caught him on the phone with her. He addressed her as Andy, but it was a woman’s voice. Probably some perky twentysomething with daddy issues.”
“Looking for a paycheck, probably.”
She snorted. “Well, she was looking in the wrong place. Among his many other admirable traits, Hooch was lazy and spent a dime if he had a nickel.” She rose from her chair and looked down at me. “I think I’ve had enough socializing for one evening. Good luck with your situation.”
I thanked her but she had already started walking away. An interesting woman. And an angry one. So Hooch had cheated on her and she’d clocked him over the head with a beer bottle and stolen his fish. The question was, had that been enough? Or had she taken things to a whole different level?
As Dixie disappeared into the crowd, Ida Belle appeared in front of the table. She slid into the chair that Dixie had vacated. “You get anything?”
“Plenty. If I knew what any of it ultimately meant, life would be grand. What about you?”
She nodded. “We’ll compare notes when we leave, which we should probably consider doing soon. So far, nothing bad has happened, and I’d really like to get out of here before it does.”
“I am all for that. Where’s Gertie?”
“Still over by the dartboards,” Ida Belle said, and lifted an arm to wave.
I spotted Gertie standing behind a burly guy wearing camo. She caught sight of Ida Belle’s wave and nodded. We rose and headed out. When we were about halfway across the bar, the jukebox cut out and I heard a man talking loudly.
“I know you,” he said. “You’re that crazy woman that assaulted a nun.”
“Uh-oh,” I said as I turned around and saw the camo guy pointing at Gertie.
Six foot two. Two hundred fifty pounds. Not in great shape, but enough muscle tone to be a problem in a tight environment.