Reel of Fortune

by Jana DeLeon

“I don’t want to make any promises I might not keep.”

  He turned around and walked away, still shaking his head when he left the café.

  “That was smart,” Gertie said. “You never know when we might need to run over someone or take their clothes.”

  Ida Belle stared at her for a second, then looked back at me. “So after breakfast, we talk to Walter?”

  “That’s the plan,” I said. “But I’m afraid I don’t have anything after that.”

  “That’s easy,” Gertie said. “We spy on Ricky at his place.”

  “He’s renting a farmhouse,” Ida Belle said. “The acreage surrounding it is all cleared for crops. We couldn’t get within a half mile of that place without being spotted. And if you suggest we parachute in, I swear to God, I’ll shoot you before you get your breakfast.”

  “Surely Fortune has some spiffy telescope from Marge’s collection that can see that far,” Gertie said.

  “Several,” I said. “But none of them see through walls. It’s a million degrees out here. Even if he happens to be off work on a Monday, why in the world would he be outside? It’s a rented house. He has no repairs to make. No crops to work.”

  “Fortune’s right,” Ida Belle said. “It’s far more likely he’s at work, but even if he isn’t, the best we could hope for is to catch a glimpse of him through a window. I hardly think that would be worth sneaking through fields and collecting a crap-ton of bugs and itchy grass.”

  “We could always break in,” Gertie said. “Take a look through his things.”

  “No way,” I said. “It is one thing to break into a dead man’s house. The risk of someone shooting you is a lot lower. But I’m not about to stroll into the house of a man who’s alive and probably packing.”

  “So what if Walter doesn’t know anything?” Gertie asked.

  “Then we figure out another way to get information,” I said. “One that does not involve breaking and entering.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Walter was checking out a customer when we walked into the General Store, but the place was otherwise empty. We milled around until the customer left, then headed to the counter. He looked up with a smile that faltered a bit as we approached.

  “I know that look,” he said. “Do you need bail money? An escape vehicle?”

  “Only information,” I said.

  He snorted. “Like that’s any less dangerous. Who are you locking in on this time?”

  “Ricky Marks,” Ida Belle said.

  “Ah.” He nodded. “I wondered when someone would make their way around to him.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because he’s new and he keeps to himself,” Walter said. “That tends to make people speculate more, not less. Best you come into a place like Sinful and hand everyone the story of your life in a binder. Preferably with charts and pictures.”

  “I see,” I said. “So if you keep to yourself and don’t mix with the locals, everyone assumes you have something to hide.”

  “That’s because you usually do,” Gertie said.

  “Since I’m kinda the queen of secrets,” I said, “I’m not about to throw stones. So what do you think Ricky is hiding?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” Walter said. “He’s a tough one to figure out. He comes once a week for supplies and always buys the same thing—bread, lunch meat, frozen entrées, two bags of chips, three packages of cookies, and a case of Dr Pepper.”

  “Based on his diet, he might be hiding diabetes,” Ida Belle said. “But I don’t see anything out of the ordinary about it. Not for a single guy.”

  “Nope,” Walter said. “That’s pretty standard fare for those of us not fortunate enough to have a lady to cook us a good meal or to take out to dinner. Just maybe not in that quantity.”

  “Surely he’s said something,” Gertie said. “You talk to everyone. Don’t tell me you haven’t gotten a personal tidbit or two out of him.”

  Walter nodded. “A couple. He works for a drilling company.”

  “Do you know the name?” I asked.

  “Lassiter, I think,” Walter said. “There’s a ton of those smaller outfits around, so I’m not sure I got that right.”

  I looked at Ida Belle, who frowned. The letter we’d found in Hooch’s house was from Lassiter Drilling. Strange coincidence or something else?

  “He’s from New Orleans,” Walter continued, “but he’s assigned to this area for a year or so and was tired of the commute. His lease was up on his apartment, so he decided to get a place closer to work. But rentals are very limited, and he didn’t like the motel. I got the impression he likes the farmhouse because there’s no people around to have to deal with.”

  “What about family or friends?” Ida Belle asked. “Any out this way?”

  He shook his head. “Doesn’t know a soul that I’m aware of. Said his mother died back a bit from cancer. Didn’t mention his father, so I took that to mean he was either dead as well or not in the picture.”

  “Any reason to think he knew Hooch?” I asked.

  “None offhand.” Walter stopped talking and frowned.

  “What?” Ida Belle said.

  “Nothing really,” Walter said, “it’s just that when he was in here a couple weeks ago, he was looking at the flyer for the fishing rodeo. When I checked out his goods, I noticed him looking at the pictures here of previous years’ winners. I asked him if he was interested but he said he didn’t have a boat.”

  “If he’s only here for a bit and usually lives in the city, a boat wouldn’t be a good investment,” Ida Belle said.

  “No, it wouldn’t,” he said. “But I saw him at the dock the day of the rodeo. I didn’t think about it at the time—there was so much going on. But it seems a little strange now.”

  “You mean given his reclusive tendencies and the fact that he wasn’t taking part in the rodeo?” I asked.

  He nodded. “But who am I to say anything? Maybe he got bored sitting in that house alone. Or lonely. No shame in either.”

  “Of course not,” Gertie said. “He goes to the Swamp Bar some as well.”

  “He asked about whiskey,” Walter said. “Was surprised the town was dry. I guess he could get two fixes at a time in the bar.”

  “Maybe three if he found a willing floozy,” Gertie said.

  Walter blushed. “Yes, well, that’s a bit out of my territory.”

  “Floozies aren’t out of anyone’s territory,” Gertie said. “That’s sorta the point.”

  Ida Belle cleared her throat. “All talk of floozies aside, is there anything else you can tell us?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, but that’s all I’ve got. You don’t think he killed Hooch, do you? I mean, he didn’t even know the man.”

  “There’s been some talk,” Ida Belle said. “Hooch has been drunk-bragging about cashing in some big payday.”

  “Doesn’t sound very likely,” he said.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Ida Belle agreed. “Yet Hooch is dead and someone was sneaking around his place the other night.”

  Walter raised his eyebrows. “And you know this how—you know what? Never mind. I think this is one of those times where the less I know the better.”

  “Agreed,” Ida Belle said.

  The bells above the door jangled and two women made a beeline toward the counter holding shopping lists. We retreated to the far end of the store while Walter took care of them.

  Ida Belle pulled out her cell phone and motioned for us to step outside. “I’m calling that drilling company,” she said. “Who was that contact?”

  I accessed the picture and she dialed, then introduced herself as a court clerk and explained that Mr. Carre had died and she was verifying assets. She needed to know if he had a legal agreement with the company to drill on his property and if so, what it entailed.

  The assistant put her on hold and a couple minutes later, a manager got on the line and verified that they had done a cursory review of Hooch’s property but didn’
t consider it large enough to pursue exploration at this time. They were keeping his information on file and wanted to maintain open lines in case they changed their mind in the future.

  “So that’s that,” I said. “The whole oil thing doesn’t sound overly promising. Surely Hooch wouldn’t have approached the Heberts about money over something this flimsy.”

  “I don’t think even Hooch was that foolish,” Ida Belle said.

  “Which means Hooch thought he had something else worth that money,” Gertie said. “But what?”

  Ida Belle nodded. “If we can’t figure out what Hooch was trying to sell, we’re probably not going to figure out who killed him. I refuse to believe the two things aren’t related. Not after finding out Hooch was blabbing at the bar. It’s too much of a coincidence.”

  “I agree,” I said, and frowned. Then I snapped my fingers. “Hooch’s house!”

  “We’ve already checked his house,” Gertie said.

  “But tomorrow, the appraiser will,” I said.

  “But there weren’t any valuables,” Gertie said. “We checked everything.”

  “We checked everything inside the house,” I said. “But what about outside?”

  Ida Belle nodded. “It would be just like Hooch to bury whatever it is in a hole.”

  “But we don’t even know what we’re looking for,” Gertie said. “We can’t go dig up every spot of dirt around his house.”

  “We don’t have to,” I said. “The reality is, we don’t care about Hooch’s valuables. Our goal is to catch his killer.”

  Ida Belle brightened. “And if that person killed Hooch for his valuables, then he’ll believe his last chance to recover them is tonight.”

  “How do you know he hasn’t already?” Gertie said.

  “Because I chased him away the night we were there,” I said. “I think we disrupted that search. Then after all the racket we made, Carter had someone guarding the place day and night.”

  “They were probably biding their time,” Ida Belle said. “Thinking it would all blow over soon and they could waltz right in.

  I nodded. “But they weren’t counting on the courts getting involved so soon and an appraiser being sent. Their time is up tonight. Which means all we have to do is spread word around town about the appraiser and then wait at Hooch’s house for his killer to arrive.”

  Gertie grinned. “You’re a genius. But if it’s all the same, I’d still like to find Hooch’s valuables. If for no other reason than to sneak them out to Junior. With the appraiser and all, it feels like he’s getting the short end of the father stick all over again.”

  I sobered a bit. I did feel sorry for Junior. Hooch definitely didn’t deserve any fatherhood awards, but if he really had something worth all that money, then he could have tried to make a little bit right. Instead, he’d been plotting to sell off and disappear, his last big FU to his son.

  “It would be nice to help Junior out,” Ida Belle said, “but even if we discovered what Hooch was hiding, and even if it was actually worth something, we’d still have to turn it over to Carter. Giving it to Junior would only make him a criminal, and if whatever it is really values out as high as Hooch claimed, then it would be hard for Junior to hide that sort of windfall.”

  Gertie sighed. “I guess if we could find out Hooch was running his mouth about coming into a fortune at the Swamp Bar, anyone else could as well. Man, I wish someone hadn’t murdered him. I’d punch him in the face.”

  “I’d aim lower,” Ida Belle said.

  I pointed to the General Store as the two women exited with their bags. We hurried back in and Ida Belle went straight to the counter and got on with the business at hand.

  “We need to ask another favor,” she said.

  “What kind of favor?” Walter asked.

  “The easiest kind for you,” Ida Belle said. “We need you to spread some gossip around town.” She told Walter about the appraiser who was due to arrive the next morning to review the contents of Hooch’s house.

  “And I suppose you want me to make extra sure Ricky gets this information?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “Can you do that without it appearing odd?”

  “Heck yeah,” Walter said. “He’s got a special order that I can call and update him on. It’s completely normal for me to yammer on about something. Hooch’s murder is big news in a small town. He won’t think anything of an old man gossiping. Neither will anyone else, for that matter.”

  “You think you can get decent coverage?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Got a few of Sinful’s biggest tongue-waggers coming in to pick up orders today. By this afternoon, everyone in town will be up to date on everything happening with Hooch.”

  “That’s awesome,” I said. “Thanks for helping.” I studied him for a minute. “You’re not going to ask why, are you?”

  “Just guessing produces enough worry,” he said. “Now you guys have to promise me something.”

  Ida Belle gave him an apprehensive look. “What?”

  “That you won’t get yourselves killed,” he said. “I’m kinda fond of you three. I’d miss having you around.”

  I smiled at him. If I were older, I would so have a run at Walter. And while I completely understood Ida Belle’s reasoning for not getting involved with him, I didn’t necessarily agree with it. Maybe all this humanity was making me a romantic. Or Gertie’s constant hints and forcing me to watch chick flicks.

  Or, God forbid, I might be becoming a girl.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  We waited until dark to head out and I said a quick prayer of thanks that despite the fact that it was cloudy, it wasn’t raining and there was still a good bit of moonlight to operate by. I didn’t think anyone would attempt to get into Hooch’s house until much later, but I wanted us in place just in case the killer got impatient and moved in sooner than expected. Carter had informed me earlier that Deputy Breaux would be watching Hooch’s place tonight and he would personally be checking in on him. I figured that was to nix any ideas we might have had of taking a peek at Hooch’s property again.

  I was growing fond of the young deputy. I didn’t see him as a huge challenge to entry. Unless he spent the night inside the house, which I doubted, it would be a fairly simple matter for someone to enter from one of the windows while the deputy was on the opposite side of the house. If they searched with a penlight, that would drastically reduce the possibility of being spotted inside because of a light source.

  Of course, that was assuming the killer was smart and patient, and my experience so far was that most couldn’t manage both. At least, not when under pressure. I was counting on the impatient part kicking in and leading to some stupid decision-making. It was the stupid thing that got them every time.

  We parked close to Young Huck’s house. Ida Belle had already called him ahead of time and let him know we’d be lurking around his land so he wouldn’t mistake us for the bear and take a shot at us. She said he was okay with us using the land but his deck was off-limits. I couldn’t really blame him. We had essentially invited a bear into his house.

  This time, I’d gone through Marge’s stock and brought a FLIR camera with us. I wasn’t so much worried about getting discovered by Deputy Breaux or even the killer, but I definitely wanted to avoid the bear. The forest was so dense the FLIR wouldn’t provide a whole lot of benefit, but it would probably be good enough to alert us to the bear’s presence before we heard him coming.

  We traipsed across the woods as we had before and slowed up when I got a signal of heat on the FLIR. It wasn’t moving, so we inched forward until we were right at the edge of the tree line. I checked the screen again and pointed to the end of Hooch’s porch where Deputy Breaux was sitting, leaned against one of the posts holding up the roof.

  “He probably shouldn’t lean on that,” Gertie whispered. “The whole mess might come down on top of him.”

  “Looks like he’s in place for a while,” I said. “We might as well get c
omfortable.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “There’s a log just a bit over and behind us. We’ll have a view of the house and the road but still be covered by those bushes. If they approach by boat, we’ll hear it coming. So unless they approach by foot on the back side of the house, the FLIR will let us know if anyone else shows up.”

  “Or anything,” Gertie said.

  “The killer should be bigger than a skunk and smaller than a bear, so you’re forewarned either way,” Ida Belle said.

  “So we wait,” Gertie said and plopped down on the log. “I should have brought my tablet.”

  “Because the lit screen wouldn’t have given us away,” Ida Belle said.

  “Oh, right,” Gertie said. “This is going to be worse than church. Nothing to read. No singing. Can’t even hum quietly.”

  “You could meditate,” Ida Belle said. “I swear to God, the mosquitoes are less annoying than you.”

  “Just don’t sleep,” I said. Gertie snored like a train.

  Gertie let out a long-suffering sigh and slumped a bit. I looked over at Ida Belle and shook my head. I really hoped the killer showed up soon. Otherwise, this was going to be a very, very long night.

  My body automatically positioned itself for a long wait. I’d done this so many times I didn’t even have to think about it. The only difference being I was usually in the desert and had Harrison sitting next to me, or no one. Now I was resting on a rotted log in a mosquito-infested forest worrying that a skunk or a bear would show up before the killer did.

  I began to mentally recite all the weapons I’d fired and then disassemble and reassemble them in my mind. It was a way to pass time and keep my pulse steady. In between weapons, I checked the FLIR but so far, I’d gotten only small heat signatures from local critters. Nothing large enough to be a bear or a random confused alligator that might have wandered into the trees. Ida Belle had told me that rarely happened, but then Gertie had managed to get one into her bathtub, so all bets were off with me as far as alligators were concerned.

  I had just finished putting the scope on a particularly awesome automatic weapon when I glanced down at the FLIR and saw movement. I looked over at the house and saw that Deputy Breaux had decided it was time to take a security lap around the house or more likely, had gotten a cramp from sitting in the same position too long. He was moving around the far side of the house and as soon as I lost sight of him, he disappeared from the FLIR as well. I had a moment of sadness when I realized civilian equipment wasn’t nearly as awesome as what I’d had in the CIA, but then Marge’s budget wasn’t nearly as awesome as the federal government’s, either. For that matter, neither was mine.