Fortune Hunter

by Jana DeLeon

  My CIA partner was my only contact with my old life, for my own protection. But his path had intersected with Carter’s when we tried to take down Ahmad a week ago, and now that Carter knew my secret, Harrison knew he could contact Carter if it was an emergency. Not answering three phone calls over the span of two days probably counted as an emergency on Harrison’s part.

  “Harrison?” Ida Belle asked.

  I nodded.

  “Maybe he was checking in on you and is worried that you didn’t answer,” Gertie said. “It might not be anything serious.”

  I could hear the hope in Gertie’s voice as she spoke and said a quick prayer that she was right. I heard the bathroom door open and braced myself. Whatever was going on, I was about to find out. Carter walked back into the kitchen and glanced at Ida Belle and Gertie.

  “Let’s give them some privacy,” Ida Belle said.

  “What?” Gertie asked. “Oh, yeah, of course.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Carter said. “She’ll tell you everything as soon as I leave anyway, and that would only be necessary if she doesn’t start yelling. Given what I’m about to say, yelling is a good possibility.”

  I stared at him. What the hell was going on? Was he going to tell me off for being a liar right here in front of Ida Belle and Gertie? Surely not. I knew my actions had hurt Carter, and my fooling him had probably caused him more than a little personal embarrassment, but I couldn’t imagine him being so tactless.

  He sighed. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s a guy on the Internet who’s swindled some local ladies out of money.”

  Huh? This conversation had just gone a direction I’d never anticipated.

  “You mean the catfish?” I asked.

  “I don’t follow,” he said.

  “The television show,” Gertie said.

  “Oh,” Carter said. “I’ve seen an advertisement for that. Is that what they call the perpetrators? Catfish? I don’t get the connection but yes, that’s what this is about.”

  “Well,” I said, “no one has swindled me out of money, so I don’t see how I could help you on this one.”

  Carter shuffled his feet and stared at the floor for a moment, then looked back up at me. “Certain parties have suggested that you are the, uh, catfish.”

  I let out a string of curse words that ended with “Celia Arceneaux.”

  Carter’s annoyed expression let me know I was right.

  “Unbelievable,” I said. “I was just thinking earlier that I was surprised you hadn’t shown up at my door to accuse me of being the catfish, and here you are.”

  “For Christ’s sake,” Ida Belle said, “you can’t possibly believe that Fortune is taking money from old women. What is wrong with you?”

  Carter looked at Ida Belle and I could tell he was exhausted. “Of course I don’t believe it, but unless Celia’s election as mayor is overturned, I don’t have a choice but to question Fortune when Celia makes an accusation. Not if I want to keep my job.”

  “This is bull and you know it,” Ida Belle said, clearly not having any of it.

  Ida Belle’s face was flushed red. She was more than a little aggravated with Carter and wasn’t about to cut him any slack, wounded ego and broken heart or no. Ida Belle was a soldier first and always. She would always side with protecting the mission and the agent. Collateral damage was an accepted part of the job, even if it was someone you liked.

  Still, I couldn’t blame him for his anger. Certainly, I had every reason to keep my cover a secret and if I had it to do all over again, I still wouldn’t reveal my true identity to Carter. But if I had a do-over, I wouldn’t get involved with him, either. That was 100 percent on me. I had let overwhelming, unfamiliar feelings lead me to choices I would never have made before I came to Sinful, and I was paying for them now. Unfortunately, so was Carter.

  “It’s not his fault,” I said. “If he gives Celia a reason to fire him, then she wins. And that’s exactly what she’s hoping for. She doesn’t think for a minute that I’m behind this.”

  “I just need something for my report,” Carter said.

  “Then I’ll make this easy,” I said. “Did any of these victims chat with this money-grubbing Romeo while I was in New Orleans handling that situation?”

  He nodded. “Two of them had contact during that time frame.”

  “Then it’s simple. Put in your report that I was in the custody of the police in New Orleans. It’s not exactly a lie—the FBI and CIA are sort of police—and that should shut her up. Someone in police custody couldn’t possible have been chatting online.”

  “And what exactly should I say you were in custody for?”

  “Jaywalking? Public intoxication? Walking naked down Bourbon Street?”

  Gertie shook her head. “None of those would even get you a second look in New Orleans, much less arrested.”

  “Fine, then I picked a fight with two guys in a club and lit the bar on fire.”

  Gertie gave me an approving nod. “That sounds like a good time. I’m glad we were there with you.”

  Ida Belle, who had gone oddly quiet during our exchange and had been studying Carter, crossed her arms and cocked her head to one side. “I wonder why it is that Celia is the one making the accusation. Surely only a victim could accuse someone of a crime.”

  Carter stared at her for a moment, and that hesitation was all we needed to know the truth.

  “I knew it!” Ida Belle said. “That stupid woman got taken by this guy.”

  “I never said that,” Carter said.

  “You didn’t have to,” Ida Belle said. “It all makes perfect sense now, and I have to say, pleases me to no end. In fact, it tickles me so much I can almost forgive you for coming here and questioning Fortune. Almost.”

  Carter’s dismay was so apparent that I felt a little sorry for him. If Celia found out he’d let the cat out of the bag, she’d make his life miserable. And secrets in Sinful always seemed to find a way to surface.

  “Don’t worry,” Gertie said, trying to reassure him. “We’re not going to tell anyone. We’re just going to have a bit of champagne with dinner is all.”

  I could tell he didn’t buy that for a minute.

  “Is that all you need from me?” I asked.

  I knew I sounded terse. Based on the way Carter’s eyes widened ever so slightly, I knew he thought so too. And while I could appreciate Ida Belle’s delight at finding out their nemesis had been foolish enough to fall for the catfish, being in the same space with Carter was so uncomfortable that I was starting to feel my chest contract. I wasn’t ready to see him, much less be this close. And I certainly wasn’t ready to be accused of criminal activity simply because I was an outsider and a Yankee.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” he said, then narrowed his eyes at us. “In case you’ve got any ideas, I’m telling the three of you right now, don’t get in the middle of this.”

  “I’m sure we don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gertie said.

  “We’re not interested in helping Celia,” Ida Belle added.

  “I mean it,” he said. “If I even think that you’re interfering with this case, I will arrest you and you’ll all spend two weeks in jail while I take my time processing the paperwork.”

  He whirled around and stormed out of the house, slamming the front door shut behind him.

  “What the hell was that about?” Gertie asked. “Carter has always been annoyed with us, but I’ve never seen him that angry.”

  “He’s frustrated,” Ida Belle said. “And hurt. When he was enamored with Fortune and they were doing the dance of romance, he intentionally glossed over things we did that he felt were harmless. My guess is that most of his anger back then was because he was afraid for our safety.”

  “And now that he knows we’re not a bunch of helpless females, he feels played all over again,” I said.

  “Just because we’ve had the occasion to kill a person or two doesn’t mean he has to get all belligeren
t,” Gertie huffed.

  “No,” Ida Belle agreed. “He doesn’t have to, but I suppose it makes him feel better.”

  “To hell with him,” I said.

  They both stared at me.

  “Seriously,” I said. “To hell with him. If he wants to stalk around all pissy because I was protecting my cover—something I’m sure he did himself while he was a marine—then he’s welcome to it, but I don’t have to watch. I’m sorry I had to lie to him and even sorrier that I hurt him in the process, but I’m not sorry for lying and if I had to do it all over, I’d do the same thing again.”

  “Of course,” Ida Belle said. “We would expect nothing less.”

  Gertie nodded.

  “Because I’m a professional,” I said quietly.

  A professional killer.

  Chapter 3

  I wasn’t sure whether it was anger or heartache that had me refusing a ride home with Ida Belle, but suddenly, I felt like jogging. It was as though five days of pent-up energy needed to get out of my body before I exploded. So I set out of Gertie’s house at a fast clip and jogged around the block twice before heading for Main Street. With Ally back in her own house, I needed to stock my kitchen with things I could handle. Basically, things that went in the microwave.

  Gertie was good for a couple meals a week and Ally was always dropping by a dessert, but I couldn’t depend on either of them to be my personal caterer. I was fairly certain Ida Belle lived on bread and cans of beans. She preferred simple and efficient to elaborate and time-consuming. I had spent my share of time living on only one or two items, but as long as Walter stocked a decent supply of microwave dinners at the General Store, I saw no reason to resort to peanut butter sandwiches every day.

  The General Store was busy. A couple of the men I recognized as regulars from the café. They both nodded on their way out. Two of the women sang in the choir at church. There was a young woman with a baby in a stroller at the checkout counter that I didn’t know and a woman with a man in a wheelchair picking out potato chips.

  I gave the woman with the stroller another look.

  Twenty-ish, five foot four, thin but poor muscle tone. The baby was a much bigger threat to someone like me.

  I gave the couple in front of the potato chips a once-over.

  Man in his late forties, hard to determine height in the chair but not tall, decent upper body, signaling he’d probably been in the chair for a while. No threat at all.

  Woman in her midforties, five foot six, good muscle tone, no discernable threat.

  I waved at Walter, who was in his usual spot behind the register, and grabbed a plastic shopping bin.

  I’d selected a week’s worth of frozen entrées and was just about to move on to snacks when I heard the bells jangle on the front door. A couple seconds later, Celia’s voice sounded behind me.

  “It should be a crime for you to stroll around loose in this town,” she said.

  The store went quiet, and I sighed before turning around. There wasn’t a chance in hell she was talking to someone else. The last thing I was in the mood for was a stupid argument with Celia, but short of going the coward route and walking out of the store, it didn’t appear I had a way out. She stood there in the center of the store, hands on her ample hips, her flowered dress hiked up unevenly on the right side. Her face was contorted in the usual scowl she wore when I came into her view.

  “I see Deputy LeBlanc is shirking his responsibilities again,” Celia said.

  “Carter can’t arrest someone without evidence,” I said, “no matter how badly you want him to.”

  “I don’t need evidence to know you’re a lying, scheming outsider. Nothing bad ever happened in this town until you arrived.”

  “Same argument, different day,” I said. “And I refuse to waste my time on logic with you. Here’s the bottom line—I can’t be the perpetrator because while the Internet Romeo was working his magic last week, I was in police custody in New Orleans.”

  “So you claim.”

  “So Carter verified. And trust me when I say, if I were going to pretend to be a secret online lover or whatever, the absolute last person in the world I would do that to is you. I don’t have the imagination or the stomach to even look at you without wincing. If I said something nice to you, much less romantic, I’d cut my own tongue out with a butter knife.”

  The woman with the baby choked back a laugh and Walter grinned. Celia sucked in a breath and her face flushed with anger. She shot a dirty look toward the cash register, then glared at me. “You are a lying, thieving tramp, and if it’s the last thing I ever do, I will see you run out of this town.”

  She whirled around, clearly intending to make her dramatic exit, but as she took one step forward, her shin connected with the footrest on the man’s wheelchair and she went sprawling into a rack that held toiletries. The rack tipped over, sending a shower of shampoo and lotion down on top of her. One of the shampoo bottles tipped to the side on the rack, and a stream of shampoo trickled over the side and on top of Celia’s head.

  “Cleanup on aisle four,” I said.

  Celia scrambled around in the mess and finally managed to get to her feet. She gave the man in the wheelchair a dirty look, then stalked out the door.

  “Nolan!” the woman with him said. “You did that on purpose.”

  The man in the wheelchair smiled. “Can’t stand that woman. Simply odious.”

  The woman put her hand over her mouth, clearly torn between propriety and hilarity. Universal dislike for Celia must have won out because she lowered her hand, exposing the smile.

  Walter hurried over. “Are you all right?” he asked Nolan. “You didn’t get hit, did you?”

  Nolan waved a hand in dismissal. “Perfectly fine. I’m afraid my little stunt made a bit of a mess, though. Put anything that was damaged on my bill.”

  “Nonsense,” Walter said. “I’d have paid you to do it.”

  The woman stepped forward and stretched out her hand. “I’m Gail Bishop and this scoundrel is my husband, Nolan.”

  I shook her hand, then extended mine to her husband, who gave me a hearty shake with a firm grip. He grinned up at me. “I hope I didn’t create more trouble for you. No doubt, she’ll see it all as your fault.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Blaming me for everything has become Celia’s new pastime. Reality has never entered into her accusations.”

  Gail shook her head. “I think it’s just shameful the way that woman treats people. What in the world were people thinking when they voted for her?”

  “They weren’t thinking,” the woman with the stroller said. She extended her hand. “I’m Penelope Dugas, but everyone calls me Peaches.”

  Gail smiled. “On account of her sweet disposition.”

  Peaches grinned. “I’ve just got everyone fooled. Well, I better get home and make Brandon some dinner.” She gave us a wave and headed out of the store.

  “Let me help you clean this up,” Gail said.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Walter said. “I was planning on moving that shelf to the back wall anyway. Always figured someone would eventually knock it over. It was just good fortune that it was Celia.”

  “Then I guess we’re ready to check out,” Gail said. “I need to get this man some dinner as well.”

  They headed to the cash register, and I made my way around the mess and picked up a box of crackers and a bag of potato chips. I knew Ally would keep me supplied with sweets, but a box of cookies seemed to be calling to me, so I tossed those in as well. Gail and Nolan were just finishing checking out as I made my way back to the register.

  “It was nice meeting you,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Maybe one day we can have tea and chat.”

  “That would be nice,” I managed, even though it sounded reasonably horrible.

  Nolan winked at me and smiled. I couldn’t help but smile back. His stunt with the wheelchair had seriously improved my afternoon.

  I put my b
asket on the counter. “I also need two cases of diet Coke and one case of those flavored waters, blackberry if you have it.”

  Walter nodded. “Got a shipment in. You in your Jeep?”

  “No. I was jogging, and shopping was an afterthought. I’ll pick it up later.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I can have Scooter run it over.”

  Scooter was Walter’s right-hand man. He mostly took care of automobile maintenance and small repairs, but since that didn’t keep him busy full time, he was always doing whatever odd job Walter needed done. He also had a crush on me, but it was the harmless sort, and I’d been careful to never encourage him.

  Walter tallied up the items and put them on my account. Then he looked up at me and narrowed his eyes. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine,” I said, putting forth my best attempt at sounding perky.

  He didn’t buy it for a minute.

  “Uh-huh. Well, if you need anything, you let me know. I mean it.”

  Because I knew he did, I smiled. If I were thirty or so years older or Walter were younger, I’d totally fall for him. Heck, I was a little in love with him already. He and Carter shared the same strong facial features that seemed to run in their family, and Walter’s quiet way of looking after those he cared about was so endearing it was impossible not to love him. When I’d first arrived in Sinful, I wondered why he wasn’t taken, but I’d soon found out that Walter had been helplessly and hopelessly in love with Ida Belle since they were kids.

  “I appreciate it,” I said.

  He nodded and I headed out of the store, shaking my head. Ida Belle was one of the smartest women I’d ever met, but I couldn’t help wondering if she’d missed the boat on this one. Surely, if there was ever a man that was a catch, it was Walter.

  Like uncle, like nephew.

  I frowned and pushed that thought out of my mind.

  It had no place there.

  * * *

  I was halfway home when I remembered Harrison’s calls. I immediately stopped jogging and pulled out my cell phone. With all the Celia drama, I’d completely forgotten about the missed calls. My mind was seriously going to crap. I hoped it improved before I needed it for something important. I dialed Harrison’s number and started slowly walking toward my house.