Fortune Hunter

by Jana DeLeon

“He said he was thirty-eight,” Beulah said.

  “And that didn’t seem strange?” Ida Belle asked. “A relatively young man, stationed overseas with the military, showing up in a group that I can only imagine was predominantly composed of older women?”

  “It did at first,” Beulah said, “but he had an explanation for everything. He said his mother was a big gardener and had lovely roses. But her eyesight was failing and she couldn’t see the computer screen well anymore. So he said he’d find her the information she needed and relay it to her during his weekly phone call.”

  I glanced over at Ida Belle, who looked completely disgusted. I agreed with her. The catfish had created the perfect man—younger, presumably good-looking, and dedicated to his aging mother. It would be a hard combination for an any older single woman to resist, much less someone like Beulah, who’d been alone most of her life. It was insidious and cruel, and suddenly, more than anything, I wanted to see whoever had done this pay.

  “I won’t go into all the details,” Beulah said. “I can’t stomach it right now. Maybe not ever. Thorne chatted with the group a bit most days, asking questions about hybridization. Then one day he sent me a private message, complimenting me on a picture I’d posted of my purple-and-white hybrids, and asking me how I’d managed the color combination.”

  Beulah sniffed and rubbed her nose with her finger. “That’s how it all started. The message turned into a conversation and pretty soon we were talking for hours every day. Roses gave way to discussions of our personal lives. He told me about being stationed in Iraq and the hardships our soldiers had to face every day. It was disheartening to hear how bad things were. I felt sorry for Thorne, living that way.”

  “Of course you did,” Gertie said. “Any decent person would.”

  “I suppose that’s what he wanted,” Beulah said. “Just to get my money.”

  “When did he ask for the money?” I asked.

  “Not right away, of course,” Beulah said. “We’d been talking every day for six months or so before he even hinted at marriage. Of course, I didn’t take him seriously, but he kept insisting and finally, I believed him. Or maybe I didn’t. But I wanted to bad enough to send the money.”

  “Then what happened?” Ida Belle asked.

  “I went online the next morning, as usual, and tried to send Thorne a message but his account was gone. I thought at first it was a mistake…that Facebook had accidentally removed his account. So I sent an email to the address he’d given me for PayPal.”

  Ida Belle shook her head. “But he never answered.”

  “No. That was two weeks ago. At first, I didn’t want to report it. I thought what if he’d died in combat? But then who would have deleted his account? Once I finally faced the fact that I’d been snookered, I knew I should go to the police, but I was so ashamed. It took me another week to work up the courage to report it.”

  “There is nothing for you to be ashamed about,” Gertie said. “That criminal is the one who should be ashamed. There’s a hotter place in hell for people like him.”

  “I certainly hope you’re right,” Beulah agreed, “but if it’s all the same to God, I’d like to see him pay here on earth first.”

  “I don’t blame you,” I said. “Do you have any pictures of Thorne?”

  Beulah nodded. “I downloaded them to my desktop. I’d made this montage with one of those picture softwares.” She sighed. “More things to be embarrassed about.”

  “Any information you have will be helpful,” Ida Belle said, “even if you think it might not be true. Mailing address, email, Facebook account name.”

  “And any proper names he mentioned,” I said. “Like cities, people, schools, churches.”

  I was in Sinful pretending to be someone else, but I’d still asked people to call me by the name I usually responded to. I claimed it was a nickname, and so far no one had questioned it. Even when people were lying, sometimes the truth slipped into their conversations.

  “I typed it all up after I talked to Ida Belle,” Beulah said. “I know it’s a lot to ask, getting you involved with such things, but I can’t help but think you’ll have a better go at it than Carter. He’s a great deputy, but he’s a man. This is women sort of business.”

  What she meant was that ferreting out the catfish was better done by conniving, sneaky females than an average male. I had to agree with her on that one. Not just because Ida Belle and Gertie could get the truth out of a death row inmate, but because the victims were exclusively women, and they were far more likely to give details to other women. They would probably skimp on specifics when talking to Carter.

  Beulah rose from her chair and came back a couple minutes later with her laptop. “I have everything in one folder. Who do you want me to send it to?”

  “Email it to me,” Ida Belle said. “We’ll take a look at it tonight and let you know what we figure out.”

  Beulah tapped on the keyboard, then closed the laptop. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. I’m okay without the money, but it’s not right. He already broke my heart. I don’t see any good reason why he should cripple my savings account, too.”

  “He shouldn’t,” Ida Belle said. “And if there’s anything we can do about it, rest assured, we will.”

  We all rose from our chairs and Gertie gave Beulah an awkward hug. Awkward, mostly because with the height difference, Gertie’s face was pressed right in the middle of Beulah’s breasts. I opted for a handshake and we headed out the front door.

  And right into Carter.

  Chapter 5

  When he locked in on the three of us exiting Beulah’s house, Carter’s expression registered surprise at first, then quickly shifted to aggravation. He marched up the front steps and glared at us.

  “I told you to stay out of this,” he chided.

  “And we are,” Ida Belle said.

  “Then what are you doing here?” he asked. “You’re not friends with Beulah.”

  Gertie put her hands on her hips. “You have become downright insufferable. Since when do I have to be bosom buddies with an ill person in order to bring them a casserole? I have another in the car for Herbert Myer who had his hemorrhoids out. Anything you want to accuse us of with him?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’m supposed to believe Beulah is ill?”

  “She’s heartsick and depressed,” Gertie said. “In my book, that counts as much as having something yanked out of your butt.”

  “Not in mine,” Carter said.

  “Well, I don’t really care about your book.” Beulah’s voice sounded behind us. “These women brought me a casserole and chatted with me about roses to help take my mind off things. Shame on you for giving them grief over it. I thought your mother raised you with a better sense of charity than that.”

  Carter’s dismay was apparent. Nothing was worse for a Southern man than being accused of not living up to the standard his mother raised him by, especially when his mother was well-respected and liked by everyone in town. “I apologize, Ms. Latour, but these ladies have been known to meddle in police business, and that’s against the law.”

  “There’s no lawbreaking going on here,” Beulah said. “If you need something from me, I suggest you get inside and get to it. I’m going to pop that casserole in the oven, and when it’s done, I’ll expect you to be gone so I can sit in my recliner and watch Justified…unless that’s against the law now.”

  Beulah turned around and went back inside, the screen door slamming shut behind her. We headed down the steps and jumped in Gertie’s car. Carter turned around and frowned at us before he stepped inside Beulah’s house.

  “He didn’t buy a word of that,” I said as Gertie pulled away from the house.

  “Doesn’t matter what he thinks,” Ida Belle said. “Only what he can prove, and Beulah’s not telling.”

  “So what’s the plan?” I asked.

  “Well, now that Gertie shot off her mouth about that extra casserole,” Ida Belle said, “we�
��re going to have to take it to Herbert because Carter is sure to check.”

  “Ah,” I said. “Backup plan.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “I figure you don’t much care to hear about the old coot’s butt, so we’ll drop you off and you can get started on the Internet part of the investigation. I’ll forward Beulah’s email to you.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, relieved that I was going to be left out of the hind end part of the afternoon.

  Gertie dropped me off at my house, and I headed into the kitchen and fired up my laptop. Ida Belle had forwarded the files from Beulah, so I downloaded the information and got up to grab something to drink and a snack. All this activity had made me hungry, or maybe it was so much talk about casseroles and knowing I wasn’t getting one.

  I had just finished making up a sandwich when I heard a knock on my door. I stiffened for a moment, then relaxed. It wasn’t loud, angry rapping, so it probably wasn’t Carter. I opened the front door to find Walter standing there with a big box.

  “My delivery,” I said. “I’d completely forgotten.”

  I stood back to let him in, then grabbed the case of water that was next to the front door and followed Walter to the kitchen. He sat the box on the kitchen counter, then went back for the soda that had been sitting next to the water.

  “How come Scooter isn’t delivering?” I asked.

  “He’s working the cash register,” Walter said. “I needed to get out for a bit. Sometimes sitting there behind that counter, listening to all the locals squawk about their ailments and family problems, can wear on you.”

  “It would wear on me after about five minutes.”

  Walter laughed. “Yeah, you’re not exactly what I’d consider a people person.”

  “Especially by Southern standards, since I don’t cook.”

  He nodded. “Hard to bring food to the ailing when all you have is microwave dinners. Still, some of them aren’t too bad. I like to grill some, but I’m not a fan of cooking for the sake of the activity. More for the sake of eating.”

  “I can drink to that. Speaking of which, would you like a beer? I brought some back from New Orleans. I’m fully stocked.”

  “Can’t say as I would turn one down.”

  I grabbed a couple of beers from the refrigerator and passed one to Walter, who took a seat at the kitchen table. I uncovered the plate of cookies and sat it in the middle. “Bet you can’t stop at one,” I said, and pointed at the plate.

  Walter picked up a cookie and took a bite. “Good Lord! That’s one of the best things I’ve ever eaten.”

  “Ally.”

  “The girl’s got a gift. If she packaged these, I would sell out in a matter of minutes.”

  I nodded and took a bite of a cookie. The sandwich could wait.

  Walter took a sip of his beer and studied me with a pensive look. A look that said he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure that he should. Because I liked Walter and respected him, I actually didn’t mind hearing anything he had to say, so I decided to make it easy on him.

  “Any other reason you made the delivery?” I asked. “You look like a man who has something on his mind.”

  “Yeah, I guess I do. You’re a sharp one, Fortune. I knew it from the first moment I met you. When you took up with Ida Belle and Gertie, I thought, Lord help that poor pretty thing. She has no idea what she’s getting into.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “But nothing they dragged you into seemed to faze you, so then I thought, maybe the girl’s made of tougher stuff than her mother alluded to.”

  “My mother?” I felt a bit of panic rise in me. The real Sandy-Sue’s mother had never lived in Sinful and had only visited a handful of times decades ago, and never after Sandy-Sue was born. That was one of the reasons Director Morrow had thought this plan would work. No one knew Sandy-Sue, therefore no one could insist I wasn’t her.

  “Yep. Ophelia was a pushy woman, but then I don’t suppose I’m telling you anything you don’t already know.”

  He stared at me, and once again, the huge feeling of unease spread throughout my body. “No. I guess not,” I said.

  “Came here to visit Marge when she was twenty or so…before she met your father. I was the young local catch back then, much like my nephew is now.”

  I smiled. “I can see that.”

  “Yes, well, Ophelia took a liking to me and I took to avoiding her. I had no interest in the woman. She was pleasant, but we both know pleasant isn’t exactly what does it for me.”

  He winked at me and I laughed. “No. The last word I’d use to describe Ida Belle is pleasant.”

  “It’s that fire that gets me. Strength and intelligence. Those are the sexiest things a woman can wear, so to speak.”

  He blushed when delivering the “sexiest” part of the statement and I was charmed by him all over again. What the hell was Ida Belle thinking not marrying him? One of these days, I was going to pin her down and make her explain it to me.

  “Anyway,” Walter continued, “summer finally ended, and Ophelia headed back north to finish college and met the man she would marry.”

  “So you were off the hook.”

  “On paper, it would seem that way, but that wedding band didn’t stop her from trying a bit more. She’d send me a letter now and then, talking about how unhappy she was and how her husband wasn’t at all the person she’d thought he would be.”

  “That’s sorta mean,” I said.

  Walter nodded. “I figure she married him because he was going to be a good provider. Her parents had insisted on college, but I don’t think Ophelia was interested in being a career woman. I think she wanted to sit inside all day and figure out ways to control other people’s lives. Like her only child’s.”

  “Sounds right,” I said. It was a logical guess that Sandy-Sue had been overrun by her domineering mother just as I had been overshadowed by my hyper-successful father.

  “She used to send pictures,” Walter said. “Pictures of her at the beach or sitting on the back porch next to her rosebushes. Then you came along. She stopped sending pictures of herself and started sending pictures of you…I got the last one ten years ago.”

  I felt the blood rush out of my face. “Oh.”

  “The thing is, I hadn’t thought much about it, but when I saw how you reacted to the messes you got into with Ida Belle and Gertie, it just didn’t gel with Ophelia’s complaining about having to push her daughter to do things. I think the phrase she used was ‘shrinking violet.’ So a couple weeks ago, I dug up those old letters and took out the photos.”

  I looked down at the table, unable to look him in the eyes. I knew what was coming, and I had no earthly idea what I was supposed to say.

  “I know you’re not Sandy-Sue,” Walter said. “Known it for a while.”

  I sighed and looked up at him.

  “I’m not looking for confirmation,” he said, “and I damned sure don’t want an explanation.”

  I frowned. “Why not?”

  “Because I figure it’s better on both of us if I’m left in the dark with my own suspicions. If I thought you were some sort of con woman, I’d have handled things differently, but that doesn’t fit. And if you were in witness protection, you would have done a better job of lying low. My best guess is some sort of law enforcement or military. I don’t know why you’re here or why you’re pretending to be someone you’re not, and I don’t want to know. I’m just going to assume that there’s a good reason and hope everything works out for the best for you.”

  “There’s a good reason,” I said quietly.

  Walter studied me for several seconds, then nodded. “I like you, Fortune. Have from the first time I met you—roped into going to Number Two with the meddling twosome. It was clear then that you weren’t a people person, but your sense of justice had been outraged and it wouldn’t let you hide out like you were supposed to.”

  “My desire for fair and equitable has always been a problem.”

  “I bet it has.” Walter took a dr
ink of his beer and set it down on the table. “I’m also figuring that whatever secret you’re hiding, Carter finally figured it out, and that’s why the two of you aren’t an item anymore.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but didn’t know what to say. Walter might like me, but Carter was family. I’d lied to his nephew the same way I’d lied to everyone else, but Carter had feelings for me that no one else did, which made it far worse.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Walter said. “I can see it in that stricken look on your face. I’m sorry it worked itself out that way, but I can’t say that I’m surprised. If I’d thought Carter was going to get hung up on you that quickly, I might have said something. Or maybe I wouldn’t have. A young man rarely listens to what an old man has to say. Likely anything I said would have only caused friction between the two of us, and besides, I didn’t want to give away whatever secret you were hiding. I figured that was for you to say.”

  “I appreciate you keeping quiet,” I said, “and I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

  “I know you are. If you weren’t, we’d be having a totally different conversation.” Walter downed the rest of his beer and rose from the table. “I best get back to the store. It’s been busy today and Scooter’s bound to make a mess of things. But I couldn’t let any more time go by without saying something.”

  I nodded and he put his hand on my shoulder. “Carter’s a stubborn man. Always has been. And I’m sure he has his reasons for the decision he made. But I still have hope that whatever this mess is, it will untangle sooner or later and leave you two considering your options.”

  “Me too,” I said, surprising myself because I actually meant it.

  Walter smiled. “You hang in there, honey. And if there’s anything I can do, you let me know.”

  He started out of the kitchen and I turned around in my chair. “Walter?”

  He stopped and looked back. “Yeah?”

  “Ida Belle’s crazy not to marry you.”

  He gave me a sad smile. “I know.”

  * * *

  Ida Belle scooted her chair closer to mine and Gertie leaned over my shoulder and looked at my laptop screen. “That’s the same picture,” Gertie said.