by DeLeon, Jana
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“What? Oh, no. It’s Ally,” I lied. “She’s finishing making up the last of the hamburger patties and wants to know if she should heat up some pastries for dessert.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Carter said.
“Sorry. If I’d known she had frozen pastries, I would have brought some with me. So I hear Celia pulled a disappearing act.”
Carter sighed. “Where did you hear that?”
“It’s all over town.”
“Of course it is.”
“So are you looking for her?”
“I don’t have to look for her,” Carter said. “She’s hiding at her friend Freda’s house, and since Freda didn’t want to be accused of harboring a felon, she called and ratted Celia out.”
“With friends like those…”
“I should go arrest her on principle, but I don’t want to listen to her mouth all night. I figure Freda deserves it more.”
“Definitely.” I glanced down the hall, wondering what the hell was taking them so long. Deputy Breaux would be back any minute and we hadn’t found out anything. I was just about to ask him for a roll of paper towels or something equally inane when I heard a yelp from the back of the building. Then Ida Belle came running back up front.
“Gertie’s locked in the bathroom,” Ida Belle said, “and the door is jammed.”
“What?” Carter rose from the desk. “I just replaced that hardware a couple months ago.”
“Come take a look before she panics.”
Gertie started yelling and banging on the door. “I’ve got the claustrophobia. I can’t breathe.”
“Too late,” Ida Belle said and took off down the hall again.
Carter dropped his burger and set off after Ida Belle. I ran around the desk and started shuffling files as quickly as I could. Burglary, assault, gaming violation…Max Arceneaux!
I opened the file and started reading. The cause of death was two shotgun blasts, as expected, but given the weather and lack of air-conditioning, the medical examiner hadn’t been able to narrow time of death very well. His best guess was a window from yesterday evening until around 1 a.m. I flipped the page over and saw a copy of a driver’s license that had Max’s picture on it but a different name.
Thomas Johnson.
I made a mental note of the address and license number and flipped that page over. The last thing in the file was a plastic bag with money in it. My pulse quickened. It was hundred-dollar bills. I leaned over to get a better look, but without a magnifying glass, I couldn’t be certain the bills were fakes.
I shoved the file back where I’d found it and was about to hop up when I saw another file peeking out from the stack. It was labeled simply “Money.” I pulled it out and was just about to start reading when I heard commotion down the hall.
“I’m fading out!” Gertie yelled. “Tell my mother I love her.”
“Your mother died thirty years ago,” Ida Belle yelled back. “Pull on the damned door.”
“Back up, Gertie,” Carter said. “I’m breaking it down.”
I cringed and scanned the file.
I heard a loud crash. Then Gertie scream. Then Carter cursing.
I shoved the file back where I’d gotten it from and went running down the hall. Ida Belle was standing outside the now-open door to the restroom, shaking her head.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Gertie,” Ida Belle said and pointed.
I took one hesitant step forward and peered into the restroom. Gertie was splayed out on the floor against the back wall, pinned into place by the toilet, which had taken leave of its normal spot and was lying on its side, water dripping out of the tank. Carter was pushing himself up from the top of the toilet and glared down at Gertie.
“Why didn’t you tell me the door had come loose?” he asked.
“It was too late,” Gertie said. “I barely had time to get out of the way. Get this thing off of me.”
“I ought to leave you there for a couple hours,” Carter said. “Give all of Sinful a break from your brand of terror.”
“I take it the door came loose before Carter tackled it?” I asked.
Ida Belle leaned toward me and whispered, “It was never stuck. Gertie was pushing against it.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head, a clear visual of what had happened running through my mind. “So the door flew open and Carter stumbled in and tackled the toilet.”
“Pretty much.”
I watched as Carter pulled the toilet off Gertie and helped her up. “Do you have any idea of the debt we owe to that man for the crap we put him through?” I asked.
“Let’s just hope he never collects.”
Carter headed back to the door, his expression a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. He checked the lock and the doorjamb, then closed and opened the door several times. “It’s working fine,” he said.
“Oh,” Gertie said, looking guilty. “Maybe I was pushing instead of pulling.”
Carter threw his hands in the air and headed down the hall, apparently too mad to even speak.
“I hope those burgers are spectacular,” I said.
“This is all your fault,” Gertie said. “And I was improvising. If you could do the whole girlie thing, that stunt with the door wouldn’t have been necessary.”
“How did this become my fault?” I asked, and looked over at Ida Belle. “Shouldn’t this be your fault for letting her move forward with that lame idea?”
Ida Belle shrugged. “Did you find the paperwork?”
“Yes.”
“Then we got what we came for,” Ida Belle said. “I’m more of a results sort of scorekeeper.”
“Figures.”
I headed for the front of the building. Carter was already back at the desk, finishing up the rest of his burger. “I’m sorry about all the drama,” I said. “Hopefully, the food makes up for a little of it.”
“We’ll be going to the General Store to pee until I can get a plumber out here—which won’t be anytime soon—but the burger was good,” he admitted. “Still, next time, everyone goes to the bathroom before they get here. Or you use it with the door open.”
“Or simply in your right mind,” I said, and smiled at Gertie, who gave me the finger.
“We best get out of the man’s hair,” Ida Belle said. “We’ve interrupted him enough and he’s got a stack of work to take care of.”
As I reached for the door, Deputy Breaux walked in, a good ten minutes later than usual. Carter gave him a dirty look. “Now you come back,” Carter said.
Deputy Breaux looked confused. “What did I do?”
I patted his arm. “I’m sure you’ll hear all about it. Have a hamburger. It will soften the blow.”
We hurried out of the sheriff’s department and hopped in Gertie’s car.
“Darn, I wish I could take a shower,” Gertie said. “I’ve got toilet water on me.”
“Gross,” I said. “I’m putting a trash bag over the kitchen chair, and burning the sheets after you leave.”
“I’d make her sleep on the back porch,” Ida Belle said.
“I’m never doing that again,” Gertie said. “I dug splinters out of my butt for a week. Do you know how hard it is to see your own butt?”
I looked at Ida Belle. “You made her sleep on the porch?”
Ida Belle nodded. “During the last big storm. There was this unfortunate incident with a skunk.”
“I thought it was Sara Jo’s cat,” Gertie grumbled.
“No rescue operations,” I said, “and we’re spraying you with Febreze.”
“Please tell me it was worth the trouble,” Ida Belle said.
I nodded and filled them in on what I’d read about Max. “He had some hundred-dollar bills on him, but I couldn’t tell if they were the fake ones.”
Ida Belle frowned. “I wonder how long they were blowing around in the wind?”
“Impossible to know,” I said, “which is unfortun
ate, because if he picked them up off the street, we might be able to narrow down time of death.”
“Maybe,” Ida Belle said, her expression thoughtful.
“I found another file,” I said. “It was one for the money. Carter’s going to have it tested for authenticity as soon as he can get some to the lab.”
“Interesting that Carter made the same leap you did,” Ida Belle said.
“He’s smart,” I said, “and has good instincts.”
“But yet,” Gertie said, “you’ve managed to escape detection, despite all the compromising positions he’s caught you in.”
“That makes sense, though,” Ida Belle said. “Carter is attracted to Fortune, which filters his view of her, and the leap from librarian to CIA operative is a huge one.”
“Maybe,” Gertie said, “but it’s a leap he needs to make. Now that we know the counterfeit money used to pay Ahmad is in Sinful, and you’re planning a coup with your partner at the CIA, you have to tell him the truth.”
“I don’t know if I’ll get to stage a coup,” I said. “Harrison has to talk to Director Morrow. I can’t make a move without his approval. I need the backup he could arrange.”
Ida Belle shook her head. “You’re only delaying the inevitable. Today, tomorrow, next week. It’s going to come out, and better he hears it from you than you disappear again and we have to tell him why.”
“I’m not telling him,” Gertie said. “I’ve inflicted enough horror on the man. No way am I taking that one on.”
I sighed. “If Morrow gives the go-ahead for the coup, I promise I will tell him. Just maybe not until it’s over.”
“Because if he knew beforehand, he’d want to be in the middle of it,” Gertie said. “I get that.”
“I don’t,” Ida Belle said. “You will need his help. Carter knows this town and the swamp surrounding it as well as any of the old fishermen and more importantly, he’s qualified to help.”
“Qualified, yes,” I said, “but he doesn’t have clearance. This is an international investigation. Without clearance from the CIA and, if they agree to assist, the FBI, telling Carter what’s going on before it happens would be a federal crime.”
Ida Belle and Gertie exchanged glances.
“But you’re going to tell us, right?” Gertie asked.
“Sure,” I said, “but that’s different. No one will suspect that I’ve told you anything.”
I tried to sound nonchalant with my answer, but I saw Ida Belle’s eyes narrow slightly. She knew I was lying. No way was I telling them details of the takedown. I didn’t want anyone I cared about caught in the cross fire.
And the only way to ensure that was to go it alone.
Chapter Eight
It was close to 3 a.m. when I finally got a text from Harrison.
Call me.
That was it. No “I have a plan,” “we’re on,” or anything else. Except for the fact that it was the middle of the night, there was no other indication that my request for a setup might have been granted. A simple “Hell no!” would have taken a lot less time.
Without the AC running, the house was eerily quiet. And since the rain had stopped, there was nothing to mask me talking. I couldn’t risk being overheard by anyone, so I crept downstairs and slipped out the back door. I looked up at the back of the house, but it was so dark, I couldn’t tell if the bedroom windows were open. Not wanting to risk it, I stepped out into the yard, turned on my penlight, and started walking as I dialed. Two bars of service. I hoped it was enough.
“Please tell me he went for it,” I said as soon as Harrison answered.
“He took some convincing, but ultimately he agreed with you—this may be our best chance to get Ahmad. We’re operating on American soil, and we have an advantage, assuming he doesn’t know you’re already in position.”
I climbed onto my picnic table and sat on the top. “I don’t think his men are here for me. If they knew where I was, I’d already be dead.”
“Agreed. And Morrow thought so as well, but we both agree that the only choices were to take Ahmad down now or relocate you. As much trouble as you’ve had with this gig, we thought it would be less hassle to take down Ahmad than saddle you with another identity.”
There was a slightly teasing tone in Harrison’s voice, but he wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t exactly blended in Sinful as I was supposed to. I could blame Ida Belle and Gertie, but the reality is, I simply couldn’t pretend to be a helpless female if someone was in danger. I was trained for action, not to stand around waiting for a rescue.
“So what’s the plan?” I asked.
“Morrow contacted his buddy at the FBI. He explained the situation except the part where you’re on location. He simply said he had someone in a position to provide local intel. He thought it best to leave your name totally out of it.”
“Good.” If the CIA was compromised, the FBI could be as well. Someone with Ahmad’s means could easily afford to have an agent or two in their pockets. “So what’s the play?”
“Ahmad is still off-grid, but we know he’s in contact with someone in the organization because the business end of things is still moving.”
“And no way did Ahmad turn over decision-making to someone else.”
“Exactly. Our guys in New Orleans have been sitting on Ahmad’s men, waiting to see what move they made. So far, they appear to be trying to track Jamison’s organization back to its primary location.”
“Makes sense.” Conrad Jamison was the buyer in New Orleans we suspected had a deal in place with Ahmad. If Ahmad had discovered the counterfeit bills, then he’d want to track Jamison to his home in order to deal with the problem. And since this kind of business screwup couldn’t be fixed with a gift card or a free dessert, Ahmad’s men wouldn’t want Jamison’s crew to know they were coming. Not until it was too late.
“The FBI agents Morrow contacted have a line on Jamison’s business interests in New Orleans. They think they can get us an address to work with, but they don’t think Jamison is doing the deals directly. They think that end of Jamison’s interests is being handled by someone else and so far, they haven’t been able to figure out who.”
“But they know where Jamison’s home base is?” We’d been looking for that bit of information ourselves, but Jamison had proved to be a wily and somewhat eccentric target. He favored living in RVs and on shrimp boats and camping in the woods to staying put inside the same four walls. And if he subbed out business interests to different factions, then he automatically added another layer of insulation to himself, not to mention left someone else to take the fall if things went south.
“They don’t think it’s his home base, but it’s an address that can be traced back to Jamison if Ahmad’s men decide to check. It may be all we can get with our time constraints.”
“If Jamison is connected to the location, that will be enough for Ahmad’s men. How are you going to feed them the address?”
“The two agents watching them are going to break cover and pretend to work for Jamison. They’re going to say they just found out about the counterfeit money and want nothing to do with it. They’re going to give up the address in exchange for safe passage out of New Orleans.”
“That’s risky. I assume the information exchange will happen in a public place?”
“The airport. We’ll have a charter waiting for them. They’ll go through security, then we’ll have people in place to get them to the FBO where the jet will be.”
Everything sounded solid so far. The agents on site had a viable and reasonably safe escape route, and if the address could be tracked back to Jamison, then Ahmad should have enough to make a move. “And we’ll be in place waiting for the strike at the provided location. What if Jamison is there?”
“Even better,” Harrison said. “Two birds and all. The FBI has been waiting for enough ammo to take down Jamison. With what we gave them, they might have enough to start making a case.”
“When will the agents give the informat
ion?”
“They’ll make contact tomorrow and schedule the airport meeting for the next day.”
“What’s my role?”
“For now, see if you can figure out the Sinful connection. That money got loose in that storm somehow.”
“You think Jamison has someone here.”
“I think Jamison has people all over southern Louisiana.”
“So I flush out the connection.”
“Yeah, but be careful. Jamison’s man could be someone you already know. And if Ahmad finds out there was money in Sinful, he’ll send men there.”
Crap. “I think that ship has already sailed.” I told him about the file Carter had and his intent to run a check on the funds. “If Ahmad’s got intel in the labs, he’ll hear about it.”
There was dead silence for several seconds and I pulled my phone away from my ear to make sure I hadn’t gotten disconnected. Finally, Harrison said, “Do I even want to know what you were doing looking through the deputy’s desk?”
“Getting intel, of course.”
“And you just strolled in, asked to read his case files, and he handed them over with a smile?”
“No. I brought him hamburgers. Then my friends distracted him so I could read the files.”
“The two old ladies?”
“Yep.”
“Be careful, Fortune. The fewer people know about this the better. I know you said they can be trusted, but at this point, it’s not about trust. It’s about ability.”
“I know. There’s no way I can keep them out of things in Sinful. They were running this place from behind the curtain long before I showed up, but I have no intention of telling them about the plan. I don’t want them in danger. Is there anything else?”
“That’s all I have for now, but keep your phone close and charged. And Fortune, your friends are probably already in danger.”
“I know.”
I disconnected the call and laid the phone on the picnic table, my mind trying to focus on so many things at once. Was Ahmad in New Orleans? Would he show at the Jamison compound? Who was the connection in Sinful? Had we already met?
Then a far-fetched thought flashed through my mind. What if Max was Jamison’s man? The money had appeared in Sinful at the same time he had, and someone had killed him and I knew it wasn’t Celia. He had a fake ID and he had to have been doing something for money all this time. Something illegal made a lot of sense and explained why he’d never been located.