Swamp Sniper

by Jana DeLeon

  “No! It’s critical that I don’t leave Sinful—not now.”

  “Why the hell not? It’s a spot of swamp that you didn’t even know existed two weeks ago. Give me one good reason why you can’t leave.”

  I looked across the table at Ida Belle and Gertie…my friends. And although it was infinitely depressing, the only real friends I’d ever had. I couldn’t abandon them, even if it meant pissing off Morrow and losing my job.

  “I can’t leave,” I said, “because the wrong person is going to be fingered for the murder.”

  “It’s not your problem.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “How in the world could it be?”

  “Never leave a man behind,” I said quietly.

  For several seconds, the only sound in the kitchen was the ticking of the clock, then I heard Harrison sigh. “It’s one of the old women, right?”

  “Who’s he calling old?” Gertie grumbled.

  Ida Belle elbowed her in the ribs and put one finger across her lips.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “How do you know she didn’t do it?”

  “Because the target wasn’t a threat. Remember, despite appearances, these women are not regular civilians. They operate by the same code we do.”

  “Shit,” Harrison said, sounding tired and defeated. “And this Deputy LeBlanc is going to be a problem?”

  “Not by choice. I’m certain he knows Ida Belle didn’t kill the man, but he has to turn over the evidence to the DA, and it looks bad because of some convoluted mess concerning gophers that you don’t even need to know.”

  “So his hands are tied.”

  “Yes. But mine aren’t.”

  “You’re not trained as an investigator,” Harrison argued.

  “I know that, but I’m the only thing she’s got.”

  “Fine. I won’t try to find you another cover…yet, but I can’t make any guarantees about Morrow. If he says I have to pull you out, then I don’t have a choice.”

  “I understand. And Harrison?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I owe you.”

  “Got that right,” he said and disconnected the call.

  I slumped back in my chair. “That went well.”

  “Do you think your boss will pull you out?” Gertie asked.

  “If he thought it would eliminate his stress level, yeah. But he’d still have to find another place for me, and that won’t be easy. Since the real Sandy-Sue inherited everything Marge had, the estate is covering all costs of my being here. It allows me to be completely off grid. No expense reports for Morrow to file for living expenses.”

  “So no paper trail for the traitor in the CIA to track you with,” Ida Belle said.

  “Exactly,” I said.

  “So worst case,” Ida Belle said, “we’ve got some time to clear this all up and convince him to let you stay once everything is back to normal.”

  I nodded, but I had little faith that things in Sinful would ever be normal. I would be happy if people just stopped turning up murdered. The general weirdness was something I could live with.

  “Let’s get back to Ted,” I said. Now that I’d made up my mind to get in the middle of another murder investigation, I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. “The poison and your proximity to Ted last night at the end of the rally easily give you opportunity, but what they don’t have is motive.”

  “What about the election?” Gertie asked. “Would that be enough reason to kill someone?”

  “In DC maybe,” Ida Belle said.

  “Logically,” I agreed, “you wouldn’t think so. It’s not like Ida Belle wins by default because her opponent is dead. Someone else will step up to run and the whole thing will start over again. Even if Ted had won, it wouldn’t be a threat to Ida Belle’s livelihood or quality of living, so if the prosecutor tried to make a case for an election murder, it would be a huge stretch.”

  Gertie looked happy with my assessment. “So if Ida Belle has no motive, what do we do now?”

  “We figure out who wanted Ted dead,” I said. “A poisoning isn’t an opportunistic sort of murder. Someone had to acquire the poison and make sure it got into something Ted was likely to drink but Paulette wasn’t.”

  “What if someone put the poison in a cough syrup bottle not even caring who they killed?” Gertie asked. “What if Ted just happened to be the unlucky one who drank it?”

  I blew out a breath. “Then that would mean someone has a serious beef with the Sinful Ladies if they killed someone just to make the group look bad, or someone is batshit crazy and just wanted to kill a human being, period. If it’s the latter, we won’t know until someone else turns up dead.”

  Gertie’s eyes widened. “Maybe we better stick to the Ted angle for now.”

  I nodded. “So if our bottle was used to poison him, the easiest way to narrow things down might be opportunity. We need to figure out how the poison got in the bottle. If we eliminate all the Sinful Ladies who prepared the syrup, and Ida Belle and I, who else had access?”

  Ida Belle frowned. “I gave him the bottle before the speeches started—telling him he’d need it after I whooped him and all that.”

  “What did he do with it?” I asked.

  “He put it in his blazer pocket,” Ida Belle said.

  I glanced at Gertie, who shook her head. “He wasn’t wearing a blazer then the speeches started,” I said.

  Ida Belle’s eyes widened. “That’s right. It was so darn hot…I guess he took it off.”

  “Which means it was somewhere backstage where anyone could have accessed the bottle,” I said and sighed. “We’re right back to a suspect list that encompasses the entire town.”

  “So opportunity is a dead end,” Ida Belle agreed. “I guess the only thing left is motive.”

  I nodded. “Then, hopefully, the murderer should be obvious.”

  “The most logical suspect is always the spouse,” Gertie said.

  “True,” I agreed. “So what do we really know about Ted and Paulette? Was he a cheater? An abuser? Was she running around with a local and wanted him out of the way?”

  Gertie shook her head. “I haven’t heard anything along those lines, but I don’t know either of them very well. Paulette stayed in New Orleans for spa visits and shopping most of the time. She never formed friendships with any of the Sinful women. I think she considered us and the town beneath her.”

  “Okay,” I said, “what about Ted? You said he was always running around town giving away stuff. Was there anyone he formed a bond with?”

  Ida Belle shrugged. “I never paid attention. He was an annoying man, always smiling too big and complimenting too much.”

  “And he was a front hugger,” Gertie piped in.

  “What’s a front hugger?” I asked.

  “You know,” Ida Belle said, “those guys who insist on hugging you straight-on full frontal, regardless of how well they know you, and when a side hug would be more appropriate.”

  “I think they just want to feel your boobs,” Gertie said.

  I grimaced, not completely convinced that Ted was copping a chest feel of ancient boobs, but happy I hadn’t been subjected to one of those full-frontal hugs. I had issues with my personal space.

  “My guess is,” Ida Belle said, “that most of the women in Sinful went out of their way to avoid him. I don’t think we’ll find much information through my usual channels.”

  “So maybe we need to ask a guy about Ted,” I said. “What about Walter?”

  Gertie perked up. “That’s a good idea. Most of the men drop by the General Store every couple of weeks to shoot the breeze with Walter. If Ted was up to anything sketchy, Walter may know about it.”

  “Do you think he’d tell us if he does?” I asked.

  Gertie raised one eyebrow.

  “Oh, right!” I said, remembering that Walter had been in love with Ida Belle since the crib. “So first up is talking to Walter, but I don’t think we should have that
sort of conversation over the phone.”

  “No,” Ida Belle agreed. “He may not be able to speak freely while he’s at the store, and I don’t want to wait until tonight.”

  “Well, then we’ve got a problem,” Gertie said, “because I don’t think any of us need to make a trip down Main Street again today. Carter may throw us all in jail if he thinks it will buy him a moment of peace.”

  I nodded. “He basically implied I should go home, close myself in my house, shut the blinds, and not even look out a window.”

  “That was rather rude,” Gertie said, “even for Carter. Well, if he doesn’t want anyone to see you, we’ll take my boat. We can dock behind the General Store and go through the back door to the storeroom. That way we avoid being seen by the Main Street traffic.”

  “I thought you wrecked your boat in my azalea bushes,” I said.

  “That was my boat,” Ida Belle said. “Gertie wrecked her own boat a couple of months ago.”

  “That’s an awful lot of boat wrecks,” I said.

  Gertie threw her hands in the air. “How was I supposed to know a house would be there?”

  I looked over at Ida Belle, not even wanting to guess how Gertie had managed to wreck her boat into a house.

  Ida Belle mouthed the word “later” and I frowned, uneasy at the prospect of boating with Gertie again. “Maybe Ida Belle should drive this time.”

  Gertie shook her head. “Given the circumstances, I don’t think Ida Belle should leave her house. In fact, we should probably call Marie to come over here and sit with her just in case she needs an alibi.”

  I sighed. “You’re probably right. So I assume your boat has been repaired since the highly suspect boat-house accident.”

  “Uh, pretty much,” Gertie said.

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “What does ‘pretty much’ mean?”

  “It was only a small hole. It will be fine.”

  I looked over at Ida Belle, who shrugged, clearly not up to speed on Gertie’s boat repair status.

  “Oh for goodness’ sakes,” Gertie said, “stop being such a chicken. It’s just a five-minute boat ride and we’ve got a limited amount of time to work with.”

  I felt my back tighten and I fought the urge to stand and fight. Gertie had hit on my biggest weakness, and I’d bet anything she knew it. Nothing lit a fire under me as much as an accusation of being a coward. And it didn’t help that Gertie was right about the ticking clock. The sooner we got all this settled, the more likely that Ida Belle would be in the clear and Morrow would leave me in Sinful.

  “Fine, then let’s get going,” I said, leaving off the “before I wise up and change my mind” part.

  Gertie jumped up from her chair. “Great! We can drop Ida Belle off at her house on the way to the boat dock. I just need to put on tennis shoes.”

  She hurried out of the kitchen and I looked over at Ida Belle. “Please tell me that boat is structurally sound.”

  Ida Belle shook her head. “I lent her my welder, but I have no idea if she did the patch correctly.”

  “Great.”

  “Hey, look at the bright side—at least you know how to swim.”

  Chapter Seven

  The boat dock was a patch of dirt littered with random weeds that led to a makeshift slope of gravel used as a launch. A handful of trailered boats sat on each side of the launch path, all of them looking worse for the wear. No wonder Ted had gotten cheers when he’d promised to pave this place.

  “That one’s mine,” Gertie said, pointing to an old green flat-bottom boat with yellow daisy slipcovers over the seats.

  I held in a smile as I backed my Jeep up to the boat. In a sea of camouflage, who would have guessed?

  Gertie jumped out and directed me right under the hitch, then lowered the trailer and latched it to the Jeep. I swung the Jeep around and backed the boat down the makeshift launch, Gertie unhooked it, and we were ready to roll. Or drift. Whatever.

  “Hurry up,” Gertie called from the boat as I parked the Jeep and headed to the launch. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to sit still for all that long.”

  I gave the boat a once-over before pushing it back and hopping inside, unable to squelch the feeling that this was not going to turn out well. I took a seat on the front bench and gave Gertie a thumbs-up.

  “This isn’t a race,” I reminded her, “so there’s no reason to go fast.”

  “Unless someone starts shooting at us.”

  “Is that really a possibility?”

  Gertie shrugged. “Usually.”

  I wasn’t about to ask. “Fine then. We’ll go at a moderate pace unless someone starts shooting. Agreed?”

  “Sounds like a plan.” She pulled on a pair of aviator sunglasses and twisted the throttle on the outboard motor.

  The boat leaped out of the water and I clutched the sides to keep from pitching off into the bottom. So much for moderate. Gertie set off down the bayou at a pace twice the speed I would have recommended, especially for someone with questionable vision who refused to wear glasses.

  I turned to face the front and said a silent prayer as the boat swept just inches from a pier, casting a huge wave over a couple fishing. I called out an apology, but we were probably gone too fast for them to hear it. The bank blurred by so quickly, I couldn’t tell where we were, but I thought I saw us speed past my house before making a hard turn that almost pitched me out of the boat.

  I was just about to yell at Gertie to slow down when she cut the speed completely and I splayed across the bow of the boat, barely avoiding rolling off into the bayou. I rose up just in time to see Walter’s dock inches from my face and grabbed the edge before we crashed into it.

  “Maybe I should drive on the way back,” I said as I jumped onto the pier and tied off the boat.

  “You don’t even know how to drive a boat,” Gertie said.

  “And yet, I’m certain I could do a better job than you.”

  “Everyone’s a critic lately,” Gertie grumbled as she climbed out of the boat. “Let’s get inside before everyone sees us.”

  After that morning’s mob run-in, she didn’t have to tell me twice. I double-timed it to the back of the General Store and slipped through the back door and into the storeroom, Gertie hot on my heels. I cracked open the door to the front of the store and peeked inside, but the store appeared empty, except for Walter, who sat on his usual stool behind the cash register.

  “Pssssstttttt,” I whispered.

  Walter lowered his newspaper and looked over at the door, his eyes widening when he saw my head poking out.

  “I need to talk to you,” I said.

  He tossed his newspaper on the counter and hurried into the storeroom faster than I’d ever seen him move.

  “Is Ida Belle all right?” he asked as soon as he closed the door behind him.

  “She’s fine,” I assured him. “Carter questioned her and she’s been released. She’s at home now under the general orders not to leave town.”

  “Why not? What the hell is going on? I’ve left Carter three messages already today and apparently my nephew has conveniently forgotten I’m family.”

  “I don’t think he’s forgotten,” I said, my heart going out to the obviously distraught store owner. “He’s just doing his job. I imagine he’s not any happier about it than we are.”

  Walter sighed. “I know you’re right, but he’s still going to hear about it when I get a hold of him. So what’s going on? Do you know anything?”

  I nodded and brought him up to date on everything except my CIA business. Ida Belle and Gertie were the only people in Sinful who knew my true identity, and even they didn’t know my full name or job title. I figured they’d guessed the latter, but some things were better left unsaid.

  When I was done, Walter rubbed his temples and took a deep breath. “It’s worse than I thought. No wonder Carter won’t return my calls. I have money. I can get Ida Belle the best attorney in the whole state.”

  The heart tha
t I tried to pretend I didn’t have clenched just a bit at Walter’s devotion to his unrequited love. I swear if I were thirty years older, weren’t a CIA assassin with a price on my head, and wanted to disappear forever in this ridiculous bayou town, I’d totally make a move on Walter.

  “I don’t think we’re at that point yet,” I said, “and God willing, we’re not going to get there.”

  Walter shook his head. “Unless you’ve got a miracle up your sleeve, I don’t see how we’re going to avoid it.”

  “Gertie, Ida Belle, and I are going to do our own investigation and catch the real killer.”

  Walter stared at us for several seconds, his expression a mix of disbelief and fear. “I believe you’re actually serious.”

  Gertie threw her hands in the air. “Of course we’re serious, you old goat. Do you think I’m going to stand by and watch my oldest and dearest friend get railroaded for something she didn’t do?”

  Walter stiffened, his face turning light red. “No, what I think you’re going to do is fall headfirst into something you’re not the least bit qualified to do and end up sitting in the cell next to Ida Belle.”

  “Fine then.” Gertie crossed her arms across her chest. “Now we all know our roles according to Jeff Foxworthy—you’re the good friend that we’ll call for bail. I’m the great friend that will be sitting in jail with her.”

  “Hmmm,” I said. “A bit reckless, but I respect this Foxworthy’s code. Is he a Sinful resident?”

  Gertie sighed. “Later. Right now, we need to get on with business. That is if Mr. High-and-Mighty here will lower his standards to helping us. Unless, of course, you’re afraid talking will get you arrested.”

  Walter shook his head. “Fine, you old fool. What do you want to know?”

  “A reason someone might want to kill Ted,” I said.

  Walter’s eye widened. “Straight to the point. But I’m afraid my answer is going to disappoint you. I have no idea why someone would want him dead.”

  “Not even a little reason?” I asked, unable to believe that Ted’s used-car-salesman personality hadn’t rubbed someone the wrong way.

  “I think the women considered him a bit of a letch,” Walter said, “so they mostly avoided him. The men mostly thought he was full of hot air and he could drive you to drink when he got on a roll and wouldn’t stop talking, but that’s not something you kill a man for.”