Swamp Sniper

by Jana DeLeon

  I could do this. I’d single-handedly overturned militias with less effort.

  How bad could it be?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Famous last words.

  It was 11:00 p.m. and I was lying flat on the ground, under a hedge, staring across the street at Lyle Cox’s house, praying that he did something a murderer might do. So far, he’d sat in his recliner in the living room, drunk beer, and watched two hours of sports television, which looked pretty darn nice from where I sat. Or lay.

  Due to my training, my body could take hours of immobility, so my muscles hadn’t started to cramp, but my mind was ready to leak out my ear and go do something of interest. Anything but sit here another two hours getting eaten alive by the biggest mosquitoes God had ever created. Seriously, I’d been in aircraft that was smaller.

  Ida Belle and Gertie were faring worse than me. Ancient bones didn’t like being cramped on the ground under a bush, and since Ida Belle was the only one who exercised with any regularity, my guess was Gertie would be walking like the Hunchback for days to come. Still, I had to give them points for not complaining. I’d worked with CIA agents who weren’t as durable as the two senior citizens beside me.

  “If he’s not going to do anything worth watching, I wish he’d pass out or something,” Ida Belle said.

  “It’s probably our luck he’s a night owl,” I said.

  “Or a vampire,” Gertie said.

  A vampire wouldn’t be the oddest thing I’d seen in Sinful, so I left the possibility open. I saw movement through the window and got more excited than the situation truly warranted. “Look. He’s moving.”

  All three of us stared at the window like children looking through the glass storefront of a candy shop Lyle, who’d finally risen from his recliner, now stretched, then headed out of the living room and out of our view.

  “He’s probably just going to pee,” Gertie said. “He’s drunk a six-pack at least.”

  Given that he hadn’t turned off the television or the living room lights, I figured she was right, but a girl could still dream. After several minutes, my dreams began to fade back into reality.

  “Good Lord,” Ida Belle said. “How long is he going to be in the bathroom?”

  “A six-pack worth?” Gertie suggested.

  I said a silent prayer that he hadn’t fallen asleep on the john or passed out on the bathroom floor. Otherwise, it was going to be a long night of nothing.

  I’d convinced Walter to keep the tidbit about the lab tests to himself, then I sweated the rest of the evening, worried that Carter would show up at Ida Belle’s house to arrest her. My rationale was that if Gertie and Ida Belle knew how close Ida Belle was to the clink, their stress level would go up significantly. And stress led to mistakes.

  Walter hadn’t been happy at all as he saw our silence as basically colluding to lie by omission. I told him I had a really good reason for my request and that if I told him why, he’d then become a party to something illegal. I’m not sure which part he was unhappier about, but he said he’d trust me this time. The unspoken understanding was that if I blew it, I was in the negative with Walter when it came to trust.

  No pressure, right?

  I was just about to decide that Lyle had gotten the munchies and was in the kitchen fixing a casserole, or maybe an entire Thanksgiving spread, when a light went on upstairs. I grabbed Ida Belle’s sleeve and pointed.

  “Maybe he’s going to bed,” I suggested.

  “With all the lights and the television on downstairs?” Gertie asked. “That’s such a waste of electricity.”

  “He just drank half a bar,” Ida Belle said. “I don’t think he’s thinking about his electrical consumption. The room with the light is the master bedroom.”

  “Should I even ask how you know that?” I asked.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Ida Belle said. “If I won’t marry Walter, why would I have sex with Lyle?”

  “Good point.”

  “He inherited the house from his mother,” Ida Belle said. “She passed a year ago. Do you really think he cultivated those roses or painted the shutters purple? He’s let the place go to pot, but the bones of something beautiful are still there.”

  “If she can see how ratty her roses have gotten,” Gertie said, “Martha is probably turning over in her grave.”

  Ida Belle nodded her agreement.

  We waited what seemed like forever, but was probably only a couple of minutes, and the light upstairs went off. I watched the downstairs closely, but didn’t see movement again.

  “I think he may be wasting electricity,” I said.

  “He hasn’t come back downstairs,” Ida Belle agreed.

  “We didn’t see anything at all that will help,” Gertie said, her voice a bit strained. “I feel like we ought to do something besides go home.”

  I did too, but I’d been hoping Lyle would be gone when we arrived at his house. My idea was much riskier with him in residence, especially as he had the look of a man who wouldn’t think twice about shooting a trespasser, but we were running out of time and options.

  “Does he have a shed out back like you, Ida Belle?”

  “Sure, most people do. Not like anyone wants a lawn mower in their living room, and these one-car garages don’t hold much else but one car.”

  “I think we should look in his shed and see if there’s something in there with the same chemical makeup as the poison taken from your shed.”

  Ida Belle frowned. “That’s a bit of a long shot, isn’t it? And risky, even by our standards. Lyle will shoot first and ask questions later if he catches us in his backyard.”

  I squirmed a bit, trying to come up with a valid reason for taking such a risk that wasn’t the real reason I was willing to take the risk. “I’m just hoping to find a way to pin something on one of the other suspects, and Lyle is the most likely at this point. Even if we can throw suspicion on someone else, that will make a case against you weaker.”

  Ida Belle narrowed her eyes at me. Crap. I’d said too much and Ida Belle was too shrewd to miss the implication.

  “The lab tests came back, didn’t they?” she asked.

  Gertie sucked in a breath. “No. Fortune wouldn’t keep something like that from us.” Then her expression wavered and a bit of doubt crept in. “Would you?”

  Damn it.

  I blew out a breath. “Yes, the lab test came back. And the poison Carter took from Ida Belle’s is a match.”

  “How did you find out?” Ida Belle asked.

  “And why didn’t you tell us?” Gertie chimed in.

  “How I found out is irrelevant, and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you even more stressed when we were out here tonight. Stress leads to a clouded mind, which leads to mistakes.”

  They both stared at me, completely silent.

  “I promise I was going to tell you as soon as we were done spying on Lyle.”

  Finally, Ida Belle sighed. “I get it, and it’s sorta sweet how you’re trying to protect me and Gertie, but it’s not necessary. We’re two tough old birds. We can handle this. I promise you.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Then the bottom line is, my guess is that unless we can give him another option to muddy the waters, Carter will arrest you tomorrow. Once the prosecutor sets his sights on you, it’s going to be twice as hard to get him to look elsewhere.”

  “Crap,” Gertie said.

  “Exactly,” I agreed. “So if we can find another match for the poison, it would be great.”

  “And if we can’t?” Ida Belle asked. “The reality is, anyone in Sinful could have walked into my backyard and taken the poison.”

  “True, but it’s worth a look.”

  “And if we don’t find anything and Carter arrests Ida Belle?” Gertie asked.

  I blew out a breath. “Then I gather up everything we have—Ted’s true identity, the pictures—and I take it all to Carter and fess up.”

  Ida Belle shook her head. “I can’t allow
you to do that. You’ll blow your cover.”

  “Then I’ll do it,” Gertie said.

  I knew Carter would never buy that Gertie did all the things we’d done alone. He’d know I was involved regardless of who knocked on his door and handed him a bag of evidence, but I didn’t see the point in drawing out a losing conversation any longer.

  “That might work,” I said.

  Ida Belle cut her eyes at me and I knew I hadn’t fooled her at all, but Gertie looked temporarily mollified, so I left it at that.

  “So it’s settled,” I said. “I take a peek in his shed.”

  “You’re not going alone,” Ida Belle said. “You don’t even know what you’re looking for.”

  “If she’s going, I’m going,” Gertie said. “You can’t make me stay.”

  I hated to agree with Ida Belle, but she was right. I wasn’t an expert on homeowner poisons.

  “Fine, but if he starts shooting, we get the hell out.”

  “That’s a given,” Ida Belle agreed.

  “You never know—” Gertie started.

  I held up a hand to stop her. “I know. I don’t need a reminder. I think we should skirt down the back side of this hedge and cross the street two houses down from Lyle’s. It’s darker there and gives us more cover.”

  They both nodded so I backed out from under the bushes and started down the back side of them until I reached the next yard. Ida Belle and Gertie were right behind me, so I continued my progress down the street, then across, then back toward Lyle’s house, until we’d finally slipped around the corner and down the side of his house toward his backyard gate.

  I checked to make sure Ida Belle and Gertie were in position behind me, then pushed open his gate just enough for us to slip through, then eased myself inside. The back porch light cast a dim glow over the backyard, and I was pleased to have enough light to work with but not a spotlight that illuminated the entire lawn.

  Ida Belle pointed to the storage shed in the back right corner of the yard and we skirted the yard, keeping close to the fence and outside of the glow of the porch light. When we reached the shed, I was pleased to find it wasn’t locked. Which seemed stupid, given the situation Ida Belle was in, which then reminded me that my own shed wasn’t locked, and it’s something I needed to address first thing in the morning. Given that she had a hidden arsenal inside the house, God only knew what Marge had tucked away in the shed.

  I opened the shed door enough to get my arm around and click on my penlight. I peered inside and shone the light around the shed. It didn’t have a window, which definitely helped us avoid detection, but given the somewhat haphazard state of the shed, I wasn’t comfortable breaking out a bigger light. Cracks revealed lighting inside an enclosure just as easily as a window did.

  I crept inside, careful not to upset any of the cans, tools, and other items stacked randomly throughout the shed. I looked back at the door as Ida Belle poked her head in and motioned to her to join me.

  “Take a look around and see if you see anything you think may have the same chemical makeup as the poison in your shed.”

  Ida Belle nodded and clicked on her penlight, scanning the stacks of cans, bottles, and bags. Gertie slipped through the door and joined her, squinting in the dim light. Since she still wasn’t wearing her glasses, I had doubts she could see anything much beyond shapes, but apparently, Gertie’s promises to comply with corrective vision were fictional.

  “What is that brown bag over there?” Ida Belle said and pointed to a bag to the left of me.

  I shone my light on it. “Ant poison?”

  Ida Belle shook her head. “Not the same chemical makeup.”

  “What about over here?” Gertie asked, and pointed to the right side of the building about five feet back from where she was standing.

  Ida Belle shone her light to where Gertie pointed and that’s when all hell broke loose. The snake that had been draped on a beam at the top of the shed was apparently tired of our noise and lights and dropped straight down on Gertie.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Gertie let out a scream that would have made a horror movie producer celebrate. The instant the first echo of sound left her mouth, I knew things were about to get really bad, but by the same token, I couldn’t blame her. The thing was as big as an anaconda.

  Before I could even react, Gertie leaned forward, flinging the snake off her shoulders, and bolted out of the shed, shoving the door so hard it hit the side of the shed with a bang that was probably heard blocks away.

  Ida Belle bolted out of the shed behind her and I wasn’t even an inch off her as we barreled out of the shed. The second my feet hit grass, I heard a racket at Lyle’s back door and a second later, an enormous Doberman ran through a doggy door and straight for us and completely cutting off our path to the gate.

  “Back fence!” I yelled and we all spun to the right and sprinted for the back fence. I glanced back and saw the dog closing rapidly. We were going to be cutting it very close.

  I turned on the afterburners, knowing I would have to help Gertie over the six-foot structure, and that’s when she face-planted, just like she had in the swamp two nights before. To keep from running right over her, I dove, completing a somersault as soon as I hit the ground.

  In an instant, I sprang back up and turned around to grab Gertie. “Go,” I said to Ida Belle.

  “My ankle,” Gertie said as I pulled her up.

  I grabbed her around the waist and practically dragged her to the fence. I leaned over to make a step with my hands. “Put your good foot in and be ready. I’m going to launch you over.”

  It wasn’t the best idea, but at the moment, it was either throw a senior citizen over a fence or be eaten by an angry dog. Gertie stepped into my hands and I pushed up with all my might. Unfortunately, it was more than either of us anticipated.

  Gertie flew over the fence, barely grazing the top, and I heard a whoosh of air and a thud, then the sound of heavy objects hitting the turf. I leaped for the top of the fence just as the dog reached me, and could see Ida Belle and Gertie in a tangled heap on the other side. Before I could scramble over, the dog grabbed my shoe and started shaking my leg like a rag. I yanked as hard as I could, but he had a grip that I couldn’t shake.

  I started to reach for my pistol, then hesitated. The dog was just doing his job. A warning shot might get rid of him, but it would also attract the attention of everyone else in a mile radius. Seeing no other option, I looped my left arm over the fence so that I could reach for my pistol with my right, and at that moment, the back door of the house burst open and Lyle started shooting.

  Being shot at…again…must have given me some extra strength in my leg, because when I pulled this time, the shoe popped right off my foot, likely permanently lodged in the dog’s mouth, and I launched over the fence with a force I hadn’t planned for. I crashed into the ground and immediately leaped up.

  Ida Belle and Gertie were standing—Gertie on one leg with Ida Belle holding her upright. A bullet tore through the fence and whizzed by my ear, so I shoved my arm under Gertie’s shoulder and ran. I had my doubts that Ida Belle could keep my pace, but either I was moving slower than normal or gunfire prompted a whole other level of ability in her as it did in me.

  Either way, we ran through a vacant lot to the next block, then turned and started across front lawns, putting as much distance as we could between us and Lyle. We made it a block before slowing to a stop. We sat Gertie on a boulder in a flower bed and Ida Belle and I leaned over, both panting.

  “It’s a good five blocks to my house,” Ida Belle wheezed.

  “I can go get my Jeep and come back to pick you up.”

  Ida Belle shook her head and pulled out her cell phone. “It would take too long, and Lyle might come looking for us. Besides, as soon as someone reports shots fired to Carter—and you know someone will—he’ll come looking for you.”

  Crap.

  Ida Belle lifted the cell phone to her ear. “Marie, we ne
ed you to come pick us up right now. We’re in Stumpy Pitre’s lawn on the side of the house with the boulder. Don’t even take the time to dress—just haul ass.”

  She disconnected and slipped the phone back in her pants pocket.

  “Do you think Marie will move that quickly?” I asked, still deliberating hauling it to Ida Belle’s for my Jeep.

  “Oh yeah,” Ida Belle said confidently. “Marie panics and worries, but she’s also not much of a thinker. When you tell her to do something right now, she launches into response without even thinking. Probably dangerous for her, but it’s come in handy for Gertie and me.”

  I understood the concept, kinda. Soldiers were trained to react rather than to question, but I wasn’t convinced that a bit-past-middle-age woman who rarely left Louisiana was the best candidate for that sort of conditioning. As it turned out, my limited faith in Marie’s abilities was unfounded.

  Barely a minute had passed when Marie screeched to a stop in her car. Ida Belle and I got Gertie into the front seat before jumping into the back. Marie took off like a NASCAR driver and didn’t bother slowing for stop signs or corners. I clutched the door handle and looked over at Ida Belle, who winked.

  At the speed she raced up Ida Belle’s driveway, I was afraid Marie would launch her car straight through Ida Belle’s garage door, but she slammed on the brakes and the car slid to a stop just inches before the door. Ida Belle and I jumped out and grabbed Gertie out of the passenger’s seat, then hauled her around the car. We’d barely cleared the taillights when Ida Belle gave Marie a wave. She threw the car in reverse, flew out of the driveway, and disappeared around the block as quickly as she’d arrived.

  “She’s good,” I said as we hauled Gertie into the house and sat her in the recliner.

  Ida Belle nodded. “Told you. Granted, when the adrenaline stops about ten minutes from now, she’ll be so stressed she’ll knit an entire blanket and probably bake at least two pies before calming down. But I could use a new blanket and Marie’s work is the best, so it all works out.”