Swamp Sniper

by Jana DeLeon

  “I could use pie,” Gertie piped up as Ida Belle untied her tennis shoe and began to ease it off her foot.

  “You could use a walker,” I said. “What is up with you and all the tripping? Maybe that foot is worse than you thought. You should have it checked out.”

  “I didn’t trip,” Gertie said, somewhat indignant.

  “Then what the hell did this?” Ida Belle said and pointed to her ankle.

  It was already swollen to double normal size and by tomorrow morning, I had no doubt it would be black and purple. “Is it broken?” I asked.

  Ida Belle pressed gently on the sides and shook her head. “Can’t tell for sure, but I think it’s only sprained. Still, she should have an X-ray tomorrow.”

  Gertie leaned forward to study her ankle and sighed. “That’s my driving foot.”

  “The only thing you need to be driving is one of those motorized wheelchairs,” Ida Belle said.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Have you seen how fast some of them go?”

  “True,” Ida Belle admitted, then looked at Gertie. “As soon as this is healed, you have got to start doing yoga with me. You may have moments of brilliance, but overall, your flexibility and balance have gone to hell in a handbasket.”

  Gertie crossed her arms in front of her chest. “It’s not that bad.”

  I stared. “Seriously? You’ve injured that same foot three times this week alone.”

  Ida Belle shook her head. “Yes, it’s that bad, and furthermore, we’re too old to risk these kind of injuries. It’s going to take you ten times longer to recover than it did when we were serving in Vietnam. I hate it as much as you do, but the reality is we’re not in any shape to keep up with Fortune and we never will be again.”

  Gertie sighed. “I’m not sure we ever were in any shape to keep up with Fortune, although she appears to have lost some of her garments in this exchange.”

  Ida Belle looked down at my foot where Gertie pointed and raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t even notice. I’m losing my touch.”

  “The dog was hungry,” I explained. “It was either the shoe or my foot. When Lyle started shooting, the shoe seemed the better option.”

  Suddenly, it registered that Lyle had my shoe, and no doubt some nosy neighbor had already called in the shots fired. I groaned. “When Lyle gives that shoe to Carter, he’s going to know it’s mine. I was wearing them this morning because I jogged to the café.”

  “More than one person can have the same tennis shoe,” Gertie argued.

  “Yeah, but my DNA is in this one,” I said.

  Ida Belle waved a hand in dismissal. “Carter’s not going to do a DNA test on a tennis shoe on a trespassing charge. Besides, Lyle’s not going to give him the shoe in the first place, or he’ll have to admit he was the one shooting.”

  “Those big holes in his fence are sorta a dead giveaway,” I pointed out.

  Gertie relaxed a bit. “Carter can’t prove it happened tonight, and Ida Belle’s right. Lyle avoids the cops like the plague. I guess thanks to Ted we know why.”

  Everything Ida Belle said made sense, so I relaxed a little. Unless Lyle had seen me jogging and normally spent time memorizing ladies’ tennis shoes, he wouldn’t be able to place the shoe. I threw a log in Ida Belle’s fireplace and fired it up to burn the incriminating remaining shoe before taking a seat on the brick hearth. Sinful was hell on clothing.

  “I’m going to get some ice for that ankle,” Ida Belle said and headed to the kitchen. A minute later, she was back with a dishrag full of ice that she tied in a knot and put on Gertie’s ankle. “Why in the world did you scream, anyway? It was just a chicken snake.”

  “I don’t care if it was a two-turtledoves snake,” Gertie said. “I don’t like snakes to begin with and I certainly don’t like them attacking me from rafters.”

  “I know it’s a totally girly standpoint,” I said, “and likely to lower my stock considerably, but I gotta say I’m with Gertie on this one. I may not have screamed, but I’d probably still be running.”

  Ida Belle shook her head and sat on the end of the coffee table. “That snake was no risk, especially compared to that dog or Lyle shooting. And when did Lyle get a dog?”

  Gertie shook her head. “No idea.”

  “No matter,” Ida Belle continued. “My point still is, all the screaming precipitated the running, which led to the tripping, which results in this.” She pointed to Gertie’s ankle.

  “I didn’t trip!” Gertie insisted again.

  “I saw you fall,” I said. “And I didn’t push you.”

  Gertie rolled her eyes. “I never said anyone pushed me. I just said I didn’t trip. The ground swallowed up my foot.”

  “Lord, help us,” Ida Belle said, looking upward, then looked back down at Gertie. “Stepping in a hole and falling is tripping.”

  “But that’s just it,” Gertie said. “The hole wasn’t there when I stepped on it. It’s like the ground started disappearing below me and it closed in on my foot. Like it was being pulled down by Mother Earth herself.”

  Ida Belle’s eyes widened and she jumped up. I thought it was a bit of an overreaction to Gertie’s dramatic portrayal of clumsiness, but emotions were high, so I figured I’d give her a pass.

  “That’s it!” Ida Belle said and clapped.

  She grinned at both of us. I just stared, not understanding why Gertie’s tripping was so exciting all of a sudden. Gertie frowned and stared at Ida Belle for several seconds, then sucked in a breath.

  “A gopher hole,” Gertie said. “I stepped in a gopher hole.”

  Ida Belle grinned. “We got him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I woke up bright and early the next morning, eager to get started on my tasks for the day, and that was a welcome change. We’d spent hours the night before tossing around ideas of how to get Carter to investigate Lyle, while trying to avoid implicating ourselves in anything, when finally my muddled mind had cleared and the answer seemed so obvious.

  Walter.

  First, I’d head to Francine’s for breakfast and any gossip Ally had that might prove useful. Then as soon as Walter’s shop opened, I’d be inside, asking him to check his records and see if Lyle had ever ordered gopher poison. We all knew there was a chance he hadn’t gotten poison through Walter, but for whatever reason, we all chose to believe that this was going to be the answer—the thing that created reasonable doubt for Ida Belle.

  Francine’s was only half-full, but then, I was early compared to most of the retirees who wandered in later in the morning. Ally gave me a wave as soon as I walked in and motioned to my usual two-top in the corner. I was pleased to see that none of the other patrons were seated close by. That gave Ally an opportunity to spill without being overheard.

  She delivered the breakfast to a table across the café, then poured a cup of coffee and hurried over to my table. “I was hoping you’d come in,” she said as she put the cup down and pulled out her pad, so that it looked like she was taking my order.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Aunt Celia called me last night and said Paulette left for New Jersey last night.”

  “What? That’s rather abrupt since her husband’s barely in the ground.”

  Ally nodded. “Aunt Celia thought it was crass, but then everything about Paulette was, so I don’t know why people thought she’d be any different over this.”

  “But Celia’s sure she’s gone?”

  “Yep. She dropped by late yesterday evening to take a potpie and some coffee cake, and her cousin Tony answered the door. He said Paulette needed to get away from all of this for a bit. She was able to catch a flight last night, so she packed a bag and hauled butt.”

  I frowned. “Why didn’t Tony go?”

  “Celia asked that too, but he said there was only one seat left. He said he’d be leaving as soon as he could catch a flight today. Paulette will be back later to settle up things in the house.”

  “I assume Carter kn
ows she left,” I said, rolling this information around in my mind.

  Ally’s eyes widened. “I didn’t even think of that. I thought only suspects couldn’t leave.”

  “Usually, but with the break-in at her house and then the church, I figure Carter probably would prefer her to stick around, especially since her house won’t be occupied after Tony leaves, but everything’s still inside.”

  “You think someone will break in again?”

  “If you were the thief and you didn’t get what you were looking for the first time, then you found out the house was empty, would you break in again?”

  Ally blew out a breath. “I guess so. God, what a complicated mess. That woman has been a pain in the butt since her arrival in Sinful. She could have stayed another week—getting served fantastic food by all the locals, I might add—and let Carter do his job. But no, leave it to Paulette to make everything harder.”

  I smiled. “Why Ally, are you talking bad about a poor widow?”

  Ally rolled her eyes. “If I thought for one moment Paulette gave a hoot about anyone but herself, I might feel a twinge of guilt. But since I’m certain Paulette only cares about the size of a man’s wallet, then I’m not inclined to extend any sympathy.”

  I grinned, then looked over as the bells jangled above the café door. I barely held my smile in place as Bobby walked in. Ally glanced at the door, then back at me and frowned.

  “He’s such a flirt,” she said. “And twenty bucks says he’s going to head over here as soon as I walk away, so let me put in your order so you can get out.”

  I nodded. “The special, over easy.”

  “Got it,” Ally said and hurried off to the kitchen.

  Bobby, true to Ally’s word, scanned the café, locked in on me, and ambled over, a big smile on his face. “Are you expecting Carter again this morning, or can I have this seat?” he asked.

  “I’m not expecting anyone,” I said. “But sometimes, people turn up.”

  “So what you’re saying is if Carter turns up, you want me to make myself scarce?”

  I wanted to lean across the table and choke him with my napkin, but the last thing I needed was people gossiping about Carter and me and the relationship we did not have.

  “I don’t really care what you or Carter do,” I said. “I’m not a breakfast prize.”

  He grinned. “Fair enough. So what brings you out this early?”

  “I’m a morning person.”

  “Me, too. I usually jog but I wasn’t feeling it this morning. Maybe I’ll do a late-night run.”

  I didn’t have anything to add to the conversation, and small talk about mundane things was so not my strength, so we settled into an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Ally saved me by shoving a plate of food in front of me and taking Bobby’s order.

  “Go ahead,” he said and motioned to my plate.

  I reached for the salt and pepper and held in a sigh. Like I was going to wait. My table manners didn’t extend to people who invited themselves to a meal. I spent a bit concentrating on seasoning my eggs and spreading homemade jam on my toast, then dug in.

  “I hear you’re Marge Boudreaux’s niece,” Bobby said, clearly not wanting to let the conversation die a polite death.

  I took a bite of toast and nodded.

  “You just here for the summer?” he asked.

  “I’ll leave as soon as the estate is settled,” I replied.

  “Hopefully, it won’t be much of a trial. Some of the seniors in Sinful belong on an episode of Hoarders, but Marge didn’t seem the type.”

  “She wasn’t,” I agreed. “Her house is very functional and has few dust collectors. It will probably take longest to catalog her books. That’s where I started.”

  “That makes sense, you being a librarian and all.”

  I stared at him. “You checking up on me?”

  “Just curious. A beautiful woman with your attitude doesn’t exactly fit in Sinful. It made me wonder why you were here, so I asked.”

  “Well, now you know.”

  “So I can leave you alone?”

  I sat my fork down and sighed. “What do you want, Bobby? I’m not interested in dating. Not you, Carter, or any other overly alpha male in this town who thinks this little woman needs rescuing. When I’m done with the legal requirements for my aunt’s estate, I’m going home, which is north. Everything here is temporary and relationships shouldn’t be.”

  He gave me a nod. “Fair enough. But you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  “Fine. You tried. It didn’t work. Anything beyond now is stalking.”

  He rose from the table. “Then I guess I’ll take my breakfast to go.”

  He gave me a smile and a wink as he sauntered across the café toward the kitchen and I held in a sigh. Guys like Bobby never, ever believed that women weren’t dying to be with him. I don’t know why I wasted valuable energy spelling it out. With any luck, Bobby would decide what he wanted to be “if” he ever grew up and head right back out of Sinful as quickly as he blew in, just like Carter predicted.

  In the meantime, I supposed I would have to start considering breakfast at home if I planned on enjoying the meal in peace.

  As soon as I saw Walter’s truck pass by the café, I wrapped up breakfast and hurried across the street. The store wouldn’t be open this early, but I wanted to speak to Walter without the fear of interruption. I knocked on the front door and saw Walter’s eyes widen when he saw me standing there. He hurried to the door to unlock it and let me in.

  “Did your uh…plan work?” he asked, trying to avoid any mention of the illegal activities he figured we were up to.

  “I hope so. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Sure. Take a seat. What do you need? Do you want coffee?”

  He was so nervous it made my heart clench a bit. If something bad happened to Ida Belle, Walter would never be the same. “I just had breakfast, so I’m good. What I need is information.”

  “Okay.”

  “I need to know if Lyle Cox ever bought gopher poison from your store. Do you remember if he did?”

  His eyes widened and he stared at me for several seconds with an expectant look, then as more time passed, his face fell and he shook his head. “I can’t ever remember him ordering it, and it’s not something I keep in stock.”

  My heart dropped into my feet. Had last night been a waste of time and a perfectly good ankle? Were we all so desperate for the answer that we were pinning our hopes on a ridiculous long shot?

  “But let me check,” he said and pulled a book out from under the counter. “This is my special orders book.”

  “You keep a record of all the special orders?”

  He nodded. “Only way to keep up with what’s come in and who’s picked up their items. I know I should have it all on a computer, but I just don’t feel energetic enough to learn.”

  I took a peek at the book, making note of the cramped handwriting that filled each row. This could take hours. “Do you have more order books?” I asked. “I can start looking through them if you show me what to look for.”

  Walter nodded and pulled a stack of ten books from under the counter. I felt my anticipation drop a bit.

  “These are for the past two years,” he said. “I have more in the back.”

  He opened a book and turned it my direction. “You just want to look for a note in the last column. That’s where I record the order of all hazardous items.”

  My mood improved tenfold. Scanning the last column wouldn’t take long at all, even with ten books. I opened to the first page and traced down the last column with my finger, then repeated the process over and over again, until I’d finished reviewing three books. Walter did the same—both of us tracing invisible lines down the book in studied silence.

  On the fifth book, I found a note for gopher poison and my pulse ticked up. I traced my finger over to the left to see the name.

  Ida Belle.

  Damn it. All I’d found was more evidence
to incriminate her. Disgusted, I flipped the page and continued on, trying not to let my diminishing hope vanish into nothing.

  “Here!” Walter yelled, startling me so badly, I almost fell off the stool.

  “What?” I asked as I raced around the counter to look at the book.

  He pointed to the entry for gopher poison, then slid his finger over to the left.

  Lyle Cox.

  Gotcha.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “It wasn’t me that placed the order,” Walter said. “I was visiting my cousin in Omaha that week. My buddy Jerry was watching the store for me.”

  “You’re sure?” I asked.

  He nodded. “I’d know Jerry’s lousy handwriting anywhere. Is this enough to clear Ida Belle?”

  “It’s not enough to clear her, but if Lyle still has some of this poison, it’s enough to create reasonable doubt.” It was a whole hell of a lot more than that, but I wasn’t about to tell Walter about the blackmail end of things. The fewer people who knew, the better.

  “Why didn’t I think of this before?” Walter asked. “I’m so stupid. Here I was with the answer and it took you to point it out.”

  “We don’t know how much it answers yet,” I said, not wanting Walter to get his hopes too high. This entire mess was still a bit of a stretch to pitch to law enforcement.

  “Should I take this to Carter?” Walter asked, his excitement clearly not abating.

  “Actually, do you mind if I do instead? There’s something else I need to tell him…something I don’t want you implicated in.”

  He smiled. “I trusted you before and you came up with this. You seem like a pretty good bet, so I’m going to trust you again.”

  He picked the book up and handed it to me. “Let me know what Carter says and if me or Jerry need to do anything. I’m sure Jerry will be happy to verify his handwriting.”

  “Thanks, Walter. I’m going to call Carter now and see if he can meet me at the sheriff’s office.”

  “You don’t have to. I saw his boat parked at the dock when I came in the door.”

  “Great!” I grabbed the book from the counter and hurried out the store. With any luck, Carter and the dispatcher would be the only people in the office. Less chance of being interrupted that way.