Swamp Sniper (12 page)

“What do you make of this guy at Paulette’s?” Ida Belle asked.

“Nothing yet,” I replied. “Too many possibilities. I guess we’ll have to wait until Celia finds out more.”

“I guess so.” Ida Belle flopped back on the couch. “Fire up the movie, Gertie.”

I settled back in the recliner and tried to focus on the movie. It was a decent flick, but my mind kept wandering back to Paulette and her New Orleans trips, the strange man who had arrived in town the day of the murder, and the gopher poison that the whole town knew about.

I was completely lost in my thoughts when glass broke on the window behind the couch and something came flying into the living room, crashing into a lamp on the far side of the room. Ida Belle and Gertie hit the floor and I flipped backward over the recliner. I peered around it and saw something large and covered with paper surrounded by vase shards.

Tires squealed outside and I jumped up to get a look at the vehicle, but all I could manage in the dim streetlights was a dark-colored truck.
 

“Don’t touch it!” Gertie yelled at Ida Belle. “It could be a bomb.”

I turned around to see Ida Belle leaning over the lump, about to pick it up.

“Then touching it isn’t going to make a difference, is it?” Ida Belle said.

I hurried over as Ida Belle picked up the object.

“It’s just a rock covered with paper,” Ida Belle said as she removed the rubber bands to peel the paper away from the rock.

Yankee-loving murderer.

“Now, there’s a sophisticated message,” Ida Belle said. “If only we could narrow down the pool of suspects to less than the entire Sinful population.”

“We can,” I said pointing to the back of the paper. “The idiot wrote that message on his utility bill.”

Ida Belle flipped the bill over. “Looks like Shorty didn’t learn his lesson with that boat mishap.”

“I’m calling Carter,” Gertie said.

I looked over at Ida Belle, expecting her to protest, but she just nodded. Apparently, she saw the wisdom in being the victim.

###

It only took Carter five minutes to show up at Ida Belle’s house. It took five seconds for him to sigh in disgust at the message on the utility bill.
 

“I don’t know whether to be happy he’s made my job so easy,” Carter said, “or pissed off that someone that stupid not only roams the earth, but lives in my hometown.”

“I’m voting for pissed off,” I said and tapped the bill. “Notice those big red words ‘Cancellation notice’ written on here. If he’s not paying his water bill, I seriously doubt he has the cash for your truck or Ida Belle’s window.”

Carter perked up. “That makes things easier on me. I figured locking him up would mean no pay and that means no money for my truck, but if he’s not paying his bills anyway, there’s no loss. Sorry about the window, Ida Belle.”

“No worries,” Ida Belle said. “I wanted to get some of those new high-efficiency windows anyway. But I’m pressing charges. That vase was expensive.”

“I’m pressing charges too,” I said.

“For what?” Carter said. “You assaulted him this afternoon.”

“For shooting at me—did you forget that part? And at this point, I can make a good case for stalking.”

Carter gave me an aggrieved look. “You really want me to press charges for stalking? This town isn’t as big as a postage stamp. When it comes down to it, we’re probably all stalking one another as soon as we walk out our front doors.”

“I know that, but you can use it to threaten him to stay away from us.”

He smiled, understanding my angle. “That I can do. Normally, I’d want the three of you at the sheriff’s department tomorrow to give statements, but given that our toilet is broken,” he said as he looked at me, “I can’t have civilians in the building.”

“Can we do them here?” I said, feeling slightly guilty.

“I’ll bake muffins,” Gertie said and clapped her hands. “It will be a party.”

Carter stared at Gertie for a moment, apparently not on the party train with her. “I have to go pick up Shorty. I’ll see you here tomorrow morning at ten. If something changes, I’ll call to reschedule.”

Carter left and I locked the door behind him. “Do you have something to cover that hole?” I asked.

“There’s trash bags and duct tape in the kitchen,” Ida Belle said. “I’ll cover it with a tarp on the outside tomorrow. Eddie is the only window guy in Sinful, and it will take forever for him to get to the work. Guess I’ll look like a vagrant until then.”

“Is he busy with hurricane repairs?” I asked.

“Hell no,” Ida Belle said. “He’s busy being drunk. I have to wait until he runs out of money for booze before he’ll take the job. He just finished installing new windows in the school cafeteria so it could be fall before he needs to work again.”

I shook my head. “If Walter can order the windows, I’ll install them myself.”

Ida Belle and Gertie stared. “You can install windows?” Ida Belle asked.

I shrugged. “Understanding building structure was part of the job…you know, for access purposes. And sometimes we had to build our own shelter. They were makeshift mostly, but I know how to work with wood. Should be a lot easier here without sand blowing in my face and the fear…”

“Fear of what?” Ida Belle asked.

I laughed. “I was going to say without the fear of someone shooting at me, but apparently that doesn’t apply.”

Gertie shook her head. “It’s like I always say, you never know—”

“When someone might start shooting,” I interrupted.

Famous last words.

Chapter Ten

I spent the night on Ida Belle’s couch, which was a bit risky given the local natives’ choice of rock throwing, but if it happened again, I wanted to be close enough to the door to catch them and hand out my own form of judge and jury. Carter’s method was the legal one, but it didn’t tend to work on crazy. In my experience, the only thing that worked on crazy was crazier, and I could definitely top anything Sinful could deal out.

But apparently, all the crazy was in for the night, and instead, all I got for my efforts was a crick in my neck that took a good hour to work its way out. Gertie was up at the crack of dawn, baking muffins, but they smelled so good I couldn’t complain about her banging pots at 6:00 a.m. She also might have mollified me with a taste…or maybe two. Okay, it was three muffins, but who’s counting?

Carter showed up at ten on the dot, took our statements, and had us sign. Some of the Sinful ladies arrived just after Carter left to work on a quilt, so I headed for home, figuring I was off the babysitting hook for several hours.
 

I took a hot shower, working out the last remnants of my neck kinks, then headed downstairs where I grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, then stood in the middle of the kitchen processing the uneasy feeling of not knowing what to do.
 

It was one of the only times since I’d arrived in Sinful that I didn’t have a single thing to work on. I should probably start the inventory for the estate, but I really didn’t feel like it. And part of me kept hoping that Ahmad would be captured, the price on my head would be lifted, and I’d get to leave Sinful before summer was over and the inventory was due. Then the real Sandy-Sue could handle her inheritance the way she saw fit.

I drummed my fingers on the kitchen counter, staring out the kitchen window, and finally decided to focus on Ida Belle’s home repairs. I needed to measure before getting with Walter to order replacement windows, but in order to do any of the work, I needed tools. I’d seen some tools in Marge’s storage shed, but I hadn’t paid much attention to what she owned, so I headed outside to check it out.

The summer sun beat down on me and the humidity had me covered with a layer of sweat before I’d even made it off the back porch. At this rate, I’d need another shower by the time I went back inside.
 

The shed sat behind the house to the right, midway between the house and the bayou. It was shaded by a giant oak tree and had a row of hedges running beside it. I was halfway there when I saw a shadow pass across the window of the shed—the inside of the shed.
 

I immediately reached for my piece, then cursed when I remembered that it was on the kitchen counter and not strapped to my hip as it always would have been before I came to Sinful. I hurried back inside, grabbed the nine, and then exited the house by the front door, planning to sneak down the row of hedges and catch whoever was in my shed before they caught sight of me and had a chance to run.
 

I crept down the backside of the hedge, hoping the neighbor I shared the hedge with didn’t look outside and see me creeping across his lawn with a handgun. When I reached the shed, I found a good spot to push through the shrubs, then dropped on my hands and knees and crawled through to the back of the shed.
 

The back of the shed didn’t have a window, so I stood back up and placed my ear to the wall. Everything was silent for a bit, then I heard something rattle, as if someone had bumped against something inside the shed. I slipped around the corner of the shed and crouched down as I eased past the window. When I reached the end of the shed, I lifted my right arm up, pistol in ready position, then jumped around the corner and threw open the door.

Before I had a chance to focus, much less aim, something hit me square in the face, screeching like a banshee and clawing the top of my head. I scrambled backward, accidentally firing off one round before I could reposition my finger. The creature on my head launched off and scurried into the bushes.

I repositioned my trigger finger and whirled around, preparing to go to war in the shrubbery, when I heard laughter behind me. I glanced over to see Ally standing there, bent over and laughing so hard she was crying. Her boat was pulled up the bank in my backyard.

“Some wild animal attacked me,” I said, feeling a bit outraged at her obvious glee. “And you think that’s funny?”

She gasped a couple of times, then straightened up and drew in a deep breath. “That wasn’t a wild animal.”

“I can feel the cuts on my scalp. That’s wild enough and it’s not going to set up house in my shed.”

Ally walked past me and leaned over, peering into the bushes. “Here, kitty kitty.”

The bushes rustled a bit and a small black cat peered out. It took one hesitant step out of the bushes, then strolled right past Ally and wound around my legs, purring.

Ally grinned. “I think you’ve got a new friend.”

“Oh no. I don’t know a thing about taking care of a cat, and besides, my head is throbbing from those claws. It would be like living with live razor blades.”

“Come on, Fortune. The razor blades might make a good backup security system. Besides, cats can see ghosts, so if you’re haunted, Kitty will be able to tell you.”

“I don’t want to know if I’m haunted, and I have all the backup security I need in a second magazine.” I pointed to my gun.

“Uh-huh. Would that be the gun you just shot out your own window with?”
 

Ally pointed to the second story of my house where I could see the small pane of glass missing from one of the guest room windows.
 

“Great. I guess I’ll be replacing two sets of windows.”

Ally frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ll tell you all about it, but let’s get inside out of this heat.” I pointed at the cat. “You need to go home.”

The cat looked up and me and meowed.

“I think he likes you,” Ally insisted.

“I don’t care, and how do you know it’s a he?”

She shrugged. “Because he caused a rash of shit and thinks rubbing on your legs and looking pitiful will fix it.”

I laughed. “Let’s get inside before we melt.” I pointed at the cat. “You stay here.”

The cat sat down and started cleaning his paw.

“He probably wants to get my blood off his nails,” I said, then we headed inside. “Beer, water, or soda?” I asked as I poked my head in the refrigerator.

“It’s after noon, so beer me.”

I grabbed two beers and took a seat at the kitchen table. “Is that noon thing another one of Sinful’s odd laws?”

“No, that’s a personal one. I figure drinking before lunch is crass.”

“Why aren’t you at the café?”

“It’s my day off. Between all the excitement yesterday and staying late to help Francine bake pies, I slept like a brick. I didn’t even wake up until nine, which is unheard of for me.”

“Yeah, I completely forgot to ask you yesterday what happened with Paulette at the café. I was at the sheriff’s department when Carter went over there to break up a fight between Paulette and Francine…something about a new rug.”

Ally nodded. “I thought Francine was going to shit kittens. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her that mad in my life. Not even when old Mr. Bullard smacked her on the butt and called her a prize heifer.”

“I’m surprised old Mr. Bullard is still alive.”

“He’s not, actually, but Francine didn’t have anything to do with that. At least that’s what she claims. He had a heart attack in the café, so who knows. Anyway, Paulette stormed in there, looking like a wet hooker, and started yelling at Francine that she was a horrible person for keeping the café open.”