Homemade Sin (44 page)

“You don't remember being a horrible, bloodthirsty monster and chasing me down the beach?” Cowpie said to Clint.

“No, he doesn't,” Bella said. “And the next time he turns into a werewolf, most likely at the next full moon, he won't remember that either. You must have done something to that man in the past to make him hate you. That's why he was chasing you. I suggest you make your peace with him right now, or at least before the next moon. You might not be so lucky next time, clown.”

“Truce?” Cowpie extended his hand toward Clint.

“No more tricks?” Clint extended his hand toward Cowpie.

“No more tricks,” Cowpie said, shaking his hand.

“Good. Now you two play nice.” Bella smiled, satisfied the clown and the werewolf would work out their differences. If they didn't there was the threat of the next full moon to keep Cowpie in line.

She headed back into the bar to check on the other zombies.

Hussey lifted the lid of the dumpster and peered down at a wild-eyed and terrified Cutter.

“Please don't kill me,” Cutter whimpered.

“Get out of there,” Hussey said, holding the runcible spoon aloft.

Hussey led Cutter back through the kitchen to the lounge, wondering what she was going to do with him. She found a find an old man dripping water on the floor by the bar while he waited for Roland to make a batch of Banana Daiquiris. “Looks like the floaters are back to normal,” Roland said to Hussey as she passed the bar.

“Watch what you're doing,” said the Wilford Brimley look-alike. “Put more bananas in that blender and more rum, lots more rum, and remember I need six of those. And bring them out to the pool when you're done,” he said as he sloshed on the carpet back toward the door, “I'm getting a chill from this air conditioner.”

“Got any more Mambo powder?” Roland said to Hussey.

Once again seated beside Jones, Bella watched as the yachtsmen started to stir, they were waking up as zombies. She sauntered over, hands on her hips and addressed the group of four.

“You're all zombies now,” she informed them, their wide, staring eyes fixed on her. “You're going to listen to me from now on, do what I tell you to do.”

“Sit down and keep your mouth shut,” Hussey said as she pointed Cutter toward the table where Jones sat. She joined Bella who was addressing the quartet of zombies.

“They are all Borko zombies,” Bella said to Hussey. “Helpless as day old kittens.”

“I know,” Hussey said. “They're going to need somebody who knows about zombies to take care of them.” She looked at Bella. “Does anybody know anything about them?”

“I know they have a hundred foot yacht,” Roland piped up. “And I know they are pompous assholes.”

Bella stepped over to Jones and took his hand. “Up for a little sea voyage?” she said.

“There's no way I'm letting you out of my sight again,” Jones said with a lascivious grin.

Bella stood and addressed the staring, slack-jawed zombies again. “OK folks, I want you to get up and go to your boat. I'm going to go along to make sure you are all right.”

The zombies rose as one and filed out the door toward the docks.

“I'll take good care of them,” Bella assured Hussey.

Jones reached into his pocket and handed Hussey the vial of Borko powder. “It's your call Hussey,” he said. “You can turn Cutter, the Borko powder and the fugu over to Deputy Dickerson. I can call him and let him know what happened here and he'll pick up Cutter and take him to jail. I'm getting on that boat with Bella.”

“What's the point of turning him over to the police?” Hussey said. “Dee Dee was the one who planned it all, Cutter was just the idiot who went along with it. No one was actually turned into a zombie except those guys at the table and Cutter had nothing to do with that. The police couldn't actually charge him with anything.”

“That's the way it usually goes.” Jones sighed. “Evil people do heinous things and leave the truly stupid people holding the bag.”

Cutter started to object but thought better of it and closed his mouth.

“What do you propose to do with him?” Jones said.

“I think I can come up with an appropriate punishment,” Hussey said. “Why don't you leave it to me?” She gave Cutter an ominous smirk. “And I still have this.” She waved the runcible spoon in Cutter's face. She had forgotten she was still holding it until that moment.

Bella and Jones followed the zombies as they trudged aboard the biggest yacht she had ever seen. The name “Pale Sea Horseman” was stenciled on the stern.

Captain Gordon Black stood at the end of the gangplank to greet the returning passengers. Stewards, maids, bartenders and cooks flanked the captain and saluted as the Four Horsemen came aboard. They marched in a straight line, eyes staring straight ahead as if they were on the Bataan Death March. When all were on board Bella instructed them to go below to their cabins and await instructions.

“What happened to them?” the Captain said. “They're usually barking orders, demanding food and drinks. They seem to be in a trance.”

“That will take a little explaining,” Bella told the Captain. “They have been turned into zombies. Let's just say they're going to be a lot less demanding from here on out. My friend and I are going to tag along on your ship to make sure they don't get into any trouble. Who are these folks anyway?”

“The guy who owns this ship is some medical hot shot, he calls himself Death. One of them is the CEO of a top pharmaceutical company; he calls himself ‘Pestilence.' The rest are other big shots, too. One guy is some kind of big time lawyer, and one guy is some insurance executive.”

“Do you think any of them will be missed for a while?” Bella said.

“Not very likely,” Captain Black said. “They get a lot of important looking faxes every day and they scribble notes on the faxes and fax them back. But I've read some of the faxes and it's mostly government regulations, insurance legislation, new drug approvals and policy decisions, stuff like that. Do you know anything about government policy, insurance or healthcare?”

“I have a deck of tarot cards,” Bella said. “From what I've seen lately I'll probably do better with those than these guys have done with health care policies.”

“Where are we headed?” the Captain said.

“Let's cruise down the Gulf coast around the Keys and over to New Orleans,” Bella said, smiling at Jones.

“Back to New Orleans, broke and homeless.” Jones sighed and placed his arm around Bella's waist.

“I wouldn't say broke. I kind of borrowed some money without permission from Mama Wati's place when I left. I used it to bet on the boxer and I made a nice chunk of change. I want to pay back Mama's husband, Obadiah, what I borrowed, plus interest. He was always good to me, even if he did pinch me in the ass sometimes when I stood over the stove. And I'm sure these guys have some money stashed in offshore accounts they won't be needing.”

“But don't these men have wives, families?” Jones said. “I'm sure someone will be looking for them.”

“We'll skim a little off the top, and use it to start rebuilding in the Ninth Ward, and we can try to find their families when we get to New Orleans,” Bella said.

“Any instructions for the crew?” the Captain said.

“Tell the crew to relax and get ready for a very enjoyable cruise,” Bella said.

Dee Dee Deloach and Winfrey Pinth Merrmian sat on the top deck of Winfrey's new yacht, The Flying Fugu as the captain steered the vessel into the harbor at Key West.

“Ah, Key West,” Winfrey said. “I do so love Key West. Maybe we'll locate our corporate offices here, what do you say?”

Dee Dee stared in silence at the approaching Key West dock, seemingly lost in thought.

“And I am so glad you managed to clean up your language,” Winfrey said. “I haven't heard you curse once since we left Miami.”

Dee Dee didn't reply, she continued to stare at the boats docking at the harbor.

“Our Fugu Lounges are doing well.” Winfrey smiled. “We're starting to rake in the money. The restaurants in Miami and Palm Beach have only been open a few weeks and they are already booked for months in advance. And since you won't be needing your half of the profits, I am going to be filthy rich. I do wish my constant companion was here to see my success,” Winfrey said, a smug smile dancing on his lips. “He would be so proud. But that's not possible, is it Dee Dee … since you poisoned him?”

Wordlessly, Dee Dee turned slowly toward Winfrey, her face placid.

“It was so nice of your friend, Mr. Cutter, to provide me with the necessary nostrum for my purposes. He was most cooperative when I explained my little plan to him. He was almost enthusiastic. And it is amazing how easily one can slip something into someone's food, isn't it? But you know all about that.” Winfrey produced a small vial from deep in his pants pocket and held it to the light. “I wonder what ‘Borko' means anyway,” he said aloud reading the label. “Probably some Haitian or African term.”

A single tear escaped Dee Dee's wide, staring eyes and slid down her cheek.

Bella was seated in a deck chair receiving a pedicure from War. Pestilence was putting a second coat of polish on her fingernails and her shoulders were being massaged by Famine. Death, wearing a white dinner jacket, was hovering over her, holding a tray containing a half full bottle of Dom Perignon in a silver ice bucket and holding out a toast point covered in Beluga caviar. She was flipping the pages of Yachting magazine between bites.

Seated in the deck chair to her right was Ignatius Jones, wearing a white panama hat and dark glasses, basking in the sunshine and sea air. To Bella's left sat Tony Cajones.

“I'll take a glass of that bubbly,” Tony said, lifting a crystal flute from the tray. “I'm drier than a spinster's panties in a salt box tumbling around in a dryer with no cling free.”

“Ever manage to contact these guys' families?” Jones said to Bella, ignoring Tony.

“Yes and none of them want them back. As long as the checks keep coming in, these guys won't be missed by anyone.”

The captain strolled across the deck toward her. “We are almost to New Orleans,” he told Bella.

“Great!” Bella Donna said. “We'll have the Ninth back humming along in no time. Tony, the boat and crew will be all yours.”

“I think I'll keep going south,” Tony said. “Where do you go when you go south from New Orleans? Cancun? Costa Rica? Rio? The five families are looking for me. When you find yourself in this situation where a serious reevaluation of your life is in order, the best thing to do is to head south, always south.”