miss fortune mystery (ff) - bayou bubba (3 page)

Cal touched my elbow and guided me forward. I kept a close eye on the disembodied head, in case it suddenly spewed a long, forked tongue or pea soup in my direction.

I was pretty sure Voodoo ran rampant in the state of Louisiana. What better place than a town called Sinful to showcase its best stuff?

But as we got closer I realized the massive head was indeed attached to a monstrously large body, which seemed molded around an armless chair that creaked as the man placed two meaty hands on top of the glass. “We close in fifteen minutes.”

Cal inclined his dark head. “This won’t take long. Are you by any chance Pim Gordon?”

“In the flesh. All of it.” He grinned widely, sliding me a look. His eyes were small and dark in the pale abundance of his face. They looked like beads surrounded by bread dough.

I smiled back, liking him immediately. Anybody who had the confidence to laugh at himself won instant points with me.

Cal offered him his hand. “I’m Cal Amity and this is Miss Chance.”

The man’s smile froze and he blinked before laughing good naturedly. His chins and belly wobbled like jello in a paint mixing machine. “That’s very funny. Ever have anyone page you in an airport with those names?”

Cal frowned slightly but I laughed. “It gets worse. My first name is Felicity.”

Pim Gordon threw back his big head and roared, the sound breathy and loud in the cluttered space. He swiped tears from his bead eyes and shook his head. “Thanks for that, folks. You capped my day.” He leveled his gaze on Cal and the smile evaporated. “We have twelve minutes to conduct our business.” He leaned forward and the chair he was on rolled closer to the glass. “You have something to pawn?”

Cal shook his head. “I just wanted to ask you a few questions about one of your clients if I could.”

Pim frowned. “I don’t gossip about my customers Calamity.” He winked in my direction and I pressed my lips together to keep from grinning.

Cal stiffened, the giant stick up his fine ass unwilling to bend, even a little. “No gossip. Just information. We’re looking for Miss Ch…Felicity’s…”

Pim snorted and then rubbed a hand over his lips to hide the smile.

Cal expelled air. “My client’s father is missing and I’ve tracked him to Sinful.” He pulled the picture of my father out of his pocket, sliding it across the glass countertop. “Have you seen him around here?”

Pim clutched the photo between fingers that looked like bun-length hot dogs and frowned. “I’m not exactly sure. He looks a little like Bubba.”

Cal and I exchanged a glance.

“Bubba? The homeless guy?” Cal clarified.

Pim slid the picture back across the glass. “That’s what folks think but he ain’t no ordinary homeless guy. Pim pressed his hands on the counter and skidded sideways on the chair, reaching into a cabinet against the wall and pulling out a dirty plastic basket. He shoved back to the counter and set it on top. It was filled with Gold Eagle coins. “He brings me one or two of these a week. They’re 1/10
^th
ounce gold, worth around $160 each give or take. I figure he’s pawning just enough to live on each week.”

“We were told he’s living on Number Two.” Cal reached out and picked up one of the coins. “What would he need that much money for if he’s living in a shack on a fishing island?”

Pim’s big head met his fleshy shoulders and I realized he was shrugging. “You might want to ask Walter at the
General Store
about that. I think Bubba gets his supplies from him.”

I reached for my wallet and pulled out my credit card, handing it to Pim. “I’ll buy all of these back.”

His bead eyes widened but he didn’t question my purchase. He simply nodded and reached for a paper receipt. As he was filling it out, Cal continued with his questions. “Anything else you can tell us about Bubba?”

“He’s a pretty rough looking character.” He nodded toward Cal’s pocket. “He doesn’t look like that anymore. He smells like Number Two. His clothes are ratty and filthy, and his skin is red and peeling, like he’s been sunburned one too many times and it’s gone permanent. Especially his face.” Pim handed me the itemized receipt to sign and took my card, running it through a reader.

I frowned, bothered by his description because I hated to think of the polished, well-groomed man I’d known all my life succumbing to that. “Did he ever talk about his life before Sinful,” I asked.

Pim handed me my credit card receipt and I signed it, avoiding what I assumed would be his look of pity. “No. He didn’t talk much. He always showed up right before closing time and we did our business fast. I tried asking him once where he was getting the coins and the booze.”

“Booze?” Cal asked.

“Yeah, sometimes he’d bring in a bottle of Kentucky Bourbon to sell.” Pim grinned. “I don’t have any of that to show you. Your suspicion was right. Sinful
is
a dry town. I keep any alcohol I come by under the counter, but word spreads fast around here.”

I nodded. I didn’t need to see the bottles. My father’s favorite adult beverage was Kentucky Bourbon and he had a favorite blend. “Racer’s Mark?”

Pim nodded. “That’s the stuff.”

Felonius Chance had walked out of my life eight months earlier and the only things his current trophy wife and I could figure out he’d taken with him was were a bag of gold he’d kept in the safe in his office and three cases of bourbon. “That’s my father’s favorite.”

“Quality stuff,” Pim nodded. He glanced past me and nodded. “Closing time.” He shoved the basket of coins toward me. “You want a bag for these?”

I shook my head, grabbing the basket and dumping it into my purse. I nearly groaned as I hefted the bag back onto my shoulder, the strap digging into my bones from the weight. “Thank you.” I offered the big man my hand and he squeezed it lightly as he shook it. “It was a pleasure Felicity. Come back again.”

“I will.” When I smiled I meant it. I liked Pim Gordon. Like the other residents of Sinful, Louisiana he was a character.

But his was a character I could appreciate.

CHAPTER FOUR

It wasn’t until Cal parked the Jeep outside room number nine that I realized I was looking at an entire night alone in a hotel room with the sexy Cal. When he opened the driver’s side door and climbed out, my limbs seized up and I suddenly didn’t think I could get out of the Jeep.

Cal stuck his head back inside the car, fixing me with a perplexed look. “Are you all right?”

I looked at him, my cheeks burning. “I…”

Something in my expression must have given away my fear because Cal’s expression softened. “Do you need to be alone for a while?”

I swallowed the thickness in my throat and nodded. “If you don’t mind.”

Cal nodded. “That’s fine. I can go get us a pizza and some beer?”

Despite my panic, his offer sounded wonderful. “Thanks, Cal.”

He returned my smile and my stomach jumped a little. There was heat in his sexy blue eyes and for the first time since he and I had met that morning, Cal Amity looked at me like I was someone he might like to get to know better. Instead of someone he could barely stand to be around.

Unfortunately, that made my sudden terror worse rather than better. I grabbed the door handle and wrenched the door open, all but leaping out the door. I was halfway to number nine before Cal called out and I turned to find him holding up the key.

“Ha. Ha, ha,” I said, impressing him with my searing wit. He threw me the key and it hit my hand, glanced off and pinged against the window of number eight.

“I’ll be back in about forty-five minutes,” Cal told me.

I bent down to pick up the key and the door to number eight opened. I turned my head and saw a large pair of slippers, a short pair of black socks, and a long, wide expanse of hairy shin. Cranking my gaze up, I took in a pair of blue cotton boxers and a yellowed wife beater, all topped off by a thin, cotton robe that hung open to just below wide, bony knees.

He wore a short necklace of some kind of long, ivory-colored beads. A strange accessory for a man his size and temperament.

Mr. Graying Ponytail glared down at me. “You knock on my window?” He sounded like he’d been eating ashtrays for a decade.

I straightened quickly, nearly overcorrecting, and stumbled backward as dizziness swamped me. Holding my forehead, I tried my wit on him. “Ha. Ha, ha. I guess I was bending over too long.”

Nothing on his face moved except one bushy brown eyebrow. It eased slowly up in the middle, as if somebody had tied a string to it.

“Ha. Ha, ha.” I backed toward number nine. “Sorry. It was all a mistake. My keys hit your window.” I held the keys up as if they were proof of what had happened.

The second eyebrow eased upward.

I jangled my keys, walking backward. If I tried really hard I could really annoy him. “I’ll just…” I held his gaze as I fumbled with the key, afraid to look away for fear that would be the moment he’d strike. I dropped the keys twice. “Ha. Ha, ha.”

He crossed massive arms over his chest, watching me like one watches the clowns at a circus.
Look at the buffoons trying to stuff themselves into the silly little car.

Finally the key slid home and I turned it, plunging through the door and slamming it shut behind me. I locked all the locks and leaned against the closed door, panting from nerves. Just my luck Mr. Scary would be habitating right next to us.

I listened until I heard Mr. Scary’s door slam and then slouched toward the bathroom. I needed a long, hot shower to ease my nerves and soften my stress-stiffened muscles. Then I would deal with the next problem.

Surviving the night with Sexy Cal sleeping in the next bed.

###

Cal pulled the Jeep up to the curb in front of
Francine’s Café
and we went inside. I stumbled toward the nearest empty booth and slid into it. My vision was blurry from exhaustion and I yawned widely enough to crack my jaw as Cal slid in across from me.

His lips quirked up at the corners. “I can’t believe you’re still tired. You went to bed at eight.”

Yes, I had. Because it was either that or sit and try to make small talk with a man who thought small talk meant using small words in even smaller sentences. I wasn’t going to tell him that I’d lain awake all night listening to him breathe and wondering why he hadn’t tried to kiss me.

I knew it didn’t make any sense because I’d been sweating just such a thing earlier, but even
I
had never been able to explain my own tendency toward schizophrenic sensibilities.

“Coffee?”

My head shot up. “Yes! Please.”

The woman holding the coffee pot didn’t even blink. She looked like she was used to dealing with crazies. She poured black gold into my cup and I thanked her before taking a quick sip.

“Francine, isn’t it?” Cal held his mug up for her to fill.

“That’s right. You’re new in town, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I’m Cal Amity and this is Miss Chance.”

I waited for the usual smirk over our names but the woman just nodded. “It’s nice ta meet ya.” She set the pot down on the table and pulled out a ticket book. “What can I get y’all to eat?”

Cal ordered a massive breakfast with eggs and bacon and sausage, biscuits and gravy and pancakes and I ordered an English muffin.” Francine ambled toward the kitchen with our order.

“She’s very calm,” I observed.

Cal sipped his coffee. “The sheriff told me to talk to her about Bubba. Apparently he came into the café on a regular basis.”

My eyes would have widened in surprise if they weren’t limp from lack of sleep. Remembering Pim’s description of Bubba as filthy and stinky, I said, “That must have been fun for the other customers.”

Cal shrugged.

Halfway through my cup of coffee I realized I’d never told Cal about our neighbor at the motel. “Hey, did you by any chance run into the guy in room eight at the
Backwater
yet?”

Cal ripped paper off his straw and dropped it into his water glass. “What guy?”

I frowned. “The guy in number eight. He’s kind of scary looking. He came out of his room last night while I was trying to get inside.”

Cal stopped sipping his water and set it down, fixing an intense look on me. “He didn’t hurt you did he? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Because I was too busy worrying about you jumping my bones and then being disappointed because you didn’t.
I shook my head. “He didn’t hurt me. He just stood there in his underwear looking all judgmental.”

Cal’s eyebrows lifted.

“Yeah. Just like that.”

A few minutes of silence and sipping later, Francine returned with too many plates for one woman to carry. Somehow she managed. Settling plate after plate in front of Cal, she looked at me and frowned. “Oh, that’s what I was forgetting. I’ll be right back.”

I rolled my eyes as Cal dove into his food. He tucked a fork full of eggs into his mouth and then realized I didn’t have anything in front of me. “Where’s yours?”

“She forgot it.”

He set his fork down.

“Go ahead, your food will get cold.”

“I’m not eating until you do. My mama taught me better manners than that.”

“Really, go ahead.”

His expression turned to stone and I knew it reflected his will. A more stubborn man I’d yet to meet. It’d been an asset while searching for my father when everyone else had given up, but it was a titch annoying to deal with on a daily basis.

Francine finally arrived with my muffin.

Cal pulled the picture of my father out of his pocket. “I was wondering if you’d ever seen this man around the café?”

Francine took the picture and nodded. “That’s Bubba. ’Cept he doesn’t look like this anymore.”

Cal took the photo back from her. “He comes into the café?”

“Every Sunday, during church services. He likes to get a banana pudding before the church ladies get here and grab it all up.”

I couldn’t resist asking. “Pim Gordon says he’s always kind of disheveled.”

Francine fixed me with a bored look. “He doesn’t wear a suit or anything. His hair’s long and kind of straggly. But he’s usually clean. His clothes aren’t ratty.”