Swamp Sniper (31 page)

“I don’t think he’s going anywhere,” Bobby said.
 

I grabbed another dishrag from the cabinet and pressed it into Bobby’s wound, then handed him his pistol. “I borrowed this. I hope you don’t mind.”

He put Tony’s gun on the counter and took his own from me.

“Given how things turned out compared to where they were headed,” he said, “it’s hard to complain.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “But I hope you’re not planning on continuing to lie about that librarian thing. I came to in time to see you in action. You’ve had extensive training. So who the hell are you?”

I shook my head. “I’m someone like you who needs to lie low. I know you don’t have any reason to trust me or to lie for me, but I’m about to ask you to. If Carter finds out what I did here, he’ll look too hard.”

Bobby stared at me for a long time then sighed. “It goes against all logic and damn sure against procedure, but I believe you. And since you saved my life, it’s hard to be a dick about it. Whoever you really are, your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks. I promise you, it’s for a really good cause. My life, in fact.”

He nodded. “The cops will be here any minute. How do you want to play this?”

“You take all the credit,” I said. “I stayed in the pantry cowering.”

He smiled. “You’re actually going to try to pull off cowering? When I just saw you outsmart three of the deadliest men in the Maselli family? It’s ballsy. I’ll give you that.”

“I don’t have a choice. Make up whatever story you need to. If you play up your head injury, no one will think twice if things don’t add completely up.”

He nodded. “So play up the fuzzy memory. Smart. What about the shot outside?”

“It’s not a problem. She’s a friend.”

“A good friend to have, apparently.”

He extended his hand to me. “It seems wrong, but this is the only thanks you’re going to get for saving my life.”

I smiled and shook his hand, deciding that in the big scheme of things, Bobby wasn’t so bad after all.
 

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Quite a week,” Gertie said as she readjusted her booted foot on top of the ice chest on my back porch where we all sat, drinking sweet tea and eating truly incredible chocolate chunk cookies. Merlin stretched out in the sunlight at the end of the porch, completely converted to domestic life.

“That’s an understatement,” I said as I leaned over to slide a pillow under Gertie’s foot. “It’s not high enough.”

“The two of you fuss like old women,” Gertie griped.
 

Ida Belle raised one eyebrow. “Well, if you didn’t go barreling into streets with shotguns, then get hit by the ice cream truck, we wouldn’t have to fuss.”

Gertie threw her hands in the air. “That man is a menace, driving without glasses.”

I grinned. “Poor Deputy Breaux didn’t know whether to arrest Ritchie or the ice cream man or help you out of the street.”

“Have you heard anything from Bobby?” Ida Belle asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Ritchie’s still claiming self-defense on the shootings at Paulette’s house. The prosecutor in New Jersey wanted him moved, but it got nixed. He’ll be tried in Louisiana. I don’t think he’s going to like the result.”

Ida Belle shook her head. “I’m sure not.”

I stared out at the bayou, marveling over the way things had unfolded the past couple of days. I’d been dead-on with my assumption that Ted had turned state’s evidence on the family and he and Paulette were in witness protection. A former commander of Bobby’s had headed for the FBI a couple of years before and had discussed potential locations for witnesses with him.
 

Bobby had suggested Sinful as a good place to go undiscovered, and when his buddy had to find a place for Ted and Paulette, he’d sent them south. Bobby had stepped directly out of the military and into the FBI, but it had all been kept very hush-hush, making him the perfect person to head to Sinful and make sure Ted was safe and sound and preparing for trial.
 

When Ted’s true identity came out, people in Sinful were blown away by the fact that they’d had a real-life mobster in their midst and hadn’t even known. Ida Belle, Gertie, and I had feigned shock when Carter filled us in, but we hadn’t had to fake a thing when we found out who’d killed Ted.

After the big showdown, we hadn’t given it another thought, assuming Tony, Ritchie, or Mikey had done the dead. But when all of them were placed in New Jersey the night Ted died, we figured it was Lyle or one of the other Sinful blackmail victims.

None of us figured Paulette for the deal.

Ultimately, it was Ritchie who told. With Tony and Mikey dead, Paulette’s murder was already sitting squarely on his shoulders. Apparently, he wasn’t interested in fighting a double homicide rap. According to Ritchie, with Ted almost broke, Paulette was no longer willing to wait around and see what happened. Without the support and the money being in the family brought, Paulette wasn’t interested in sticking around.
 

She’d contacted the family and offered to kill Ted in exchange for the information he had and for the price on her head to be lifted. When everything had blown over, Paulette thought she was going back to New Jersey and finding another man to support her, which was supported in part by the conversation I’d overheard in the General Store between Tony and Paulette. Based on the conversation I heard between Tony and Ritchie, I had no doubt the boss never intended for her to make it out of Louisiana alive.

Ritchie said Paulette figured the election was the perfect backdrop for the murder, but she’d seriously miscalculated the relevance of small-town politics. Election murders in New York or New Jersey might happen, but it was far less likely for someone in Sinful to murder over a mayor’s seat that paid practically nothing and didn’t come with kickbacks. She’d stolen the poison from Gertie’s shed and doctored a glass of milk she took Ted before bed. She’d added the poison to the cough syrup afterward.

Thinking back to Walter’s comments about Ted’s bad luck with his truck and boat, it made me wonder if it wasn’t so much bad luck but two early—and unsuccessful—attempts by Paulette to make his death look like an accident. If so, that was one secret Paulette was taking to the grave.

The prosecutor, being a smart man, had dropped everything against Ida Belle and was pursuing Ritchie with a conviction that was darn near frightening. The three of us had done some deliberating and finally decided to destroy the photos I’d taken from Ted’s house. Ida Belle promised to feed Carter seemingly random gossip on the illegal activities we’d seen captured on film, but we saw no reason to unleash a whole other shitstorm on ourselves by coughing up the photos.

“Did Carter question you again?” Gertie asked me.

“Yeah, but Bobby covered everything pretty well. I just stuck to my story about getting caught spying and huddling in the pantry.”

Ida Belle laughed. “I can’t even make the stretch to imagine you as a huddled, shivering mass.”

“It wasn’t the easiest thing to pull off,” I agreed, “but with Bobby being FBI and him and Carter knowing each other all their lives, I don’t think he picked as hard as he would have someone he didn’t know.”

Ida Belle nodded. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“He gave me a butt-chewing of biblical proportion, though. I’m still smarting from it.”

“He cares about you,” Gertie said, “and from where Carter sits, it was the dumbest thing in the world for you to do.”

Librarians have no business trying to apprehend dangerous criminals! What part of “call the police” do you refuse to understand?

The words Carter was sure to say echoed through my mind and I sighed. That was it—the bottom line. As far as Carter was concerned, I was a harmless civilian making stupid choices to help a friend. It was somewhat hurtful and insulting to be considered harmless or stupid, but I didn’t really have a choice.

And there were worse things.

“Uh-oh.”

I heard Carter’s voice and looked up to see him rounding the corner of the house.

“When the three of you are together,” he said, “it always seems to be cause for worry.”

“The only crime here,” Gertie said, giving her tea a wistful glance, “is that these glasses contain no alcohol.”

Ida Belle and I laughed, but we’d already had a round the night before of Gertie on painkillers and drinking. Until further notice, we were limiting her to one option or the other.

“I think it’s about time to head home for your nap, Gertie.” Ida Belle rose from her chair to help Gertie up. She’d insisted Gertie stay with her until she could get around better, and I could only imagine the bitching Ida Belle had endured.

“I don’t need a nap,” Gertie complained.

“Yes, you do,” Ida Belle said, giving her a pointed look. “You need to get that foot above your head and you can’t do that sitting in a chair. It won’t kill you to sleep a little, and if you don’t mind, I’m going to do the same.”

Gertie studied Ida Belle for a moment, then glanced at Carter and me and her eyes widened just a bit. “Fine. I’ll sleep. But I’m not listening to that relaxation music you played yesterday. That crap makes me want to scream. Put on some George Strait and stop trying to be fancy.”

Ida Belle helped Gertie to her feet and grinned. “George Strait it is. I’ll give you a call later, Fortune.”

As they went inside the house, I motioned to Ida Belle’s vacated chair. “Have a seat. Do you want some iced tea?”

Carter took a seat. “Is it sweet tea?”

“Is there any other kind in Sinful?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I’d love a glass.”

I headed into the kitchen to pour a big glass of sweet tea and refill the cookie plate. I sat both of them on the tiny table in between our chairs. As he reached for a cookie, I put my hand over them to block him.

“Are you going to yell at me again?” I asked. “Because if you are, you can’t have a cookie.”

He cringed. “Considering I’ve already seen the offering, that’s pretty harsh.”

“Yes.”

He studied me for a couple of seconds then smiled. “No, I’m not going to yell at you again. I probably shouldn’t have in the first place, but when I think about what could have happened…”

I nodded and removed my hand from the cookies. Even though I had an edge so much bigger than what Carter could ever imagine, the situation could have gone down completely different than it did. Training and intelligence couldn’t buy your way out of everything. The bottom line was, sometimes you also had to get lucky.

And I’d gotten very lucky.

“So you’re not mad at me anymore?” I asked as he picked up a cookie.

“I wasn’t mad, really…okay, I was mad.” He frowned for a couple of seconds and stared across the backyard, then he looked back at me. “The thing that aggravates me the most is that even though I think it was the dumbest thing in the world, I respect you for trying to help your friend.”

I stared at him. His statement had been so unexpected, I wasn’t sure how to respond.

“However, in the future,” he continued, “I would prefer that you leave the bad guys to law enforcement. You’re supposed to be here settling your aunt’s estate, not figuring out a way to follow her to the grave.”

I smiled. “I will do my best to stay out of law enforcement business.”

“Your best, huh? That’s all you’re going to give me?”

“Anything more would require me ending my friendship with Ida Belle and Gertie or potentially being a liar.”

He laughed. “Fair enough.”

He took a bite of the cookie and settled back in his chair. I felt silly that I had an edgy feeling, sitting there with him, but with everything that had happened, it was almost an automatic reaction.

“So did you need anything in particular?” I finally asked, figuring I may as well get the real reason for his visit out in the open.

He looked over at me and raised one eyebrow. “Do I have to need something in particular to have iced tea and cookies with a friend? You did say we’re friends, right?”

I sighed. “Yeah, we’re friends. And no, you don’t need a reason to be here. It’s just that you usually have one other than relaxing.”

He put his cookie down on the table. “You caught me. I have another reason.”

I felt my pulse tick up a notch. Had he looked into me despite Bobby’s story? Had he figured out we knew about Ted’s true identity and hadn’t told him?

“If you’re not busy Friday night,” he said. “I’d like to take you to dinner.”

My heart began to pound and I stopped breathing.

No!
 

Logic screamed at me to avoid any further pursuit into the personal, but my mouth had ideas of its own.
 

“Okay,” I said, then immediately began cursing myself for my lapse in judgment.

“Great,” he said and rose from the chair. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow to let you know the particulars.”

I nodded as he headed down the porch steps and started across the lawn.

“Carter?”