Gertie wasn’t going to make it. The tree line was too far, and Sledgehammer was a lot faster than her. So I pulled out my nine and did the only thing I could do—I fired a shot into one of the Mercedes’s back tires.
Sledgehammer slid to a stop, then ducked behind the car. Gertie didn’t so much as flinch. She hit the trees at a dead run, flew right past me, and dived into the back seat of the SUV. I heard a bullet whiz by as I bolted for the passenger door, and Ida Belle floored it out of the hiding space while I was still getting in the SUV. I had one foot on the floorboard when the momentum from the takeoff sent the door slamming shut, flinging me inside.
“Why do you two insist on slamming my doors?” Ida Belle asked as she tore up the side road.
“Because people are shooting at us?” Gertie said.
Ida Belle shook her head as she headed up the narrow road and turned off into a neighborhood. “Is he coming?”
“No,” I said. “And he’s not going to be. I took out his tire.”
Ida Belle let off the accelerator. “Well, why didn’t you say so? The last thing I need is a ticket. Then there’s a record of us being here.”
“Which is going to be a problem,” I said. “Because someone’s certain to call about the gunshots.”
Ida Belle exited the neighborhood onto a farm road and set off for the highway, pushing the speed limits again. “I’ll go to the boat shop. It’s close by.”
“It’s New Year’s,” I said. “It won’t be open.”
“It’s Sinful,” Ida Belle said. “When customers are off from work, Wade has the boat shop open.”
“Mostly because he doesn’t like being at home with his spouse,” Gertie said and looked at Ida Belle. “Remind you of anyone?”
“The important thing is that he’s open and will be our alibi,” Ida Belle said.
“Unless this thing is a time machine, you can’t get us there before the shooting started,” I said.
“I have a plan,” Ida Belle said and shot an exasperated look back at Gertie. “And speaking of plans—what the heck was that?”
“All kinds of smart,” Gertie said. “I saw this special about how gangs were stealing the emblems off Mercedes.”
“And what does stealing the emblem accomplish?” I asked. “Besides getting us shot at?”
“A reason for me to be close to the car,” Gertie said. “I put a GPS tracker in the wheel well.”
Finally, it made sense…in a convoluted Gertie-thinking kind of way.
“So now Sledgehammer thinks you were there to steal the emblem and doesn’t check the rest of the car,” I said.
Gertie nodded. “Those bathrooms have a window facing the rear. If he looked out, I needed him to think I was stealing something. And losing the emblem will keep him mad enough to not think too hard on what happened.”
“Where did you get a GPS tracker?” I asked.
“From your stash,” she said. “I figured I might as well keep one in my purse. It could come in handy.”
I shook my head and pulled out my cell phone. I accessed the app and watched the dot slowly pulse next to the hotel.
Gertie leaned forward to check the phone and clapped. “Now all we have to do is wait for him to get that tire fixed and see where he goes.”
“One of these days, you’re going to get yourself or us killed,” Ida Belle said.
“Technically speaking,” I said, “as far as Gertie’s ideas go, this one went well. He didn’t get a good look at me because I was under the vanity and then he was out cold. He didn’t get a good look at Gertie because she was running away from him. And he didn’t see your SUV because it was behind the tree line.”
Gertie grinned. “I’m getting good at this.”
“You got shot at,” Ida Belle said. “There’s still some kinks to work out.”
She pulled into the boat store parking lot, which was surprisingly crowded. Apparently, Wade wasn’t the only person who didn’t want to spend the day at home.
Ida Belle parked at the end of the building, then jumped out and headed around back. Gertie shrugged and we set out after her. She rounded the building and pulled out her wallet, slipped a credit card into the back door jamb, and popped the lock. She eased it a crack, then when she was sure it was clear inside, we slipped in and she locked the door behind us. We headed to the door connecting to the showroom and did the stealth peek again.
We had to wait for a couple of people standing nearby at a life jacket display to move on, but as soon as their backs were turned, we slid into the store. Ida Belle grabbed some rope and Gertie picked up more aluminum weld, but I couldn’t worry about that at the moment.
“Follow my lead,” Ida Belle said, and we headed toward the front of the store where Wade was just finishing ringing someone up.
When the man left, Ida Belle stepped up to the counter. “Did you forget about me, Wade?” she asked.
He looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“I asked you if you had this line in a hundred feet a good half hour ago,” she said. “You were going to check.”
He scratched the top of his head. “You did?”
Ida Belle sighed. “Is your memory going the way of your hair? You were standing right by that motor oil display when we talked.”
He scrunched his brow, then finally nodded. “Oh yeah. I’m sorry, Ida Belle. It’s been crazy in here today, and drinking all that beer last night didn’t help matters.”
“At least business is good,” Ida Belle said. “So…the line?”
“Right,” he said. “Let me pull that up and see if I have some in the back.”
As he started tapping on the computer, my phone rang.
Carter.
“That was fast,” I said and showed them the display.
“What’s up?” I answered.
“Funny you should ask,” he said. “I was headed to the motel to finalize some information with the clerk when I got a call from dispatch saying some guy was in the motel parking lot yelling and waving a gun. A couple minutes later, I’m questioning the guy with the gun who claims an old lady stole the emblem off his Mercedes and shot out his tire.”
“Isn’t emblem stealing a gang initiation thing?” I asked. “Wow. They’ll take anyone these days.”
“Uh-huh. Where are you right now?”
“The boat shop.”
“So you were never at the motel?”
“Nothing exploded, did it?”
“The plumbing did. Oddly enough, in the gun-waver’s room. He claims the plumber broke the pipe.”
“Sounds like they need to find a new plumber.”
“That’s what the clerk said and was a bit cagey when I asked him who the old one was.”
“He’s barely making over minimum wage, at a motel where dead people and explosions happen on the regular. He probably doesn’t know or care who the guy was.”
“Yeah, but you see, the gun-waver said the plumber was a woman.”
“Good for the motel. Equal rights and all. Listen, is there a point to this?”
“How long have you been at the boat shop?”
“Half hour at least. Here, you can ask Wade.”
I handed Wade the phone. “Tell Carter how long we’ve been in the shop.”
Wade looked completely confused but took the phone. “Hi, Carter. Yeah, they’re here. Crap, been at least a half hour, probably more. They’ve been waiting on me to check inventory and I’ve been busier than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest.”
He handed the phone back to me.
“Are you satisfied?” I asked.
“No.”
“You think Wade is lying?”
“He wouldn’t do Ida Belle that kind of favor. She always beats him at shooting competitions.”
“Then I guess I’ll let you go so you can get back to your emblem-stealing-gun-waving-bad-plumber problem.”
I disconnected before he said anything else, and Wade dashed off for the rope Ida Belle had asked for.
“Did he buy it?” Gertie asked.
“No,” I said. “But he admitted that Wade won’t lie for Ida Belle and can’t figure out how we were in two places at once.”
“If he figures out Wade’s memory is about as good as the sheriff’s, we won’t be able to use this excuse again,” Ida Belle said. “Maybe if Carter needs some boat supplies, you could volunteer to pick them up for a while. Make sure he doesn’t catch on too soon.”
“You think Shadow will keep his mouth shut?” Gertie asked.
“Oh yeah,” I said. “That guy is scared of becoming one of the motel’s body count. No way he’s admitting to being in on this.”
Wade returned with the rope, and we paid up, then headed out.
“Where to now?” Ida Belle asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I want to talk to Cecil, but I don’t want to go to Number Two. First, for the obvious reason, and then because I’d like to see what Sledgehammer’s next move is.”
“We should go get the parabolic microphone,” Gertie asked. “That way if Sledgehammer lands somewhere new, we might be able to get something.”
“That is one plan I can get on board with,” Ida Belle said. “After all the mess, I don’t want to get any closer to Sledgehammer than the reach of that microphone.”
“I agree,” I said. “Head to my house. We’ll load up the microphone and hopefully Sledgehammer will be on the move soon.”
On the drive back to Sinful, I saw Sledgehammer’s car move from the motel to a nearby service station that repaired tires. It probably wouldn’t take long for the repair, so we decided to grab some lunch that was easily portable in case we had to head out in a hurry. We were having chicken salad sandwiches, chips, and chocolate chip cookies when my phone dinged and I checked the display.
“Our friend Sledgehammer has left the service station,” I said and watched as the dot moved down the highway.
“Where’s he going?” Gertie asked.
“He’s headed toward Sinful,” I said.
“After Carter questioned him?” Ida Belle asked. “That’s brazen.”
“Maybe he thinks everyone is hungover,” Gertie said.
“More likely he thinks small-town deputies are idiots,” Ida Belle said.
“Let’s get the microphone ready,” I said. “This doesn’t feel right.”
We hurried to the SUV and got the microphone ready to go, then sat there waiting for the blinking red dot to stop moving.
“He’s going through downtown and into the neighborhood,” I said. “Duck!”
We all lowered ourselves just as the Mercedes came into view and waited until the dot was clear of my house before we rose. I showed the blinking dot to Ida Belle and Gertie.
“That’s the street Sawyer lives on,” Ida Belle said.
“He’s stopping!” I said, my pulse ticking up. “Go!”
“You think he’s going to try again?” Gertie asked, her voice raised. “That’s crazy!”
“If he killed Brock and stuck around, that’s crazy too,” Ida Belle said.
She turned onto Sawyer’s street and I directed her to pull over when I spotted the Mercedes at the curb at the opposite end.
“Where is the house?” I asked.
“The blue one with white shutters down on the right,” Ida Belle said. “The sheriff’s truck is across from it.”
I spotted the house a few from the end. The Mercedes was parked two houses down and across the street. I pulled binoculars out of the glove box and zeroed in on him. He studied the house for a few seconds, then pulled out his cell phone.
“Microphone,” I said.
Gertie pointed the microphone at the car while I cued up the control panel. I slipped on the headphones, hit Record, and moved Gertie’s arm around a bit until one side of the conversation was clear.
Her car’s still there.
No. Not the SUV. Brock was still driving that. This is some junker she picked up somewhere.
Yep. Tennessee plates.
I can’t just walk up to the door. The cops are sitting across the street, and she’s either ditched her cell or turned it off.
Look, she already knows the score and after Brock, I don’t think she’s going to play around. She said her lawyer was pushing the contract through now that there’s no opposition and they should be ready to sign next week. She’ll be back in Nashville for that for sure. I think I should get out of here before the heat catches on.
Okay, but I have to change motels. The other one got weird.
I don’t know, just weird, man. Someone jacked the emblem off my Mercedes and the cops were there a second later. Like they were parked around the corner or something.
No. I got rid of him—said I wasn’t interested in pressing charges, but he ID’d me.
Yeah, I’m still using my Louisiana ID and that’s where my car is registered, but if he talks to the Nashville cops, he might be able to make the connection, even though I don’t have anything on the books there. I can’t imagine anyone else from Nashville is in this shithole except the three of us, so if he pokes hard enough, he’ll be on me again.
I get it. But if you want me to stay put, I’m going to a different motel. There’s something odd about that place.
Yeah, I know what to do if she tries to run.
He started up his vehicle, then backed out of the street and drove away. I connected the control panel to Ida Belle’s radio and played back the recording.
“Sounds like Sledgehammer killed Brock,” Ida Belle said.
“Which still seems strange if they wanted to collect,” Gertie said.
“Maybe they figured they’d go straight to the source of the cash,” I said. “All indications were that RJ was going to cut Brock out of the licensing fees. And it didn’t sound like Brock had any more prospects.”
“So do you think that round fired at RJ was a reminder from Sledgehammer that they could get to her at any time?” Gertie asked.
“Could be,” Ida Belle said. “It’s either that or someone else was mad enough to take a shot at her.”
I shook my head. “Mad gets you a reflexive response. That shot was planned—remember the broken light bulbs. That’s a whole different mental state.”
“So Sledgehammer then,” Gertie said.
I nodded because it made the most sense. And really, given the facts, it was the only thing that fit. But the whole thing stank to high heaven.
“Are you going to tell Carter anything?” Gertie asked.
“No,” I said. “He’ll just be mad that we’ve been tracking Sledgehammer and didn’t tell him his background to begin with. Carter will talk to the Nashville police—if he hasn’t already—and he’ll eventually get the same information we got from Mannie out of them.”
“But they’re not going to volunteer it,” Ida Belle said. “He’ll have to keep poking.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Those task forces don’t like to let details wander, so they’ll play it close to the vest. But Carter has his ways of working around tight lips, just like Big.”
“But he doesn’t know anything yet,” Gertie said.
“No,” I agreed. “Or he would have hauled Sledgehammer in for questioning already.”
“When he connects Sledgehammer to the Nashville dealer Brock was tied up with, he’s going to know our alibi was crap,” Ida Belle said.
“He already does,” I said. “He just can’t figure out how to disprove it. And since there was no reason to think Sledgehammer was the target of our visit, he assumes that we were there to get a look at the crime scene and created a distraction to get away.”
My cell phone rang and I checked the display.
“Shadow,” I answered. “What can I do for you?”
“That guy—he’s gone.”
“The guy with the Mercedes?”
“He’s gone too, but I meant the other one—Jim Garmon.”
“Well, he was there fishing. Maybe he’s done.”
“Except that his name isn’t Jim Garmon.”
“No one gives their real name, right? He said he didn’t want his wife to know he was there and not working.”
“But Jim Garmon is the name he gave the police. I was standing right there when he did it. And they ID’d him so that means he had to have fake ID, right?”
I frowned. It was one thing to give a fake name and pay cash to avoid your spouse. But acquiring a fake good enough to pass police inspection wasn’t easy or cheap, and covert fishing didn’t seem a good enough reason for the hassle or the cost.
“How did you find out the name was fake?” I asked.
“Because that deputy guy was here after Sledgehammer started shooting and then he asked to talk to Jim—or whoever he is—for some follow-up questions. But his old room is cleared out and his stuff isn’t in the new one I gave him. Both keys are on the dresser in the old room. Then the deputy asked me about the dude’s ID and if he paid with a credit card. I told him we didn’t ask for ID and he paid cash, like everyone else. Then the deputy hurried out of here, looking mad enough to spit. I got suspicious, so I did a Google on the name and a Jim Garmon died last year in Nashville. But the dude who was staying here kinda looked like him. Enough to pass a crappy ID picture off.”
“Interesting,” I said.
“Interesting?” he said. “Interesting! That’s all you have to say? Look, I thought when I signed up for this that you’d look at a crime scene and what happened would play out in your head and then you’d tell the cops, and they’d arrest people. But I’ve got dead guys checking in and out and naked people and gunfire and exploding plumbing, and I can’t handle all this pressure.”
“I don’t think you have to,” I said. “Naked guy and Mercedes guy both left, remember?”
“That’s true,” he said, sounding hopeful.
“Yep, so all you have left to deal with is the plumbing.”
“Thank God! Listen, I don’t suppose you guys could stay away from here for like a year. Or at least six months. My therapist charges two bills an hour and I don’t have insurance.”
“Unless you collect another murder victim or a suspect that I’m tracking, you have my word.”
He sighed. “So no chance is what you’re saying. But I’m officially out of the investigative business—even just providing cover. If you need something here, I’ll give you information and a key, but I’m not leaving this office and I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
“It’s a deal.”
I hung up and relayed the conversation to Ida Belle and Gertie.
“I did not see that one coming,” Ida Belle said.
“So who the heck was the guy posing as Jim Garmon?” Gertie asked. “You think the drug dealer sent two people?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. If he had employees following up on each other, they wouldn’t have been staying at the same motel.”
“Maybe Garmon was here to pop Brock and Sledgehammer is here to make sure collection happens,” Ida Belle said. “We only have Garmon’s word that a woman and man both argued with Brock that night. What if Garmon was the one arguing with Brock and he called Shadow to complain for his alibi?”
I sighed. We were missing something. And I had a feeling it was right in front of us.
“So what now?” Gertie asked.
“Let’s go talk to Gina,” I said. “I want to see if she knows where her father is and get some more background on RJ and Brock.”
“If her dad is hiding out, she’s not going to admit it,” Gertie said.
I nodded. “I know. But maybe I’ll know if she’s lying.”