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“What’d you see?” Ida Belle asked, keeping her voice low as she peered over the windowsill of the former owner’s small houseboat.
“Maybe we should discuss this at another time. Someone is coming down the ramp.” I put my forefinger against my lips.
Ida Belle nodded. Gertie gripped her small handgun. I kept my nine flat against the flooring, only because I’d landed on it when I tripped and fell inside the boat. Since I was a former CIA sniper, I probably deserved the blank expressions Ida Belle and Gertie shot my way.
Then again, my flattened position on the floor beat Ida Belle’s Charlie’s Angels pose with her feet barely parted, arms outstretched and both hands locked around a Glock.
“Check inside,” a man with a gravelly voice said. “Cadillac belongs to the old lady, but she’s friends with Hollowman. Gomer takes care of Elle’s cow. Maybe the old lady met them out here and left the car behind.”
“Must be hard up if he’s running with an old maid,” a guy said, earning chuckles from his accomplices.
Gertie pointed to her forehead and mouthed, “He’s mine. Right between the eyes.”
I pressed my lips together and maintained position, but given Gertie’s expression, I knew she meant business.
“It’s a big week for Hollowman. She’s probably helping him with the haunted house,” the man said. “Though I can’t imagine how an old woman could help.”
“What is it with this guy and old?” Gertie scoffed. “I should shoot first and ask questions later.”
“Or we could just start shooting,” Ida Belle said in a low voice. “They’re definitely with the mob.”
“Must be,” Gertie whispered.
“Take care of that damn cow and let’s get out of here,” the man said.
Ida Belle grimaced. If a crack shot went off, I was pretty sure, it would be met with automatic fire power.
“I didn’t march to save Lucille’s life only to have a bunch of thugs try and take her out.”
“That was how long ago?” I asked, refusing to add insult to injury by mentioning that if those men fired their guns, there wouldn’t be any such thing as trying. If they wanted Lucille dead, she’d draw her last breath. “Look on the bright side, Lucille has already lived longer than the average heifer.”
“Depends on who you’re calling a heifer,” Gertie said.
“Since we’re not holed up with someone like Celia, I imagine she means the cow,” Ida Belle pointed out.
“Elle’s on her way here,” another man said. “I’m not killing her only pet.”
“Kid isn’t attached to this animal. Tell the boss to buy her a puppy.” The one giving the orders started coughing, then lit a cigarette. The smell of menthol-laden smoke filled the air. “A city girl doesn’t need a cow.”
Someone laughed. “She’d look mighty fine on my table. Maybe we should find out the best way to put one down so we can let her spend her afterlife in my freezer.”
“See?” I whispered. “Everyone thinks she’d make an excellent burger.”
“Try steaks,” Gertie whispered back.
Ida Belle pressed her lips together and pointed to the exterior door while we bent our ears and listened. I really didn’t want to go out with a blaze of glory, or go out at all, but if those guys suspected we’d darted inside this little boathouse, we were at their mercy with one way in and one way out.
“Who has a boathouse without a motor anyway?” I whispered as I looked around at the large room. “What’s the purpose of having this place if you can’t move it anywhere?”
“Think about that question for a minute,” Ida Belle said. “It’s a boathouse.”
“Ha, ha,” I said, straining to listen when I heard footsteps again. The smell of smoke faded and I quietly hoped that was because the men were leaving.
“They’re walking back up the bank,” Ida Belle said, releasing a sigh of relief.
In the distance, we heard, “I’ll have Nicky handle Lucille when Elle heads back to New York.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Come on. Let’s get some sleep. We’ve got a few rounders to pull and I need some rest.”
“Rounders are twenty-four hour shifts,” Ida Belle said. “Something big must be about to happen.”
“As long as it is mob-activity and doesn’t concern us, I’m happy,” I said, knowing Gertie and Ida Belle would never be ‘happy’ until they found out what mob-related activities were about to unfold in the Louisiana bayou.
“I don’t know why you didn’t want to stay here,” the man said. “Elle even told her dad we should stay here and give the cow-keeper a break.”
“Cow-keeper?” I mouthed.
Ida Belle shook her head. “Not a thing, but consider the source. These guys are stripped from the cradle, given a gun, and told to fight for an education.”
“It’s very dramatic,” Gertie said.
“Would be if it were true,” I said.
“Elle’s truth,” said Gertie.
I couldn’t disagree.
The man, probably a mob soldier said, “Elle’s going to be here?”
“Yep. With Nicky and his crew. The last thing I want to be is sleeping when they roll in. There are a couple of motels outside of town. I don’t want to be in Wasteland. There’s a big celebration this weekend. That’s why Elle’s coming and her dad agreed to bring her. I’m not interested in mingling with the residents. We don’t want them to remember us when we’re long gone. Let’s go.”
Four car doors slammed and a few minutes later, the soft hum of the vehicle faded into the unknown.
I pushed away from the plank flooring and stood. Gertie opened the door and peered outside. Ida Belle checked her safety and tucked her gun behind her back.
“I’ll check the car for explosives, but they didn’t really have time to do any harm,” I said.
“It’s fine,” Gertie assured me. “They didn’t have time to plant a device.”
“They’d also need permission from an underboss,” Ida Belle said.
“And they probably weren’t prepared to rig a bomb,” Gertie said.
“Don’t kid yourself,” Ida Belle said. “After those guys take their blood oaths, they’re prepared for anything.”
“Kind of reminds me of us, minus the ridiculous blood brothers oath,” Gertie said, straightening her shoulders. “What’d you say we blow this joint –no pun intended—and head over to Gomer’s?”
Ida Belle checked her phone for the time. “Sounds good to me. We’ll get there just in time.”