Chapter Twenty-Four

 

Gertie let out a scream that would have made a horror movie producer celebrate. The instant the first echo of sound left her mouth, I knew things were about to get really bad, but by the same token, I couldn’t blame her. The thing was as big as an anaconda.

Before I could even react, Gertie leaned forward, flinging the snake off her shoulders, and bolted out of the shed, shoving the door so hard it hit the side of the shed with a bang that was probably heard blocks away.

Ida Belle bolted out of the shed behind her and I wasn’t even an inch off her as we barreled out of the shed. The second my feet hit grass, I heard a racket at Lyle’s back door and a second later, an enormous Doberman ran through a doggy door and straight for us and completely cutting off our path to the gate.

“Back fence!” I yelled and we all spun to the right and sprinted for the back fence. I glanced back and saw the dog closing rapidly. We were going to be cutting it very close. 

I turned on the afterburners, knowing I would have to help Gertie over the six-foot structure, and that’s when she face-planted, just like she had in the swamp two nights before. To keep from running right over her, I dove, completing a somersault as soon as I hit the ground. 

In an instant, I sprang back up and turned around to grab Gertie. “Go,” I said to Ida Belle.

“My ankle,” Gertie said as I pulled her up. 

I grabbed her around the waist and practically dragged her to the fence. I leaned over to make a step with my hands. “Put your good foot in and be ready. I’m going to launch you over.”

It wasn’t the best idea, but at the moment, it was either throw a senior citizen over a fence or be eaten by an angry dog. Gertie stepped into my hands and I pushed up with all my might. Unfortunately, it was more than either of us anticipated. 

Gertie flew over the fence, barely grazing the top, and I heard a whoosh of air and a thud, then the sound of heavy objects hitting the turf. I leaped for the top of the fence just as the dog reached me, and could see Ida Belle and Gertie in a tangled heap on the other side. Before I could scramble over, the dog grabbed my shoe and started shaking my leg like a rag. I yanked as hard as I could, but he had a grip that I couldn’t shake. 

I started to reach for my pistol, then hesitated. The dog was just doing his job. A warning shot might get rid of him, but it would also attract the attention of everyone else in a mile radius. Seeing no other option, I looped my left arm over the fence so that I could reach for my pistol with my right, and at that moment, the back door of the house burst open and Lyle started shooting.

Being shot at…again…must have given me some extra strength in my leg, because when I pulled this time, the shoe popped right off my foot, likely permanently lodged in the dog’s mouth, and I launched over the fence with a force I hadn’t planned for. I crashed into the ground and immediately leaped up. 

Ida Belle and Gertie were standing—Gertie on one leg with Ida Belle holding her upright. A bullet tore through the fence and whizzed by my ear, so I shoved my arm under Gertie’s shoulder and ran. I had my doubts that Ida Belle could keep my pace, but either I was moving slower than normal or gunfire prompted a whole other level of ability in her as it did in me. 

Either way, we ran through a vacant lot to the next block, then turned and started across front lawns, putting as much distance as we could between us and Lyle. We made it a block before slowing to a stop. We sat Gertie on a boulder in a flower bed and Ida Belle and I leaned over, both panting. 

“It’s a good five blocks to my house,” Ida Belle wheezed. 

“I can go get my Jeep and come back to pick you up.”

Ida Belle shook her head and pulled out her cell phone. “It would take too long, and Lyle might come looking for us. Besides, as soon as someone reports shots fired to Carter—and you know someone will—he’ll come looking for you.”

Crap. 

Ida Belle lifted the cell phone to her ear. “Marie, we need you to come pick us up right now. We’re in Stumpy Pitre’s lawn on the side of the house with the boulder. Don’t even take the time to dress—just haul ass.”

She disconnected and slipped the phone back in her pants pocket. 

“Do you think Marie will move that quickly?” I asked, still deliberating hauling it to Ida Belle’s for my Jeep.

“Oh yeah,” Ida Belle said confidently. “Marie panics and worries, but she’s also not much of a thinker. When you tell her to do something right now, she launches into response without even thinking. Probably dangerous for her, but it’s come in handy for Gertie and me.”

I understood the concept, kinda. Soldiers were trained to react rather than to question, but I wasn’t convinced that a bit-past-middle-age woman who rarely left Louisiana was the best candidate for that sort of conditioning. As it turned out, my limited faith in Marie’s abilities was unfounded.

Barely a minute had passed when Marie screeched to a stop in her car. Ida Belle and I got Gertie into the front seat before jumping into the back. Marie took off like a NASCAR driver and didn’t bother slowing for stop signs or corners. I clutched the door handle and looked over at Ida Belle, who winked.

At the speed she raced up Ida Belle’s driveway, I was afraid Marie would launch her car straight through Ida Belle’s garage door, but she slammed on the brakes and the car slid to a stop just inches before the door. Ida Belle and I jumped out and grabbed Gertie out of the passenger’s seat, then hauled her around the car. We’d barely cleared the taillights when Ida Belle gave Marie a wave. She threw the car in reverse, flew out of the driveway, and disappeared around the block as quickly as she’d arrived.

“She’s good,” I said as we hauled Gertie into the house and sat her in the recliner. 

Ida Belle nodded. “Told you. Granted, when the adrenaline stops about ten minutes from now, she’ll be so stressed she’ll knit an entire blanket and probably bake at least two pies before calming down. But I could use a new blanket and Marie’s work is the best, so it all works out.”

“I could use pie,” Gertie piped up as Ida Belle untied her tennis shoe and began to ease it off her foot.

“You could use a walker,” I said. “What is up with you and all the tripping? Maybe that foot is worse than you thought. You should have it checked out.”

“I didn’t trip,” Gertie said, somewhat indignant. 

“Then what the hell did this?” Ida Belle said and pointed to her ankle.

It was already swollen to double normal size and by tomorrow morning, I had no doubt it would be black and purple. “Is it broken?” I asked.

Ida Belle pressed gently on the sides and shook her head. “Can’t tell for sure, but I think it’s only sprained. Still, she should have an X-ray tomorrow.”

Gertie leaned forward to study her ankle and sighed. “That’s my driving foot.”

“The only thing you need to be driving is one of those motorized wheelchairs,” Ida Belle said.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Have you seen how fast some of them go?”

“True,” Ida Belle admitted, then looked at Gertie. “As soon as this is healed, you have got to start doing yoga with me. You may have moments of brilliance, but overall, your flexibility and balance have gone to hell in a handbasket.”

Gertie crossed her arms in front of her chest. “It’s not that bad.”

I stared. “Seriously? You’ve injured that same foot three times this week alone.”

Ida Belle shook her head. “Yes, it’s that bad, and furthermore, we’re too old to risk these kind of injuries. It’s going to take you ten times longer to recover than it did when we were serving in Vietnam. I hate it as much as you do, but the reality is we’re not in any shape to keep up with Fortune and we never will be again.”

Gertie sighed. “I’m not sure we ever were in any shape to keep up with Fortune, although she appears to have lost some of her garments in this exchange.”

Ida Belle looked down at my foot where Gertie pointed and raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t even notice. I’m losing my touch.”

“The dog was hungry,” I explained. “It was either the shoe or my foot. When Lyle started shooting, the shoe seemed the better option.”

Suddenly, it registered that Lyle had my shoe, and no doubt some nosy neighbor had already called in the shots fired. I groaned. “When Lyle gives that shoe to Carter, he’s going to know it’s mine. I was wearing them this morning because I jogged to the café.”

“More than one person can have the same tennis shoe,” Gertie argued.

“Yeah, but my DNA is in this one,” I said.

Ida Belle waved a hand in dismissal. “Carter’s not going to do a DNA test on a tennis shoe on a trespassing charge. Besides, Lyle’s not going to give him the shoe in the first place, or he’ll have to admit he was the one shooting.”

“Those big holes in his fence are sorta a dead giveaway,” I pointed out.

Gertie relaxed a bit. “Carter can’t prove it happened tonight, and Ida Belle’s right. Lyle avoids the cops like the plague. I guess thanks to Ted we know why.”

Everything Ida Belle said made sense, so I relaxed a little. Unless Lyle had seen me jogging and normally spent time memorizing ladies’ tennis shoes, he wouldn’t be able to place the shoe. I threw a log in Ida Belle’s fireplace and fired it up to burn the incriminating remaining shoe before taking a seat on the brick hearth. Sinful was hell on clothing.

“I’m going to get some ice for that ankle,” Ida Belle said and headed to the kitchen. A minute later, she was back with a dishrag full of ice that she tied in a knot and put on Gertie’s ankle. “Why in the world did you scream, anyway? It was just a chicken snake.”

“I don’t care if it was a two-turtledoves snake,” Gertie said. “I don’t like snakes to begin with and I certainly don’t like them attacking me from rafters.”

“I know it’s a totally girly standpoint,” I said, “and likely to lower my stock considerably, but I gotta say I’m with Gertie on this one. I may not have screamed, but I’d probably still be running.”

Ida Belle shook her head and sat on the end of the coffee table. “That snake was no risk, especially compared to that dog or Lyle shooting. And when did Lyle get a dog?”

Gertie shook her head. “No idea.”

“No matter,” Ida Belle continued. “My point still is, all the screaming precipitated the running, which led to the tripping, which results in this.” She pointed to Gertie’s ankle. 

“I didn’t trip!” Gertie insisted again.

“I saw you fall,” I said. “And I didn’t push you.”

Gertie rolled her eyes. “I never said anyone pushed me. I just said I didn’t trip. The ground swallowed up my foot.”

“Lord, help us,” Ida Belle said, looking upward, then looked back down at Gertie. “Stepping in a hole and falling is tripping.”

“But that’s just it,” Gertie said. “The hole wasn’t there when I stepped on it. It’s like the ground started disappearing below me and it closed in on my foot. Like it was being pulled down by Mother Earth herself.”

Ida Belle’s eyes widened and she jumped up. I thought it was a bit of an overreaction to Gertie’s dramatic portrayal of clumsiness, but emotions were high, so I figured I’d give her a pass.

“That’s it!” Ida Belle said and clapped.

She grinned at both of us. I just stared, not understanding why Gertie’s tripping was so exciting all of a sudden. Gertie frowned and stared at Ida Belle for several seconds, then sucked in a breath. 

“A gopher hole,” Gertie said. “I stepped in a gopher hole.”

Ida Belle grinned. “We got him.”