| |
I SNAGGED A FEW ABANDONED towels by the corner of the building and stuffed them into my receptacle. For the most part, the guests ignored me, and I made good use of my time by gathering as many towels as possible, not caring if it meant dragging the overstuffed cart back with flat tires. The fewer trips through this visual land-mined area, the better!
I stopped to pick up a big pile, and it moved. Instinctively, I reached for my gun but dropped my hand when I remembered it was in the Blazer. Then an old man built like a pencil sat up from the pile and waggled his eyebrows at me.
"You're a real looker," he said, inspecting me like a package of meat in the deli case. "What can Happy Harry do for you, honey?"
"That better be a description of your personality," I muttered. I did not need to deal with delusional octogenarians fishing for dreams.
He lifted the towels from his lap. "I bet I got something you ain't ever seen," he bragged.
"I'm sure you're right," I heartily agreed without looking. Although, that may have been untrue as I've been around the world and every open market had at least one stand with dried, shriveled fruit. I was preparing to give him a good set down when his eyes bugged and he flapped his hand dismissively.
"Out of my way, Sticks," he ordered me. I obliged and wondered what had caught his attention. "Hubba, Hubba, will you check out that juicy peach?"
Unable to control my morbid curiosity, I turned to see what had caught the old buzzard's eye and choked back a howling laugh. "Her?" I pointed across the yard to Ida Belle, who'd just come out of the building.
He nodded. "She must be shy to be wearing all those clothes. I think I'll go give her a Happy Harry welcome. Later, sister!"
The walking stick got to his feet and toddled across the compound, his creased skin stretched loosely over his bones. After ten feet he paused to eyeball another woman, and I rolled past him, wondering if I should warn Ida Belle. But then she seemed to have disappeared, so I ignored Happy Harry and looked for Gertie. I suppose it was optimistic to expect she might actually be searching for Mary instead of flirting, but one of these days she might surprise me.
I spotted her wearing a towel like Gypsy Rose Lee, with strategic bits of flesh covered. But Gertie wasn't all I saw. The younger thug's head hovered over the top of the fence. I could tell he was dazed from the experience, but I knew he would overcome that and realized that we needed to get busy.
Deciding that Ida Belle must have returned to the laundry, I grabbed my cart and headed to the building. To my surprise, she wasn't there, so I filled the commercial washer with towels and started a load before hurrying outside to track her down. I found her crouched behind a large rock and wondered if Happy Harry was still chasing her. She noticed me and motioned me over, and I joined her behind the rock. "What is it?"
She pointed to the older thug who'd been following us earlier. He was now wandering through the spa, asking guests if they knew Mary. I made a face because he looked like a bald bear but now wasn't the time to worry about my visual overload. Instead, I directed Ida Belle's attention to the other man when he peered over the fence again. She huffed. "What's Gertie doing?" I kept quiet, and she growled, "It was a mistake letting her in here as a guest."
I chuckled and said, "You don't honestly believe she'd be making progress as an employee, do you?"
Ida Belle narrowed her eyes. "No. In fact, I'm certain she'd be flirting madly, but at least we could lock her in the laundry room."
"I guess her ears were burning," I whispered when Gertie's head popped over the rock to inquire, "What are we going to do about those men?"
"Which ones?" Ida Belle asked sarcastically.
"Ida Belle, have you lost your mind? How are we going to find Mary if you can't keep your eyes off the hot hunks in here long enough to see the enemy is walking among us? Fortune, maybe we should lock Ida Belle in the laundry before she blows the mission." Gertie raised her sunglasses and tilted her head at me. "Do you want to take her inside while I take care of our guys?"
"What do you mean—take care of our guys?" I asked cautiously.
"You too? I never should have allowed you amateurs to come in here," she said with a heavy sigh. "Try to focus, Fortune. If you can't get it together, I'll shoot the goons."
Ida Belle's eyes met mine in terrifying agreement. Gertie in a bath towel shooting up a nudist colony? No! But it was too late, and Gertie apparently felt that we weren't up to the task. I stood up in time to see her take aim at the man hanging over the fence. She squeezed off a round and missed him by a country mile. The bullet ricocheted off a lamppost and took out a glass pitcher of iced tea sitting on a table beneath an umbrella.
I swear the guy on the fence laughed before returning a round that was a darn sight closer to hitting the intended target—us—than Gertie's wild attempt. But before I could take her gun, she fired another shot and hit a large globe light hanging over a patio. The showering sparks and glass sent the seniors screaming for cover, which caused ripples of panic through the yard.
Like coordinated spectators at a ballgame, wave after wave of nudists reacted, but I wished they were jumping up instead of diving for safety. Everywhere I looked it was butts and baggage, and I nearly screamed myself as I dropped behind the rock and wondered if there was enough sand here to grind the image from my retinas or if it would require the use of a power tool.
I thought longingly of the mutilated corpses, burned carcasses, hacked-up bodies, and bullet-riddled remains I'd often seen as an agent. Incredibly, the CIA had missed training their operatives for all the horrific carnage they might encounter. Like naked old people running and displaying their buttocks as they cowered beneath chairs and tables. Their backsides reminded me of bullseyes at a shooting range.
Meanwhile, Ida Belle had the presence of mind to take the weapon away from Gertie and use it herself, dropping the fence thug by putting a hole in his shoulder.
"I could have done that," Gertie protested. "Let me shoot the other one."
"Just put your towel back on and look for him," Ida Belle retorted. "Fortune, we could use your help up here."
I got to my feet in time to witness the Running of the Old Folks. Running with international terrorists was less terrifying, and if I survived this, I vowed to call Director Morrow and warn him that if the CIA didn't up their training program, they'd lose the agents sent to infiltrate Social Security cruises and AARP retreats.
"Snap out of it," Ida Belle told me. "Someday you'll see it in your own mirror."
"That's supposed to help?" I asked, but she accomplished her goal. I scanned the guests for our other guy. "Maybe he left to help his friend."
"Ma'am?"
We all turned to see a badge without a uniform. The off-duty Molten police sergeant didn't look like he was in a good mood when he reached for a used towel off the cart I had abandoned nearby. I leaned down to grab one that had fallen and at the same time scooped up the weapon that Ida Belle had dropped behind the rock. The gun and the towel went onto my cart.
"Eyewitnesses tell me that you women opened fire in here."
He hadn't seen it himself? That was a lucky break because I knew we could make short work of the eyewitness accounts should he decide to pursue charges. However, it didn't stop him from taking Ida Belle and Gertie to the station in Molten. He grudgingly left me behind as no one accused me of firing the gun, and his quick search of the area didn't produce the weapon. I think he was afraid to give Gertie a pat-down or thought Ida Belle still had it in her possession.
There was a mass exodus of guests from the spa soon after the incident. Not because they were shaken up by the shooting, but rather they wanted to spread the news personally. That left me without a lot of options. Knowing we might need to return another day, I continued my pretense as a temp worker and took the towels to the laundry room and washed several loads. They were neatly stacked and ready for the next day when I waved to Billi and headed for the Blazer. Ida Belle had given me her keys before she left, and I knew that she and Gertie were probably wondering what had happened to me.
"Are you planning to join the spa?" Carter asked from the front passenger seat when I opened the door.
"What are you doing here?" I was so preoccupied I hadn't even seen his squad car parked at the far end of the lot. Fortune, you're getting sloppy!
"I got a call from the Molten PD about a shooting incident involving a couple of Sinful residents," he said. "Which, of course, I'm sure you know."
"Molten's a little way out of your jurisdiction, isn't it?"
"It's on the edge of Sinful Parish. Now, where's the gun?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." I wish I had a better response, but his presence caught me off guard and I wasn't prepared to deal with anyone but the Molten cop.
He looked disappointed and reached beneath the seat to remove my 9mm. "What's this?"
I shrugged and admitted, "It's mine, but it hasn't been fired. Which, of course, I'm sure you know."
He opened the glove box and took out Ida Belle's unfired weapon and gazed at me from the corners of his eyes. Then he returned it. "That makes two down and one to go. Except Gertie's isn't here. Would you care to explain why?"
I cleared my throat. "Not really. Besides, I don't think your search of this vehicle is legal." I hated resorting to those tactics, but I owed it to Ida Belle and Gertie to see they weren't charged in the incident, and I knew if Carter had the weapon, he'd turn it over to the MPD.
"I'll assume your brassy reply means you aren't in possession of it either. Which means it's still on the premises."
He seemed to be fishing, so I kept my expression carefully blank. "Suit yourself."
"In cooperation with the local police department, I plan on doing more than that. In a short while, I'll join them while they search the spa," he said.
My eyes widened, and I knew he wasn't here to bust my chops but to warn me. Unexpectedly, his decision didn't leave me all warm and fuzzy, knowing he was looking out for us. Instead, it made me question if my influence had caused him to violate his ethical standards, and I found it disturbing. Carter had always been a straight shooter when it came to duty, and changing who he was on account of me wasn't something I wanted on my conscience. The problem was I didn't know how to tell him that without giving up Gertie's gun, so I swallowed the words that wanted to come out and simply said, "Thank you for your concern."
His steady green gaze nearly brought tears to my eyes because I knew my decision had let him down again. He reached for the door handle. "I didn't do it for you. Don't wait up for me. I won't be over for a movie tonight."
I plunked my head on the wheel as he walked to his car. He didn't need to add, "Or anytime soon," to his last statement for it to be clearly understood. I then wondered if, contrary to lowering his standards, he was testing mine because I hadn't always been honest with him. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to sort out the complications since there were bigger fires to put out first. Like the matter of Gertie's gun.
After Ida Belle and Gertie were taken away, I had initially planned to take the gun out of the spa with me. But then I quickly changed my mind because if the sergeant obtained a search warrant for the Blazer, we'd be in trouble. So I found a spot to hide it inside the spa before I even started the laundry.
However, if I had known Carter would be involved in the search, I would have found a better place. Jimmying the latch on an old feminine products vending machine was fine for a quick stash, but I doubted it would fool a trained search team. Well, there was nothing I could about it without raising suspicion, so I started the Blazer and drove to the Molten police station.
The sergeant, now fully clothed, met me with a smug smile. "Have a seat," he invited, pointing to a row of hard wooden chairs meant for visitors. "It's going to be a while."
I did as he asked, and when he waltzed by me and out the front door without a word, I knew where he was going. If they found the gun, I would stand with my team and face whatever charges they decided to throw at us. I was confident it would only prove to be an inconvenience as the chaos, bright sun, and likely poor eyesight of the witnesses would get the charges tossed by a competent attorney.
The biggest issue would be the delay in finding Mary. Every hour we were detained gave others time to find Mary Vanderford. My knee bounced anxiously while I waited for the inevitable. Perhaps I should have just turned it over to Carter to begin with.
The sergeant slammed the back door of the building when he returned, and the scowl he wore told me the search hadn't been a success. I'll admit I doubted the ability of his team to locate a hidden weapon, mainly because I didn't know them. But the fact that Carter didn't find it had me all kinds of discombobulated. Had he deliberately overlooked it? Misdirected the others while he moved it? I wasn't sure what to make of the results, other than to be grateful that we were on our way back to Sinful without charges hanging over our heads.
I knew that in the morning I'd be going back to the spa even if Mary Vanderford was located. The missing weapon was eating at me, and I wouldn't rest until I discovered what happened to it. When Todd called that evening, I learned he had only contacted one of the three women still on his list. The second was in the hospital after emergency surgery, and the third was called away to deal with a family crisis. But he told me no one else had found the missing heiress, so we were back on the hunt for Mary Vanderford the following day.
***
THAT NIGHT IN BED I realized that we were so busy trying to find Mary Vanderford that we had overlooked what was possibly the easiest method of all—ask Billi!