“That’s where the favor comes in,” I said. “We’d like to hide Ida Belle’s SUV at your storage facility. It would give us a safe place to go through the vehicle ourselves and see if we can find anything. Plus, the thieves won’t be able to find it and if they do, well, you have the security end of things covered.”
Big looked over at Little, who nodded. “You can use the storage facility,” Big said. “On one condition. Mannie will help you search the vehicle.”
“We would appreciate any assistance you can offer,” I said, trying not to look excited.
Yes, Mannie was one of the “bad guys,” but that just meant he knew way more than we did about hiding contraband in a vehicle. If anything was hidden in the SUV, Mannie would probably be able to spot it easier than we could. And the sooner the bad guys were rotting in a jail cell somewhere, the sooner Ida Belle could return to her regular programming.
Big looked over at Little. “There’s an empty extra-large unit in the middle row, right in the center. That way, no one can get to it by blow-torching an outside wall. Set them up there. If anyone wants a look at what’s in that unit, they’ll have to pose for the cameras.”
Little nodded and rose from his chair. “Increased security?”
“Yeah,” Big said. “Get Deuce and Snake to cover it. They’ve been bored. Maybe they’ll get to do something fun.”
Fun. Like kill someone for breaking into a storage facility. I guess everyone needed a hobby, right? We rose from our chairs and I extended my hand across the desk to Big, who gave it a firm shake.
“Thank you,” I said. “We really appreciate the help.”
“Appreciate it when I get those animals that bashed in Hot Rod’s skull,” he said. “Oh, and ladies, no explosives at the storage unit.”
He was still chuckling when we walked out the door.
We were two miles down the highway from Big and Little’s warehouse office before anyone spoke. I was processing everything we knew about the situation so far and trying to decide what could possibly be so valuable that it was worth going to all this trouble. I had no idea what everyone else was thinking.
“So?” I asked finally, breaking the silence. “What do you guys think?”
“Maybe it’s diamonds,” Ida Belle said. “Something small enough to escape detection from Hot Rod but worth enough to kill for.”
“I think I need to buy a new handbag,” Gertie said.
“I think we’re going to start making you carry a coin purse,” I said, “just so we can ensure our own safety.”
“Don’t underestimate a coin purse,” Gertie said.
“We probably shouldn’t allow her to wear clothes with pockets, either,” Ida Belle said.
“You never know when you might need something,” Gertie said. “The things in my purse have come in handy more than once.”
That’s when it dawned on me that Gertie wasn’t carrying a purse at all. “I thought you had a backup. Why aren’t you carrying it?”
“I forgot that I let my neighbor borrow it and there was an accident,” Gertie said. “I didn’t want it back afterward.”
“You mean old Mrs. Cline?” Ida Belle said, and started laughing. “That was no accident. That’s you in five years if you don’t get better glasses.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask,” I said, “but I’m going to anyway. What happened?”
“Mrs. Cline borrowed Gertie’s backup purse because she was going to one of those roving flea markets and needed something bigger to put her wares in,” Ida Belle said. “Mrs. Cline’s eyesight is even worse than Gertie’s, but she refuses to wear her glasses unless she’s reading, so she didn’t find anything to buy at the flea market, probably because it all looked crappy blurred together. On the way home, she spotted her cat in the neighbors’ bushes and figured he’d gotten out of the house. So she caught him and stuffed him in the purse.”
“He’s an inside cat with no claws,” Gertie said. “That’s a perfectly reasonable thing to do.”
“It would have been reasonable if it had actually been her cat and not a skunk,” Ida Belle said.
“No!” I said. “Did she figure it out before she brought it inside?”
Ida Belle started laughing. “Heck no. She trotted right to the kitchen and opened the purse, thinking the cat was going to hop out and wait for his dinner like he always did. Instead, the skunk strolls out of the bag and then Mrs. Cline sees her cat sitting on the kitchen counter. And he’s not amused.”
Gertie, who’d been trying to keep a straight face, couldn’t hold back any longer, and she started laughing so hard her shoulders shook. “The cat, Horace,” she said when she’d finally stopped guffawing, “bowed up and hissed and the skunk went crazy. He sprayed the cat, Mrs. Cline, the counter, the drapes…basically, the entire kitchen was a war zone of stench.
“So Mrs. Cline grabs a pair of glasses off the counter and puts them on and realizes she’s got a skunk parading around her kitchen sending out a stink bomb like a lawn sprinkler. She runs to the back door and flings it open and the angry animal ran outside, giving her porch a final squirt before he hauled it into the bushes.”
I couldn’t help laughing. I’d seen Mrs. Cline at church holding the hymnal upside down and could imagine the entire thing going down just as Ida Belle and Gertie described.
“What did she do about the smell?” I asked. “Is there a hazmat team for random skunking?”
“The entire kitchen had to be repainted,” Gertie said. “She washed the heck out of the drapes, but every time it got humid, they smelled like skunk all over again, so she finally tossed them. Mrs. Cline spent a significant amount of time bathing in tomato paste. Poor Horace had to be sedated and bathed, and for a good six months, he was on anxiety medicine.”
“He never went back into the kitchen,” Ida Belle said. “Mrs. Cline had to feed him in the living room.”
“I didn’t even bother trying to clean the purse,” Gertie said. “When Mrs. Cline returned it, I wasn’t home so she left it on the front porch. Carter got complaints from three of my neighbors before I got home. So I just threw it away, but then I forgot to replace it.”
“I can see why you might want to let that one slip your mind,” I said. “On the positive side, Ida Belle and I don’t have to worry as much about what you’re packing since you don’t have a handbag.”
“Oh, I just stuffed it all in my bra,” Gertie said.
I looked at her in the rearview mirror, hoping she was joking, but she appeared to be completely serious. Ida Belle didn’t even bother hiding her dismay.
“I am not frisking her bra,” I said. “I’d rather risk an explosion.”
“Agreed,” Ida Belle said. “Nor am I interested in her going without one.”