“Really?”
I opened my mouth to reassure her that I wasn’t going to stop until we had answers when I heard Gertie scream. I pulled out my gun and bolted for the porch. Ida Belle was right behind me. I practically jumped from the front door to the ground and as I landed, Gertie came running around the side of the house, screaming bloody murder and waving her hands in the air.
“What the hell?” Ida Belle slid to a stop beside me as I tried to figure out what the heck was going on.
“Bees,” Gertie yelled as she sped by about twenty feet in front of us. “The bees are after me.”
It was hard to see anything with Gertie flailing about, but I finally caught sight of tiny black flecks zooming around her and said a silent prayer of thanks that I’d taken my backup pistol from her earlier.
Ida Belle ran for the corner of the house and shouted, “There’s a water hose.”
“Run this way!” I yelled at Gertie, who was off in the other direction.
She made a spinning turn, which her injured knees were probably going to complain about later on, then came running back toward me. I sprinted for the end of the house, where Ida Belle was standing in position with the hose.
“The hose!” I yelled, and stopped next to Ida Belle, figuring standing behind the wall of water was the safest place to hide when those bees got doused.
Gertie ran our way and when she was about ten feet away, Ida Belle opened the hose on her. Gertie fell onto the ground and flopped around like a fish for a bit while Ida Belle drenched her with the hose.
“I don’t see the bees,” I said, and Ida Belle cut the hose off.
Gertie rolled onto her back and blew a stream of water out of her mouth. She was soaking wet and covered with mud, given that Willie’s property didn’t have grass to speak of. Just weeds and dirt.
“Are you all right?” I asked, scanning her face and arms for stings. For the most part, bee stings were only an annoyance, but some bees were highly poisonous and too much of any bee sting could be a problem. Unfortunately, I couldn’t see anything given the layer of mud that covered most of her exposed skin.
“I think I’m okay,” Gertie said. “How badly am I stung?”
“I can’t tell,” I said. “You’re too muddy. Can you stand?”
I extended my hand and helped her up, then Ida Belle turned the hose on her again, this time with a little less force, and rinsed off the worst of the mud. I looked closely as each bit of skin was exposed, and was relieved when I didn’t see any welts. Only a couple of small red dots.
“I don’t see much,” I said. “Did you feel them sting you?”
“Heck yes,” Gertie said. “Right on my arm. I was bending down to look under the back of the house when they flew out and attacked me.”
I frowned and bent over, staring in the dirt. Finally I spotted what I was looking for and started to laugh. “That wasn’t bees. It was flies. Look.”
Ida Belle and Gertie bent over to see the trio of huge flies I was pointing at.
“Deerflies,” Ida Belle said. “They bite hard. They were probably clustered when you bent over.”
Gertie stared at the ground, clearly disgusted. “I darn near ran myself into a heart attack over deerflies?”
“If you—” Ida Belle started to speak, and Gertie put a hand up to interrupt her.
“If you tell me this wouldn’t have happened if I had decent glasses,” Gertie said, “I’m going to take Fortune’s gun from her and shoot you.”
“Now that you’ve said it,” Ida Belle said, “I guess I don’t have to. Can we please get out of here now? Someone might be close enough to have heard Gertie screaming like a banshee.”
Gertie’s eyes widened. “The auction flyer!”
She reached into her blouse and dug around far too long for my comfort, then produced the folded paper, which was surprisingly dry given the drenching Gertie had gotten with the hose.
Gertie grinned. “It was tucked underneath—”
“Stop!” Ida Belle said. She grabbed the flyer from Gertie’s hands and pointed to the Jeep.
We hurried back to the Jeep and took off down the trail as quickly as the bumpy path allowed. I kept to the speed limit through town, but as soon as we were out of sight of the main drag, I punched the accelerator and headed up the highway. I needed to get home, sit down at the kitchen table, and sort all of this out.
In some way I couldn’t see, all of this had to make sense.
Chapter Fourteen
We stopped at what was probably one of the last pay phones left on earth. I scanned the area for cameras and people, but it was an old industrial area and mostly empty. I called and reported Willie, wearing latex gloves of course, then we headed back to Sinful.
We were all quiet on the drive home. My mind jumped between the key and the car thieves and my problems with Carter. I couldn’t seem to focus on one thing, and I knew that had to change. I needed to get home, take a cold shower, and get myself focused. There was no way I would come up with a solution with everything roaming around in my head all at once. I needed to pick one thing and concentrate on it until I had a solution.
As I pulled into Gertie’s drive, Ida Belle’s cell phone rang.
“It’s Myrtle,” she said, and answered.
I watched Ida Belle’s face shift from pensive to worried, but all she did was mumble “uh-huh” so I had no idea what was going on. Given Myrtle’s position with the sheriff’s department, it could be anything.
“Thanks,” Ida Belle said. “I really appreciate it.”
She hung up the phone. “Myrtle got a call at the sheriff’s department from one of my neighbors. It seems there was a black sedan parked on my street most of the morning. Two men inside and they were just sitting there.”
“Did she dispatch someone?” I asked, surprised that they had risked watching Ida Belle’s house in broad daylight. That was either ballsy or desperate.
Ida Belle nodded. “With the Hot Rod investigation going on, the only person available was Sheriff Lee. That darned horse of his is still refusing to come out of the barn, so he walked over, but by the time he got there, the car was gone. Ralph verified what the other neighbor said, though.”
“Ralph?” I asked.
“He lives on my street,” Ida Belle said. “He said he didn’t recognize the car and didn’t get a look at the people inside.”
“Did the neighbor get a license plate?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Ida Belle said, “and they ran it but it doesn’t exist.”
“That’s not good,” Gertie said.
“No, it’s not,” I agreed.
“Stolen and fake plates?” Ida Belle asked.
“Possibly,” I said. “Gertie, take your shower or whatever and pack a bag. Our cover is blown with Carter, so you might as well stay with me. If someone goes looking for Ida Belle, they’d probably check your place, too. I don’t want you here alone.”
“If Carter hadn’t made me get rid of Godzilla,” Gertie said, “that wouldn’t be a problem.”