Hook, Line and Blinker (Miss Fortune Mystery #10)

I couldn’t think of a single argument because in a ridiculous sort of way, she had a point.

“All interest in attack alligators aside,” I said, “I’d rather have you at my house. Besides, we have a lot of things to go over, and I’m going to need to talk it through. I think this is the most confused I’ve ever been. Nothing makes sense.”

Ida Belle nodded. “I agree. I have yet to come up with a single theory that checks all the boxes. We need to brainstorm this until we figure it out. Fortune’s house is the easiest to defend given the location of all the upstairs windows, and besides, she’s got Marge’s secret artillery if we need it.”

“Not to mention that Carter will probably be lurking somewhere nearby, waiting for us to do something he can arrest us for,” I said. “So we’ve got backup, whether we want it or not.”

“I have a casserole we can heat up,” Gertie said.

“Only if it’s not fish,” I said, the memory of Gertie’s horrible creation for Godzilla still lingering in my nostrils.

“It’s chicken,” Gertie said as she climbed out of the Jeep. “I’ll put together some things and be there in about an hour.”

Ida Belle looked over at me as Gertie walked away. “The casserole is already made and she needs an hour to put things together? We need to search anything she brings into your house.”

“Definitely.” I pulled out of Gertie’s driveway and headed around the block toward Ida Belle’s street, looking up and down the roads as I went. I figured the guys in the black sedan were long gone, at least for now, but I knew I had to check or it would be nagging at me the rest of the day. Ida Belle didn’t even ask what I was doing. She silently scanned the streets along with me until we reached the end of the neighborhood.

“They’re not visible,” Ida Belle said, “but I don’t think for a moment that they’re gone.”

“No. They probably saw your neighbors peeking at them through the blinds and decided it would be wise to vacate until dark. They’re sitting still somewhere, and I’d bet they’ll be back tonight, probably once they think everyone is asleep.”

“And when they don’t find me here…”

“We’ll be ready for them,” I said.

“Maybe we should stay at my house instead,” Ida Belle said. “It would be a shorter wait.”

“No. You were right about the advantages my house has, and there’s that whole police backup thing. I’m not overly happy with my situation with Carter right now, but relocating to your house would just be out of spite for me and would reduce our safety. I’m not irritated enough to decrease our chances of catching these guys.”

Ida Belle sighed. Not an exasperated sigh but the kind of sigh you let out when you’re resigned to something crappy that you can’t change. I knew her frustration wasn’t over just her own situation but the problems it had caused my relationship.

“What would you do?” I asked quietly.

“It doesn’t matter what I would do. It’s your life and you have to live with the consequences.”

“I’m not putting you on the hook for the outcome. But as someone I respect and trust, I’m asking you what you would do if you were me.”

Ida Belle stared out the windshield for a while.

“I’d be true to myself,” she said finally.

It was an answer and yet at the same time, it wasn’t, because it didn’t tell me exactly what choice to make. But I understood her point. I had to figure out what constituted the “me” that I couldn’t live without.

One more thing I had zero answer for.



An hour later, we were all parked at my kitchen table. Gertie had put together sandwiches as she’d miscalculated her casserole supply, and Ida Belle had dumped some chips and salsa in bowls and retrieved us all a much-needed beer. I was making notes on my laptop about everything we’d found.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Gertie asked. “Putting it all in writing like that? I mean, what if someone else sees it?”

“By someone, I assume you mean Carter?” I asked.

Gertie nodded. “He is the first one that comes to mind when I consider access to your home and the person who would be the most upset about us finding a dead man and taking evidence from his house before calling in an anonymous tip.”

“It’s a risk I have to take,” I said. “There’s too much going on, and we have to figure out which parts of this mess tie together and how. I can’t do that with it all roaming around in my mind. I thought seeing everything typed out might help.”

“I’m good with whatever you want to do,” Gertie said. “But I felt I had to say something because you’re the one with the most to lose.”

I looked over at her and smiled. “You’re a good friend.”

“The best,” Ida Belle agreed.

“Oh sure,” Gertie said. “You say that now, but you searched me like you thought I was ISIS when I walked in with that box.”

“We were worried you might have more in it than just food,” I said.

Gertie shook her head. “Then you’re going to have a heart attack when you search my overnight bag. I’ve got it locked in the trunk for safekeeping.”

I made a mental note to go light on the beer lest I forget to frisk Gertie’s bag later on. I scanned all my notes and then looked up.

“There is a whole lot going on here,” I said. “I think we need to tackle one thing at a time and flesh it out rather than running all directions and not making enough progress on anything to figure this out.”

Ida Belle nodded. “That sounds reasonable, but where do we start?”

“The key,” I said. “Everything centers on the key. Everything we’ve found so far points toward Willie and the Seal brothers looking for it before they went to prison. So they get out of prison and are looking for it again. Maybe with each other. Maybe not.”

“Which means it could have been any of them who attacked Hot Rod,” Gertie said.

“Yeah, but someone killed Willie,” Ida Belle said. “And if the Seal brothers are still walking around, my money’s on them.”

“That’s the logical answer,” I said. But somehow it felt as if there were more to it.

Ida Belle studied me for a couple seconds. “You think we’re missing something.”

I shook my head. “I just don’t know.”

“What about Willie’s time of death?” Gertie asked. “Couldn’t that tell us whether he was at Hot Rod’s shop or not?”

“Not really,” I said. “Stiffness in the body was dissipated, which normally takes a day or more but in this heat could have happened faster.”

“So he could have been killed three days ago or last night?” Gertie asked. “That sucks.”

“What about flies?” Ida Belle asked. “Don’t they tell you something about time of death?”

“Sure,” I said, “but I’m not a forensics expert. I don’t know how to estimate time of death by the amount of or stages of larvae, and temperature and exposure affect everything.”

Ida Belle sighed. “So we still can’t narrow it down.”