Hook, Line and Blinker (A Miss Fortune Mystery Book 10) Page 3

  “I’m not sure,” Ida Belle said. “One of the Sinful Ladies has a niece who works as a nurse at the hospital. She said Hot Rod was in critical condition, and the paramedics said it looked like some vehicles might be missing, but no one can be certain until Hot Rod wakes up or the police can check the vehicles in his shop against inventory.”

  “That must be why Carter bailed on grill night and isn’t answering his phone,” I said.

  Ida Belle nodded. “I’m sure he’s there trying to figure out what happened.”

  “I hope Hot Rod is all right,” Gertie said. “I figured his fascination with speed would eventually get him into trouble, but I never imagined this sort.”

  “Is there anything we can do?” I asked.

  “Not that I can think of,” Ida Belle said. “His father died in a boating accident when he was ten. His mother passed away a couple years ago. Massive heart failure.”

  “She was riding with Hot Rod when it happened,” Gertie said.

  I stared. “He gave his own mother a heart attack?”

  “No,” Gertie said. “That’s not what I meant. He was driving normal, taking her to get groceries, and she had a heart attack on the way. I’m pretty sure he broke some records getting her to the hospital, but not even Hot Rod’s car was fast enough. The doctors think she died within minutes.”

  “Does he have any other family?” I asked.

  “Not that I know of,” Ida Belle said. “I’ve never known any to visit, and I can’t think of a time that Hot Rod has left town for more than a day, and that was always to look at a car.”

  I frowned. While what had happened to Hot Rod was horrifying and I hoped he pulled through it all right, I hadn’t figured out what the emergency part of the story was. This was definitely a police matter. No way could I get involved in something like this, or Carter would arrest me and throw me in jail, dating or no.

  “Okay,” I said. “This entire thing sucks, but explain why it’s an emergency. Clearly, I’m missing something.”

  Ida Belle blew out a breath. “I talked to the paramedics who brought Hot Rod in. They said he was still conscious when they found him, but just barely. He kept repeating ‘gotta warn Ida Belle’ until he passed completely out.”

  “Okay, that’s not cool,” I said.

  “Maybe he was loopy,” Gertie said. “I mean, he’d been hit so hard he blacked out.”

  “Maybe,” Ida Belle said, “but if he really thought I was in some sort of danger, it would have to be because of the Blazer. We don’t have anything else in common.”

  Gertie nodded. “And if other vehicles were missing…maybe they were SUVs.”

  “Hold up,” I said. “While I agree that we need to take this seriously until we can figure out what’s going on, the reality is we are speculating as to cause. For all we know, Hot Rod remembered something he intended to tell Ida Belle about the Blazer and before he got a chance to call, somebody took him out.”

  “That’s true,” Ida Belle said, “but it feels like there’s more to it, you know?”

  Ida Belle wasn’t a fanciful person. She had written the book on practical, so when she said something didn’t feel right, I paid attention. Those same instincts had saved my life on more than one occasion. Smart people were in tune with them and didn’t ignore them.

  “Maybe Fortune can find out more from Carter,” Gertie said.

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” I said. “He’s been very careful not to mention any of his casework to me.”

  “But that was when Celia was watching him like a hawk, looking for a reason to fire him,” Gertie said. “Surely things are different now.”

  “His job is no longer in jeopardy,” I said, “but it’s about more than the job. Carter won’t admit it, but he doesn’t want me doing things that put me at risk.”

  “No one wants their loved ones at risk,” Gertie said, “but when you fall for a woman like you, then you have to fish or cut bait.”

  “I think Carter is firmly in the fishing camp,” Ida Belle said, “but remember, Fortune’s situation is bigger than the things happening in Sinful. If she’s wrapped up in a crime here that puts her in a position to have to testify, or that makes national headlines, she’s in serious crap.”

  Gertie sighed. “I keep forgetting about that. I wish the whole thing with Ahmad was over so you could stop pretending and do whatever the hell you feel like doing.”

  “You and me both,” I said.

  “Have you had any news from Harrison?” Ida Belle asked.

  I hadn’t intended to tell anyone just yet, but Ida Belle and Gertie were my best friends and biggest supporters. They wouldn’t leak it to Carter, and they would probably be able to throttle high hopes.

  “I heard from him just a bit ago,” I said, and described our exchange.

  Gertie’s eyes widened, and I could tell she was excited by the news. Even Ida Belle looked pleased.

  “When I get home,” Gertie said, “I’m going to put on my lucky underwear, find my rabbit’s foot, pray harder than I ever have before, and keep my fingers crossed for as long as it takes.”

  “You have lucky underwear?” I asked.

  Gertie nodded. “I’ve had them for a while. Ida Belle and I took this weekend trip to New Orleans and I met this hottie in one of those strip bars. We hit it off right away and I had a night to remember. That pair of undies has been my lucky pair ever since.”

  Ida Belle stared at Gertie in dismay. “Good Lord, woman. Those things should have dry-rotted by now. Dinosaurs still roamed the earth when we took that trip.”

  I grinned. “What happened to the hottie?”

  “He probably went home to his wife,” Ida Belle said.

  “He did not!” Gertie said. “He was on military leave. He went back to fight.”

  “The Civil War,” Ida Belle said.

  Gertie shot the finger at Ida Belle, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  More than anything in the world, I wanted to figure out a way that moments like this could continue forever. I just needed one bad guy to die.

  It wasn’t too much to ask.

  Chapter Three

  It was almost 9:00 p.m. before I got a call from Carter. I’d gotten a brief text earlier that evening letting me know he had to work late and would reschedule our grill night for later this week. He started apologizing as soon as I answered.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I was on something serious and couldn’t call.”

  “You don’t have to apologize to me. You’re doing your job. Of all people, I get that.”

  “Yeah, I know, but all those manners my mom taught me won’t go away.”

  He sounded exhausted, and I wondered just how bad things were. Surely if Hot Rod had taken a turn for the worse, Ida Belle would have gotten word of it.

  “Have you eaten anything?” I asked. “I have some leftover roast beef. I could make you a sandwich with chips and toss in some of Ally’s peanut butter cookies. Maybe even a beer unless it would put you facedown on the kitchen table.”

  “That sounds perfect, but I don’t want to be rude and eat and run. And I’m afraid I won’t be very good company.”

  “I don’t mind the eat-and-run or the bad company. I get the job, Carter. I might be the only person in this town who does.”

  There were several seconds of silence and finally he said, “I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

  I headed into the kitchen and started making up a sandwich. A couple minutes later, I heard a knock on the front door and went to let Carter in. He looked as tired as he’d sounded.

  “I just put everything on the table,” I said. “Come and get it while it’s cold.”

  He followed me back to the kitchen and sat in front of the plate of food. He pulled the cap off the beer and took a long drink, then blew out a breath.

  “I’ve got the harder stuff if you prefer,” I said.

  “No thanks. It will just make my headache worse.”

  I pulled a bo
ttle of aspirin out of the cabinet and sat it on the table next to his plate before taking a seat next to him.

  “Long day, huh?” I said. “The whole election announcement and Celia acting like, well, Celia. Then I guess you caught a bad one this afternoon.”

  He took a bite of the sandwich and nodded.

  “Hot Rod?” I asked.

  “How the heck did you know that? The only people at the shop were cops, and I asked everyone to keep their mouths shut.”

  “One of the Sinful Ladies has a niece who works at the hospital. She said Hot Rod was unconscious and had been hit pretty hard. We’re hoping he’s going to be okay. Have you heard anything?”

  “I talked to the nurse in charge on my way over here. He’s stable but there’s no change.”

  “That sucks. I don’t get it. Why would someone want to hurt Hot Rod? I mean, he’s sorta crazy but seemed harmless. He’s into his cars, and I didn’t get the impression he was into anything else.”

  “You know I can’t talk about an open investigation,” Carter said. “And I need the three of you to stay out of this. I’m pretty sure whoever popped Hot Rod thought they’d killed him. Whatever is going on, this perp is not playing around.”

  “Did they steal cars?”

  Carter gave me the look. The “I refuse to talk about it” look.

  “At least tell me if they got the DeLorean.”

  Carter’s mouth opened a bit and he stared at me, clearly dismayed. “Do not tell me you were considering buying that car.”

  “Okay. I won’t tell you.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Well, they look cool and even though it’s old, Hot Rod said by the time he was done with it, Enzo Ferrari would be jealous.”

  “Enzo Ferrari is dead.”

  I nodded. “I know. It was going to be that good.”

  Carter shook his head. “As much as I hate to admit it, the DeLorean is still there, but it doesn’t look like Hot Rod has started working on it yet.”

  “Then we’ll just have to hope he gets better and can get back to doing what he loves.”

  “Something we can both agree on.”

  Carter switched the conversation to Celia and her never-dull brand of crazy, and we chatted about her and the takedown by fish guy until he finished eating. As soon as he polished off the last of the cookies, he rose from the table and stretched.

  “I hate to eat and run,” he said, “but I’m beat and I’ve got to get started early tomorrow.”

  “Of course,” I said, and followed him to the front door.

  He turned around and wrapped his arms around me, kissing me soundly. I relaxed into his rock-hard chest and thought about just how good he looked when his shirt was off. The rest of him wasn’t too shabby, either.

  He broke off the kiss and opened the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know how things look for rescheduling our grilling.”

  “No worries. I never run out of people supplying me with food. Just catch the guy who did that to Hot Rod.”

  “Bet on it.”

  I closed the door and pulled the dead bolt, then headed into the kitchen to put the dishes in the dishwasher. I hadn’t expected Carter to cough up any dirt on the case, but I figured that I’d still get some information out of him, even if he hadn’t intended for me to. In this case, the information I’d gained wasn’t what I’d wanted to hear. I’d hoped someone had conked Hot Rod just to get him out of the way long enough to steal a car. But the force of the blow had Carter believing the intent was to kill Hot Rod, not just disable. That was a whole different ball game.

  It made no sense to kill someone over grand theft auto. That meant turning a non–death penalty crime into a death penalty crime, and Louisiana wasn’t scared to hand out lethal injections if they thought the crime was suitably horrific. Hot Rod had some cool stuff in his shop, but I hadn’t seen anything worth killing over.

  There had to be something else going on. I’d believed Ida Belle before when she said something didn’t add up. Now I felt the same way, which wasn’t good for Ida Belle, me, or Carter, because I was about to do what I’d just sworn I wouldn’t do.

  I was going to stick my nose in it.

  I woke up early the next morning after a long night of tossing and turning and a couple of really odd dreams. In one of them, I’d been a real librarian and Celia was in the library insisting that I’d stolen the book she wanted to borrow. Every time I went to the shelf to retrieve the book, it was gone. It was like being in some awful loop of horror from which there was no escape.

  I’d also had a dream about facing down Ahmad. In that one, no matter how many times I squeezed the trigger of my pistol, the gun wouldn’t fire. I’d had that dream on several occasions, and it never failed to unnerve me. Living undercover in Sinful didn’t exactly allow for me to keep in top assassin shape. Sure, I could go to the range and fire off some rounds, but it wasn’t nearly the same as the military training I went through with the CIA when I was in between missions.

  I headed downstairs to put on some coffee and fix breakfast. While I was frying eggs, I sent Ida Belle and Gertie a text asking them to come over as soon as they could. I had just polished off my eggs and toast when I heard a key in the front door, and Ida Belle called out a second later as the front door squeaked open.

  “In the kitchen,” I said.

  They walked in, Gertie shaking her head.

  “The fact that you’re in the kitchen doesn’t really need saying, you know,” Gertie said.

  “Are you trying to tell me I’m fat?” I asked.

  Ida Belle gave me a critical look. “You are starting to lose a little tone in your arms and shoulders. You should add some push-ups after your morning run.”

  “What morning run?” Gertie asked. “Half the time, we’re sitting right here stuffing our faces in the morning and lately, she’s spending the other half sneaking out of Carter’s house before daylight.” Gertie winked at me.

  “I’ll have you know,” I said, completely ignoring the wink, “that I have only gained five pounds since I’ve been here, and given what I’ve eaten, that’s a miracle.”

  “It’s probably from all the running you’ve done from people shooting at you,” Ida Belle said. “I mean, a lot of it was anaerobic, but you had some longer bursts in there that probably burned off a pot roast or two.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked. “Just trying to figure out what the heck is wrong with Celia has probably burned more calories than I consume in any given day. But anyway, I didn’t call you over here to assess my weight, muscle tone, or dietary and exercise habits.”

  “Or your predawn activities,” Gertie said.

  “Or those. I called you over here to talk about Hot Rod. Have you heard anything else about his condition?”

  Ida Belle nodded. “He’s been in and out of consciousness all night, but he’s only in for short amounts of time and doesn’t seem to know what’s going on. According to my source, Deputy Breaux was at the hospital all night, but Hot Rod was never lucid enough for him to get any information out of him.”

  “At least he’s starting to regain consciousness,” Gertie said. “That’s good news.”

  “Excellent news,” I said. “Maybe we’ll find out what he was wanting to warn Ida Belle about.”

  “I guess that means you didn’t get anything from Carter,” Gertie said. “We really need to work on your womanly charms game.”

  Ida Belle waved a hand in dismissal. “Carter is not silly enough to be fooled by womanly charms.”

  “Even if he’s hot for the woman doing the charming?” Gertie asked.

  “Even if he’s on fire,” Ida Belle said.

  “I have to agree with her,” I said. “Carter’s not going to tell me anything because he doesn’t want me in police business. But I did get one thing out of him.”

  They both perked up.

  “He thinks whoever cracked Hot Rod on the head meant to kill him and likely thought he was dead when h
e left.”

  Ida Belle frowned. “Why would he think that?”

  “Because of the severity of the blow and the fact that Hot Rod was completely unconscious,” I said. “At least, that’s what he told me.”

  “You don’t believe him?” Gertie asked.

  “Yes, but I think there’s more to it than what he said,” I said. “I think whatever is going on is serious business, and he’s trying to warn us off.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “He knows more but he’s not telling you. That makes sense on Carter’s part. He’s trying to protect you and us. But it doesn’t make sense overall. Who kills someone to steal cars? Why add murder to the charges?”

  “That’s exactly what I thought,” I said. “But when I asked Carter who would want to hurt Hot Rod, he just told me to stay out of it.”

  “Did he tell you what cars were stolen?” Gertie asked.

  I shook my head. “He didn’t admit to any of the cars being stolen. I tried to sneak some info out of him by claiming I was interested in buying the DeLorean and hoping it wasn’t one of the ones stolen, but all I got out of him was a lot of dismay that I was interested in the car and that it didn’t look like Hot Rod had started working on it yet.”

  “The DeLorean isn’t really worth a lot of money,” Ida Belle said. “He’s got a Ferrari in there that would bring a good haul but nothing else even close to a hundred thousand.”

  “Small-time car thieves,” I suggested, “but mean as hell?”

  “Maybe,” Ida Belle said. “People are getting meaner, but still, seems like a lot of risk for a small amount. If I’m looking at the death penalty, it would be for something bigger than one exotic.” She shook her head. “I don’t like it. It all feels wrong.”

  “What can we do?” Gertie asked. “Until Hot Rod wakes up and has any kind of decent recall, we won’t know what happened or if his cryptic statement about warning Ida Belle had anything to do with this or was about something else completely.”

  “We need to know what was stolen,” I said. “If we knew what the thief or thieves were after, we’d know where to start tracking them. This level of violence doesn’t happen in a vacuum.”