Free Lethal Bayou Beauty by Jana DeLeon Page A

tripped the sliding wall in the back of her closet and had practically drooled at the wall of beautiful weaponry hidden behind the panel. And Ida Belle was right: Some of it was old, but in excellent condition—the kind of items historical collectors would pay top dollar for.  
    But there was only one problem.
    “Nothing in this house belongs to me,” I said. “It belongs to the real Sandy-Sue.”
    “Based on what I know about Sandy-Sue,” Ida Belle said, “she wouldn’t have anything to do with weapons. And no one is aware of Marge’s collection except the three of us.”
    “It’s still stealing,” I said.
    Gertie shook her head. “Normally, I would agree, but if Marge were here, she’d give you a gun. I have no doubt about that.”
    Ida Belle nodded. “And you are doing all Sandy-Sue’s work, cataloging the estate for sale—for no pay. Surely, that’s a fair trade.”
    “Well, I haven’t exactly done anything about cataloging.”
    “You have all summer for that,” Ida Belle said, “and Gertie and I will help.”
    “It’s a fair trade,” Gertie said.
    I stared out the window at the muddy bayou that cut across the backyard and weighed all the options. I didn’t like appropriating Sandy-Sue’s property, but I could probably get the agency to pay her back for the cost of the gun when this whole thing was over. The thing that bothered me the most was the many unknowns surrounding this Sorcerer. For all we knew, he could be part of the intelligence community himself, or even worse, someone who made his living trading information to the wrong people. If he was dialed into the arms community, there was a chance he knew about the price on my head.
    “We need this information,” I said finally, “and if we move forward with this Sorcerer thing, I want to be there to get a read on him. But I have a concern.” I told them about my fear of an arms community connection.
    “Which would be a completely valid concern if you remotely resembled the way you described your appearance before coming to Sinful, but unless he has facial recognition software, I doubt he’d recognize you all ‘girled’ up.”
    “Actually, I was ‘girled’ up during the failed mission, so any pictures would be of me then. I had a handler for the girl end of things,” I explained.  
    “What did you look like for the mission?” Gertie asked.
    “I had waist-length brown hair and brown contacts. I also had these fake teeth things that gave me a slight gap in the front and this horrid bra that shoved my boobs under my chin. I had a cleavage cleft the size of most people’s butt crack.”
    “What kind of clothes did you wear?” Ida Belle asked.
    “Tight and clingy. Would have shown every ounce of extra fat if I’d had any. And the most ridiculous shoes—like balancing on stilts—but they make a good weapon in a pinch.”
    Gertie raised her eyebrows. “Were you supposed to be a prostitute? No, don’t answer that. The less we know about your real life, the better.”
    “Probably true,” Ida Belle said, “although the shoes-as-a-weapon thing is intriguing. Anyway, it sounds like you looked completely different than now. Throw on one of those Ellie May sundresses and a pair of sandals and pull your hair into a ponytail like you always do and you’ll look like any other hometown girl.”
    I mulled it over for a moment, but couldn’t find a flaw in Ida Belle’s assessment. “Okay, so it’s a plan. Do you know where this Sorcerer lives?”
    Ida Belle nodded. “According to my intel, he lives in Mudbug. It’s about an hour from here.”
    I narrowed my eyes at her. “Your intel?”
    Gertie shook her head. “A kid she plays Call of Duty with says one of their regular group is The Sorcerer.”
    Finally, a pop culture item I was familiar with. I’d played Call of Duty at Harrison’s place on many occasions. “And you think this kid knows what he’s talking about?”
    Ida Belle shrugged. “I’ll put an online call