Free Swamp Sniper by Jana DeLeon Page A

yell at Gertie to slow down when she cut the speed completely and I splayed across the bow of the boat, barely avoiding rolling off into the bayou. I rose up just in time to see Walter’s dock inches from my face and grabbed the edge before we crashed into it.
    “Maybe I should drive on the way back,” I said as I jumped onto the pier and tied off the boat.
    “You don’t even know how to drive a boat,” Gertie said.
    “And yet, I’m certain I could do a better job than you.”
    “Everyone’s a critic lately,” Gertie grumbled as she climbed out of the boat. “Let’s get inside before everyone sees us.”
    After that morning’s mob run-in, she didn’t have to tell me twice. I double-timed it to the back of the General Store and slipped through the back door and into the storeroom, Gertie hot on my heels. I cracked open the door to the front of the store and peeked inside, but the store appeared empty, except for Walter, who sat on his usual stool behind the cash register.
    “Pssssstttttt,” I whispered.
    Walter lowered his newspaper and looked over at the door, his eyes widening when he saw my head poking out.  
    “I need to talk to you,” I said.
    He tossed his newspaper on the counter and hurried into the storeroom faster than I’d ever seen him move.  
    “Is Ida Belle all right?” he asked as soon as he closed the door behind him.
    “She’s fine,” I assured him. “Carter questioned her and she’s been released. She’s at home now under the general orders not to leave town.”
    “Why not? What the hell is going on? I’ve left Carter three messages already today and apparently my nephew has conveniently forgotten I’m family.”
    “I don’t think he’s forgotten,” I said, my heart going out to the obviously distraught store owner. “He’s just doing his job. I imagine he’s not any happier about it than we are.”
    Walter sighed. “I know you’re right, but he’s still going to hear about it when I get a hold of him. So what’s going on? Do you know anything?”
    I nodded and brought him up to date on everything except my CIA business. Ida Belle and Gertie were the only people in Sinful who knew my true identity, and even they didn’t know my full name or job title. I figured they’d guessed the latter, but some things were better left unsaid.
    When I was done, Walter rubbed his temples and took a deep breath. “It’s worse than I thought. No wonder Carter won’t return my calls. I have money. I can get Ida Belle the best attorney in the whole state.”
    The heart that I tried to pretend I didn’t have clenched just a bit at Walter’s devotion to his unrequited love. I swear if I were thirty years older, weren’t a CIA assassin with a price on my head, and wanted to disappear forever in this ridiculous bayou town, I’d totally make a move on Walter.
    “I don’t think we’re at that point yet,” I said, “and God willing, we’re not going to get there.”
    Walter shook his head. “Unless you’ve got a miracle up your sleeve, I don’t see how we’re going to avoid it.”
    “Gertie, Ida Belle, and I are going to do our own investigation and catch the real killer.”
    Walter stared at us for several seconds, his expression a mix of disbelief and fear. “I believe you’re actually serious.”
    Gertie threw her hands in the air. “Of course we’re serious, you old goat. Do you think I’m going to stand by and watch my oldest and dearest friend get railroaded for something she didn’t do?”
    Walter stiffened, his face turning light red. “No, what I think you’re going to do is fall headfirst into something you’re not the least bit qualified to do and end up sitting in the cell next to Ida Belle.”
    “Fine then.” Gertie crossed her arms across her chest. “Now we all know our roles according to Jeff Foxworthy—you’re the good friend that we’ll call for bail. I’m the great friend that will be sitting in jail with her.”
    “Hmmm,” I said. “A