Swamp Team 3 by Jana DeLeon

Author:Jana DeLeon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: NLA Digital, LLC
Published: 2014-04-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

It wasn’t the most creative cover in the world, but at least it was one that couldn’t be disproven. I jumped off the couch and swung open the front door. Carter stood on the front porch, his I-know-you’ve-been-up-to-something scowl already in place.

“Hi,” I said, forcing a smile. “What’s up?”

He glanced inside and frowned.

“Make it rain!” Gertie stood in the middle of the living room floor, clutching a fistful of dollar bills. Every couple of seconds, she’d pull some bills from the stack and toss them at the television. Ida Belle stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. Ally was doubled over on the couch, tears streaming down her face.

“What the hell is going on here?” Carter asked.

“Movie night?” I answered, not nearly as confident of that fact as I had been thirty seconds before.

I stepped back around the entry wall into the living room, Carter right behind me, and took a look at the television. Half-naked men danced on a stage, crazed women screaming at them and clutching their chests.

Gertie cheered like the women in the movie and tossed more bills at the television set. “I told you this Magic Mike movie was the best thing ever.”

Carter’s scowl disappeared and his expression shifted to slightly horrified. Probably because straight men weren’t overly excited to see another man dancing around with his stuff in a G-string, even if it was on television.

“We agreed to indulge her,” I said. “Did you need to talk to Ally? I think I can revive her.” Ally now hung half off the couch, laughing so hard her entire body shook.

“You’ve been here all evening?”

“I have, but it’s my house. Ally met with the insurance people for a while, and Ida Belle and Gertie showed up about an hour ago with snacks and Gertie’s version of girls’ night porn. Why?”

“Dispatch got a call from Farmer Frank’s wife. Someone ran a motorcycle through her chicken coop.”

“I don’t own a motorcycle.”

“Lack of legal possession hasn’t been a deterrent for you in the past.”

I felt my back stiffen, somewhat insulted by his accusation and his tone. “I see. So if something weird happens in this town, and it involves anything remotely illegal, then it must have been me. Remind me why you asked me on a date again? Clearly your opinion of me doesn’t match the standards of the badge you carry.”

He had the decency to look embarrassed. “It’s not about you, necessarily. It’s about the company you keep.”

Because he had a point, I decided to let his comment slide. “Well, I’ll admit that I wouldn’t mind if you arrested Gertie for both her behavior and her awful choice in movies, but that’s the only thing even remotely inappropriate that has gone on here tonight.”

Which was technically true, because dressing like a hooker was stupid but not necessarily inappropriate and everything questionable or illegal had taken place somewhere else. Well, technically, hiding the motorcycle in my bushes might count as questionable, but I wasn’t about to admit it.

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