Gators and Garters - Jana DeLeon Page 0,74

motel dumpster sky-high with your bag of things nightmares are made of,” Ida Belle said to Gertie.

“You have a rocket launcher and he got over it,” Gertie said.

“Because without it, Fortune would have died,” Ida Belle said.

Gertie waved a hand in dismissal. “Details.”

“At least it was trash this time and not the vending machines,” I said. “Although I’m guessing that clerk is never going to give me information again. I kinda promised him I’d leave the premises. He didn’t want trouble.”

“Then he shouldn’t be working there,” Gertie said. “Everything about that place is trouble. We’re just shining a light on it.”

“You set off a bomb on it,” Ida Belle said. “Twice.”

“Details,” Gertie said again.

“And this time it would have blown us to bits if Fortune hadn’t thrown it out of the car,” Ida Belle said. “And so help me God, if you say ‘details’ I’m going to shoot you right here in this car wash and pitch you out into those jets where all the forensic evidence will be washed away.”

The giant turbines cranked up the wind on the SUV and I was happy to see that the trash seemed to have washed off. Hopefully, there wasn’t anything that would mar the paint, or Gertie was never going to get to ride in Ida Belle’s vehicle again.

“What happened?” I asked Gertie.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Something must have been hot enough to set off one of those bottle rockets, which sparked the dynamite.”

“Something?” Ida Belle asked. “You mean something like you dropping a lit bottle rocket into your purse?”

Gertie shrugged. “Who knows? Does it really matter? Everyone is good, even the dumpster, and I have a spare handbag. The only loss is the bottle rockets, which I was planning to use at your bachelorette party.”

Ida Belle shot her a look of dismay and I laughed.

“You know if you keep talking about this party, Ida Belle’s not going to attend,” I said.

Ida Belle exited the highway and headed for the road to Molly’s house. I scanned the tree line as we turned onto the road and spotted the two boys sitting in their tree-house fort. Ida Belle pulled over as much as possible without running into the ditch and I climbed out of the SUV.

“Hi, guys,” I said as I approached, judging their ages at around nine and ten. “I was wondering if you could help me.”

The first boy shook his head. “You’re a stranger.”

I pulled out my ID and held it up to the tree house. “I’m a private detective. Does that make a difference?”

“You don’t look like a detective,” the second boy said. “Where’s your hat and magnifying glass?”

“It’s too hot for the hat, and around here a good pair of binoculars comes in handier than a magnifying glass.”

“That’s true,” the second boy agreed. “What do you want?”

“Were you guys out here Monday afternoon?”

“Unless it’s raining or we’re eating, we’re usually out here,” the first boy said. “Only got one TV, and Mom watches those daytime shows. Yuck.”

“So you probably notice everyone who drives by, then.”

They both nodded.

“We like cars,” the second boy said. “Don’t get to see too many good ones around here, although that SUV you got out of is way cool. You can hear the engine miles back. I bet it’s fast.”

“You have no idea,” I said. “So, on Monday afternoon, did you happen to see an old white Hyundai with a rusted roof drive by?”

“Yep,” the first boy said. “It’s a crap car but that don’t mean you should treat it badly.”

The second boy gave a solemn nod. “People who don’t take care of their cars should have to walk everywhere.”

“I’m going to buy a Ferrari when I’m a grown-up,” the first boy said. “And I’m going to wash and wax it every single day.”

“That’s a great plan,” I said. “Did you see the car leave?”

They frowned and looked at each other, then shook their heads.

“No, but we got called in early because we had to take a bath,” the first one said. “Our aunt was coming to visit. We always have to take a bath when she’s coming to visit.”

The second one rolled his eyes. “She complains about stinky boys but she lives with a hundred cats. You ought to smell her house.”

“Yuck,” I said, which made both of them giggle. “What about a black Dodge truck? Older model?”

They shook their heads, and I was about to thank them and leave when something occurred to me.

“Maybe you heard it—sounds like there’s a hole in

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