Chapter 13
Bernie had been gone long enough to use the bathroom, take a shower and bake a cake.
Gerard was heading for the house to find her when Bayou Mambaloa’s Laurel and Hardy ran up to him, breathing hard, their eyes wide as if they’d seen a ghost.
“Bodyguard dude,” the one called Clayton said in a rush. “Where’s your girl?”
“Where’s Bernie?” Willie demanded.
“Why?” Gerard stalled. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s not good. Not good at all,” Clayton said.
“Lost ten years off my life, I did,” Willy exclaimed.
“Slow down,” Gerard said, “and tell me what’s got you so freaked out.”
“It’s only da second dead body I’ve seen,” Willy muttered. “I don’t like it. It ain’t right.”
“What dead body?” Gerard asked.
“The one behind the barn,” Clayton said.
Gerard wanted to check on Bernie, but the two men were so freaked out, he had to see this dead body first. “Show me,” he said.
Clayton and Willy led the way around to the back of the barn. Gerard rested a hand on the pistol tucked into his waistband. He’d be ready if these guys were trying to pull one over on him.
“There,” Clayton stopped and stepped aside, pointing at a body lying on the ground, dressed all in black and wearing a black ski mask. “That’s one of the two guys.” He looked round nervously.
“Question is, where’s da other?” Willy said.
“We told Ms. Bellamy to give us the bag,” Clayton said. “We’d take it off her hands, and they wouldn’t come after her.”
The two men weren’t making sense. Gerard had reached his limit of nonsense and wanted to get back to Bernie. “What bag?”
“Da one we took off da dead guy before we tossed him in with da pigs,” Willy blurted out.
“Willy!” Clayton punched his friend in the arm.
“What?” Willy rubbed his arm. “We didn’t kill him, just disposed of his body and that damned goose.” Willy shrugged. “ You killed the goose.”
“Damned thing attacked me. It was pure self-defense.”
Gerard held up a hand. “Let me get this straight. You took a bag off a dead guy, threw him in with the pigs and killed Bernie’s goose?”
“It attacked me,” Clayton insisted.
“What was in the bag?” Gerard asked. Before either man could answer, Gerard’s cell phone rang. The caller ID indicated it was Swede. He answered.
“The New Orleans Mafia is wound up tighter than a top over a bag of missing money to the tune of three-hundred-thousand dollars.”
Gerard glanced at the two men in front of him as he repeated the amount out loud, “Three hundred thousand dollars?”
“Yeah. Three of their men are missing. Chauvin and two others. The entire mob is looking for them with orders to bring back that money no matter how many people they have to kill.”
“We can account for two of the three. There’s still one outstanding.” Gerard was already on the move before he ended the call.
Clayton and Willy hurried to catch up. “What about the dead dude?” Clayton asked.
“Call 911,” Gerard called out over his shoulder.
The band still played. People laughed and danced, oblivious to the danger they could face.
Gerard didn’t have time to warn anyone. He had to get to Bernie before the other mafia man did.
It all made sense now. The foot, the text message Bernie had received warning her to give back what she had or die. She’d thought it was the realtor, trying to scare her into selling her property.
Instead, it was the mafia wanting their money back.
He bet it had been the mafia guys who’d poisoned Howey to keep him quiet while they’d searched the barn.
Since the last mafia guy standing of the three hadn’t found the bag of money, he would be convinced Bernie had found it and hidden it somewhere they wouldn’t find it.
But she didn’t have it. And neither did the men who’d taken it from the dead guy.
They needed to find it before anyone else got hurt.
Gerard raced up the steps onto the porch and entered the ranch house. As he crossed the living room toward the bedrooms, the guest bedroom door swung open.
Bernie stepped out, her body stiff and her chin held high.
“Bernie!” Gerard rushed forward.
“Gerard, don’t,” she commanded.
He skidded to a stop, his heart sinking like a lead weight in his belly when she moved enough to the side that he could see behind her. A man dressed in black with a black ski mask held a gun to Bernie’s temple.
“Oh, babe,” he said.
She gave him a weak smile. “I’m showing him where the money is hidden in the barn.”
Gerard knew the money wasn’t hidden in the barn and that Bernie had only told the lie to buy some time.
“My finger is resting on the trigger,” the masked man said. “Make a move toward us, and I’ll shoot her.”
“It’s okay,” Bernie said. “I’ll give him the bag, he’ll be on his way and this will all be just a bad dream to forget.”
An idea sprang into Gerard’s head. “The bag from the barn?”
Bernie nodded, her brow knitting ever so slightly.
“You remember I moved that bag from the barn back to the house.” He bent to retrieve the bag he’d packed with all his clothes, hoping it was close to the same size and color as the bag of money this terrorist expected.
The man holding the gun at Bernie’s head lifted his chin. “Toss it here.”
“Okay, on three,” Gerard pointed two fingers down so that Bernie’s captor couldn’t see what he was doing.
Bernie gave an almost imperceptible nod.
Gerard gripped the bag in both hands.
“One,” he said and tensed.
“Two.”
Gerard launched the bag straight at Bernie.
At the last second, she ducked.
The bag hit the gunman full in his masked face.
The gun went off, Bernie dove for the floor and Gerard threw himself after the bag, knocking the gunman to the ground. His gun flew from his grip and landed several feet away from the man.
Bernie scrambled on all fours, grabbed the gun and pointed it at the man in the mask.
Shelby erupted into the room, her gun drawn, followed by the Brotherhood Protectors, ready to protect and defend.
Gerard straddled the piece of shit who’d tried to kill Bernie. He wanted to slam his fist into the man’s face for even pointing the gun at his woman.
Shelby pulled a zip-tie out of her back pocket and secured the man’s wrists behind his back.
Gerard left the guy on the ground and pulled Bernie into his arms. “I just lost a couple dozen years off my life.”
“I thought you’d never get here,” she said.
“I was busy. Your friends Clayton and Willy found this guy’s partner behind your barn.”
“Dead?” she asked.
He nodded. “Shot.”
“All for a bag of cash,” Bernie said. “You know this problem isn’t going to go away until the money is located, don’t you?”
“Two men have died for that bag of cash,” Shelby said. “It might not even be here anymore.”
“Clayton and Willy confessed that they took it off your brother’s body and stuffed it into the base of a hollow tree. When they came back for it, it was gone.”
Bernie shook her head. “Who else would have known it landed here?”
“Word gets out,” Shelby said as she led her prisoner through the living room. “It might be a good idea to disperse the crowd. If the mafia gets wind the bag ended up in Bayou Mambaloa and traces it to Bellamy Acres, it could get ugly.”
“Leave the money where they can find it, and they’ll go away,” the prisoner said.
“How about we leave you where they can find you?” Shelby said.
He shrugged. “My days are numbered. They probably already think I stole it and killed the other two so that I could keep it all to myself.”
“Well, you’ll be safe in a jail cell for a very long time for the murder of your partner,” Shelby said.
The man snorted. “There’s nowhere safe from them. I won’t last a week, even in a maximum-security prison.”
Shelby snorted. “Guess you should’ve thought of that before you got involved with them.” She tossed her car keys to Remy. “Could you have someone bring my cruiser up to the front of the house?”
Remy nodded and handed the keys to Lucas, who immediately left the house to follow orders.
Bernie looked up into Gerard’s eyes. “I don’t want anyone else hurt because of that money.”
He nodded and dropped his arms from around her to take her hand in his. “Let’s thank everyone and tell them you’d like to call it a night.”
She nodded. “I’d rather be a party pooper than have anyone hurt.”
“It might be better if they don’t know about the danger,” Remy said. “There won’t be a mad rush to get out of here.”
Bernie’s hand tightened in his as they stepped out onto the front porch.
“Hey, Bernie,” a voice called out. “We have another surprise for you.” Mimi waved a hand toward a man walking up the road from where all the cars were parked.
As he neared, Gerard could make out the man’s features. It was the veterinarian, and he had a large hound dog on a leash.
As they neared, Bernie cried, “Howey!”
The vet bent, unclipped the leash from the dog’s collar and let him go.
Howey, in his gangly lope, his ears flopping, raced toward the house.
Bernie bent down and called out, “Come on, Howey. Come to Mama.”
The dog didn’t slow until he reached the porch steps.
Instead of climbing up to Bernie, he darted to the right and disappeared beneath the porch.
Bernie laughed. “He’s probably disturbed by all the people.” She descended the stairs and crouched low to peer beneath the porch. “Howey? Come out, sweet boy.”
The dog whined but remained where he was.
Gerard pulled out his cell phone and turned on the flashlight, then squatted beside Bernie.
When he shined the light beneath the porch, it reflected red off the hound dog’s eyes.
“Come on, boy. Come to Mama,” Bernie coaxed.
In the beam of light, Gerard noticed a variety of items scattered beneath the porch. “I see what you mean by Howey’s treasures.”
Bernie laughed. “I really need to get under here and clean it out. It’s been a while. Come on, Howey. I want you to stay in the house tonight.”
“I’ll get him,” Gerard said and dropped to his hands and knees.
“Please, don’t,” Bernie said. “It’s too dirty, and there are spiders and maybe even snakes.”
“I don’t want Howey staying out all night, either,” he said and handed her his cell phone. “Hold the light.”