Later Gator (Miss Fortune Mysteries #9)

Chapter 1

I stabbed my fork into a stack of blueberry pancakes and shoved a huge chunk into my mouth, savoring the explosion of flavor. Francine’s pancakes should be a controlled substance. It was impossible to stop eating them once you got a taste.

“Must be good,” Gertie said. “I haven’t worn that expression since the last time I enjoyed the company of a man. I need to give my face muscles a workout soon.”

Ida Belle rolled her eyes. “You haven’t enjoyed the company of a man in so many years, those muscles in your face have atrophied.”

I swallowed and took a big sip of coffee.

“In so many ways, pancakes are better than a man. They don’t require any complicated relationship maneuvering.

You don’t have to clean your house, or put on good underwear or makeup to hang out with them, and when you’re done, they never pester you to call. ”

Gertie shook her head. “I’m convinced you’re a man hiding out in a woman’s body.”

“Nah,” Ida Belle said. “Fortune is tougher than any man. She’s just a woman without female trappings.”

“If Fortune didn’t have any female trappings, Carter wouldn’t be trying to hit it again,” Gertie said.

“Hit it?” Ida Belle asked.

“Get lucky,” Gertie said. “Don’t you people ever listen to rap? I swear with you two, it’s like living in pioneer days.”

“And you would know that firsthand,” Ida Belle said.

I laughed, and realized how happy I was to hear that sound.

Things had been really odd for a couple weeks.

The CIA’s attempt to take down Ahmad, the man who wanted me dead, had failed, leaving me with no option but to continue with my deep cover in Sinful and forcing me to do a lot of soul-searching about how I wanted to structure the rest of my life, particularly my career.

Then I’d done something reflexive and Carter had figured out I wasn’t really a librarian.

Once he knew the truth, he’d dumped me, which I’d always guessed was coming.

The part I hadn’t figured on was how awful I would feel or how much I would miss him.

Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any more miserable, things started to change for the better.

First of all, Carter had decided that my lies to him aside, he missed me as well, and even though our relationship was probably completely ill-advised, we were going to ignore conventional wisdom and give it another go.

Second, I’d finally made a partial decision about my career.

When this was over and I was free to be Fortune Redding again, it wasn’t going to be with the CIA.

Unfortunately, I had absolutely zero idea what I wanted to do with myself, which had led to this breakfast meeting with Ida Belle and Gertie.

“So let’s address the reason for this breakfast,” Ida Belle said.

“We just talked about the pancakes,” Gertie said.

Ida Belle stared at the ceiling for several seconds. I was pretty sure when she did that she was asking God for patience, or maybe to prevent her from opening fire. Finally, she looked back at Gertie. “The pancakes are the reason for having breakfast here. This is about Fortune’s career. Remember?”

“Oh yeah, that,” Gertie said. “Well, it would help if we knew where she wanted to live. I mean, if you want to be a marine biologist but live in Idaho, it’s not optimum.”

“I think we’re safe on the marine biologist gig,” I said, “and Idaho.”

“As much as I hate to admit it,” Ida Belle said, “Gertie does make a point. Have you considered where you’ll live?”

Gertie bounced up and down in her seat like a child with one hand in the air and repeated “pick here” over and over again until Ida Belle threw a sausage link at her.

“I wish I knew,” I said. “I mean, you guys are great and don’t think I haven’t thought about staying here, but what if Carter and I don’t work out? Then I’m stuck here, running into my ex every day. I don’t think I’d enjoy that much.”

“Okay,” Gertie said, “I’m not even going to argue about how perfect you and Carter are for each other. Instead, I’m going to approach this from a practical standpoint.”

“This I gotta hear,” Ida Belle mumbled into her coffee cup.

Gertie glared at her, then looked back at me. “How are you fixed financially? Obviously, Sinful doesn’t have the salary to offer you at a job that you could probably command in DC, so it’s something that definitely factors into your choices.”

Ida Belle lowered her coffee cup. “That’s actually a good point. I mean, if you don’t mind telling us your personal business.”

I laughed. “You’ve seen me naked. Why would I care if you know about money? That’s the least of the things I try to keep a secret.”

“So how are you positioned?” Ida Belle asked.

“Really good,” I said. “I inherited a good amount of money when my dad died, and a house I sold for triple what my parents paid for it. They both had nice life insurance policies, and I make a decent salary. Combine that with the fact that I have limited free time and the only thing I spend money on is a one-bedroom apartment and weapons, and I’d say I could probably purchase a decent house and live for the next ten years without having to work at all. ”

“That’s great!” Gertie said, both she and Ida Belle looking pleased. “That means you’re not limited on location. So then the real question is, what do you want to do?”

I shook my head. “That’s the problem. I don’t know.

I keep thinking about it over and over. I look around here and watch television and see people at work and try to imagine myself doing what they’re doing and I can’t.

Well, except for when I was watching a Formula 1 race, but I don’t think they’re going to let me in one of those cars. ”

“Probably not,” Ida Belle agreed, “but it’s an excellent choice.”

“When I was a teacher,” Gertie said, “I used to tell my students to approach this question based on their talents.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you can get paid to kill people unless you work for the government,” I said. “Not legally, anyway.”

“You’re selling yourself short,” Gertie said. “I’m sure you have other talents. Maybe some you’re not even aware that you have. A lot of these things are genetic. We know you followed in your father’s footsteps at the CIA, but what about your mother? Did she work?”

I nodded. “She was an architect. She designed office buildings and parks and shopping centers and houses. I’ve gone to see everything she designed in person. They’re all beautiful, with courtyards and flowers.”

I felt a tug when I spoke about my mother. She’d died when I was young, and sometimes I was afraid my memories would fade. That I’d have nothing left to remember her by except pictures and those buildings she’d designed.

Gertie perked up. “An architect would be a great job. Between lunacy and hurricanes, there’s always construction going on down here. We could become partners. You could design the buildings and I’d be the foreman.”

Ida Belle stared at her. “Have you forgotten the time I helped you repair your shed and you shot me in the butt with the nail gun?”

“It was a finishing nail and I was five feet away,” Gertie said. “It’s not like I crippled you.”

“Tell that to the Millers’ cat,” Ida Belle said.

“He walks fine with three legs,” Gertie said.

Since I was pretty sure I’d never be able to maintain a liability insurance policy with Gertie on a job site, I figured that option was out. And then there was the part where I couldn’t draw a straight line.

“It’s not for me,” I said. “I don’t have that vision, or whatever they call it, that artists need to do their job.”

“What about shrimping?” Gertie asked.

Ida Belle and I both stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“Why in the world would I want to be a shrimper?” I asked. “It’s long, grueling work, the pay is dependent on the market, and I’d smell fishy all the time.”

Gertie threw her hands in the air. “I’m just trying to think of things that would keep you here and wouldn’t require you to work for anyone else. That might be problematic.”

“I work for other people at the CIA,” I said.

“Yes,” Gertie said, “but they all have the same training you do. A regular civilian wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“She’s got a point,” Ida Belle said. “Not that I think you’d run around shooting bosses, but you’re used to calling the shots and being independent. Whatever you do, you’d need to be in charge.”

Gertie straightened in her chair, looking excited. “You could buy the Swamp Bar! I heard they’re interested in selling.”

“No way,” I said. I’d already spent far too many embarrassing and awkward moments at that bar. I wasn’t interested in creating legal ties.

Ida Belle sighed. “We’re so stupid. The answer is right in front of our faces and we’re sitting here talking about shrimp and bars.”

Gertie and I looked at Ida Belle, waiting for her to reveal her thought of genius.

“You should be a private detective,” Ida Belle said.

Gertie’s jaw dropped a bit and she looked from Ida Belle to me, clearly enthralled with the idea. I had to admit, it wasn’t bad as far as ideas went, at least in the imagining stage. But the reality stage was a completely different thing.

“Think about it,” Ida Belle said. “You’re already an expert at weapons, surveillance, and self-defense. You’ve got exceptional observation skills, and you’re a logical thinker. Look at all the crimes you’ve solved since you’ve been in Sinful.”

“A lot of those were luck,” I said, “and in some cases, the solution arrived too late.”

“You’re not a superhero,” Ida Belle said. “But you’re more qualified for that job than any other, unless you want to work security detail for famous people.”

“Pass,” I said. The last thing I wanted to do was stand around holding purses with dogs and waiting on some twit to come out of a trendy dress shop.