Marsh madness, p.1
Marsh Madness, page 1
part #1 of Miss Fortune Series Series
Copyright © 2024 by Jana DeLeon
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Design and composite cover art by Janet Holmes.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Miss Fortune Series Information
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Miss Fortune Series Information
If you’ve never read a Miss Fortune mystery, you can start with LOUISIANA LONGSHOT, the first book in the series. If you prefer to start with this book, here are a few things you need to know.
Fortune Redding – a CIA assassin with a price on her head from one of the world’s most deadly arms dealers. Because her boss suspects that a leak at the CIA blew her cover, he sends her to hide out in Sinful, Louisiana, posing as his niece, a librarian and ex–beauty queen named Sandy-Sue Morrow. The situation was resolved in Change of Fortune and Fortune is now a full-time resident of Sinful and has opened her own detective agency.
Ida Belle and Gertie – served in the military in Vietnam as spies, but no one in the town is aware of that fact except Fortune and Deputy LeBlanc.
Sinful Ladies Society – local group founded by Ida Belle, Gertie, and deceased member Marge. In order to gain membership, women must never have married or if widowed, their husband must have been deceased for at least ten years.
Sinful Ladies Cough Syrup – sold as an herbal medicine in Sinful, which is dry, but it’s actually moonshine manufactured by the Sinful Ladies Society.
Chapter One
Gertie winked at me, and my lips trembled with the smile I knew I couldn’t let loose as she rose from her seat and made her way to the chair in the center of the room. We’d arrived in DC the day before we were all scheduled to speak before the Senate Armed Services Committee. Kitts’s assassination had obviously ceased any attempts to shift blame to Harrison and me for the events in Iran, but the DOD wasn’t willing to let it go until they knew the extent of Kitts’s treachery.
At least that’s what they claimed, but I was certain that our summons was for other reasons.
The committee had elected to leave Emmaline and Walter out of this fact-gathering hearing, and for that I was grateful. They wouldn’t have given anything away, but I was glad they didn’t have to be here in the spotlight. Gertie, on the other hand, had been looking forward to it, and I almost felt sorry for the men and women sitting at the long table in front of her.
Almost.
They went through the usual questions of identity for the records, then the chairman launched right into his questions.
“Why were you in Khasab?” he asked.
Gertie frowned. “Do I like corn on the cob? I’m Southern. Of course I do.”
“No,” he said, raising his voice. “Why were you in Khasab?”
“Where’s that?”
I could tell he was already frustrated, and I couldn’t help but think he really ought to keep some in reserve, because Gertie was just getting started.
“The Middle East,” he said.
“The same reason anyone goes there.”
“There are many reasons people travel there. For business. For government work. With the military.”
“Do you know how old I am?”
“Older than my bra,” Ida Belle answered. “And it’s mighty uncomfortable, so if you people could just get on with this so I can take it off, I’d appreciate it.”
His jaw clenched, but he ignored Ida Belle’s statement and looked at Gertie. “Your age is not relevant to the question.”
Gertie shrugged. “I was just hoping you’d know because I can’t remember. Anyway, I’m too darn old to be doing business, I’ve never worked for the government unless you count teaching high school, which is more like time served.”
“You were in the military.”
“Was I?” She cast an inquiring glance back at Ida Belle, who nodded.
Gertie looked confused for a couple seconds, then her eyes widened. “Oh, yeah. I was really young back then and boy, was I a hot number. I remember this one pilot in ’Nam—”
“No!” Ida Belle yelled, and it was all I could do not to laugh.
The chairman pointed his finger at Ida Belle. “One more outburst from you and I’ll remove you from the room.”
“Fine by me,” she said. “This chair is uncomfortable and I have an old bladder. But you’re going to have a hard time questioning me if I’m not here. I’m next on your list.”
I glanced over at Alexander, who was sitting with me on the second row of chairs. He must have had eyes on the side of his head because even though he was staring at the chairman, he felt me look and gave me a low thumbs-up.
All of this was going exactly as planned.
The chairman struggled through a couple more questions with Gertie, then gave up, writing her off as so old her mind was shot. Ida Belle was just as forgetful and belligerent as well. When she mentioned her bladder a third time, the chairman called for a break. As soon as Ida Belle, Gertie, and I hit the ladies’ room, we checked for other occupants, then started laughing.
“You were incredible!” I said. “Seriously. Those performances were worthy of an Oscar. The chairman was ready to strangle you both.”
“Serves him right for wasting everyone’s time,” Ida Belle said. “Kitts is dead—and clearly you didn’t do it. They need to stop this witch hunt. None of us know anything about what Kitts was up to except what happened to Carter, and most of what we ‘know’ about that was surmised as Carter has wisely kept his own counsel on the matter. Well, and Alexander’s, but that’s different.”
I nodded. “I don’t think they have us here to discuss Kitts. That’s the reason they gave, but I think their real goal is something entirely different.”
“You think they’re digging for information about your father?” Gertie asked.
“I’m almost certain of it, but we’ll know for sure in a few minutes, as Harrison is up next, then me.”
“Well, I’m going to take care of some business while we’re here,” Ida Belle said. “I was only half joking about that bladder thing. I nervous-drank six cups of coffee this morning.”
“I nervous-ate,” Gertie said. “And I’m still hungry. I’ll admit I had some fun with the committee, but I’m still anxious for the rest of you. Playing feeble isn’t exactly an option. I never thought I’d say this, but there are some advantages to getting older.”
I nodded and pulled out my ChapStick. I didn’t expect Harrison to be in the chair for long. We’d already agreed on our story and had been coached by Alexander until we could have performed it in our sleep. Besides, it wasn’t as if we weren’t already experts in the art of subterfuge and outright lying.
As soon as everyone was back in their places, the chairman called Harrison up and the next round of questioning began. The chairman asked all the things that Alexander thought he would, but Harrison doggedly insisted we were only there to take Ida Belle and Gertie on a bucket-list trip, and the only reason we’d used fake passports was because of safety issues due to our prior professions. No matter how many different ways the chairman posed the same questions, Harrison’s story never once wavered, and the look of complete and utter boredom on his face frustrated the heck out of the chairman.
Bottom line—we were never in Iran, and we knew absolutely nothing about Carter, his mission, Colonel Kitts, or anything else.
Realizing they weren’t going to get anything out of him, they sent Harrison back to the bleachers, so to speak. I tensed, preparing to stand, but then they shifted from the agenda and called Carter.
And confirmed what I had suspected.
They moved me to last because this entire hearing about Kitts was a farce. They really wanted to know about Dwight Redding, and they were hoping that calling Carter up first would get them something they could use to back me into a corner.
I clenched the arms of my chair as Carter rose, looking impeccable in his dress blues. Gertie, sitting to my right, took my hand in hers and squeezed.
I had no worries for myself. I’d been here before, and although I’d been hoping to never see the inside of this room again, it didn’t scare me. I knew what to expect, and Alexander had prepared all of us for every potential situation, probably a few the DOD hadn’t even thought of pitching. But I was worried about Carter. I knew he was going to lie, and I knew exactly what that was going to cost him. The only plus was at least it wasn’t a trial, and he didn’t have to swear on a Bible.
He didn’t look remotely nervous as he took a seat in the chair in front of the long table of committee members, but I hadn’t expected him to. Cart er was Force Recon, and some joked that the only Marines who gained entry either were born with no nerves or the Marine Corps surgically removed them.
The chairman began his questioning, starting with the mission and why Carter had made the decision to scrap it. How he’d been separated from his men while attempting to get them all clear. Carter gave his testimony, which I’m certain matched what the other men on his team had said, and since the chairman didn’t linger over any of those details, I knew he was just trying to ensure Carter was going to tell the truth. But when they got to his escape from the compound in Iran, some of them shifted in their chairs. Others leaned forward. Here was the real reason we were all in this room.
“You said that you heard an explosion, correct?” the chairman asked.
“Yes,” Carter said. “I assumed someone had made a mistake handling one of the weapons they were dealing, but then a guard rushed in, yelling at me. I didn’t understand him, but I think he said the word ‘attack’ or something similar. When I saw his panic, I thought it was the military launching a rescue, but then he cut me loose.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I have no idea, and no amount of dwelling on it has given me one.”
“And you’re certain this was one of the compound’s regular guards?”
“He was Iranian, dressed like the rest of them, and carried the same weapons, but we didn’t exactly hang out like drinking buddies. And the beating I took the first day made my eyes swell shut. My vision didn’t return to normal until after I got back to the United States.”
“So this man set you free for no apparent reason that you can think of?”
“That’s right. After he cut me loose, he was frantic, waving me out, so I ran. When I got to the door, I realized that a full-on battle was going on outside. There was gunfire and smoke bombs, which compromised my vision even more. I crawled around the building, away from the fire, and kept crawling until I reached the stables. The horses had halters on them, so I grabbed a rope from the fence to use as reins and I took that horse as fast as he could run into the mountains.”
“You never saw who the terrorists were fighting?”
“No. I didn’t care. My only concern was finding a US military unit, and there was nothing about that skirmish to indicate US involvement.”
“And you went through the mountains alone?”
“It’s probably more accurate to say the horse got me through the mountains. I was hovering on the edge of consciousness most of the ride, but obviously he’d traveled that path before and knew the way. When I got to the other side, I traded the horse for a ride to the port and stole a boat. The next thing I remember is waking up on a Navy submarine.”
“You expect me to believe that a large, important part of your memory is completely gone?”
“What you believe isn’t my problem. But I challenge you to go days without food and water, being tortured for hours on end, and let me know how functional you are. You don’t look as if you’ve ever missed a meal or had so much as a hangnail.”
“I don’t appreciate the disrespect, Master Sergeant LeBlanc.”
“Neither do I.”
It was all I could do not to cheer.
“You have my medical records,” Carter said. “Talk to my doctors—you know, the people who work for you. Ask them if I’m faking the condition I was in when I was recovered.”
The chairman’s face tightened, and I could tell he didn’t believe Carter’s story, not exactly the way he was telling it. But he didn’t have a shred of evidence to prove otherwise, and the medical evidence supported every claim Carter made.
“You’re dismissed, Master Sergeant. But we reserve the right to question you again.”
“You can question me until both feet are in the grave, but my answers will never change.”
Carter rose from the chair and headed back to our seats. I gave him a tiny nod, and he pinned his gaze on me. I could see all his anger, frustration, and worry right there in that single look, and I hated Kitts all over again for putting Carter in a position to have to lie to protect me. Death had been so much less than what Kitts had deserved.
Then it was my turn.
“Ms. Redding,” the chairman said as I took a seat. “You’ve had an impressive career with the CIA.”
“I’m aware. I was there.”
“How did you get into Iran?”
“I didn’t. I was in Khasab, on vacation.”
“No one believes that.”
“That sounds like a you problem. I’m certain you’ve seen the YouTube video from the Khasab marketplace. Are you suggesting that I made it across the Strait of Hormuz—twice—without being shot down or blown out of the water, freed Carter, and the next morning I was chasing a runaway camel in the marketplace? No one is that impressive. Not even me.”
“Oh!” Gertie said. “I remember riding a camel. Wait—who do we know that owns a camel?”
The chairman shot a dirty look at Gertie, and she let out a dramatic sigh. I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair and stared at the chairman, my behavior and silence conveying the words he didn’t want to hear—you’re not getting anything else out of me.
The chairman pinned his gaze on me. “This man who assisted Mr. LeBlanc with his escape—who was he?”
“How the hell should I know? If I was psychic, the CIA would have had to pay me a lot more.”
“So you’re stating, unequivocally, that the man who aided Mr. LeBlanc was not your father?”
“Again, I wasn’t there, so I didn’t see the man. But since my father is dead, I’m going with no.”
“Ms. Redding, we’re fairly certain your father’s death has been…overstated.”
I shrugged.
“So you refuse to give us information on your father.”
I laughed. “According to the CIA, the man who donated biological material to me died when I was fifteen. He let a young girl with no mother and not a single other family member believe that he was dead. The CIA told me he was dead. We buried teeth and I collected life insurance, and a man who wasn’t even related to me finished raising me.”
I leaned forward and stared at him, now angry at him, my father, and every other person who crapped on people who cared about them.
“Do you really think a man who would do that to a child cares about me as an adult? The CIA told me he died in that blast.”
“But they lied before.”
“And? Take that up with the CIA. But hear me on this, you won’t scratch the surface of my righteous indignation when it comes to Dwight Redding, and they never deemed me important enough to know the truth back then. So good luck.”
The chairman didn’t believe me, but he didn’t have a basis for pushing his point. Not when all of us were denying any knowledge of anything at all. But I had a feeling he wasn’t done—he was just going to attempt to tighten the screws from another angle. His next question proved me right.
“During your time with the CIA, were you ever inside the federal lockdown facility where Colonel Kitts was held?” the chairman asked.
“Why would I have been? When a mission was complete, the only place I could have visited my targets was the afterlife.”
“You left one alive in your home.”
“Only to get a name. And I don’t give him long. Quite frankly, given your incompetence, I’m surprised he’s still alive.”
His jaw flexed and I could tell I’d struck a nerve.
“So you won’t mind telling us where you were the night Colonel Kitts was killed?”
I shook my head at the absurdity of the question. “I was in bed with your other suspect in my house in Sinful, Louisiana. I had people over until about ten and Carter was on shift until midnight. Then we had a private sort of party. Do you want the details of that?”
“I do,” Gertie said, and Harrison snorted. The chairman gave her a dirty look.
