“Can you tell what kind of boat?” I asked.
“I’d say something like a canoe or small aluminum fishing boat, but I can’t be certain until I take some molds of these tracks and do a comparison. That looks like some footprints, too.” He pointed out something we’d overlooked with our weaker flashlights. He lifted his foot and the mud gave a loud, sucking noise that was slightly embarrassing. “Next time, though, just take photos.”
Great. The man was pointing out the obvious and making me feel even more a fool because he was correct. Cece and I had panicked at the thought of an alligator slithering up on us. We could have taken photographs—if we’d been thinking instead of panicking.
“They dragged a boat into the river?” I asked, focusing on the more important elements.
“Looks that way to me,” Jerry said. “Good work on finding this, and I can see why you thought it might be an alligator.” I couldn’t see his face in the dark, but I knew he was grinning at us. In a friendly way.
“We did overreact,” Cece said. “But we also came back and brought you.”
“I don’t see any indication of anyone swimming to shore here.” He moved along the water’s edge more quickly than Cece and I could navigate it. “I’d say this is unrelated to the disappearance of Ms. Beesley, but I’ll check it out. Likely some boaters pulled up here to take a break or repair something. You two should go back to the dock. I’ll look around here a little more, just to be on the safe side.”
Those were sweet words to my ears. “You sure you don’t need us?”
“Go ahead. Tell the police chief that we’ll need a forensic team down here first thing in the morning. I’ll mark the area for them. But you might want to take a look at this before you go.” He shone the light about thirty yards away where there was a slight rise in the bank. Two golden eyes stared back at us from a hidey-hole. “Now there’s your alligator. But he’s not interested in you or me,” he said.
“See you at the dock!” I was already moving toward safety.
“You take care now,” Jerry said. And to his credit, he didn’t laugh.
When we were almost to the dock, I stopped. I thought I’d wait for the lawman to come out of the swamps. I didn’t trust that alligator. “Cece, would you see if you can find Tinkie and maybe check on Coleman for me, please? I have a question to ask Jerry.”
“Will do. I’m going to catch a ride back to the B and B. Someone needs to be with Darla, and I reek of river mud. I smell like something dead.”
We were both pretty odiferous. “Good plan. Can you find a ride?”
“I don’t want Oscar to call the limo for me because I’m filthy, but maybe I can hitch a ride in the back of a pickup truck.”
That was illegal, but it would be wasted breath to try convincing Cece of that. She did exactly as she pleased almost all the time. “You go right ahead. I’ll poke around this area a little more.” I was on firm dry land, and if I saw a gator or anything else I didn’t like, I could make tracks.
Cece headed to the docks, where a bank of lights suddenly came on, illuminating the search area. Boats on the river signaled back and forth, but there seemed to be no sign of Kathleen.
For a moment, I was alone, and I could take a deep breath and acknowledge that someone I knew most likely had died. It was an upsetting fact. As long as I could hide in activity and busyness, I didn’t have to think about loss. Now, though, I had time to confront what may have happened. One eyewitness had claimed to see someone—presumably Kathleen—knock Clarissa over the side of the boat. I didn’t buy that. Kathleen was a passive person, but Clarissa was the take-action kind. I could believe it had happened the other way around. Kathleen had hinted at revenge against Clarissa by spilling her secrets. In truth, both women had threatened to do that. Was that enough to provoke murder?
The crack of a stick came from behind me, and I whipped around to find a large black woman with a huge bosom standing only inches away. She was at least six feet tall, with gray “church” hair, a frumpy dress, sensible shoes—and a gun! She brandished the gun like a sheriff in a saloon brawl. I had a suspicion who this might be, but I just didn’t want to believe it.
“Whatchu lookin’ at?” she asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Where did you come from?” As big and awkward as she was, I should have heard her come up.
“Does it matter? I got things to say to you.”
That sounded distinctly ominous. And very much like Jitty. “You don’t even know me. What could you have to tell me?”
She waved the gun. “I got the power of the Lordt on my side and a little help from my friend right chere.”
I knew the figure standing in front of me. It was Madea, the Tyler Perry character. I knew he filmed in the South, but I didn’t believe he was in Columbus. Mr. Perry was not in a swampy part of the river looking for a woman who’d fallen off a ship. And he would not be talking to me. But Jitty would. I realized it didn’t matter why Jitty was here as Madea—I could use her help. Madea was hell on wheels when it came to cheaters!
“I need to turn you lose on a whole bunch of people in this town,” I said.
She shook the gun. “Say heller to my peacemaker! This can clear up a lot of issues. And just so you know, hanging around this town, I see what’s goin’
