Chapter 102

I drove into the yard of a small house that had trash scattered all around it. The gray Chevy SUV was in the drive. I looked to be sure that it was the one in the hit and run. I parked my Honda behind it, then hit speed dial to call Wilson.

"Wilson, I'm not sure what county I'm in but figure it out and call the Sheriff. Tell him I'm sitting in the driveway of the guy involved in the hit an run thirty minutes ago and he might want to get a car over her before he leaves.

Before the deputy could get to the scene, the dickhead came out of his house. "What are you doing in my drive way?" he asked.

"Oh I'm here to make sure you don't go anywhere before the Sheriff gets here," I said.

"You called the sheriff?" he asked.

"You should be glad I did. The alternative was to shoot you and set fire to your house. That woman you ran off and left to die sent me." I said.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"The name is Sylvia Porter and I'm a private investigator. I am also working for the woman you almost killed, so dickhead I have every right to block your fucking drive way." I informed him.

"You, I do not like. Move your car," he said angrily.

We were both standing beside my car. He obviously came from a culture were a woman would never raise her hand to a man. "Fuck you," was my reply.

He decided that he could beat me into submission, but he got a real surprise. Like men everywhere, when dealing with a woman, he drew back to slap me. The thing Reggie had taught me in the gym was to look for the telegraphed blows. Knowing when and where they were coming, was the most advantageous thing in a fight.

By the time I reacted he had his arm back, which left his midsection available to punch hard. He was a bad ass with his mouth, but his body was soft. I hit him so hard the air rushed out of his lungs making a whooshing noise. He was bent over so the fight was over, I took the chance to punished him some more. I knew the cops could only do so much, so I completed his beat down before I put a zip tie around his hands. "You might want to think twice when you draw back to hit a woman next." I got in one kick to the ribs before the Sheriff arrived.

The forensic evidence was complete, and the fact that I was in a rural county probably kept me out of jail. That and no man of his background would ever admit he was beat almost unconscious by a mere woman.

"Well you took your own sweet time," Wilson said when I finally made it home the next morning.

"Sorry mom, I stopped at the country jail for a visit with some nice deputies and then the hospital to check on our client." I said.

"What client?" Wilson asked.

"The one in the hit and run," I replied.

"You said she was semi conscious how could she hire us," Wilson asked.

"She said, 'please help me.' The Sheriff and I agreed, it was the act of one who had hired a private investigator." I said.

"Well do you think the case is closed," Wilson asked.

"The son of a bitch who cased the accident was in the country illegally and had no insurance on the car. He was also driving with stolen tags. She has some insurance on her car so that is good. I think she is fine. I left her a card if your insurance company gives her any shit."

"Good, things have been popping around here since you got back in the country. The state department is hot to have you testify and some CIA guy called. He left a message don't testify. I did what you said to do, I gave them all the number of your friends in the swamp."

"Good work Wilson. By the way I think I am through at the Swamp," I said simply.

"I do hope so. You are going to get killed messing with those guys," he said.

"To be honest I was more afraid of rotting in some South America shit hole," I said.

"No matter the reason I hope you stick to your decision," he said.

"We will see," I said.

"So what will we do?" he asked.

"Just the same things we always do, but without the out of country stuff," I replied. "So Wilson, fill me in on the Railroad B&B."

The man who owns it is crazy. There were twenty rooms when the railroad ran it. The first owner of the B&B reconfigured it so there are ten room now. Each has it's own bath. There were two bath per floor when the Railroad had it. They rent for around a hundred a night. If you can find anyone to rent them. Everyone wants to stay ocean front on Jefferson Island. That's according to Chrissy's mom," Wilson said.

"I can see that. We spent a few nights at both and I have to admit the scenery is better on the island. Of course the price is twice as much. They probably kept it going on the money from the bar."

"That's pretty much what the ladies said," Wilson admitted. "The owner couldn't make a go of it as a fancy B&B, so he leased it to the ladies. Since you ran them out of town, you really should do something with the place."

"There was one thing we had trouble with when we moved here. There were no short term lease studio apartments. That might work if we advertised it that way," I suggested. "You know what, let me get the investment guys to look it over and tell me what it is really worth."

"Good, it certainly isn't going anywhere," Wilson admitted.

"So where the hell are we going to eat now?" I asked.

"I have been to that buffet on Jefferson Island but I know you don't like the island," Wilson said.

"No, I really don't like it out there. There are way to many secrets on that sand bar for me," I said with a smile.