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“Unless you want Sylvie…and you…wrongfully accused of murder. He’s not worth it, Gator. Get rid of the body as soon as you can and make sure no one will ever find it.”
Gator couldn’t believe what Bruno was saying but he wasn’t going to argue with him, especially since he’d just given him the opportunity to make one hell of a big problem disappear.
When Gator didn’t reply or move, Bruno said, “Is there anyone who can look after Sylvie while you get it done?”
“Yeah…yeah…sure. Her friend Chelsea. I’ll call her now.”
“And what are you going to tell Chelsea?” Bruno asked.
“Fucked if I know. How about ‘Sylvie killed Marvin, and I need to get rid of the body because Bruno told me so.’”
Bruno shook his head. “You’ll sort it out…but get him gone before the morning.” With that Bruno walked out the door and Gator went into Sylvie’s room to check on her. He heard a noise…it was Bruno again.
“Forgot my keys,” he heard Bruno say, as he jangled them, then Gator watched as he stepped out the door pulling it closed behind him.
Gator's mind was racing with questions as he tried to make sense of the situation. Why was Bruno helping them? Was it just because of their long friendship or was there something more going on? He couldn't help but wonder if there was a deeper motive at play.
As soon as Bruno was gone, Gator went into Sylvie’s room to check that she was OK. She was even paler than normal, and she was trembling. Gator sat on the bed and held her, telling her that he was going to take her to Chelsea’s where she could stay the night. He told Sylvie what they were going to say to her friend, and then suggested she get dressed and they could leave as soon as she was ready.
She still wasn’t talking, but she got up off the bed and went to her wardrobe to get her clothes.
Gator tried to reassure her again that everything would be okay, but he wasn’t even sure if he believed that himself. They had a dead body to dispose of and he had to make sure they didn’t get caught.
Gator went into the living room and called Chelsea, asking, “Hey Chelsea…you heard what happened with the driveway shooting and Mrs. Fitzgerald?”
“Yeah, I did,” Sylvie’s friend told him. “I can’t believe someone would do something random like that…poor old lady.”
“Yeah…well, Sylvie’s not taking it so well now, after it has sunk in, so would you mind if I brought her around so she can sleep over tonight?”
“Sure, no problem,” Chelsea said.
“Great, we’ll be there in the next half hour.” He went in to see how Sylvie was getting along. She’d gotten dressed and was sitting on the end of the bed again. “Everything’s gonna be alright,” he said. He wanted to say that Marvin deserved it, but he decided to let that ride for now, because she was obviously still feeling the effects of what had happened. “You ready?”
She nodded, so he walked her out of the house, and drove her around to Chelsea’s on his Harley with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist.
Chelsea was waiting at the end of her drive when they arrived, and she helped Sylvie off the bike and walked her inside while Gator got the few clothes she’d packed out of his saddlebag. He handed them to Chelsea, who had come back to the door, and said, “She’ll probably just want to sleep. I doubt she’ll want to talk about any of it after what’s happened. You OK with that?”
“Yeah, sure,” Chelsea said. “I’ll give her all the space she needs.”
I hope so. Wouldn’t want Sylvie talking about it.“Thanks, Chelsea. She’s lucky to have such a good friend.”
Chelsea smiled then went back inside.
Before her got back on his bike, Gator pulled out his cellphone and called Baptiste. It didn’t matter what Bruno had said…Gator could trust Baptiste with his life.
“I’ve got something that needs to be washed down the Basin,” he told Baptiste, referring to the vast and remote Atchafalaya Swamp that covers more than a million acres and is often referred to simply as “The Basin” by locals. He was careful with his choice of words even though he was alone. Phones could be tapped, and he was still uncertain of Bruno’s involvement.
“When and where?” Baptiste asked.
“I’ll text the address.”
“Road or boat?”
“Boat.”
“J'suis en route,” Baptiste said and ended the call.
Merci Dieu pour les bons amis.Thank God for good friends.
