Eager to deposit the check, Sid drove straight to Orange Savings Bank, and after conducting her business, paused long enough to admire the numerals on the deposit slip. Clarity of decision sat on her shoulders as firmly as it had the day she’d walked away from her marriage to Sam and his denomination.
 
She headed home, eager to make an appointment with a contractor, amazed at how her attitude had changed since she first awakened that morning, and amazed at the difference a few zeros made.
 
In early June in southeast Texas, summer often arrived earlier than the calendar, and this was one of those days. As soon she pulled into her driveway and stepped out of the air conditioned vehicle, tiny beads of perspiration coated her skin. Overhead, birds whistled at her from the sycamore tree, and she laughed up at them. “Don’t think that flattery is going to keep you out of trouble if you dump on my car,” she advised, shaking her finger at them just as a faded-blue jalopy of a truck sputtered up.
 
The vehicle turned into the driveway, left fender dragging the curb, and by the time it came to stop mere inches away from Sid’s vehicle, her mind had already racked up mounting repair bills.
 
She headed down the driveway peering through the truck’s filthy windshield. “Durwood? I thought that was your truck.”  Durwood had been one of her first clients. His case had been one of those she almost didn’t survive. Now he greeted her with a smile and stuck his hand out the window. She clasped it in hers, taking great care not to squeeze. Arthritis had twisted his fingers so much they even looked painful. She hadn’t seen him since she’d closed his case a few months ago, and yes, the omnipresent tobacco juice still coated the corners of his mouth.
 
“I was hoping to talk to you, but it looks like you’re heading out somewhere.”
 
“No, just getting back. What can I do for you?”
 
The gristly old man opened the truck door and climbed out, stopping long enough to swipe his spit ’n polish black leather shoes on the back legs of his overalls.His furrowed brow told her something bothered him. “You okay?”
 
“It’s that dang sheriff.”
 
“You mean the new one, Sheriff Quade Burns?”
 
Durwood nodded, fidgeting. “He’s scared my friend Boo Murphy half to death. Keeps questioning her about the pirate ship she saw out in the swamp behind her house. I need you to come talk to her, calm her down. She’s afraid he’s going to arrest her.”
 
“For seeing a pirate ship?” She laughed. “That’s not against the law.”
 
“No, no, Sid, for murder. Dang it, you know what I meant.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t make light of your friend’s situation. Come on in and let’s talk about it.” Sid took his elbow and tried to steer him toward the house, but the soles of his shiny black shoes stayed glued to the driveway.
 
“No, Sid, we need to go to her house right now, before she has a coronary. She’s an old woman what likes the outdoors. She won’t make it locked away behind bars.”
 
“Can we sit and talk first?”
 
“We can sit in my truck and talk on the way over there. Come on. Climb in.”
 
Giving in to the stubborn old coot was easier than arguing with him. She walked around the front of the dilapidated truck and popped open the screeching door.
 
The condition of the cab almost made her change her mind. Stuffing stuck out of holes in the upholstery. Duct tape tried to keep the seat together and a tear across the back still had residue where one piece had abandoned its responsibility. The floorboard held an unopened can of motor oil, and a wooden box full of assorted tools and oily red rags. On the dash lay a well-worn copy of Lafitte the Pirate.
 
Gingerly, trying to climb in without touching anything, Sid wished she’d chosen blue jeans earlier that morning. Her white linen slacks would never be the same. When the buzz of an insect caught her attention, she turned toward the sound and saw a spider web in the corner of the window. A bee fought for a way out of the trap, but was unsuccessful. She knew that feeling.
 
The truck backfired and skipped down the road, forcing Sid to glance in the rearview mirror. Just as she suspected, dark smoke billowed out behind them.
 
“Okay, catch me up,” she said, hoping to get the ride over quickly.“Here’s what I know.” Durwood stared straight ahead, his blue, watery eyes focused on the road. “Boo went squirrel hunting out in the swamp just like she always does, but this time she found a pirate ship stuck up out of the water. The next day, she took Sasha out to see it.”
 
“A pirate ship? Who’s Sasha?”
 
“Boo’s second cousin, twice removed. She’s going crazy thinking folks believe she killed him.”
 
“Sasha?”
 
“No, dang it. Not Sasha—Boo. Keep up, Sid.”
 
“Believe me, I’m trying to. You need to slow down, Durwood. I can’t make sense of what you’re saying.”
 
“Best I can tell, she came home and told Sasha—”
 
“Her second cousin, twice removed,” Sid said, suppressing a grin.
 
Durwood nodded again, seemingly pleased that she was catching up. “Sasha went into hysterics, bellowing about how Boo killed Zeke.”
 
“Whoa, whoa.” Sid’s head swam. “Who’s Zeke?
 
“Sasha’s husband, or was—till yesterday.”
 
No wonder she couldn’t keep up, she first had to translate the man’s language. For he put an I in yesterday and took out the R and the A—as in yistedy.
 
“Okay, okay, I get the picture. A man is dead, and Boo thinks she’ll be arrested for the murder.”
 
“And if she’s arrested, she’s gonna plead guilty. Only thing is, she ain’t killed nobody, Sid. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Agitation took his eyes off the road just as a mangy cur dog claimed his pedestrian rights. Sid yelped and threw on her own brakes,fearful her feet might go through the rusted-out floorboard. The floor held, although her brakes didn’t. Durwood didn’t touch his. He simply swerved, tossing Sid against the door, while the dog ignored them and continued his saunter across the street.
 
Durwood turned off on a winding dirt road that eventually led to the river. Water tupelo, cypress, and pine trees stood tall and resolute between two unpainted houses. A wide, hardpacked dirt yard separated the two. Each house, catty-corner to the other, sat on concrete blocks, while rough-hewn steps led up to their front porches. Odds and ends of junk lay in big piles under a shed between and underneath the houses.
 
“She knows you’re coming.” Durwood reached across Sid— smelling like he’d spent the night in a tobacco barn—and yanked the handle until the door opened.
 
“She knows? Is she psychic or something?”
 
“I told her I was bringing you back here with me.”
 
“Pretty sure of yourself, weren’t you?”
 
“Sure about you,” he said, his grin showing off brown-stained teeth.
 
Just as they got out and closed the doors, an elderly woman with wiry gray hair, rounded shoulders and sun-leathered face, stepped out the screen door and started yelling and raising a fist in the air.
 
“Dadgum it, Durwood, I told you not to bring that woman here. Don’t think just ’cause you did, you’re gonna get in my pants!”
 
Durwood looked at Sid with a big grin on his face. “Ain’t she cute?” Then he turned back to the big-fisted woman.
 
“Now Boo,
 
I told you that ain’t what I’m after. I’m just trying to help.”
 
“Then why’d you bring that Myra whore by here last week if you ain’t wanting her to teach me the tricks of her trade?”

“Good lord, Boo, that ain’t why me and Myra came to see you. She’s my friend. I just wanted you two to meet. People judge her for what she does for a living, but she’s just as human as you and me.”
 
“Friend, huh? Well, I hear tell she’s got lots of friends and they’re all men.”
 
By now Durwood had taken Sid’s elbow and led her up the front steps—or maybe pulled would be more like it.
 
“This here Ms. Smart is a dang good detective, and she can help find out who killed Zeke.”
 
“Meddling old fool,” Boo mumbled. “Well, now that you’re here you might as well come on in and sit a spell.” Boo opened the door wide and gave Sid the onceover as she passed through the doorway. The room’s furnishings were simple. Ancestral photos sat on table tops and a sideboard, while the wall held faded pictures of pirate ships—schooners of various models. Sid headed to a straight-backed chair and sat.
 
“One thing I can tell you for sure,” Boo said to Sid, stationing her own chair as far away from Durwood as possible and still be in the same room with him. “I ain’t killed Zeke. I didn’t like him none, but so what? I only know two people in the whole world that did like him, and that was his mama and God. Course they ain’t got much choice.” Boo chuckled at her own joke, and then the laughter turned to tears. She covered her face with her hands and her shoulders shook.
 
Sid felt like a giant tsunami sucked her toward Boo. “Excuse me, ma’am, but Durwood said you’d seen a ship out in the swamp. Are you up to talking about it?”
 
The veil of misery that had filled the old woman’s eyes dropped away. In its place, diamond beams of delight glistened out, transforming her from a tired, grief-stricken old woman into a young girl sparked with the excitement offered by a pirate ship. Her voice bubbled over like that of a small child.