miss fortune mystery (ff) - bayou babes (2 page)

“I saw that!” Ida Belle reached inside the front door and grabbed her small red purse from the table. It was tacky and didn’t look like something Ida Belle would carry but it had been a gift from a secret admirer so she rarely left home without it. “Gertie and I will come up with a good disguise. Stick with us, Fortune. This time tomorrow, you’ll have a new identity and everything.”

“Maybe I’ll just sit these next few weeks out.”

“And miss the action set to unfold on the streets of Sinful? What kind of friends would we be if we let you do that?”

“
True
friends,” I suggested, not one to trust disguises after a recent report had suggested most arms dealers had the same facial recognition systems in place as the CIA, FBI, and Interpol. If the cameras were rolling in Sinful, I didn’t want to step in front of them.

Ida Belle winked. “True friends don’t leave their sidekicks behind.”

“They do when assassins have ten million reasons to aim their guns at Sinful and set their sights on me.”

Chapter Three

“Poor Celia’s ears are probably on fire.” Ida Belle and Gertie hadn’t stopped talking about her since they’d returned.

“Poor Celia? Tell me she didn’t just say that.” Ida Belle reached in her pocket and pulled out a small elixir bottle which was undoubtedly filled with moonshine. After a sip, she studied the bottle suspiciously. Then, she turned it all the way up and chugged it. “Good to the last drop.” She recapped the inconspicuous container and slid it in her purse. “
Celia
is the one who sold our story to a ghostwriter who then had the audacity to option it to Darren Brothers.”

“Darren Brothers?” I hadn’t heard of them.

“They’re the biggest producers of reality television,” Gertie explained. “They produce dramas, too. Some of their shows have been around for years.”

“Don’t act like you’re in the know. You read that online just like I did.” Ida Belle and Gertie carried on like sisters.

“It’s probably not a good time to mention this but if Celia hired the ghostwriter, then she sold your story to Darren Brothers. The ghostwriter wouldn’t have any rights to the material.”

“Neither did Celia!” Ida Belle pushed away from the table.

“Calm down, Ida Belle. We’re assuming
Bayou Babes
is based on our lives. Maybe it’s not.”

“Gertie is right. Maybe Celia believes she’s lived an interesting life as the sitting leader of God’s Wives. Plus, she
is
the fastest Catholic sprinter to ever claim a win in Sunday’s race.” Both women looked like they could strangle me so it seemed only right to quickly add, “But Darren Brothers are producing more reality television shows than dramas. Since those shows are based on real people …”

“And what are we?” Ida Belle asked in an elevated voice.

“You didn’t let me finish. Most people
play
themselves in reality television.”

About that time, a hammering knock fell on the backdoor.

“Hurry!” Gertie grabbed my arm and dragged me to the foot of the stairs. “Go hide.”

“Why?”

“Because you aren’t here!”

“Exactly,” I bit out. “And one would think if I’m not here, you shouldn’t be here either.”

“Ha. You’re not getting rid of me.”

“I figured as much.”

Ida Belle was already greeting their backdoor guest. Gertie hissed. “Shucks.” She opened the small closet door under the stairs and shoved me forward. Fortunately, she’d pulled this number once before when the Sinful Ladies Society had held one of their private meetings there.

I knew the drill and ducked in the nick of time. She slammed the door in my face before I could ask her to leave it cracked.

“Well if it isn’t the one who brought Hollywood to Louisiana.” The screen door slammed. “What brings you out today,
Celia
?”

“Gertie. Ida Belle.” Celia’s clipped voice wreaked of scandal. “I thought I might find you here. Are we alone?”

I pressed my ear to the wall, worried a crime was set to unfold.

“Why? Are you afraid we might hit you over the head with a frying pan?” Gertie asked. “It would be a crying shame to get away with murder when you’ve made it so easy.”

“And appealing,” Ida Belle added.

“I see you’re stewing. That was expected, but you have to listen to me.”

“Actually we don’t,” Ida Belle pointed out.

“But we will,” Gertie said. “Since you came all this way.”

“Are you kidding me? She probably walked all of forty steps.”

“And likely sat down on the sidewalk a few times to rest,” Gertie added. “Did you get as winded coming here as you do on Sundays when you’re racing for food?”

Ida Belle laughed. I held my breath. The joke was actually on Ida Belle and Gertie, all of us really. We’d lost the pudding wars for a month straight.

I didn’t want to think about it. I was a poor loser.

“The article in the newspaper was incorrect,” Celia said, getting to her point without wasting another second. “After seeing you today at the General Store, I assumed you must’ve believed what you’d read.”

“Why would you come up with that assumption?” Ida Belle asked.

“You didn’t speak.”

“Why would today be any different than any other day?” Gertie made a good point.

“So you’re here to tell us the newspaper article reported false information.” Ida Belle’s heavy sigh resounded like distant thunder. “Thanks for stopping by.”

I would’ve given anything to see the actions coupled with the words. I could almost picture Ida Belle steering Celia to the door.

“Why didn’t you just call?” Gertie asked the logical question.

No one said anything. I strained to hear again.

“Well?” Ida Belle asked.

“The ladies starring in the show are running from someone.”

“You mean the actresses?” Ida Belle asked, seeking clarification that I’d later want, too. Even though I hadn’t acted like it since taking up residency in Sinful, I was still a trained CIA assassin extraordinaire.

So Extreme.

Clearly I’d spent too much time with Gertie and Ida Belle.

“Actresses? I guess that’s what you’d call them,” Celia said. She was one of those women who couldn’t stand to give anyone else credit.

“Since the cameras were following them around and they were posing for photographers all over town, they’re famous in my book.”

“They aren’t yet,” Celia pointed out.

“Stick to the point, ladies.” Ida Belle issued an obvious nudge.

“Let’s not waste time by pretending the two of you don’t solve crimes.”

“What kind of crimes?” Ida Belle wouldn’t reveal her true face that easily.

“Whatever are you talking about?” Apparently Gertie wouldn’t either. “Celia,
why
are you here?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”

“Oh boy,” I muttered, sitting on the floor with my back against the wall. At this rate, I’d be here all night.

“Just spit it out!” Ida Belle should’ve left off the moonshine. She’d had too much to drink and Celia could rub Ida Belle the wrong way even when she was sober. 

“The three women are sisters,” Celia said. “They’re wealthy. They each have grown children. A few years ago, their sons put a plan in motion to start taking everything the women had. They wanted to strip them of their material means so they could put them in nursing homes and gain access to their fortunes.”

“That doesn’t explain why they’re here in Sinful,” Gertie pointed out.

“Or why you’re coming to us with any of this,” Ida Belle added.

“Marsha, Megan, and Cindy are my cousins. The books are based on their lives, not yours. I helped them write each and every chapter, every last word.”

I yawned. This was getting deep.

“You mean you were smart enough to do that?” Ida Belle asked. “Who would’ve thought?”

Celia said, “I’ll get to the point.”

“Please.” Ida Belle wasn’t exactly the happy hostess.

“Marsha, Megan, and Cindy…well, they’ve vanished.”

Now, Celia had my attention.

“What do you mean, they’ve vanished?” Gertie asked.

“We were supposed to meet at Francine’s tonight and when they didn’t show, I went to the home they’re renting. The door was standing wide open. Furniture was turned over and glass was everywhere.” She wailed then and it sounded like a howling wind. “I even found a bloody handprint on the doorjamb!”

“Okay that’s it,” I said, pushing the door open and crawling out of the confined space. “This is definitely a job for the Geritol Mafia but before they can dust off their crime-stopping capes, you need to calm down and start at the beginning.”

Ida Belle sneered. “Says the woman who was supposed to stay hidden until the bitter end.”

“Never say die until the dirt is on the grave,” I said, turning to Celia. “Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Chapter Four

An hour later, we entered the small rental cottage and found everything in meticulous order. The home was too organized and the stench of bleach filled the air, a fact Gertie and Ida Belle must’ve noticed as well. They hadn’t stopped sniffing.

“Where are the toppled chairs and tables, shattered mirrors, and broken knickknacks?” Ida Belle asked.

“I’m more interested in the bloody handprint.”

“Careful, Fortune,” Ida Belle warned. “You’re sounding like a CIA agent all over again.”

I faced Celia and feigned tremendous angst. “Just warn me before we see the bloody wall. I’ll prepare myself.”

“Much better,” Ida Belle muttered, walking around in a circle. “I don’t see anything that stands out as unusual.”

“And the place isn’t at all like you described,” Gertie added.

“But it was…just like I said. The whole place was wrecked!”

About that time, an arm-locked couple bounced in the house and came to an abrupt halt. All the color washed out of their cheeks.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” The young man threw his arm behind him, flattening his palm on the woman’s hip and pushing her back.

“We’re unarmed,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Grandmas aren’t packing either.” 

“You’re walking a thin line, Fortune,” Ida Belle said.

“Of course we aren’t,” Gertie said. “And the question you asked is the same one we have for you.”

“He’s the director,” Celia told us.

“Producer,” he snapped. “And who I am doesn’t matter. Who are you?”

Ida Belle didn’t introduce herself. Instead, she said, “We’re looking for Marsha, Megan, and Cindy.”

“Why are you looking for them
here
?” He held his position as if he didn’t quite trust us.

“We were told there was a break in,” Ida Belle said, glaring at Celia.

The young woman stood on her tiptoes and whispered something in the producer’s ear. “Right.” He laughed. “My friend and I were under the impression that Sinful had real cops who carried guns, flashed their badges and everything. I don’t suppose any of you have proper identification that would suggest you’re with the local sheriff’s office?”

I blew out a frustrated breath. I knew where this was heading.

To make matters worse, a car came to a screeching halt right outside. I peered around Gertie. Correction. It was Carter’s truck.

“Brace for it, Fortune,” Ida Belle said. “I don’t think you’ve been gone long enough for Deputy Carter LeBlanc to miss you.”

“Nope.” Gertie turned to the door as soon as Carter entered with his weapon drawn. “And that man’s heart hasn’t had time to grow fonder in the short time that you’ve supposedly been away.”

####

“I want answers, ladies!” Carter rarely raised his voice but when he did, I found him sexy in a disconcerting sort of way. “Where have you been?” He glared at me through steely eyes. “Did you know these two told me you just up and left?”

“She can explain that,” Gertie assured him.

“Throw your friends under the bus much?”

Gertie looked like I’d stomped all over her feelings but the little woman was a bit theatrical at times. She quickly rebounded when Carter said, “I ought to haul you all off to jail.”

“Whatever for?” Gertie asked.

“I agree, Carter,” Celia said. “You should.”

Stepping in front of Ida Belle before she decked Celia, I said, “You really do enjoy collecting enemies. Don’t you?”

“What makes you think we were ever friends? Have you forgotten how we met?”

“Beating you to the pudding when I first moved here ranks up there with my proudest Sinful moments.”

“And you haven’t raced me since,” she pointed out.

“Is this about revenge?” I asked.

“No! I’m worried about my missing cousins!”

“Could someone tell me what’s going on here?” The producer ignored us and turned to Carter. Apparently he expected the man in the room to know more than anyone else. There was a reason for the Geritol Mafia and it boiled down to the local PD’s incompetence, but I didn’t see any reason to blurt that out at the moment.