miss fortune mystery (ff) - bayou babes (3 page)

“I’d like to hear this myself,” Carter said, showing his hand as much as his fragile feelings. “But don’t believe a word that comes out of their mouths. They’re in a secret society and apparently that gives them carte blanche and excuses them from telling the truth.”

“Are you really making this about us right now?”

“No.” Carter smirked, yanking out his handcuffs. “
This
is about breaking and entering. In Sinful, that’s a crime.”

“It is in Hollywood, too,” the producer said.

I rolled my eyes, thrust my arms forward, and waited for my new shiny silver-colored bracelets.

“Carter LeBlanc, if you put those cuffs on her, so
help
me…”

“Believe it or not Gertie, but I am here to help you,” Carter said, pasting on a grin and turning to the producer. “I’ll call their families and make sure everything is taken care of if you won’t press charges.”

“No harm done,” the producer said, checking me out and not in a manner that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “Next time, just knock.”

“We will,” Ida Belle bit out, apparently under the impression that I couldn’t defend myself.

It was a nice gesture.

I turned to Celia. “I don’t know what you’re up to but if you’re genuinely concerned for your cousins then maybe you should let Carter know that now.”

She smiled, lifted her brows, and then tilted her head at the far corner of the room. There, in a barely visible location, was a camera like those I’d seen on many reality television shows. And thanks to the blinking red light, it was a pretty good bet that those cameras were rolling.

Chapter Five

“You’ve been had.” Carter unlocked the cuffs and carefully removed them from my wrists. He then turned to Ida Belle. “And I never thought I’d say that to you, the so-called president of the Sinful Ladies Society.”

“Let it go.” Gertie warned Ida Belle as soon as she opened her mouth. A rebuttal never fell from her lips.

The sheriff entered then and he looked worse for the wear. We turned our heads and followed him as he walked to his desk and slowly took a seat. After a few exaggerated sighs, he grunted. “Well, Ida Belle… Gertie…and…
you
.” He shook his head twice. “
You
are the real problem in this bunch but how much of one is still up for debate.”

Sheriff Robert E. Lee folded his hands over a stack of papers. “I guess it’s too much to ask why you would’ve gone to a stranger’s home.”

“Celia said—”

He put up his hand. “I’m asking Ida Belle.”

I didn’t sulk but felt like it. I also felt like spouting off about my position with the CIA and the fact that I wouldn’t have been in Sinful, Louisiana—or the States for that matter—if an arms dealer hadn’t ordered an ‘off with her head’ hit and threw in a few million for kicks.

“Ida Belle? Want to tell me why you were at the rental house right off of Main?”

“I didn’t know it was rented.”

“Perfect,” he muttered. “Exactly what I wanted to hear since the house doesn’t belong to you.”

“Dana Perry owns it,” Ida Belle said. “Her mother and I are friends.”

“Actually, the house was recently sold. It belongs to me,” the sheriff said. “And at the moment, we aren’t friends.”

“Now come on Robert. That’s a bit drastic.” Gertie sat in the chair across from the sheriff’s desk. “Why if you’d owned that house ten years ago, we would’ve been grilling burgers out back and having potluck dinners.”

“Celia set you up.”

“What?”

He leaned forward, unclasped his hands, and said, “She set you up, Gertie.” He lifted his head. “All of you. You’ll be on the new show. You may have heard of it—
Bayou Babes
, a production that will bring in hundreds of thousands of dollars to our Southern Louisiana town!” He slammed his fist against the desk.

I jumped. Ida Belle didn’t budge. Gertie scooted to the edge of her chair. “If we were filmed without our knowledge, there’s a slight problem here.”

“Is there now?” Sheriff Robert E. Lee didn’t really present himself as the original one might have. I’d always imagined the real McCoy—or Lee, as the circumstance suggested—as a distinguished gentleman. “As much as you enjoy attention, I would’ve thought the forthcoming show would’ve had you and Ida Belle dancing in the streets.”

Carter tapped me on the shoulder. “He only referenced Ida Belle and Gertie for a reason.”

“Point made.”

“He’s trying to say you aren’t approachable.” Gertie turned her head to her shoulder long enough to explain. “In case you missed the part where you were insulted.”

“I didn’t miss that part.” And I wouldn’t forgive Carter for hauling us in like common thugs.

“Robert, we should go back and have a look around. The whole place smelled like cleaner.”

“Did it, Gertie?” He seemed unmoved. “Perhaps it had something to do with us preparing the house for our renters. We washed the walls with bleach!”

“Well that explains things then,” I muttered, embarrassed.

Ida Belle said, “If we owe you an apology, you have one.”

“From all of us, of course,” Gertie added.

“Agreed.” Apparently the sheriff didn’t care what I said or thought. He didn’t acknowledge the apology. At the moment, I didn’t care much for his little powwow, but thanks to the upcoming television production, I had to sit tight and listen. If the cameras had recorded our latest caper, I needed to figure out how to break in and retrieve the evidence. I couldn’t have my face splattered all over promotional trailers for a new TV show.

As I contemplated a forthcoming crime, I came to terms with another possibility. The footage was likely on someone’s computer by now. I was starting to think I’d been around Ida Belle and Gertie long enough to believe technology was a thing of the future, a future I’d yet to experience. Now a Sinful resident, I was trapped in the past, living in a town that looked like it was created straight from a storybook, complete with pastel homes, white-picket fences, winding paths, and brick roads.

“The  producers wanted to know more about the women who inspired the books behind the show. They plan to end each episode with a clip from your lives. In other words, they’ll show their audience Sinful’s
real
Bayou Babes.” Sheriff Lee laughed. “You’ll be famous.”

“And you think this is okay?” I was boiling mad. Celia had lied all the way around just so she could trick us. I started to imagine death by strangulation. What I’d give to wrap Celia’s pearls around her throat.

Grief.
I was more like Gertie than I cared to admit.

“Signs are posted at all the doors. Anyone who enters that house acknowledges that what happens there is being recorded for possible show episodes. By walking inside, you’re giving your consent.”

“Robert, we’ve been friends a long time,” Ida Belle began. “So you’ll have to forgive me when I call my attorney. I’m not going to be on TV. I have my reasons and you need to respect them.”

Gertie took a deep breath. I did the same, dreading what came next.

Ida Belle straightened her shoulders and marched to the door. “It will be a cold day in hell before that footage airs on any episode.”

###

“I sent you to a town where no one could find you and what do you do?” Director Morrow was furious and for good reason. For over a year, our arrangement had worked well.

“Sir, I can explain.”

“Don’t even try. Let me summarize. You walk into the home formerly owned by Marge Boudreaux, pretend to be her heir, settle into a quiet life, and what?” I could almost picture his puffy red cheeks swelling as he hesitated. “You blow the best cover anyone could possibly have by aligning yourself with a bunch of old women who control the town by slipping vials of moonshine in Sinful’s unsuspecting citizens’ hands!”

He knew about that? “They aren’t vials, Sir.” And the citizens were anything but unsuspecting.

“Excuse me?”

I cleared my throat. Since returning from the sheriff’s office, I’d spent the better part of an hour listening to Director Morrow’s rant. “I said, ‘They aren’t vials, Sir’ and they aren’t.”

“Listen to yourself, Redding! You’re siding with criminals!”

“No, Sir. Gertie and Ida Belle are friends and they are the kind of people who wouldn’t just hold a box of ammunition while I’m firing at the enemy. They’d pick up their guns and fight right beside me.” I let him stew on that. “Just saying… Sir.” 

“Swell.” A beat later, he added, “You listen to me, Redding. I have half a mind to yank you out of there and bring you in. Then, you can fend for yourself!” He was all talk. Morrow had been a friend of my father’s. He didn’t agree with everything I did, but he wouldn’t hang me out to dry.

“Is there anything else?” I held my breath, hoping we were done here.

“What do you know about the three women posing as you and those ammunition-slinging old maids?”

My lips twitched. We were getting somewhere. “I haven’t seen them.”

“Fortune was supposed to disappear but then Celia set us up. We went to the house looking for the actresses but they were already gone. They probably didn’t have anything to do with this.”

That was my guess, too. Celia had looked for a way to cash in and likely promised to deliver us for a price.

I hoped she choked on hundred dollar bills.

“Tell me I’m not on speakerphone.”

“Director Morrow, meet Gertie Hebert.”

“Call me back when you don’t have an audience,” he snapped.

Before I could say another word, the phone went dead.  Gertie shrugged. “His loss.”

Something told me the director probably didn’t see it that way. 

Chapter Six

The next day, Ida Belle and Gertie met me in front of the sheriff’s rental home. We set up our lawn chairs, a boxed-style cooler, and bright orange umbrella right there on the well manicured lawn. Waiting for the producer and his young blonde friend to emerge, I had time to reflect on the last forty-eight hours.

Nothing added up. Celia trying to cash in was typical but I didn’t believe she’d helped those women write a book about their lives when the newspaper article had suggested otherwise. Plus, several of Francine’s patrons down at the café had mentioned reading the books. According to some, the café, General Store, and other businesses had been included. Then there were the close similarities between real people and fictional characters.

A coincidence? My gut told me there wasn’t any such thing.

The morning slipped away without consequence. Ida Belle had just returned from Francine’s with bagged lunches when Sheriff Lee rode up on his horse. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Perfect timing, Sheriff.” Gertie turned to Ida Belle. “Did you ask Francine what Robert liked on his ham sandwich?”

“Honey mustard,” Ida Belle replied, holding up a brown sack.

The sheriff stared at Ida Belle’s hand. “I can’t accept that.”

“Why not? Are you afraid the hotshot producer will peek outside and see you rubbing shoulders with the enemy?”

The sheriff slowly eased forward in his saddle and snatched the bag from Ida Belle’s hand. “That’s not the problem, Ida Belle. This home is rented for the purposes of providing accommodations and will also be featured on the show.”

“So the truth comes out,” I muttered.

Gertie nodded rapidly. “Robert was in the drama club back in the day.” In a conspiratorial fashion, she leaned closer and whispered, “He always auditioned for the bigger parts but Larry Seymour was more of a leading man.”

Ida Belle eyed the sheriff. “What did Mr. Hollywood promise you? Let me guess—a speaking role and more money if the locals stay away,
what
?”

The sheriff sat erect in his saddle, staring down at us as if he had already achieved stardom and we were simply the ‘normal’ people. “I’ll have a screen credit for providing the rental home.”

“I knew it!” Gertie took a bite of her sandwich. Around a mouthful of food, she said, “You aren’t charging them rent. Are you?”

Ida Belle narrowed her eyes. “You mean to tell me, you sold us out and you didn’t receive the first dollar for the trouble?”

“This ought to be good,” I muttered.

The sheriff slid away from his horse then. “Look, ladies. There’s more to this than meets the eye.” He swung his gaze at me before focusing on Ida Belle once more. “You of all people should know how that is.”