miss fortune mystery (ff) - jewel of the bayou (2 page)

“Shhhh,” she hissed in reply. “Don’t say a word, or the Catholics will catch on!”

She grabbed my forearm, and pulled me down into the empty chair.

“Why, you don’t say!” she exclaimed in a loud voice, with a triumphant look over at a neighboring table where a sour faced woman was turning back to her companions with a harrumph. “Isn’t that something!”

She pulled me close.

“I don’t know who you are, but play nice and you’ll get the best banana pudding you’ve ever had in your life.”

Banana pudding, again!

“Maybe you can explain to me what’s going on,” I said. “This has to have been the most confusing Sunday morning of my life. No Baptists at the Baptist church, lunch at 10:00 in the morning, strangers grabbing me and offering me banana pudding…”

“Never look a banana pudding in the mouth, that’s the first rule,” she said, and then she grabbed my hand. “The name’s Gertie. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” I said. “I’m Lindy. And I’m still confused.”

“Simplest thing in the world,” she said briskly. “You’ve got to get here early to get Francine’s banana pudding, and church gets out at 10:00 a.m. so we all have a shot at it. Today the Baptists beat the crowd, and we got enough for the whole table, which is one short anyway, since Marge is out of town. Anyway, the Catholics just have to make due with what’s left.”

She looked awfully smug as she said this, and it made me think that the pudding might be worth it.

“So that’s it,” I said. “Everyone rushes to the café, which explains why the church looked like tornado swept through it.”

“Oh, it’ll get cleaned up after lunch. But not until then. The problem today is that, while we knew Marge wouldn’t be here, we didn’t expect Edna Mae to be called home.”

My eyes got wide. “She died?”

“Good grief, don’t be so dramatic. Called home! Her old orange tabby snuck out through a window again, and she had to go drag him back by his tail, or whatever she does. Anyway, she couldn’t come to lunch after all. Which is why we have an extra seat.”

“And an extra portion of pudding,” I said. The light was beginning to dawn.

“Exactly. We’d box it up and take it to her, but the Catholics will have our hides if we do. They think that it has to be first come, first serve on Sundays, and an unused pudding on our table should go over to them.”

She paused for a moment over her coffee cup.

“Although,” she went on, “to be fair, we’d feel the same way if we were in their shoes. Anyway! You’ve saved the day. We don’t have to give any ground to Celia Arceneaux and her minions, and you get a treat. The only loser is Edna Mae, but frankly she doesn’t need the pudding.”

She took a long look at me.

“Watch it,” I said.

“I didn’t say a word. Now let me introduce you to the table.”

I was welcomed by the members of what I would come to know as the Sinful Ladies Club, and enjoyed a fantastic plate of biscuits and gravy, bacon on the side, and hot coffee. More brunch than lunch, but I make no apologies for what I eat at mid-morning. The ladies were all retired and then some, but they still knew their business, and their business was pulling the story of my life out of me in one, long, take. I didn’t mind. It had been a while since I had the chance to talk to a real, live person who wasn’t named Gladys Langstrom.

“Gladys Langstrom. That old biddy,” the Sinful Lady known as Ida Belle said, and I waited for her to elaborate. I wasn’t about to give out any details, myself. I have standards.

“I’ve known Gladys since she and I were knee high to a June bug, and she’s never been anything but the vainest, crabbiest, most…”

“Hey, now,” Gertie interrupted. “No speaking ill of a fellow Baptist on Sunday.”

“Fellow Baptist my sweet bippy. She hasn’t so much as cast her shadow across the door since the Big Organ scandal, and you can’t tell me that she has the right to consider herself a Baptist in good standing after the way she tried to pull the whole church down around herself when she didn’t get her way about the pipes.”

“Like we have any need for a full pipe organ here in Sinful,” she went on, “or anything but a piano and that old pump organ. Once the choir starts singing in tune, maybe then we can start talking about spending that kind of money on a bunch of whistles.”

“I thought that she didn’t come to church because she’s frail,” I said. “And when that man from the church came to visit a few days ago, she said she just wasn’t feeling up to meeting anyone.”

“Man from the church?”             

“The one from the ministry to visit the widows and orphans, or something like that?”

Ida Belle snorted. “First I’ve heard of that ministry, though I imagine there would be a widow or two in this town who might be interested in a man coming to call.”

“Who was it, exactly?” Gertie asked.

“Ryan,” I said. “He said he was Deacon Ryan, from the Baptist Church.”

I felt the tips of my ears start to turn red again. Deacon Ryan wasn’t that much older than me, really, and with his dark hair slicked back and his eyes twinkling behind his horn-rimmed glasses, it wasn’t hard to imagine the widows of Sinful taking time to talk to him. The deep dimples would probably help to keep their interest, too.

“Hmmph,” Ida Belle said. “I know who you mean, and I’m going to guess that he has more on his mind than cheering up widows. He blew into town a little while ago, and dove right into things at church. It didn’t take long to get an idea of what he was up to, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t doing God’s work.”

“Rumor has it that he’s a real estate developer,” Gertie said.

“Real estate?”

“That’s right. Although the mind boggles at the thought of what he might plan to develop here in Sinful.”

“Waterparks on the Bayou,” Ida Belle said. “Mudslides and mosquitos and the chance to get your toes nipped by an alligator if you don’t watch out.”

“So you think he was coming around to see about Mrs. Langstrom’s property?”

“Wouldn’t put it past him,” Ida Belle said.

“Well, at least that makes her seem a little less paranoid,” I said. “She does get awfully concerned that someone is out to take what’s hers. She told me that she fired a girl a while back after she caught her taking too much interest in her jewelry.”

Ida Belle laughed at that.

“If that’s what she told you, well, I wouldn’t count on holding your job too long. Gladys would show off her jewelry to a fruit fly if she could get it to pay attention. She’s been flaunting that trash for as long as we’ve known her, and that’s a long, long time.”

“She does go through helpers like tissues,” Gertie said. “Which is why it’s nice to actually meet one of you. Usually, her help hits the road before anyone in town actually sees them.”

“Well, you might not have seen me if it weren’t for Deacon Ryan. When Mrs. Langstrom wouldn’t meet with him, we chatted for a few minutes and he invited me to church. Not that I wouldn’t have come on my own!” I added hurriedly.

“Too bad he didn’t let you know when to show up.”

“My fault,” I said. “I told him that I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to make it, and then when Mrs. Langstrom agreed to let me go, she didn’t say anything about church starting so early.”

“Odd,” said Gertie.

“Not odd at all,” said Ida Belle. “The old bat hasn’t been to church in so long, she thinks it still starts at 11:00 a.m.”

“That would make sense,” I said. “Even if she never comes to church anymore, though, I’m pretty sure that she still considers herself a Baptist.”

“She can consider herself the Queen of England,” Ida Belle said. “Doesn’t make it so.”

“No, I think that Lindy here is on to something,” Gertie said. “It’s been years since Gladys has been to church, and it must be killing her to know that we’ve all been getting along just fine without her. Still, you know Pastor Don would love to have back in a pew when the offering plate comes around, and the building certainly could use a slap of paint here and there.”

She got a crafty look in her eyes, and even I – who had known her for all of half an hour by now – could see that some sort of scheme was being hatched. She tapped her fingers on the table for a moment, and then sat straight up in her chair.

“The Directory!” she said. “That’s how we’ll do it. You said it yourself, Ida Belle. She’s as vain as they come, and the prospect of getting her picture into the Church Directory should be just the ticket to get her coming back again.”

“The Directory,” I said.

“Yes, the Directory. You know, the list of people in the church, with pictures next to their names.”

“Oh, I know,” I said, thinking of blue eyes and sandy blond hair, for some reason.

“If we play our cards right, Gladys won’t let anything get between her and the photographer,” Gertie said.

It appeared that Mrs. Langstrom and I had more in common than I had thought.

“Seems like a lot of trouble to get that troublemaker back on board in order to repaint the belfry.”

“It’s the Christian thing to do, Ida Belle,” Gertie said primly. “And I would think that you would want to do the Christian thing, especially on a Sunday.”

“It would be awfully nice if she could see some of her friends again,” I offered up. “I think that she’s lonely, a lot of the time.”

Ida Belle looked at me shrewdly. “It can’t be easy for anyone out there in that old house, I imagine. Not much to do, probably. Can’t say I’d blame you or anyone else for looking for a way to keep the old woman occupied.”

“No, Lindy’s right,” Gertie said. “I think she’s lonely. And, Lord knows, it’s her own fault. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t do the right thing and ease her pain.”

“Ease her pain, and ease the Church Board’s pain at the same time,” Ida Belle grumbled. “You’re right about one thing, Gertie. It’s her own damn fault.”

I didn’t say a thing, but I raised my eyebrows in my most inquisitive way and hoped for the best.

“Well, you’ll hear it from someone if you don’t hear it from us, so you might as well hear it the way I heard it,” Gertie said. “The truth is, Gladys was always a pain in the neck, but when her husband died she did try to do right, in her way, by her daughter. But you know how girls and their Mamas can be, and when little Janey grew old enough to know her own mind, she got a bee in her bonnet about the Delcroix boy, and wouldn’t have it when Gladys tried to shut the whole thing down. There were rumors of a shotgun wedding, but Gladys was right about that boy – there was no way he was settling down. Ended up on an oil rig, and blew himself to high heaven one night. Not the worst thing for the world, but not great for Janey. She disappeared soon after, headed off to Lafayette or somewhere, and that’s when Gladys turned into the recluse that we all know and love today. No family, just a house falling to ruin and a pile of money somewhere or other that will never be used.”

“Unless you have your way, and turn some of it toward the belfry,” Ida Belle said.

“’Store not your treasure on earth,’” Gertie replied. “’but use it to support your local Baptist church.’ I’m pretty sure that’s how the Bible verse goes.”

She turned to me.

“Let’s get you back to Gladys, Lindy,” she said. “I’ll give you a ride. And you come, too, Ida Belle. It will do you a world of good to see that woman again.”

Chapter Three

I had walked into town, clicking off some of those 10,000 steps you’re supposed to take each day, and enjoying the sweet spring air and the feel of freedom, but I knew that my feet would drag all the way to the Langstrom place if I had to walk back. I jumped at the chance for a ride.

Ida Belle shot me a look, and I didn’t read it correctly at the time, but I’m pretty sure I understand it now. She was trying to let me know that I would be better off walking.

Something that I should have figured out for myself when I saw Gertie’s old pickup truck at the curb.

“Car’s in the shop,” she said breezily. “This is a loaner.”

“The only thing they were willing to trust you with,” Ida Belle said under her breath.

“You know darn well that light post wasn’t where it usually is. If it hadn’t moved, I wouldn’t have hit it!”

Ida Belle snorted at that, but she hopped into the cab.

“Get in,” she said. “I won’t bite you.”

I was only 80% sure of that, but I was 100% sure that there was probably something in that cab ready to bite, or sting, or poke. The stuffing was coming out of the bench seat in tufts, and someone had decided to use cardboard to cover up the rusted out holes on the floor. Most of the holes, I should say. I could see daylight through the ones that hadn’t been patched, and I was leery of putting foot in there and having it go right through to the ground.

“Don’t dawdle!” Ida Belle said, and she slapped the space next to her and sneezed when the cloud of dust she stirred up tickled her nose.

“All right, all right!” I said, and I gingerly hopped up and started to swing my legs in. Ida Belle had been serious about not dawdling, though. I hadn’t even shut the door when Gertie revved the motor and ground the gears as she released the clutch.

“Every stick’s just gotta be different, doesn’t it!” she shouted over the roar of the engine, and as the truck jerked forward I found myself toppling back out.

“Hold on!” Ida Belle yelled, and I grabbed the door handle for dear life as Gertie slammed on the brakes and the engine died. For just a moment I hung half way between the pickup cab and the ground, and then I dropped…

Right into Jack’s arms. His strong, muscled arms, biceps bulging against the fabric of his suit.

“Woah! What do you think you’re doing?” he said.

I slid between those arms, found my footing, and turned to face him.

“You think I wanted to do that? I may need a new career, but it sure wouldn’t be as an acrobat.”

“Hey, I was just helping out here.” He raised his hands in the air and stepped back, and I heard snickering behind me.

“You think that’s funny?” I said to the old women in the truck.

“I do not,” said Ida Belle between chuckles. “I think that’s dangerous as heck, and that you should think twice before accepting a ride with Gertie.”