miss fortune mystery (ff) - hiding in the bayou (2 page)

“I think she’s holding a gun.” Gertie elbowed me. “Let’s wait here and see what happens.”

A giant man stepped in front of us. He acted as if we weren’t even there.

“Excuse me,” Gertie said, trying to move him aside.

Jolly Giant didn’t budge. Instead, he said, “No harm done.”

Gertie shook her finger at his back. “Can you believe this guy?”

Considering a five-foot-two woman was clobbering her husband with a large iron skillet while an entire town cheered and took pictures, I could believe just about anything.

Gertie pecked on Mr. Giant’s shoulder once more. “Excuse me?”

“What is it?” He slowly turned around and looked mean enough to scare a gator straight from the bayou.

Gertie gulped. “Nothing. Pardon me. My mistake.”

“Really?” I made a fist and contemplated knocking on the fellow’s shoulder since Gertie’s peck hadn’t worked. 

Gertie grabbed my hand. “Pick your battles.”

Six-foot five. Bald. Three hundred pounds of rude topped off with a terrible disposition.

Gertie was probably right. I couldn’t win here.

“Peanut could be dangerous if she has a palm pistol,” Gertie said.

“Might be a good time to move along.” We were unarmed and if Peanut waved a weapon as aggressively as she fanned that skillet, I didn’t want to be within a mile of this domestic dispute.

“I’m not going anywhere, Fortune,” Gertie said, narrowing her eyes on Carter. “Besides, I know why you’re in such a rush all of a sudden.” She clucked. “Say hello. He’s looking our way.”

Gertie handled the gestures for me. Waving, winking, and grinning from ear to ear, she made sure Carter saw us.

“You look like Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies,” I told her, grabbing her arm and holding it at her side.

“Be polite,” she said, still grinning at Carter.

Thinning my lips, I tilted my head at Carter. He did the same.

“Your tells gave you away the second he walked up. Take a deep breath and relax. This is where it gets good.”

“Now look what you’ve done!” Peanut yelled. “You’ve brought the law to our door!”

“The law?”

“Southern speak for anyone in law enforcement,” Gertie quickly explained, swaying left to right so she didn’t miss a second of the action.

“Of course it is,” I said.

“
The law
wouldn’t have been called if you hadn’t decided to take our arguments to the streets.” Rich turned around and faced the crowd. “And you people need to
get on
home
! Next time this happens, I’m charging admission!”

A wave of laughter rippled through the crowd. Someone yelled, “Same time tomorrow, Rich?” More chuckles followed.

“Folks around here are tight but they’d pay the price.” Gertie cupped her hands and yelled, “That’s a good idea, Rich. I’ll sell tickets for you!”

Rich waved at Gertie. She waved back.

“He has two children from a previous marriage. I don’t know how they put food on the table. Why Peanut is the only one earning an income as far as I know.”

“He doesn’t work at all?”

“Bad allergies,” Gertie said in a matter of fact voice. “Breaks out in hives whenever someone mentions a job.”

“Gertie, you’re a mess.”

“It’s true. Ask anyone who knows him.” She pointed at Carter. “Here we go.”

Carter approached the house with his hand on his weapon. Even though I didn’t have a lot of experience with family matters, I knew that domestic calls were often among the most dangerous. “What’s the problem, Rich?”

“The woman is batshit crazy, Carter.
That’s
the problem.”

“Uh-huh,” Carter drawled. “And you married her anyway.” 

“Did Carter just take a side?”

At my back, the neighbors whispered. Apparently they were surprised, too.

“Peanut’s reputation precedes her. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re in Louisiana. Here, the fellas stick together. In situations like these, the good ole boys club will always stand firm.”

“But I’m in
Sinful
, Louisiana,” I reminded her. “Here, the town is run by the Sinful Ladies Society. Good ole girls stick together, too.” 

“Are you suggesting that I go over there and take up for Peanut?”

“No way.” I slurped and the rattling sound from the empty cup filled the air.

Gertie snatched my straw. “For heaven’s sake, Fortune. No one can hear what’s going on.”

Pow! Pow! Pow!

Ping! Ping! Ping!

Screams filled the air. Gertie ducked behind the man who’d stepped in front of us. He didn’t have the good sense to get down. I did the same, peering around the giant who seemed uninterested in dodging bullets.

People scattered. Sinful’s citizens were running for their lives.

“Shots were fired from two different directions,” Gertie said. “There’s a faulty silencer on one of the weapons.” 

“What have you done?” Peanut’s voice resounded. “Carter LeBlanc! Why?”

“Stay down!” Carter tried to assist but Peanut pushed him away. “Listen to me, Peanut! Keep your head low!”

“Get away from me!” she screamed. “Help! Somebody! Deputy LeBlanc shot my husband!”

Men stormed the yard as if they thought they’d need to take Carter by force. I took a step in that direction, feeling obligated to defend him.

Gertie stopped me. “Stay out of it, Fortune. Those phones are collecting information. Videos and pictures will be all over the internet within the hour. Why Carter couldn’t squish a spider without remorse. He didn’t shoot anyone. He’ll get out of this but he’ll need to do it on his own.” 

“He shouldn’t have put his hands up in the air,” I said, pained by what I saw when two of Carter’s fellow officers tackled him. Sheriff Robert E. Lee would show up behind them, eventually. He was often delayed thanks to his transportation—an over-the-hill plug horse with a slow stride. In any event, he would take Carter’s side once he arrived, assuming he made it to the crime scene sometime today.

“Help!” Peanut screamed, dropping to her porch and cradling her husband’s head in her hands. “Deputy Carter Leblanc shot my husband and he’s dead!”

“Well the cops seem to think she’s right.” Gertie paled. “Guess I was wrong about him.” 

“What were you saying about squished spiders?” Watching the rookies place Carter in handcuffs infuriated me. “Gertie, Carter didn’t shoot or kill anyone.”

“Then who did?”

Chapter Two

“Look who finally decided to show up.” An hour later, we met at Ida Belle’s to discuss Rich’s murder. Leader of the Sinful Ladies Society, Ida Belle had been under the weather for nearly a week. Gertie hadn’t visited for fear she’d ‘catch cold’ from Ida Belle. Dire circumstances, like murder, apparently strengthened one’s immune system.

“We were finally released,” Gertie said, a tad on the dramatic side.

“You were arrested?”

“No.” I rolled my eyes and hung my jacket on Ida Belle’s coat tree. “We were held for questioning. Then I had to run home and feed Bones.”

“Marge would be so proud. You take care of Bones like he’s your own hound.”

“Kind of comes with the territory. Fortune assumed Sandy-Sue’s identity, which means the dog is her responsibility until further notice.”

Ida Belle sniffed. “Glad the two of you are getting along so well.”

I made a fist and swung my arm back and forth in Popeye fashion. “We’re chummy for sure.” If that dog didn’t stop digging up everything he could find and leaving it on my doorstep, we would soon have a slight problem.

Ida Belle wiped her nose on a tissue and stuck it in her front pocket. Dressed in a white robe, Ida Belle sported red and purple curlers which added a splash of color to the room.

“How do you sleep with that mess in your head?” I asked, studying her. The bunched curlers looked as if they’d been placed in strategic areas.

“She doesn’t,” Gertie said. “Why she goes to the market looking like that.”

“I know. I’ve seen her.” And Ida Belle wasn’t the only one. “Do you feel like talking? We could come back.”

“We didn’t come all the way over here for nothing.”  

“Two blocks, Gertie,” Ida Belle snapped. “It’s not like I live on the other side of Louisiana.”  

I helped myself to the fresh pot of coffee. Ida Belle shot me this pitiful look so I handed off my cup and poured another one. Gertie sighed, held out her hand, and waited. “You’re welcome.” I passed off cup number two before filling a third. 

“So what happened?” Ida Belle asked.

Gertie hurriedly explained and ended by saying, “Then that unmistakable sound divided the crowd.”

“Which sound is that?” Ida Belle blew her nose.

“Come to think of it, the racket sounded a lot like that,” Gertie said.

“Funny.” Ida Belle blew again. This time, she tossed her tissue in a nearby wastebasket. “Let Fortune tell the story.”

“Be sure to tell her about the gun that malfunctioned.” Gertie rapidly combed her fingers through her hair, pulling at the white-blue strands until they were all in their appropriate place again—standing straight up.

“Six shots were fired,” I said, already revisiting the recent past in an effort to remember anything that might prove helpful later. I didn’t agree with Gertie about the faulty weapon. I’d been in combative situations and the pinging sound was right on the money.

“Peanut killed Rich right in front of Carter and then blamed him.” Gertie sighed and added a drawn-out “whew” sound, which may have been a Southern thing. Eventually, she added, “The nerve of that woman. Can you believe Peanut would do such a thing?”

“Good to know you’ve switched sides again,” I said.

Gertie scowled. “I was in shock, Fortune. You’re familiar with the concept. Whenever Carter is within kissing distance, you stutter and stammer all over the place. Half the time, I don’t know what you’re rambling about.”

“Now isn’t the time, Gertie,” I said firmly. Normally I let Carter-jabs slide but lately Gertie had begun a more aggressive approach to matchmaking. She’d even gone as far as ordering books like
The Fish are Drowning: Good Men Don’t Remain in the Sea
and
Preparing for your Dinner Date with Bedside Breakfast in Mind.

The titles alone were enough to earn Gertie a few black roses signed from Celia. I smirked at the idea. Gertie, like Ida Belle, didn’t care much for Celia Arceneaux.

A devout Catholic and the leader of God’s Wives, Celia stood as a formidable opponent in the banana pudding wars down at Francine’s Café. Every Sunday, the Catholics and Baptists left their pews and made a mad dash for the café in hopes of reserving the right to the tastiest dessert in town.

“You left us for a minute,” Ida Belle said, studying me. “Care to share?”

“It’s nothing,” I said, not about to admit where my thoughts had strayed. I was thinking about pudding wars, books about catching a good man, and Celia when I should’ve been thinking about motive, opportunity, and likely suspects.

“How did Peanut pop off six shots? Didn’t you say she was standing in front of Carter?” Ida Belle used both hands to shift the curlers in her hair. “That doesn’t make sense. Peanut is a little touched upstairs but she’s not a killer and she wouldn’t have switched weapons while gunning a man down. Why I’d be surprised if she even knows how to load a pistol.”

“She’s not one of our shooters. Plus, her weapon of choice was an iron skillet,” I said, throwing that out there. I’d first suspected Peanut of clutching a small handgun, too, but when Rich collapsed, Peanut dropped the cookware and dumped the contents of a small silver box. As it turned out, she wasn’t packing a palm pistol. Instead, she’d been clutching the proof supporting her accusation—bandages.

Talk about irony. Rich had been shot to death and the evidence behind the couple’s fight had landed on his chest.

“Hard to believe she accused Carter,” Gertie said, shaking her head.

“Carter didn’t kill Rich,” Ida Belle said. “What do you think, Fortune?”

“Of course Carter didn’t do it. There were at least thirty people there to witness the shooting.”

“And nobody saw anything.” Ida Belle grunted. “Typical.”

“You got it,” Gertie said. “Carter was also at pointblank range. Once forensic experts take a look at ballistics and have all the information about the case, Carter will be cleared.”

“Sinful has experts? I’m impressed.” Gertie and Ida Belle swapped glances. Then, they thinned their lips, a tactic that implied they didn’t have anything else to add. “Let me guess.
You’re
the experts?”

“The Sinful Ladies Society will always keep the professionals honest,” Ida Belle said, sipping her coffee.

“But of course they will.” One day I would leave Sinful behind and return to the dangerous days of a CIA assassin’s life and I would fondly recall these conversations.

Maybe.

From petty theft to murder mysteries, Gertie and Ida Belle loved solving crimes, but I wasn’t entirely confident about their level of expertise. Sure they possessed covert military training in clandestine operations which suggested they were intelligent and knowledgeable, but they were also older than the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.