The Miss Fortune Series: Undercover Bubba (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Miss Chance meets Miss Fortune Book 3) (3 page)

Gertie groaned with relief, tugging on the neckline of her habit. “Thank goodness we’re finally out of the sun. I’m pretty sure parts of me have already melted.”

I looked around, wondering why it was so dark and…wavery. Then I remembered the glasses, pulling them off my nose. “It is cool in here.”

“Surprising,” Ida Belle said, “given the fact that we’re braced on the precipice of Hell.”

“Amen,” Fortune agreed.

Gertie tapped my arm. “I didn’t know you knew Italian. What was that you said out there?”

I caught Fortune’s gaze and she looked amused. “I have no idea. The goal was to deliver it at a loud enough and shrill enough pitch to convince Carter he didn’t know us and didn’t want to.” I shook my head. “If Celia hadn’t shown up when she did...”

“Yeah, speaking of that,” Fortune said, “we need to get a move on before she decides to honor us with her presence.”

“Where do we start?” I asked Ida Belle.

“At the Blessed Mother, of course.” She started off at a brisk pace, her habit swaying as she walked. “Follow me.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Mary Magdalene stood guard over the choir dais, her benevolent gaze focused down on the singers and her hands outstretched as if to say, “What? No Jazz?”

Ida Belle stopped underneath the intricately carved figurine, which hung from the wall between two round-topped windows filled with multi-colored glass. She reached up and ran a finger lovingly over Mary’s hem, her expression rapt. “I remember when they requisitioned this. Of course Celia was in charge of the committee.” Ida Belle shook her head. “I don’t know where she got the money to hire Charlie Spift. We would have killed to have one of his pieces at the Baptist church.”

“I take it he’s expensive?” I asked.

“He’s world famous for his religious statuary,” Gertie agreed. “He even has pieces at the Vatican.”

My eyes widened. “Really? Is this a local guy?”

“He supposedly lives outside of Mudbug,” Ida Belle confirmed. “But nobody’s exactly sure where. He’s kind of a recluse.” She frowned. “I’m not sure what we’re looking for but, whatever it is I sure don’t see it from down here.”

I climbed up onto a pew and did a quick, visual scan over the seven foot tall figurine. “I can’t see much either.”

“Hold on,” Gertie said. She strode away from us, toward the choir dais, heading for the podium that stood in front of the elevated rows of chairs.

“What are you doing?” Fortune asked.

Gertie grabbed the podium and started tugging it. “Help me move this, will you?”

Fortune and I went to help Gertie with the heavy wood podium, carrying it to a spot just beneath the figurine.

“Now what?” Ida Belle asked, looking skeptical.

“I’ll go up.” Fortune lifted her skirts, exposing yoga pants and white sneakers She climbed up onto the end of a pew, stretched a leg toward the podium, and stepped onto its tilted top. Fortune wobbled there, the starched butterfly on her head flapping its wings as the podium trembled beneath her.

“I don’t know if that’s going to hold,” I said.

Fortune glared down at me. “I haven’t gained
that
much weight since coming to Sinful.”

Shrugging, I grabbed one of her flailing hands and Ida Belle grabbed the other. With our steadying grip Fortune was able to swing her other leg up and put her weight on the unstable lectern.

Fortune stilled as the wood creaked ominously. But it held and, a beat later she was running her hands over the figurine and wrenching around to peer behind it. “Nothing. Wait…there’s a piece of paper stuck to the back.” She slipped two fingers past Mary’s behind and grimaced. “It’s really stuck on there. I’ve almost got it…”

The front door slammed shut and we all jerked guiltily. I whipped around as Celia’s shrill voice called out and inadvertently tugged Fortune off balance. She started to go down but Ida Belle grabbed hold of Fortune’s habit with both hands and Gertie threw herself forward to grab Fortune’s leg.

“Sisters?”

The glass in the stained glass windows rattled under Celia’s dulcet tones. I jerked my head around as Fortune gasped. Her habit was breaking away at the seams and she was slowly falling toward me. In desperation, I reached up and pressed my hands against her side, shoving with all my strength. For a beat she seemed to steady, but then the podium began to tilt and her eyes widened as it started to roll out from under her feet.

Fast, heavy footsteps sounded in the foyer. “Sisters? Where are you?”

The podium crashed sideways, toppling Gertie to the ground. Ida Belle barely jumped out of the way in time and I fell forward as Fortune leapt straight up, her weight disappearing.

I sprawled over the fallen lectern, eliciting a deep grunt of pain from Gertie as I smashed it into her ribs. Rolling to my back, I rubbed my stomach and looked up into a pair of flailing sneakers.

Fortune had both arms wrapped around The Madonna’s skirts and was slipping. Judging by the look on Ida Belle’s face, she and I realized at the same exact moment that Fortune’s trajectory would drop her directly onto Ida Belle’s head.

I reached out and grabbed Ida Belle’s wrist, yanking her sideways. Adrenaline had me tugging too hard and both of us went down, landing in a pile of starch and skirts between two pews.

Above us, something groaned and Mary wrenched downward.

The door to the nave slammed open.

Fortune expelled air like a punctured balloon and let go of the figurine, hitting the ground and rolling as Celia burst into the room like a virus filled sneeze.

“Sisters?”

We all hugged the ground and prayed she didn’t spot us. Squashed beneath me, Ida Belle was breathing fast and hard. I tried to take some of my weight off her and she pulled air into her lungs. Turning my head, I could just make out Gertie’s strange red shoes twitching beneath the podium. Unbidden, the munchkin song from the Wizard of Oz filtered through my brain and got stuck there.
Which old Witch? The Wicked Witch! Ding Dong! The Wicked Witch is dead.

“Hello?” Muffled footsteps pounded up the aisle, drumming against my bones as Celia thundered toward us.

Closing my eyes, I said a prayer, hoping my temporary sistah status would buy me a break from the big guy I pretty much ignored for the rest of the year. I glanced at Ida Belle and realized her lips were moving. She was either gasping her last breath or saying her own set of prayers. I shoved against the floor to ensure I wasn’t killing her, confident that Ida Belle’s prayers would be better received than mine. Hopefully if mine tanked hers would buy us a break from the tsunami heading our way.

The Magdalene groaned softly above us, her hem skewing slightly sideways. In a moment of horrifying clarity I realized she was coming down and Fortune and Gertie were sprawled directly beneath her.

I had to do something or my friends would be killed by a giant wooden religious icon. My mind raced. My eyes danced from Gertie’s twitching red shoes to the aisle, where Celia had grown suspiciously quiet after Mary groaned.

Ida Belle must have read my intentions in my face. She grabbed my arm and gave a little shake of her head, frowning.

I jerked my head toward Mary, whose hem had twitched another notch lower.

Suddenly Celia shrieked.

We all jumped and I scampered backward as footsteps once again pounded down the aisle.

I shoved to my feet and looked toward the door, my mouth opening to give Celia a line of bull pucky to distract her. But all I saw was Celia’s wide backside disappearing through the door her arms flailing over her head. She was screaming Carter’s name at dolphin pitch.

Fortune leapt to her feet. She grabbed the lectern and flung it aside, reaching for Gertie’s hand. Ida Belle appeared beside me. “Through the choir room.”

She took off running and we all followed her, Gertie sounding even more like a constipated water buffalo than usual. She ran with one hand on her ribs and her coif was so low on her face she could barely see beneath it. I grabbed her arm when she lagged behind and we dove through the door into the choir study just as the front doors opened and Tiny gave off a thunderous “Woof!”

Shrieking, I shoved Gertie through the door and pulled it closed behind me. “No stopping in the closet this time,” I yelled. “Tiny’s on the warpath.”

Fortune hit the exterior door and wrenched it open without slowing. Ida Belle plunged through into the hot Louisiana sun a beat behind Fortune and I dragged Gertie through behind me.

A horrendous crash sounded inside, followed by Celia’s high pitched shrieking. Tiny slammed against the door we’d just come through. I had a moment to wonder how he’d gotten into the choir study as the door started to open.

“Run!” Fortune yelled. Thinking that was sound advice, I hiked up my habit and took off after my friends. A horn blared down the street and I looked up to find a black Jeep barreling down the street in our direction. Cal slammed to a stop and his window came down. “Get in. Hurry up, there’s Tiny.”

I didn’t have to turn around and look. I could hear his snack plate sized paws hitting the ground and his hot breath huffing through his open mouth. Fortune, Ida Belle and Gertie smashed into the back seat and I dove into the front just as Tiny reached us. He leapt up onto the side of the car, snarling through the window before Cal got it fully closed.

“Hit it!” Fortune yelled. “Here comes Carter.”

Cal hit the gas and we shot away from the curb, Tiny loping along behind us.

I sat back in my seat, gasping for breath. “You saved us. Remind me to ask you later, when I can breathe, how you knew where we’d be.”

Cal shook his head. “There was trouble in Sinful. It didn’t take a genius IQ to know you four were behind it.”

I narrowed my gaze on him but he smiled, clearly amused.

“Celia’s gonna kill us if she finds out,” Gertie said between wheezes. “We broke Mary.”

I frowned. Yeah, I was pretty sure Gertie was right. We did break The Blessed Mother. And to make things worse, we didn’t get what we’d come for. “And we still don’t know why Brother Mike sent us there.”

“Maybe we do.” Fortune shoved her fist over the seat, opening her hand to show me a moist and wrinkled piece of paper.

“What’s this?” I took it from her hand, spreading it on my knee to smooth out the wrinkles.

“Just the name of the art gallery where the piece came from. But I think we’ve been looking at this all wrong.”

I half turned in my seat. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe he wasn’t directing us to the figurine as much as the place where she came from.”

“The gallery?” Cal asked.

Fortune shrugged. “Or the artist. Either way we need to go to Mudbug.”

I looked into the rear view mirror to make sure Tiny wasn’t still following us. I didn’t see the dog but one wing of Fortune’s butterfly flapped unhappily in the wind as Cal made the turn toward Ida Belle’s house. “Sounds like a plan. But I’m thinking we should probably change before we go to Mudbug.”

Cal chuckled. “I’d strongly advise it. I’m pretty sure I saw several lightning strikes during the time you four were in the church.”

“Probably because I’m Lutheran,” I told him.

“I’m sure that’s it.” Fortune snickered, half of an upside down butterfly dancing on her head.

CHAPTER FIVE

Fortune’s cell phone rang as we were headed out of town. She looked at the name on the screen and grimaced. “It’s Carter.”

It was the call we’d all been dreading. Carter was no idiot. When four “nuns” who’d never before been seen in Sinful showed up at Sinful Catholic and demolished an expensive work of art in the nave, Carter was perfectly capable of putting two and two together and coming up with Swamp Team 3 plus 1.

“Carter,” Fortune answered guardedly. She frowned, jerking the phone from her ear as Carter launched. A gruff and angry voice filled the car and I barely squelched the desire to hunker down in my seat.

Fortune put the phone back to her ear and said, “Carter…”

She twitched, pulling the cell from her ear again. I met her gaze across the seat and she shook her head. “Carter, listen for a min―”

“Maybe she’ll eventually get a full sentence out,” Gertie mumbled.

Cal turned to me. “He sounds a little peeved.”

“Ya think?”

Fortune’s body language screamed that she was at the edge of her patience. “Carter! Just listen a minute, plea―”

The tiny voice grew louder and a creaking sound joined it in the otherwise quiet car. After a moment I realized it was Fortune’s teeth grinding together. I shared a look with Ida Belle, mouthing, “Not good.”

She nodded in agreement.

If Carter didn’t wind down soon the resulting explosion might blow all of us into the nearby Bayou.

I had to do something. Unfortunately, I had no idea what.

An ear-splitting tone filled the Jeep, followed by silence. Fortune took her fingers out of her mouth and inhaled, no doubt striving for calm. “Now that I have your attention. I’m trying to tell you that we are on our way to Mudbug. I don’t know who those four women were in Celia’s church but I assure you there are no nuns in this car.”

She grimaced at the evasive denial.

Carter must have asked her a question because she grimaced again. “I know we’re under house arrest. I didn’t think you’d mind if we went to the grocery… No, what we need Walter doesn’t sell… Yeah. Okay. I promise, as soon as we get our groceries…” She pulled the phone away from her ear again, sighing loudly. “What? Mary Magdalene? Really? That’s awful. Celia must be having really ugly kittens.”

There was another explosion but Fortune held her ground, denying everything until Carter apparently gave up in a huff and hung up on her. She made a face as she slipped her cell phone into her pocket.

“He didn’t believe you, did he?” Ida Belle asked.

Fortune sighed. “No. Celia’s screaming bloody murder. She’s threatening to call the FBI in to investigate poor Mary’s demise.”

Cal lifted his Caribbean blue gaze to the rear view mirror. “You found a body?”

I quickly explained about the expensive figurine. “It was an accident,” I told him as his jaw tightened in that sexy but judgmental way I’d come to dread.

Cal shook his head. “If Celia makes good on her threat you four will be in big trouble. I’m sure you left prints all over the place.”

I swallowed hard as Fortune swung a wide-eyed look toward Gertie and Ida Belle. “That would be really bad.”

“Can…” Ida Belle cleared her throat and leaned close to Fortune. “Um…your people help?”

What people?
I mused silently.
The library of Congress?
I decided not to ask with Cal around. I’d learned early on that Fortune liked to keep her life private from almost everyone. Even after several adventures and a painful but successful run against Beverly, Celia’s banana pudding run ringer, the last time I was in town, I barely felt as if she’d accepted me. I knew there was something she wasn’t telling me and mostly I was okay with that.

I wanted to honor her need for privacy.

But dang, my curiosity was piqued.

“Here’s Mudbug,” Cal announced.

Turning in my seat, I resolved to find a way to fix the whole broken Mary issue. Guilt was already swimming through my belly like hungry sharks. I wasn’t good with guilt. Maybe I was Catholic after all.

###

The
Mudbug Art Emporium
was dark inside except for a single light way in the back of the display area. Cal tried the door and found it unlocked, so we went inside. The interior was a sea of gray and white, a perfect backdrop for the bright splotches of canvas upon the walls and the strange array of statues and objects d’art which peppered the center of the large room.

Fortune walked over to a twisting wooden pedestal which contained one of the aforementioned artful objects, her brow furrowing as she examined the presentation. I watched her, smiling as she cocked her head and then tipped sideways, apparently trying figure out what she was looking at.

Gertie had no such problem. “Do they really think somebody will buy a pair of dimpled buttocks carved in rock?”

I joined them, grinning. “I particularly like the yellow daisy sticking out from the crack.”

A snotty voice emerged from the shadows at the side of the room. “Obviously you’ve never enjoyed representative art forms.”

We all looked toward the voice, which sounded like something you’d hear on the radio. It was deep and booming and rich with real or affected intelligence.

The body that slipped from the darkness was a shock to say the least.

He couldn’t have been taller than five feet and I strongly suspected he was well under that. His hair was long, dark and shiny, flipped up at the ends. Ruler straight silver bangs cut a perfect swath across his wide brow and a matching patch of hair perched below his lower lip. He looked like he’d been transported from the sixties, wearing a wide patent leather belt, a snug shirt with the top two buttons undone, and too-tight pants with belled hems. He ambled toward them, small eyes narrowed in assessment, and stopped a few feet away, folding his hands in front of the biggest belt buckle I’d ever seen. It was silver, oval shaped, and had dimples in it like the buttocks on the pedestal. “I’m Gregor Pleece, the gallery owner. Welcome.”

Though he spoke of welcome, his tone sounded more like, “drop dead and shrivel up to dust immediately”.

When none of us spoke, he jerked his head toward the buttocks. “What you’re looking at is a denial of the classic understanding of beauty.”

Fortune snorted and he curled his lip, showing small, sharp teeth, like a terrier’s.

And why not, I thought reasonably. Dogs thought buttocks were endlessly fascinating. Obviously he was from the family caninous…or whatever the scientific term for dogs.

“This spectacular piece shows the perceived dichotomy between what we see as natural beauty and what man has falsely claimed unpleasant. In the truest form of art, beauty and ugliness are one and the same, complementing each other rather than serving opposite sides of the same coin.”

We all stared at the little man for a long moment and then Ida Belle nodded. “You know that’s all hogwash, right?”

The man shook his head, obviously writing us all off as idiots.

“Mr. Pleece, my name is Cal Amity and these are my associates. I’m a private investigator.” Cal pulled a photo from his pocket and showed it to the gallery owner. “Have you seen this man around here?”

Pleece glanced quickly at the photo. “Brother Mike? Is he all right?”

“So you know him?”

“He’s a loyal patron and a talented artist in his own right. In fact, recently I’ve been having discussions about him providing some of his artwork for sale. I’ve been experiencing an influx of requests for smaller pieces.”

“When was the last time you saw him,” Fortune asked.

Pleece frowned, pursing his lips in thought. “Two days ago, I believe.”

I glanced at Cal. That would have been the day Brother Mike disappeared.

Cal’s expression told me he hadn’t missed the significance. “What time was he here?”

“Around six o’clock. I remember because I was prepping for a showing. A local artist. My assistant told him I was in the middle of something and asked him to wait. But he seemed in a hurry and didn’t wait around to talk to me.”

“How’d he look?” I asked.

“Look? Like he always did, I guess. Except a little more agitated than usual.” Pleece frowned. “Is Mike all right?” he asked again.

“We don’t know,” Cal told the owner. “He’s missing.”

Pleece’s eyebrows shot upward. “Oh! That’s not good.”

“Has he said anything recently that might lead you to believe he was in trouble?” Cal asked. “Or have you witnessed anything out of the ordinary pertaining to Brother Mike?”

Pleece scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “No. I feel rather badly now that I didn’t have time for him.” His gaze shot toward mine. “What if he’d needed my help?”

“What kind of help could you have given him if he was in trouble?” Cal’s question was taut with innuendo, clearly probing.

Pleece’s tiny form stiffened with affront. “Only artistic I assure you, Mr. Amity. As I’ve already told you, I have no idea what kind of trouble Brother Mike could have gotten himself into.”

“We need to talk to one of your artists, sir. A Charlie Spift.”

Pleece’s eyes widened. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that, Mr. Amity.”

“Why not?”

“I have no idea who Mr. Spift is.”

Frowning, Cal pointed to a large, spectacular statue of Jesus, surrounded by wildlife and flowers. “That’s one of his pieces isn’t it?”

I blinked, shocked by the intrepid Cal’s observational skill. I hadn’t even noticed him perusing the piece.

“It is, yes. But I’ve never met the artist. He just sends me a piece every six months, routed through a middle man who protects Mr. Spift’s identity.”

“How do you compensate him when a piece sells?” Fortune asked.

“Through the middle man.” Pleece’s face took on a pensive look. “Believe me, I’d love to meet the genius behind that.” He pointed to the statue Cal had indicated. “I’d be honored to handle a show for him.” He sighed. “But Mr. Spift is as private as he is talented I’m afraid. His identity is a closely guarded secret. Rumor has it he’s an odd creature, strangely protective of himself.” Pleece shook his head.

“Can you give me the name of the middle man?” Cal pushed.

Shaking his head, Pleece said, “I’m sorry. I won’t risk losing Mr. Spift as a client.”

“Daddy? Is something wrong?” A young woman, probably in her mid-thirties if I had to guess, walked over and slipped her arm through Pleece’s. She probably stood a good three inches taller than him, even without the two inch high heels on her stylish boots.

Pleece’s ugly face transformed when he looked up at her. “My daughter, Monika. I couldn’t run the gallery without her.” Pleece reached up and plucked a piece of debris from his daughter’s dark hair, smiling indulgently.

Monika had a ferret-like face but her elegant posture and long, mink-colored hair saved her from true ugliness. She extended a hand to Cal, smiling seductively. Despite her well-dressed, elegant demeanor, her fingernails were short and ragged, unpolished. “It’s nice to meet you…?”

“Cal Amity.” Cal gave her his trademark, turn a woman’s knees to butter, smile. Monika Pleece was not immune. She swayed a bit, her eyes going soft with instant lust. “Can I help you find something, Mr. Amity?”

It was all I could do not to roll my eyes. I found myself moving closer to Cal, leaning against him in an instinctual bid to lay claim as the other woman all but licked him like an ice cream cone.

Before Cal could respond, Monika’s father spoke up. “They were just leaving, my dear.”

Cal inclined his head. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Pleece.” He handed the owner a business card. “Will you call me if you hear from Brother Mike?”

“Of course.”

I frowned at Cal as we headed for the jeep. “You cut that interview short pretty quick.”

“He wasn’t going to tell us anything. He’s protecting his business. Besides, we don’t need him. We can get what we need ourselves tonight.”

My eyes went wide. “You’re thinking we’ll break into the gallery?”

Swamp Team 3 knocked knuckles behind me. Apparently we were speaking their language.

“Not necessary. He’s having a show tonight.” Cal opened my door and stepped back, grinning down at me. “It’s time for Bayou Felly to step back and give socialite Felly her head.”

“You mean…?”

“Yes, Felly. You’re going to buy some buttocks tonight.”

I glared past Cal at the snickering threesome. They didn’t bother to look chastised. In fact, Ida Belle doubled down. “We’d better get there early. I’m sure there will be tons of people who want that piece.”

I slid into my seat, settling a pout on my face. “What in the world am I going to do with a stone butt?”

Sliding into the back seat, Fortune offered a suggestion. “Use it as a vase. It looks really good with flowers sticking out of it.”

“I’m sure it will look great in my living room,” I mumbled, spurring even more giggling from the back seat.