miss fortune mystery (ff) - bayou babes
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Authors: riley blake
Text copyright ©2015 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Jana DeLeon. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original The Miss Fortune Series remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Jana DeLeon, or their affiliates or licensors.
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Bayou Babes
Lonely Ladies League
Riley Blake
Chapter One
“I’m not believing this.” Gertie took a firmer hold of Sinful’s Daily News. “Listen to this garbage.” She cleared her throat. “Bayou Babes will begin filming sometime next month but as the icy-blue haired ladies stepped out of their limousine yesterday afternoon, the cameras were rolling.”
Ida Belle broke a green bean in half. “Guess someone forgot to mention that our lives are being portrayed as fiction.”
“What do you mean by ‘our’ lives?” Gertie’s little head jerked back and forth. Her eyes shifted left to right as she repositioned her glasses and read the rest of the article to herself.
I poured another cup of coffee and butted my hips against the counter. “This should be good.” Ida Belle had clearly failed to mention what we’d discovered the day before. We’d taken her corvette out for a spin and landed at Francine’s for lunch. The whole café had been abuzz with the news.
Sinful was set to become the next Forks or Bodega Bay. All things considered, Bodega had my vote.
“Ida Belle, tell me you didn’t know about this.”
“I didn’t know about it.”
“But of course you did.” Gertie threw her arm over the back of the chair. “And you? If you knew about this, enjoy your side of revenge when I serve it to you cold.”
“Gertie—”
“Don’t even try it, Fortune.” She held up her hand. “And remember this—I have Carter LeBlanc on speed dial.”
Ida Belle released a girlish whimper which sounded downright wicked coming from her. “You should call him, but for another reason altogether.”
My skin heated whenever Carter LeBlanc was within bantering distance. We couldn’t get along for more than fifty-nine seconds. It was the main reason we’d kept things platonic.
“Can’t you see the two of them cuddled up at the drive-in?” Gertie laughed. “Carter would use that husky voice he reserves for Fortune and say something like, ‘You can scoot a little closer’ and our friend here would balk at that while squealing, ‘I’m only here because Gertie and Ida Belle threatened my life’ and by the way, that’s what we should do.”
“Leave me out of this,” Ida Belle said. “You’re seventy-three and—”
“Two. I’m seventy-two.”
Ida Belle tossed beans in a pot. “Age doesn’t matter when you’re over-the-mountain. Besides, I was about to say that you’ve stayed single all these years. If Fortune decides to do the same, you can’t fault her for that.”
“I’m not faulting anyone.” Gertie grinned. “And I’m not letting her walk in my footsteps either.”
I rolled my eyes and took a sip of coffee. After deciding I’d had enough caffeine to jumpstart a dead man’s heart, I dumped the rest in the sink and rinsed out my mug. “I need to…garden.” As if they’d buy that one. “Since I don’t want to hear second-handed information, I’ll go ahead and tell you the best part—Rumor has it that Celia Arceneaux arranged to have the television show produced right here in Sinful.”
“She what?” Gertie came undone.
“Since when do you garden?” Ida Belle asked, still stuck on that.
“She doesn’t,” Gertie muttered, wadding up the newspaper like it was an eight-by-ten document. “As for Celia? Someone should’ve fed her to the Bayou ages ago.”
“Gertie!” Sometimes I worried about Gertie. She must’ve been a real firecracker in her day.
“I can almost picture a large gator swimming for her now.” She didn’t crack a smile.
Ida Belle and Celia were die-hard rivals but Gertie spent a lot of time hurling stones her way. Celia was credited for leading the Catholics to a month-long victory in the weekly Sunday Banana Pudding Wars. Held down at Francine’s Café, the wars had become somewhat notorious in the South.
“Speaking of Celia, rumor has it that one of the upcoming television show episodes will feature the Banana Pudding Wars.” I’d shoot to wound. Gertie had fought dirty when she’d mentioned Carter.
“Wonder who came up with that idea?” Gertie stilled. “Ida Belle, where is your head?”
Ida Belle slapped her hands against her ears as if she needed to steady the head in question. “What’s the matter now?”
“You should’ve told me about this.” Gertie thinned her lips. Her small nostrils pulsed. “What are we going to do with...” She jabbed a pointed finger at me. “Her?”
“The ‘her’ in question is right here,” I said, perturbed.
“What do you mean?” Ida Belle kept breaking beans. “She’s a big girl. Thanks to the young Deputy LeBlanc, she can even throw on some heels and walk straight in them.”
“On Sundays. And Carter doesn’t have a thing to do with what I’m talking about.” After a few quiet moments, strictly for theatrical impact, Gertie added, “Fortune, you have to leave town.”
“She’s right. They can call that television show anything they choose, but
Bayou Babes
is our story and that story includes you.”
I processed. Thanks to my knack for agitating the most dangerous arms dealer in the world, I’d been living in Sinful under an assumed identity. With cameras rolling, laying low was off the table, particularly when there was a lucrative reward for my head. To make matters worse, I was worth more alive.
I shuddered at the thought of torture. I enjoyed my job with the CIA and didn’t mind pulling a gun and using it. In my line of work, blood and guts represented a busy day at the office but agonizing pain and tremendous suffering?
I just didn’t see it working for me.
“You okay, Fortune?” Ida Belle looked up.
CIA Director Morrow had recently passed along some threats through our mutual contact. Fellow Agent Ben Harrison had taken the time to describe how Ahmad—the arms dealer who wanted me to survive forty days and forty nights of excruciating pain—planned to torture me. The man apparently didn’t believe in forgiveness. Sure, I’d killed his only brother, but he should’ve considered the ‘why’ behind it.
His brother was a criminal and deserved to die.
How it went down wasn’t my fault. The only weapon on hand was part of my wardrobe—which probably explained why the CIA’s best agents were still laughing over the “Stiletto Scandal” and further clarified why Gertie thought I should skip town.
“Fortune?” Gertie snapped her fingers in front of my face.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Isn’t she precious?” Gertie said, a hint of sarcasm hanging in her lip. “She arrives here in Sinful determined not to like it. Now she’d rather die than think about leaving.”
The phone rang. The vibrating device slid across the slick counter. I took a deep breath, still stuck on Gertie’s accusation.
I’d rather die?
I grunted.
Not quite.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?”
“Dead people don’t answer their phones, Gertie,” I said, satisfied with my response.
The phone kept buzzing. Ida Belle wagged her finger at Gertie and Gertie stretched her neck to see the caller ID. “Well before you select your casket and plot, you might want to grab that. It’s Carter and he’ll probably want to arrange a time to kiss you goodbye.”
Chapter Two
“So she just up and left?” Carter’s disappointment poured through the phone.
I almost felt bad for him.
Almost
.
Ida Belle and Gertie looked at one another and nodded. Knowing those two, they probably believed my kitchen was wired for surveillance.
“Did she say when she’d be back?” Carter asked.
Ida Belle shrugged. Gertie did the same. I hit mute and whispered, “For heaven’s sake. He can’t see you.”
“And he can’t hear you when the call is muted.” Ida Belle smirked and punched the button once more. “I don’t know what to tell you, Carter. We were as surprised as you are.”
“I’m not surprised, exactly.”
“Just disappointed?” Gertie was phishing for information.
I grabbed the phone, hit mute again, and mouthed, “Stop.”
Gertie snatched the phone, held it against her chest and mouthed, “You’re dead. Remember?”
“Just MIA,” Ida Belle said.
“Spoken like a true covert operative,” Gertie stated proudly.
“Shh!” Ida Belle hit the speaker-option again. “Carter, she left most everything here. She’ll probably return for her belongings…
someday
.”
Gertie snickered. I narrowed my eyes. I understood what was going on now. They were using
their
situation with the new television show to find out
my
situation with Deputy Carter LeBlanc.
“All right then. I guess that’s that.”
“What is it exactly, Carter?” Gertie asked, her eyes twinkling.
“I don’t know and I can’t worry about it. Have you seen Main Street?”
Carter was resilient. I liked that about him.
“No.” Gertie frowned. “What’s going on downtown?”
“If you’re canning like everyone else in Sinful, set it aside for another day. Meet me at the General Store. You’ll want to see this.”
“The General Store?” Anytime Walter’s General Store was mentioned, Ida Belle perked up. “What’s going on over there?”
“You’ll have to see it to believe it,” Carter replied. “Meet me in thirty, ladies.”
“Bye Carter,” Gertie said, shaking her finger at Ida Belle. “See there. You should’ve filled me in the second you heard about the
Bayou Babes
.”
“What does that show have to do with Walter’s store?”
I shared a laugh with Gertie before she said, “If I were producing that particular show, I’d start at the General Store, too.”
“Well why on earth would you do that?” Ida Belle grunted and crossed her arms. “Walter is a decent man but he doesn’t exemplify star power.”
“Did you hear that, Gertie? He’s a decent man.”
“Wait until I tell him,” Gertie teased.
Ida Belle turned red and clumsily snatched her keys. “Let’s go see what the commotion is all about.”
“Sounds like a fine plan.” I dramatically pulled a chair from the table and took a seat. Smiling up at my aging friends, I couldn’t help but revel in the moment. Since my arrival in Sinful, Gertie and Ida Belle had gone out of their way to embrace me as part of the community, but after they figured out I was a wanted woman—and not in a
sexy-kind-of-wanted
way—they hovered.
“Now look what you’ve done.” Ida Belle bumped Gertie with her elbow and grabbed her mint green sweater from the coat tree. “Fortune, we’ll come up with something better. We can’t leave you alone like this.”
“Why not?” Perhaps I should’ve reminded them that I was once considered a skilled CIA agent.
“We’ll work on a disguise,” Gertie suggested, turning to Ida Belle and ignoring me.
“I’ll be fine.”
Better than fine.
“Without us, you’ll feel like you’re in solitary confinement,” Ida Belle said.
“But I’ll manage.”
“We’re abandoning you in your time of need,” Gertie said.
It was all I could do to keep from doing a jump-split and celebrating. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.”
“Promise to call if you do,” Gertie said, not waiting for my response.
Ida Belle followed Gertie to the porch. I couldn’t help but rejoice with a couple of arm-pumps.