miss fortune mystery (ff) - bubba dub dub (13 page)

As for me, I’d decided to hang around Sinful for a few more days, so that I could experience the Sunday morning banana pudding race first hand. That was how I found myself sitting in Sinful Baptist church on a hot and steamy Sunday morning in late June.

Fortune and I were on the edge of our seats. The word had gone out that, since the break-in at the Catholic church, Celia had hired a bodyguard slash security guard to protect the choir robes and other Catholic type things.

We weren’t too worried at first. But then we met her. Beverly. Celia’s new guard was six feet tall, a beautiful mahogany color, and built like a runner, with legs all the way up to my chin.

She also had blood in her eye.

That isn’t to say her eyes were bloodshot, but the day we met her she’d squashed a mosquito near her eye and it squirted all inside there.

It was gross.

Anywho… Beverly, as the protector of all things Catholic, was seen going into the Catholic church the Sunday after we had our showdown on Number Two. That was how, of necessity, I became part of Fortune’s plan to defeat the mighty Beverly.

As the pastor droned on and on in his closing prayer, Fortune and I were perched precariously, only about a hundredth of one butt cheek resting on the very edge of the pew, flexed to take off.

We knew we were in trouble with Beverly. Fortune was fast but she’d seen the woman running around town and was afraid ol’ Bev was faster. So we were gonna tag team her.

The pastor said, “A…”

Fortune and I were out the door before he finished with, “…men.”

Across the street the door to the Catholic church slammed open and Beverly leapt out like Peter Pan on steroids. Her size nines flew over the steps and hit the street, every stride cutting at least an eighth of a mile off the distance.

She looked like an antelope loping down the street toward
Francine’s Diner
.

“Go!” Fortune yelled, and took off toward Bev. I cut across the street and, arms pumping, hightailed it at the top of my speed toward Francine’s. I knew we were in trouble almost from the first. Fortune was struggling to catch up to Beverly and the Amazonian-sized protector of choir robes seemed barely to be working at all.

Sweat stung my eyes as I lurched forward, air wheezing in and out of my lungs, but the distance to my goal seemed ever farther away, no matter how hard I ran.

Fortune dug in and, with a growl of sheer determination, went airborne and launched herself at Beverly. Ol’ Bev stuck out an arm and blocked her like a wide receiver heading for the end zone.

Fortune went down in a pile of arms and legs.

Alarm roared through me. I was alone. It would be up to me to win the SLS their weekly banana pudding.

We were doomed.

Even as I had the thought my toe caught on a crack in the road and, with a shriek of alarm, I went down. Pain sheered my elbows and knees as I skidded up the street.

Beverly stuttered, her focus broken by the sight of me licking asphalt, and Fortune came out of nowhere with a whoop of sheer joy and shot past her, diving through the door to Francine’s a beat before the kind and gullible Beverly.

I lay there bleeding and panting, feeling good that I’d managed to use my clumsiness for good at last.

I just hoped they’d bring my hard-won banana pudding to me at the hospital.

THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

USA Today
Bestselling Author Sam Cheever writes romantic paranormal/fantasy and mystery/suspense, creating stories that celebrate the joy of love in all its forms. Known for writing great characters, snappy dialogue, and unique and exhilarating stories, Sam is the award-winning author of 50+ books and has been writing for over a decade under several noms de plume.

To learn more about Sam and her work, visit her at one of her online hotspots:

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