by Hearn, Shari
His butt glued to his seat, the driver wasn’t so accommodating this go round about taking Gertie’s luggage off the bus, which confirmed it had been Ida Belle’s steely glare that swayed him last time. Ida Belle never needed props to look deadly; she only needed to let her eyes go cold. One of the many things I loved and feared about her.
Grabbing the thick handle of Gertie’s large suitcase, I lugged it down the shuttle steps and joined Gertie and the other women, about ten in all, in a group forming in front of the administration building. After the bus emptied, the driver closed the door and made a hasty exit.
Camp Happy Frog was typical of camps I visited as a child. Though not a pine forest, the area was thick with Cypress, live oak and Tupelo trees. Spanish moss flowed from the Cypress branches and waved in the warm breeze. Several rocking chairs sat in a row on the wide porch of the building, providing a homey touch to the place. Except for the creepy frog statue, the camp was quaint in a swampy sort of way.
As a CIA assassin, I had a habit of noting all the escape routes of any new location I found myself in, a habit I wasn’t sure I’d ever shake. Aside from the road we drove in on, several trails led away from the building, all marked with signs shaped like frogs. The path to the west led to the guest cabins, while the path to the east ended at the counselor’s cabin. The camp was situated along the banks of the bayou, and at the end of the path heading south I could see a dock with several boats. Another escape route. I wondered what it would be like to not constantly scope out escape routes. To just enjoy the beauty of a place. To be normal.
“Would you get a load of this place, y’aaaall?” Gertie called out to the others, popping her gum and chewing loudly. “Disneyland compared with the joints I’ve been in. At-ti-ca! At-ti-ca!” Gertie pumped her fist and inhaled before another round of “At-ti-ca,” accidentally sucking her gum down her throat. Her eyes widened as she doubled over, trying to cough the gum out.
Taking hold of her shoulders, I whispered in her ear, “Calm down, Gertie. Just breathe.”
A wad of gum shot from her mouth, reminding me of Merlin and his hairballs. She straightened and flashed me a thumbs-up.
“Oh my. Is she okay?” a small, timid voice asked. We turned around to find a woman about Gertie’s age, standing a few feet away. She clutched the handle of a pink suitcase on wheels, a white Gertie-sized purse hanging on her shoulder.
About five-foot-three, slender, grey hair in a short bob. Yellow teardrop glasses. Adorable in her pressed blue-striped shorts and white scoop-neck top bearing the words, “Proud Grandma” in sequins. Threat level: if a level existed lower than low she’d be in it.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Gertie said, wiping her hand across her mouth. “My… chewing tobacco went down the wrong pipe. I’m Gertrude. But my friends call me Gertie. This is Fortune.”
The adorable woman nodded and stepped closer to us. “My name’s Mildred. My friends call me Millie.” Millie’s glasses slid down her sweat-glistened nose, so she pushed them back up with her finger.
“You weren’t on the bus, were you?” Gertie asked.
“No. I’ve been staying with my granddaughter, and she lives on the edge of the bayou, so I drove her boat over. I believe a couple of other gals came by boat too.”
Gertie turned to me. “We could have brought the airboat and skipped the bus? Carter’s going to hear from me about this.”
Millie timidly tapped Gertie on the shoulder. “Um… did I hear you say you’ve been in various… joints?”
Gertie pulled her attention back to Millie. “Oh… well…” She hesitated.
I glared at her. She wasn’t going to continue the tough-lady act on this sweet old grandma, was she?
“It’s quite all right if you have,” Millie said. “Everyone deserves a second chance. That’s why we’re all here.”
What could this old, adorable woman have done to be sent for anger management?
“We’re here because we got in an argument with the mayor of Sinful,” I said, hoping she’d reveal the reason for her sentence.
Millie plucked a tissue from her purse and wiped the perspiration from her forehead. “I screamed at my husband. Well, ex-husband. After forty-five years of being under Hank’s cruel thumb, I finally divorced him. He left me with nothing but my precious poodle, Daisy. He threatened to take her too and I lost it. Said some things I wish I could take back. But I don’t know what I’d do without my precious little Daisy.”
Millie dabbed at her eyes with the tissue.
Gertie let go of her suitcase handle, reached over and patted Millie’s shoulder. “Sounds like he had it coming, hon.”
“It’s the first time I ever did anything like that,” Millie said. “This place, though… It’s a little scary.” She ran her gaze over Gertie’s outfit.
“Don’t let my appearance fool you, Millie. Deep inside I’m a marshmallow. There’s no reason we can’t be friends. Us old gals have to stick together.”
Millie’s face brightened. “Thank you. I must say, some of these young women are pretty intimidating.” Millie peered at me. “Except you. You look like my granddaughter. She’s grown now, but when she was a little girl she used to come over and cuddle with me in the rocker and I’d read her a story, then make her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch.”
Her warm eyes melted my heart. I never knew either grandmother and always wanted one. My thoughts went to P B and J sandwiches and I wondered if Millie cut her sandwich on the diagonal or perpendicular to the bottom crust.
Stop it, Fortune. That’s weird.
“We won’t let anyone mess with you, Millie,” I said, reaching over and patting her shoulder. I also had a burning desire to go beat the crap out of her ex-husband, Hank when our three days were up.
The door to the administration building opened and a young woman marched out, holding a stack of folders and a big, empty box she placed on the ground. She grabbed at the whistle dangling around her neck and blew into it.
“Ladies! Welcome! My name is Amanda Hilliard, but you may call me ‘Starlight.’”
Late twenties, on the tall side, her blonde hair pulled back in pigtails. Had the long, lean body of a swimmer. Wearing a one-size-too-large camp shirt with her name and nickname embroidered on her chest. Threat level: low.
“I’m here to help you turn your bitter selves into your better selves.” She smiled broadly, apparently thrilled with herself for uttering such a lame slogan. “So give yourselves a round of applause for taking this first step in your lives.”
Starlight clapped, her pigtails bobbing enthusiastically behind her head. The other women followed suit, albeit with much less enthusiasm than Starlight.
Gertie leaned into me. “Not like we had a choice.”
Starlight stopped clapping and waited for the rest of the group to stop before speaking. “Now, I’m going to pass out your orientation folders and y’all will have an hour to get yourselves settled in your rooms before our first group therapy session begins. You’ll find your cabin numbers in the top right corner of your folders. Okay, who’s excited?”
Silence.
She cupped her hand to her ear. “I don’t hear you.”
We mumbled, “I’m excited.”
Starlight squealed with delight and handed out our folders. By the time she got to us there were two folders left. Starlight eyed Gertie up and down and, while still staring at her, held up my folder. “Sandy-Sue Morrow.”
I grabbed my folder. “I go by ‘Fortune.’”
“Don’t blame you.” She held up Gertie’s folder. “And you must be…”
“Gertrude Roy—I did not just say that,” Gertie said loudly, for all to hear. “You did not hear the words, ‘Gertrude Roy,’ slip out of my mouth. My name is Gertie. Gertie Hebert. That’s who I’m known as. All right? So let’s all forget Gertrude Roy.”
Starlight’s smile bordered on a smirk. “I see. Welcome, Gertie.” She stepped back and addressed the group. “Now, you’ve probably
noticed our camp is decorated in a frog theme. There’s a reason for that. Camp Happy Frog has the largest concentration of barking tree frogs in all Louisiana. Fun, huh?”
Apparently not so much, based on the grumblings and the looks on some of the women’s faces.
But the sour mood didn’t dampen Starlight’s enthusiasm. “And other species of frogs as well. So if you’re like me and love being serenaded by thousands of frogs as you drift off to sleep, you’re in luck. Think ten times as loud as you’re used to. Enough, hopefully, to drown out the barking frog. Heavenly, huh?”
Starlight shot a look at a group of three women grousing to one another. “Uh-uh-uh, that particular swearword is strictly forbidden at Camp Happy Frog, ladies,” she said, frowning. “Oh, one last thing. While this isn’t jail, it’s important you understand that your behavior does have consequences. This means you’ll be giving up some of your personal liberties. You’ll notice I brought out an empty box. I want every woman here to deposit her purse inside it.”
“What?” Gertie said.
Other women joined in the verbal protest, cursing and raising their middle fingers.
Starlight blew her whistle, quieting the women. “Ladies! Do you kiss your mothers with those mouths? Now, I’m sorry, but handing over your purses is my new rule. And in case you’re wondering—no, I don’t peek inside them.” Starlight grabbed the strap of Gertie’s purse and removed it from her shoulder. “Blame the group that came before you. There was a thief among them who broke into several girls’ cabins and stole their purses. So I decided to just remove the temptation.”
She shook her head. “Oh, that last group, what a time I had with them. One woman decided to be a very bad girl and smuggle in a bottle of red wine. And the lazy sheriff in her town didn’t search her purse before she got on the bus. You’ll notice as you go in the administration building today there’s a big circle of bleached wood flooring she made a mess of. Dropped the entire bottle of wine right inside the door. It took me a day of scrubbing with bleach to get the stain out. Now we’ll have to refinish the floor. Not good, ladies.”
“Problem solved. I don’t have wine in my purse, and I’ll wrap the strap around me so no one can steal it,” Gertie said.
Starlight ignored her and glanced at me. “The backpack will have to go.”
I didn’t mind so much about my backpack. It just held a few books and magazines, and my wallet containing nothing personal revealing my true identity. For Gertie, though, her purse was like another appendage. And it held the gun she wasn’t supposed to bring.
“My my, this thing sure is heavy,” Starlight said, holding Gertie’s purse by the strap. She smiled at a stricken Gertie and whispered, “Don’t worry, Gertie, she’ll be safer locked inside my office cabinet than in your cabin. I have it on good authority there’s another thief among our ranks. And since I’m the only staff member onsite, I can’t be spending my time monitoring everyone’s activities. So this is the best solution.” Starlight squealed. She took my backpack and Gertie’s purse and deposited them with the other purses inside the box.
I wasn’t sure if it was Starlight’s overly cheerful attitude or the self-satisfied look on her face as she sauntered away with our purses, but her threat-level just changed from low to medium.
Chapter Four
Reclining on my bed, I watched Gertie unpack her medium suitcase. Some items she hung in the closet and others she folded and placed in the bureau. She’d since changed out of her sweat-producing spandex pants and into bright-yellow cotton capris and pale blue V-neck top. An odd combination with her stiff, spiked hair, dog-collar bracelets and Sharpie tattoos.
“The nerve of that woman taking our purses,” she hissed. “And did you read the ‘welcome’ page in our folders? They don’t have a kitchen staff. It’s all frozen food, cold cuts and bread. We have to pay to be here and make our own meals!”
I shrugged. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you took a swing at Celia.”
She shot me a dirty look before shoving a handful of bras into one of the drawers.
“Besides,” I said, “Starlight’s right. If there is a thief among those women, locked in a cabinet is safer.”
“I’d feel safer if I had my gun snuggled inside my waistband.” She slapped a couple of nighties into her drawer and slammed it shut. “You’re not going to unpack?”
“Nope.”
“Your clothes will get wrinkled.”
“With this humidity? I doubt a wrinkle could survive here.”
“I could unpack for you.”
“No, thanks.”
The spandex pants, leather corset and minicape she wore on the bus ride over were folded and stacked on the bed next to a white plastic bag, which I assumed held her sweat-drenched undies. She yanked another plastic laundry bag from one of her suitcases, flicked it open, and placed her crops inside.
“You don’t mix your dirty undies with the rest of your clothes?”
“Of course not. Do you?”
I nodded.
“Well, that’s gross,” Gertie said, grimacing. She pulled out another plastic bag from her suitcase and tossed it my way. “You’re lucky I brought three. Of course, my dirty bras will have to mingle with my pants and tops.”
Did she just shiver?
“Why don’t you put your bras with your undies?”
“Eeeewww.”
She shot me a look of disbelief, the same look she gave me the first time I said okra was slimy and disgusting.
“Is that a biblical thing?”
“No, it’s a Gertie thing. I just find it…” She shivered again.
When her clothes were put away, she unzipped her large suitcase, emptying it of several board games, a neck pillow, a set of sheets, an electric grinder for her foot calluses, and about a dozen bottles of SLS cough syrup.
“You and I can split a bottle. I presold most of the others on the bus ride over here.”
I was preoccupied, so only about half her words entered my consciousness. Something about having kept the money in her pocket, not her purse, which was good because then later we could steal a boat… something, something… having time before meeting Ida Belle tonight.
She stared at me when I didn’t respond.
“Did you hear me? I sold six bottles of cough syrup, and we could use the money to cruise on down to Frog Town for a restaurant to eat real food. It’ll be ‘Gertie and Fortune’s Big Adventure.’”
I nodded again. Truth was, I couldn’t get Millie and her sad situation out of my head. “I want to track down Millie’s ex-husband and have a little chat with him.”
“I thought you had to stay under the radar.”
I shrugged. “You can dress as Miss Gertrude. I can go as some other badass Southern character.”
“Okay. We’ll give her name to Ida Belle and see what she can find out from our contact in the Mudbug Sheriff’s Department. I think Millie said that’s where she lived.”
“I can’t believe her granddaughter would let Millie’s husband threaten her. If he was my grandfather, I would have kicked his butt years ago.”
“You’re kind of taken with this woman.” Gertie spread one of
her clean sheets on top of the bedspread and sat.
“There’s something about her. I never knew either one of my grandmothers and always wanted one. I bet Millie’s a good grandma.”
“What does being a good grandma mean? She brings dinner for you because she wants you to eat right? Comes and cleans your house?”
Gertie glared at me. Those were things she did for me.
“Offers to unpack for you? Gives you her extra laundry bag, even though—”
Croak
Gertie stopped. “Was that you?”
“No.”
Croak
And that wasn’t either. But the sound was close.
Croak
And getting closer.
And now jumping from the bathroom and landing between our beds. The
greenest, slimiest, biggest bullfrog I’d ever seen.
“Gah!” Gertie jumped on her bed and pointed to it. “Who let him in?”
I cursed myself for leaving my nine millimeter at home. Frogs and I just didn’t get along. Not only had they cost me many a night’s sleep back in Sinful, but they starred in one of the crappiest memories I had of my father. I was five when I’d encountered my first frog. It was big. And ugly. And I screamed bloody murder when it hopped inside my family’s cabin during vacation. I probably would have gotten over the shock of seeing such a strange creature, except my father had made it worse by taunting me, calling me a big baby because I ran from it. There was something about the combination of being in a cabin and a frog hopping inside that took me back to that day. Hence the desire for my nine millimeter.
“Get that thing out of here!” Gertie yelled.
“Me? You were raised around them. Why don’t you get it out of here?”
“Just because I was raised around them doesn’t mean we had them as house pets. Besides, I’m super sensitive to the toxins on their skin. If I touch one, I get hives.”
Croak
In one leap it was on Gertie’s bed. “Gah!” She jumped off. “Fine, I guess if you’re too skittish to touch it, I’ll just have to endure hives.”
My father’s words echoed in my brain. Don’t be so afraid, you big baby. I hopped off my bed and grabbed Gertie’s laundry bag—the one holding her sweaty undies—and in one swoop scooped the bullfrog in the bag and held it closed at the top.
“My panties!”
“You can wash them.”
“Oh no, those I will burn.” She cringed as she stared at the dancing bag in my hand. “I’ll open the door. You nudge him out of the bag.”
Gertie rushed to the door and opened it. I shoved the bag just outside the door and held it open and the bullfrog hopped out. Along with Gertie’s undies that it somehow managed to wrap itself up in.