Fortune Funhouse (Miss Fortune Mysteries Book 19)

by Jana DeLeon

  Copyright © 2021 by Jana DeLeon

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Design and composite cover art by Janet Holmes using images under license from Depositphotos.com.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Miss Fortune Series Information

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Miss Fortune Series Information

  If you’ve never read a Miss Fortune mystery, you can start with LOUISIANA LONGSHOT, the first book in the series. If you prefer to start with this book, here are a few things you need to know.

  Fortune Redding – a CIA assassin with a price on her head from one of the world’s most deadly arms dealers. Because her boss suspects that a leak at the CIA blew her cover, he sends her to hide out in Sinful, Louisiana, posing as his niece, a librarian and ex–beauty queen named Sandy-Sue Morrow. The situation was resolved in Change of Fortune and Fortune is now a full-time resident of Sinful and has opened her own detective agency.

  Ida Belle and Gertie – served in the military in Vietnam as spies, but no one in the town is aware of that fact except Fortune and Deputy LeBlanc.

  Sinful Ladies Society – local group founded by Ida Belle, Gertie, and deceased member Marge. In order to gain membership, women must never have married or if widowed, their husband must have been deceased for at least ten years.

  Sinful Ladies Cough Syrup – sold as an herbal medicine in Sinful, which is dry, but it’s actually moonshine manufactured by the Sinful Ladies Society.

  Chapter One

  “Hurry up before the line gets too long!” I yelled as I grabbed Ida Belle’s arm and pulled her through the crowd.

  It was carnival time in Sinful, or as the residents called it, ‘the fair.’ Basically, that meant that a traveling carnival had set up rides, games, and tons of fattening food stands on a huge patch of open land just off the highway from downtown. The carnival came to Sinful every two years and was a huge draw for anyone within an hour’s driving distance. The place was absolutely packed.

  “This obsession you have with funnel cake isn’t healthy,” Ida Belle said when we came to a stop in front of the stand that sold the yummy goodness I craved.

  “I have news for you—most obsessions aren’t healthy.”

  Walter, who had taken a more leisurely tack at approaching the stand, chuckled as he stepped up behind us.

  “Besides,” I continued, “I ran an extra three miles every day for the past two weeks just to prepare for this.”

  “That’s your third one,” Ida Belle said. “Maybe you should have made it an extra five.”

  “Oh, leave the girl alone,” Walter said. “She looks great and I haven’t heard Carter complaining.”

  Ida Belle gave her new husband a withering stare. “That’s because she can outshoot him. And I couldn’t care less what Carter thinks. I want Fortune to be in excellent shape because we never know when she might have to run from a bear or gator or bullet.”

  Walter’s smile faltered.

  “Don’t worry,” I told Ida Belle. “I plan on staying alive long enough to eat my weight in these.”

  Ida Belle shook her head. “You and Gertie…planning on living forever.”

  “You wouldn’t want to live forever?” I asked.

  “Heck no!” Ida Belle said. “God didn’t make these joints to last that long.”

  “Actually, people in the Bible lived for hundreds of years,” Walter said.

  “Yeah, then at some point in the New Testament, God started subbing out parts to the Chinese, which is why we don’t last as long anymore,” Ida Belle said.

  I grinned and handed a woman some money in exchange for the funnel cake. As we walked away, I offered some to Ida Belle and Walter but they both refused. I guess sharing two was their limit.

  It had been about six weeks since Ida Belle and Walter had tied the knot and this was their first official outing as husband and wife—at least, the first outing that involved something other than Francine’s Café or fishing. Aside from Walter moving into Ida Belle’s house, not much else had changed. Most days, Ida Belle, Gertie, and I met for breakfast at my house or the café to work on PI business or gossip in lieu of having no PI business, while Walter set off every morning to open the General Store.

  So far, their marriage seemed without issue but then, the only cases we’d had lately were about lost items and sketchy spouses. Nothing remotely life-threatening—except to the sketchy spouses after delivery of proof—which meant nothing remotely exciting. It would be interesting to see how Walter got along when the dynamite and high-speed vehicle chases were part of our daily fare. Not that we admitted to those things, of course, but it was Sinful. Things had a way of circling around. Or winding up on YouTube.

  “So where is this talent contest?” I asked.

  “In the big tent at the end of the fairgrounds,” Ida Belle said.

  “And what is Gertie doing for her talent?” I asked.

  Ida Belle gave me a grim look. “She wouldn’t say, which concerns me. And since we’ve been busy getting things sorted with Walter moving in, I haven’t been keeping up with her movements as much as usual. Now I’m afraid something that I could have prevented is going to blow up in our faces.”

  “Then why do you want front-row seats?” I asked.

  “In case people need to be rescued,” she said.

  “Ah.”

  Walter adopted a slightly pained expression. Since marrying Ida Belle, he’d probably found out far more about Gertie’s somewhat daily exploits than he’d ever wanted to know. Rumor was one thing. Validation required more mental processing. I wondered briefly if Ida Belle had ever told him about the rocket launcher in her SUV but figured she probably hadn’t. I’d seen him riding with her and he didn’t look remotely panicked. If he’d known what kind of hardware was resting a couple feet from him, he would have had an eye twitch, at least.

  “Carter said neighbors have made noise complaints for the last two weeks,” I said. “Maybe she’s going to do a duet with Francis.”

  “That wouldn’t be so bad,” Walter said. “I mean, not in the big scheme of things.”

  “Have you forgotten the Christmas Gala?” I asked.

  Last year, Francis had single-handedly stolen and closed the show at the annual Christmas event. Well, until Santa was murdered. That kind of topped Francis and his antics. But since we couldn’t count on a murder to distract from what Francis and Gertie might get up to, it was probably a good idea to have the closest seats possible.

  “Is Jeb coming?” I asked.

  Jeb and his brother, Wyatt, were Vietnam vets and had recently helped us out on a big case. Jeb had taken a shine to Gertie and suggested they get together after we’d brought down t
he bad guy. Unfortunately, he and Wyatt had gone to north Louisiana shortly after to see to their aunt, who must be somewhere around Sheriff Lee’s age, and Jeb had strained his back while they were there. He’d been laid up ever since.

  Ida Belle shook her head. “His doctor still hasn’t released him. My guess is if it were something simple, he’d do it anyway. You know how us vets are. But a couple hours in a car on top of walking the fairgrounds and sitting on hard metal chairs is rough on people our age who have a good back, much less a bad one.”

  “Not to mention that if Gertie’s involved, running might be on the menu,” I said.

  “Always a possibility,” Ida Belle said.

  “So she drove over herself?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Ida Belle said. “I offered to bring her but she said she had it covered. I think it’s because she didn’t want me to see what she was hauling.”

  “That bird’s cage won’t fit in her car,” Walter said. “Not with the bird in it, and no way she’d carry him in her trunk.”

  “She couldn’t carry him in the trunk anyway,” I said. “Not safely, at least.”

  When I’d first arrived in Sinful, I’d been ‘interfering with police business’ with Ida Belle and Gertie and had tried to hide in the trunk of her car. I’d promptly fallen through the rusted mess right in front of Carter. Since then, she’d put a piece of plywood back there to cover it, but she wouldn’t put anything of value back there.

  “Maybe she’s got him on the tether,” I said.

  “With all this noise?” Ida Belle waved a hand. “She’d be crazy to risk it.”

  Walter and I stared.

  “Okay, so we know she’s crazy, but she’s also crazy about that bird,” Ida Belle said.

  “That’s true,” I said.

  “I know for sure she brought something of size though,” Ida Belle said. “I had a couple of the Sinful Ladies who live nearby watching her house this morning to see if they could spot anything of concern. Gertie put a large cardboard box in the front seat of her car. They said it wouldn’t have fit in the back. Then she put another box in the back seat. They said it looked like this one was heavier than the bigger box.”

  “No labels on the boxes?” I asked.

  Ida Belle shook her head. “They were new boxes purchased from one of those moving stores.”

  I frowned. If Gertie was going to such lengths to hide what she was bringing to the fair, then she knew she was being watched and she really didn’t want anyone to know what she was up to. Which spelled potential disaster.

  “Does the fair have medical professionals?” I asked.

  “There are always paramedics on duty,” Ida Belle said.

  “Firemen?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “Well, short of hiring a bomb squad to be on call, I don’t know what else we can do,” I said. “Except what we’re doing.”

  “Is this how your investigations go?” Walter asked. “You two wondering what Gertie is going to do that might get you killed?”

  “Sometimes,” I said. “We checked her handbag for a while but we found it more worrisome than not knowing. And the truth is, her bag of tricks has saved our hides more than it’s jeopardized them. I’m pretty sure. Maybe.”

  “That doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence,” Walter said.

  “Then it’s a good thing you’re not working with Fortune,” Ida Belle said. “There are always risks in that sort of work.”

  “Sure. Being injured or killed by bad guys,” Walter said. “You’re not supposed to have to worry about your wingman.”

  “No,” I said. “But it would be a lot less exciting if she was predictable.”

  Walter shook his head. “I give up.”

  “You might as well,” Ida Belle said. “Gertie’s old as Christ and isn’t likely to change. I’m old as Christ and never was going to change. And Fortune already has Carter to deal with. She doesn’t need you hovering as well.”

  “It’s okay, Walter,” I said. “I understand your hovering and think it’s touching. But it’s only going to affect your blood pressure.”

  “Which is why my general policy is that I prefer to be kept in the dark,” Walter said. “Unfortunately, the whole town is here at the fair and Gertie’s about to spring something on us and you two are worried about it. So me and my blood pressure are right where we need to be.”

  I smiled. I couldn’t really argue with him. All I could do was pray for the best.

  Since we were early, we found seats in the front row just off center of the stage, but the crowd wasn’t far behind. People swarmed into the tent, grabbing a folding chair wherever they could find room. When those were all gone, people threw blankets on the ground and sat there. I really hoped we didn’t need to clear the tent quickly because it would be a cattle stampede in an enclosed space.

  By the time everyone had gotten situated, it was time for the contest to begin. Marie, Sinful’s current mayor and Ida Belle and Gertie’s longtime friend, stepped onto the stage. Everyone cheered, except for Celia’s crew, who’d taken up seats in the front couple rows on the opposite side of us. I scanned the group, looking for their ringleader, but didn’t see her.

  “Where’s Celia?” I asked.

  “Celia’s in the contest,” Ida Belle said.

  I stared. “Doing what? The only talents she has that I’m aware of are complaining and flashing her big panties at completely inappropriate times.”

  “Good question,” Walter said. “She can’t play an instrument or sing and since she can’t walk without falling lots of the time, I’m going to hazard a guess that dancing is off the table as well. Maybe she’s going to pull up a chair and knit.”

  “She doesn’t knit well either,” Ida Belle said. “Doesn’t cook worth a darn. Doesn’t grow flowers or vegetables. Doesn’t fish. Honestly, as a Southern woman, she’s pretty much a failure.”

  I frowned. “So you’re saying I’m going to have to take up some of those if I ever want to be considered a successful Southern woman?”

  “You can shoot a gun like no one’s business,” Ida Belle said. “That gets you an automatic in.”

  Walter nodded.

  “Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” Marie said, and the crowd quieted. “It’s time to begin our show. We have five acts competing tonight. At the end of the performances, we’ll put the vote to our residents by applause. Without further ado, let the show begin!”

  Scooter was the first contestant on stage and I looked over at Walter, who seemed surprised to see his chief mechanic and all around go-to employee on the stage. Scooter wasn’t the most outgoing of Sinful’s residents, but since he was holding a guitar and had some contraption around his neck with a harmonica in it, I assumed we were about to hear some music.

  When he started playing, I stared in shock. He was good. No. He was excellent. I looked over at Ida Belle and Walter but they seemed as amazed as I was. Apparently Scooter had found ways to occupy his empty date-night calendar rather than resorting to television and beer. When he was done, he got a big round of applause and cheering.

  “I didn’t know Scooter could play like that,” I said.

  “I don’t think anyone did,” Walter said. “I’m impressed.”

  “He might win this thing,” Ida Belle said.

  Walter nodded. “He certainly has a shot with that performance.”

  Scooter headed behind the big curtain and then around to the side of the stage where there were chairs for the contestants to sit and watch the show. The curtains parted again and Ronald, my quirky next-door neighbor, stepped out, then started inching across the stage in a huge dress. It was gold and burgundy and looked like something I’d seen in a painting of Queen Elizabeth. He even had a headpiece that was sort of shaped like a heart and had jewels all over it.

  “Lord, this ought to be good,” Ida Belle said.

  “At least Godzilla won’t show up at the fairgrounds,” I said.

  Gertie’s gator
friend had made an impromptu appearance at Ida Belle and Walter’s wedding right as Pastor Don was about to pronounce them husband and wife. Ronald, who had apparently been channeling Gertie, had a small casserole stashed in his purse and offered to distract the beast with food so Pastor Don could wrap up the service. Unfortunately, Godzilla charged, Ronald threw the casserole up and ran, Godzilla chased, and ultimately, we had to sacrifice a bowl of crab dip to get him back in the water. There was a brief moment when we were all afraid the caterer was going to shoot Godzilla or Ronald or both. She didn’t take crab dip lightly.

  As for Ronald, well, he wasn’t just fit to be tied, he was actually tied. The long train and veil of his princess dress had gotten caught on a branch when he shinnied up a tree, and when he slipped, he managed to roll himself over and over in it and finally just hung there like a bug in a cocoon.

  “I don’t suppose Ronald’s been in your backyard since we cut him out of that dress,” Ida Belle said.

  I shook my head. “I’m hoping that means his worship of Godzilla is over with, but then, I haven’t seen Godzilla in a while, so I can’t be sure.”

  “At least he has nicer underwear than Celia,” Ida Belle said.

  I nodded. “And you called it—the ceremony was barely over before we saw someone’s butt.”

  “In Sinful, that’s a sucker bet,” Ida Belle said.

  “Tonight,” Ronald said, in his most pompous voice, “I will perform ‘I Dreamed a Dream’ from Les Misérables.”

  “Here we go,” Walter said.

  The music started and Ronald wrestled with the microphone a couple seconds before getting it off the stand. He was unfortunately successful in turning it on and he began to sing. I wasn’t big on opera, but I remembered the song from a rerun of one of those British talent shows Gertie made me watch. Ronald was not that woman. That woman made opera sound good. Ronald sounded like dying cats.