by Hearn, Shari
The door opened and Ida Belle stepped outside, dressed conservatively in white capris and blue camp shirt. “I thought I told you I wasn’t up for Francine’s today,” she said.
“I know, but Fortune and I want to talk to you about some trash we found that might be related to the vandalism of our still.”
Ida Belle grimaced. “I’m kind of in a hurry. The breakfast bingo starts in ten minutes.”
“Don’t do this, honey,” Gertie said, placing her hand on Ida Belle’s shoulder. “If you fall in with these people, you will age ten years by next week. For heaven’s sake, they don’t even serve real bacon for fear someone will keel over and die.”
“At least I won’t be putting anyone else in harm’s way.” She pushed past us.
“Stop this!” Gertie commanded. “You’re going way overboard. We have work to do, so put your young girl panties on and help us find whoever did this to Vivvy.”
Ida Belle swung around to Gertie. “We’re not kids anymore, Gertie. Vivvy and the others could have been seriously hurt out there.”
“Hmm-hmm, and they could have been vegging out in front of the TV all day, too, afraid to do anything for fear of getting hurt. But they chose not to do that. They chose to be a part of something important.”
“Maybe they chose wrong.” Ida Belle turned to walk away.
I whistled. “I had no idea the Army turned out such quitters.”
She stopped, keeping her back to me.
I laid it on thick. “So, when the battle gets tough, the tough just decide to desert her troops. Is that it? Show her the bottle, Gertie.”
“What bottle?” Ida Belle spun back toward us.
Gertie opened her purse and pulled out the small bottle with the Gigglesoup label. Ida Belle took it and examined it.
“It’s the same bottle we use for our samples and party favors. Probably from one of our stolen shipments,” Gertie said.
“No doubt,” Ida Belle agreed.
“It was in Fortune’s yard. Midge’s one-eyed cat was nosing around it. Along with this bag of catnip.” Gertie pulled out the bag and held it up.
Ida Belle handed the bottle back to her. “Do you remember that mission you, me and Marge were on during the war? The one involving that meeting in Hanoi with a Russian operative?”
“This is nothing like that,” Gertie said.
“Do you remember it?”
“Yes,” Gertie said softly.
Ida Belle pulled her gaze to me. “I was in charge of that spy mission. There was a fourth gal. Her name was Effie. I sent Effie to scout out a hotel before our meeting started. What I didn’t know was that our mission had become compromised by a mole. Effie never came back that day.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” Gertie said.
“I can’t live with another tragedy on my hands. Now, I really have to go play bingo and eat some fake bacon. Is that all right with you two?” A car pulled up to the curb and stopped. “I believe that’s my ride.”
A woman in beige slacks and white top got out of her car and waved to Ida Belle.
Five foot-two. Late sixties. Rounded hips. White comfort shoes. Huge, bulging purse that put Gertie’s to shame. Threat level: High.
Gertie’s mouth dropped. “Mindy Swenson? Why don’t you just hang out with the Grim Reaper?” Gertie looked at me. “Mindy worked her whole life as an actuary. Want to know your risk of dying from heart disease or a stroke? She’ll tell you. Want to know how much time you have left before you die? She’ll tell you that too. She’s been wagging her finger at us for years, saying we should start acting our age.” Gertie swung her head back at Ida Belle. “This is crazy. We need you for our investigation.”
“Vivvy’s sister already told Carter about what happened. And maybe she was right. Maybe the investigation’s where it should be—with law enforcement. Maybe we should just stay out of it.”
Mindy trudged up Ida Belle’s walk, her shoulder drooping with the weight of her heavy purse. “I was so surprised and happy that you called me, Ida Belle. A couple of our bingo regulars broke their hips, so we’ve been looking for some new old blood. And Lord knows I’ve been trying to mend fences with you for some time.” Mindy glanced over at Gertie, practically salivating. “Will you be joining us, Gertie?”
Gertie smirked. “No. I have lots of living left to do.”
“Not according to the actuarial tables,” Mindy said solemnly. “Well, breakfast bingo’s not going away when you finally decide to slow down.” She pulled out a dauber of purple ink from her luggage-sized purse. She handed it to Ida Belle. “I took the liberty of bringing an extra dauber for you, Ida Belle. I thought you might not have one.”
“Thank you. That’s kind of you.” She took the dauber and stuck it in her purse.
“She already has a dauber,” Gertie said, casting a hurt glance at Ida Belle. “The last bingo game the Crazy Old Coots threw I gave you a new one. Lime green.”
Mindy shuddered. “Luckily the Coots won’t be hosting any more bingo games at the senior center. I believe they’ve been banned because someone spiked the punch with SLS ‘cough syrup.’” She made these annoying finger quotes on the words, cough syrup.
Oh, this was getting good.
“No, they were banned because someone decided we were having too much fun and called the police.” Gertie pointed at Mindy. “And that someone was you.”
“Do you know the effects of your ‘cough syrup’ on your lifespan?” Again with the finger quotes. “Well, I do. Someone has to spread the warning to the seniors of Sinful.”
If Gertie were a tea kettle she’d be whistling about now and ready to blow. Her face was red, her lips tight. She clutched onto the straps of her enormous purse and began swinging it slightly. Mindy did the same.
Ida Belle stepped in between them, stopping the swinging purses with her hands. “That’s all water under the bridge. Mindy, shouldn’t we be going?”
“Yes, we should. Faux bacon’s not good cold.” She tossed a frosty glance at Gertie. “It was lovely seeing you today,” she said, icicles practically hanging off her words. “Please take care of yourself, and I do mean that. If the whites of your thumbnails are any indication, you’re somewhat anemic. Lord knows what that could lead to.” She looked at me. “And I have a word of advice for you, young lady. Sunscreen. Take my advice now or suffer the consequences later.”
Damn, even I wanted to take a swing at her.
Mindy started down the walk. Ida Belle sighed and started after her, but stopped when Gertie clamped a hand on her shoulder. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“Drop it, Gertie. Please stay out of this.” She cast her steely gaze at me. “You too. You can help me and Vivvy by just letting things be.”
She removed Gertie’s hand from her shoulder and continued down the walk.
“We are going to have so much fun,” Mindy said to Ida Belle as they continued toward Mindy’s car. “And today is health watch day. After the game, Nurse Emily from Doc Cormier’s office will be giving a discussion on gangrene. Oh, and do you like sequins? I could transform that drab T-shirt of yours into something splashy. Do you like mermaids?”
“She’s gone off the rails,” Gertie said to me as Mindy’s car cautiously pulled away from the house. “She did it once before when one of the Ladies had an accident while on SLS duty. Her personality took a complete one-eighty. The Sinful Ladies had to do an intervention.”
In a way it made sense to me. I had once been responsible for an agent in the field during an operation that went horribly wrong. My mission didn’t end in the death of the other agent, but could have. I held onto that guilt for months, and it made me super cautious in my work, second-guessing everything I did.
“I couldn’t stand to be with that woman for five minutes,” I said, trying to reassure Gertie. “I doubt Ida Belle can last long. We just need to give her space to find that out on her own. In the meantime, the best way to help her is to find the guy responsible for Vivvy’s in
jury. And I always think better with breakfast.”
“Damn straight. And with real bacon.”
As we headed for Gertie’s Caddy, I spotted an object glinting in the sun in Ida Belle’s yard a few feet away from the passenger door. An orange tabby cat was walking away from it.
“It’s another cat.”
“I told you, they come in our yards all the time dropping things.” Gertie bent down and picked up the glinty object—a silver tag connected to a small, pink cat collar decorated with fake diamonds. Gertie read the tag. “Buffy. Belongs to the Renover family on Lonely Oak Road along the bayou. I hope everything’s okay with their cat.”
“Why does Lonely Oak Road sound familiar?”
Gertie shrugged. “It’s just a dirt road with a few houses. I don’t think we’ve ever taken you there.”
We decided to have breakfast first, then take the collar over to the Renover’s.
* * * * *
I was savoring the last couple bites of Francine’s hot links while Gertie picked at her eggs with her fork, checking her phone every minute for a text from Ida Belle.
“Give it a rest,” I said before shoveling a bite of hot link and pancake into my mouth.
“Maybe I could just text her and see if she’s won a round of bingo yet.”
I shook my head. Gertie sighed and began stabbing her hot link. She looked up as a man, mid-forties, stopped by our table.
“Hey, Gertie,” he said. “I’m glad I found you here.”
“Hey, Block.”
Indeed, his head was sort of shaped like a block. Southerners call ‘em as they see ‘em. He knelt down beside our table and talked in a soft voice. “I heard about what happened at your site.”
She shook her head. “It was a terrible thing,” she whispered. “I’m sorry we had to cancel the order for your daughter’s wedding.”
“Understood. Say, you don’t mind if we go with another supplier for the party favors, do you?”
Gertie looked surprised. “Well of course we don’t, but nobody else supplies sample bottles of moonshine.”
“Actually, someone does.”
Gertie blinked, taking a moment for the information to sink in. “Someone in Sinful?”
Block nodded. “We thought we’d have to go with boring favors, but then someone slipped a card in our mailbox about their products. We didn’t want to go ahead with our order without checking with you first, though.”
“Do you have the card with you?”
Block nodded again and pulled a business card from his pocket and set it on the table. “There’s just a phone number, no name or address.”
Gertie snapped a photo of the card with her phone and turned it over. Nothing was written on the back, so she handed it back to Block.
“Is it okay? I mean, we don’t want to do anything the Sinful Ladies wouldn’t approve of. My mom would kill me.”
“Could you hold off calling the number for a day or two?”
Block nodded. “Sure.” He took the card and put it back in his pocket. “You tell Vivvy I hope she recovers, okay?”
“I’ll do that, Block.”
Block tipped his head at me. “Miss.” He stood and walked out of Francine’s, crossing Carter on his way in. I felt my face flushing, suddenly self-conscious, realizing that I was wearing one of my baggier T-shirts, and feeling mad at myself for even caring. Carter and I had had only one date, but I felt myself drawn to him. It thrilled me and annoyed me all at the same time. He walked over to our table-for-four and pulled out one of the empty chairs.
“Ladies,” he said, winking at me.
“Carter,” I said, trying to act cool. Oh, God, was he staring at my baggy shirt and wondering what the hell happened to my boobs? Stop it, Fortune!
“Mind if I have a seat?”
Gertie looked from Carter, then to me. “I can go to another table.”
“No you won’t,” I snapped at her. If I was going to sit and have a quasi-romantic breakfast with Carter, it would have to wait till I was dressed for the occasion. This was a Gertie-and-Ida-Belle shirt, not a sitting-alone-with-Carter shirt.
“Actually, I’m here to talk to you, Gertie,” he said, taking a seat. “About Vivvy. Her sister, Betty, said she was assaulted while working the Sinful Ladies’ still.”
“Assaulted? Working a still?” Gertie asked. “Well, that Betty has some wild imagination. Vivvy was camping with two other Sinful Ladies. Ida Belle, Fortune and I went there to camp out with them and found that Vivvy had fallen while putting up a tent.”
“Yeah, that’s what Vivvy said as well.”
“Then why do you have to ask Gertie when you heard it straight from Vivvy?”
“Well, it was just puzzling, is all. Camping?” he asked, looking at me. “In the swamp?”
I shrugged. “Hey, this is Louisiana. People do a lot of strange things in the swamps here. When in Sinful…”
“On Guano Island?”
I looked down at my plate, not able to lie my way through that one.
“Yes, Carter, Guano Island,” Gertie said. “Any more questions?”
“Not if you’re going to lie to my face. May I remind you there’s a man running around Sinful who didn’t hesitate to assault an older woman?”
Gertie’s hand twitched. I could tell she was imagining pistol whipping whoever hurt Vivvy. “She fell. End of story. Now, any more questions?”
“Just one.” Carter turned to me. “Care to have dinner with me tonight?”
The heat in my face returned. “Oh.” He took me by surprise. An operative should never let herself be surprised. I should have been prepared with some snappy remark rather than “Oh” and the goofy grin that I was trying to stop from forming on my face. “Well, um… Sure. I have to eat. Dinner is usually the time to do that.”
“Yeah, Fortune, dinner’s usually the time we humans eat. Even in Sinful. Pick you up at seven thirty?”
I shrugged. “Fine. Whatever.”
He pulled himself up from the chair and slid it under the table. “Seven thirty then.” He tilted his head toward Gertie. “If you can think of anyone who would try to hurt Vivvy, give me a call.”
“Well, if that ever happens, I certainly will.”
Carter shook his head. I watched as he left Francine’s and walked to his truck.
“Oh, dear Lord, this isn’t good.”
I turned back to Gertie. “What’s not good?”
“You’ll turn to jelly on your date and spill the beans about everything.” Gertie opened her purse and dropped her phone inside. She pulled out the cellophane bag of catnip. “Carter has the same effect on you that this catnip does on Merlin.”
Catnip?
I grabbed the bag. “That’s where I saw the Lonely Oak Road address. It’s on the catnip bag.” I examined the label: Dill Nolin Catnip Farm, 1217 Lonely Oak Road
Gertie pulled out the pink cat collar and looked at the silver tag. “That reminds me. We should return this collar to the Renovers. They’re probably worried about their cat.”
* * * * *
Mrs. Renover broke down when Gertie showed her Buffy’s collar. Before becoming Merlin’s owner, I might have thought she was overreacting. I’d never had a pet growing up, and had taken on my father’s trivializing view of animal lovers. But that was before Merlin waltzed into my life. He had this annoying habit of waking me up hours before I was ready to open my eyes, had almost killed me several times on the staircase, and brought frogs, lizards and snakes into the house, expecting me to catch them and toss them out. And yet, I didn’t know what I’d do without him, or the people I’d attached myself to since I came to Sinful. I didn’t know what was up with this town, but something about it had turned me into a woman who now had attachments, something the human side of me may have needed, but something the CIA assassin side could have done without. Watching the anguish on Mrs. Renover’s face was agonizing.
“Now, Jenna,” Gertie said, releasing a tearful Mrs. Renover after a hug f
illed with sobbing, “we don’t know that this means Buffy is dead.”
“She’s been missing over a day,” Mrs. Renover said. “What else could it mean? Unless someone took her. Do you think someone’s taken her?”
“I’m not sure,” Gertie said. “But if you like, Fortune and I could look into it for you. We’re pretty good at finding things out.”
Mrs. Renover wiped the tears and snot from her face on her shirtsleeves. “I heard Laurette Paquin lost her cat, Mr. Whiskers.”
“Really?” I asked. One missing cat wasn’t unusual. Two started to be a trend.
Mrs. Renover nodded her head. “And the Miller’s cat disappeared too.”
And Merlin wasn’t with me this morning. My face went cold.
Mrs. Renover’s hand trembled as she wiped at another line of tears dropping down her face. “What do you think’s going on?”
I reached out and touched the woman’s shoulder. “Gertie’s right. We’re good at this sort of thing.”
As Gertie and I were leaving Mrs. Renover looked me in the eye before shutting her door and said, “I had my doubts about you, being a Yankee and all, but you seem like a nice person. Thank you for caring.”
We walked down the Renover’s driveway to the dirt road where Gertie’s Caddy was parked.
Gertie cleared her throat. “I know we have Vivvy’s attacker to find, but—”
“We can do both, Gertie.”
She sighed. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“I think Merlin’s missing too.”
Gertie held her hand to her mouth. It didn’t feel good saying it out loud, as if giving voice to my fear would make it a reality. But I had a bad feeling about it and holding it in was making my chest tight.
“He wasn’t with me this morning.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s gone,” Gertie said, reaching out and taking my hand.
“I’ve only had that cat for two weeks, and every morning he’s either in bed making a racket or on the stairs trying to kill me. The house just felt so empty this morning.”
I glanced at all the other houses along the road. Some of them shacks, some of them nicer homes. The Renover house was freshly painted, with mowed grass and a well-tended flower garden in front. “Mrs. Renover said she already canvassed most of the houses around here asking if anyone’s seen her cat.”