by Jana DeLeon
Copyright 2013 by Jana DeLeon
Published by Jana DeLeon
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Chapter One
“Fortune.” Gertie’s voice sounded like it was coming from a mile away, even though she stood right next to me.
I turned to look, figuring maybe I could read her lips, when someone turned on a microphone on the makeshift platform in the middle of Main Street, and the screech made my ears throb. If someone had told me this many people lived in Sinful, Louisiana, I would have called them a liar. In the two weeks I’d lived in the tiny bayou town, I’d come across only a handful of residents in the General Store and Francine’s Café and one small subdivision of perfectly manicured homes, but apparently, the swamps held families I didn’t even know existed.
Now I couldn’t move a foot without bumping into someone, and for an introvert and someone who was used to working in complete silence and alone, it was a huge stretch. I wasn’t certain I had the patience to last the rest of the day. In fact, I’d bet on it.
Gertie’s mouth moved, but the screeching microphone eliminated any possibility of understanding her words. I shook my head, pointing to my ears. She sighed and shoved a box of promo items at me, then waved to the crowd, apparently indicating I should hand them out to random people. I looked down at the contents of the box and my eyebrows involuntarily shot up. At that second, the microphone clicked off and I took advantage of the momentary lull to speak.
“Should we be handing out SLS cough syrup for promo?” I asked. The sample bottles were small—like airplane drink size—but even at small doses, the stuff was potent.
Gertie looked confused. “Sure. Why not?”
Apparently the fact that the Sinful Ladies Society “cough syrup” was actually code for moonshine in a bottle had become so commonly known that Gertie no longer thought it would be a problem.
“What if someone doesn’t know and gives it to a kid?” I asked, pointing at a group of screaming hellions, running through the crowd and shooting them with water pistols.
A burst of water hit Gertie square in the forehead. “What’s the downside?”
I thought about it for a second, but couldn’t come up with one. Being arrested for contributing to the delinquency of a minor would guarantee at least a night in jail…the very quiet, very empty jail.
I started working my way through the crowd, carefully picking people to give my cough syrup to. If a screaming kid yelled “Mom” and a woman responded, she got a bottle. If a woman looked harried and disoriented, I assumed she had kids, and she got a bottle. I slipped two into my pocket for myself. If this fiasco ever ended, I was going to need them.
“Vote Ida Belle for mayor,” I said as I handed out my wares.
Every woman I handed a bottle to had the same response. “Absolutely.”
When I was down to my last bottle, I ditched the cardboard tray in a trash can, then climbed on top of a picnic table and scouted the street for Gertie.
“I see you’re still in the middle of things left well enough alone.”
His voice sounded behind me and I flinched, which pissed me off. Then I reminded myself that I was in the middle of a noisy festival and decided to cut myself some slack for not hearing him walk up behind me. I turned around and jumped off the picnic table, landing a foot in front of Deputy Carter LeBlanc.
“It’s a small-town election,” I said. “How bad can it be?”
He grimaced. “With Ida Belle running…you have to ask?”
I shook my head. “Ida Belle’s not trouble. In fact, it seems to me that she fixes a lot of this town’s problems, including some of yours.”
He frowned as I picked at a sore point. Ida Belle and company, myself included, had foiled more than one criminal lately and Carter caught an infinite amount of flak for it. Because he insisted on maintaining his aggrieved and slightly agitated stance about the whole thing, I couldn’t resist poking at him when he gave me an opportunity.
“Did it ever occur to you,” he said, “that if you had stayed out of my investigations, the only position the three of you would have been in was knitting at Gertie’s house or waxing Ida Belle’s prize Corvette? Instead, all of you have come close to a permanent residence in Sinful Cemetery.”
“And you’re saying all that is Ida Belle’s fault?”
“I’m saying that if you insist on looking for trouble, you’re likely to find it.”
He wasn’t entirely wrong, and I understood how he probably felt that Ida Belle had stolen his thunder. Maybe if we’d stayed out of police matters, he would have solved the cases and no good people would have died or gone to prison. But it wasn’t a risk Ida Belle and Gertie had been willing to take, and God forgive me, I’d allowed myself to be dragged into their drama.
“I should have known I’d find you hitting on the hottest girl in town.”
The man’s voice sounded behind me and I turned in time to see a good-looking, muscular man cross the street, giving me the once-over as he approached.
Midthirties, six foot four, two hundred pounds and most of it muscle, looked like he knew his way around a fight. Threat level medium.
The man stepped right up in front of Carter, grinning like he’d just heard the best joke in the world. Carter didn’t look nearly as enthused. I felt the testosterone level increase by a hundred percent.
“How are you, Bobby?” Carter said and stuck out his hand.
Bobby shook Carter’s hand and inclined his head toward me. “Clearly, not doing as well as you.”
Carter sighed. “I’m wearing a uniform. I was talking to Miss Morrow about a police matter.”
Bobby glanced over at me and raised his eyebrows. “You going to arrest her for being too hot for this town? ’Cause that’s the only thing I can think of her being guilty of.”
Given that my current “hotness” consisted of shorts, tank top, tennis shoes, lip balm, and hair in a ponytail, I wasn’t convinced of Bobby’s sincerity. But despite my inclination to hurl at his clumsy attempt to gain my interest, Carter’s obvious dismay was too good to pass up on.
“See,” I said. “Someone appreciates what I have to offer this town.”
“Darling,” Bobby said, “any time you feel unappreciated, you give me a call. I’m always happy to show one of Carter’s girls what they’re missing. Bobby Morel. Anyone can tell you where to find me.” He winked at me and walked away, giving Carter a wave over his shoulder.
I watched him walk away then turned back to Carter and smiled. “I guess now you’re going to tell me Bobby is trouble, too?”
Carter tore his gaze from the retreating Bobby and looked back at me. “No, not really. I mean, he can be a hothead and I don’t think he’s ever read a book outside of school, but he’s not a bad guy. He was Army Special Forces until last week. His mom told me he was com
ing home after discharge.”
Special Forces? The threat level ticked up a notch.
“Can’t be much work in Sinful for you ex-military types,” I said, “unless you figure he’s going to give you a run for your job.”
Carter laughed. “Not a chance. Starting in middle school, Bobby counted the days until he was getting out of this town. I imagine he’ll stay long enough to figure out what he wants to do next, and then he’ll head to some city where ‘things happen.’ He always said things never happened in Sinful.”
“He should have been around the last couple of weeks.”
“Hmmm.” Carter looked thoughtful for a moment, then focused in on me again. “According to the girls in high school, he’ll show you a good time. I just wouldn’t get attached if I were you. My guess is he’s just stopping by.”
“Do I look like the kind of ‘girl’ who gets attached?”
“No. Which only makes you more fascinating.” He grinned at me and headed across the street toward some kids who were climbing up a light pole.
I felt a blush start on my chest and creep up my neck, then I whirled around and stalked off in the other direction, happy that Carter hadn’t stuck around long enough to see my girly reaction. I would have never lived that one down.
I hated to admit it, but despite his annoying insistence on following the rules, something about Carter LeBlanc attracted me in a way I’d never been to another man. Not that I was some shrinking-violet virgin, destined to be the agoraphobic cat lady, but I’d never had a relationship that I considered serious. I’d certainly never met a guy who’d made me flush.
And wasn’t pleased that I finally had.
Even more disturbing was that I was pretty sure Carter knew exactly what effect he had on me and enjoying poking at the chink in my armor.
“You going to just stand there lollygagging or are you going to come hear me speak?” Ida Belle’s voice boomed right beside me.
I held in a sigh that yet another person had managed, in broad daylight, to sneak up on me. If I ever got out of Louisiana and back to the CIA, I was going to need serious retraining time before I would be suitable for a mission.
“Is it time already?” I asked, but what I was really thinking was “thank God it’s finally time.” As soon as the speeches were over, I would haul butt to a quiet, empty house as fast as my Jeep would carry me.
“It’s time,” Ida Belle said. “Did you give out all your cough syrup?”
“I have one left,” I said, holding out my hand with the bottle and not bothering to mention the two in my shorts pockets. It was the least Ida Belle owed me after this crap.
Ida Belle plucked the bottle out of my hand. “I’m going to need this later.”
I nodded and hurried behind her as we made our way through the crowd to the makeshift platform at the end of Main Street. Ida Belle slipped around the side and onto the stage while I pushed my way through the mass of sweaty people to stand up front next to Gertie.
As the election coordinator talked to the two candidates, I got my first opportunity to make a good assessment of Ida Belle’s competition.
Midfifties, five foot ten, one hundred eighty pounds—twenty of it potbelly.
No threat to me, but I had no idea what kind of threat he represented to Ida Belle. “What’s the story on the other guy?” I asked Gertie.
Gertie looked at the man and frowned. “Theodore ‘Call-Me-Ted’ Williams. Not much to know, really. He moved here about two years ago from somewhere up north. He’s never come out and said so, but the rumor is that he inherited his money from a family business—some sort of manufacturing. They sold out, he packed up his entirely-too-young-for-him wife and moved from New England to Sinful.”
“Really? That seems rather odd. How did he even know about Sinful?”
“He said he’d been here before years ago with old James Parker, who lived in Mudbug and had apparently brought Ted fishing at several of the area bayou towns.”
“Lived in Mudbug. Past tense?”
“Yeah. He died fifteen years ago or so, but apparently Ted remembered the area fondly and when he got control of his money, he had a real estate agent look for a house in the area. The Adams family had just moved to New Orleans, so we were the lucky winners who acquired Ted.”
I smiled. “The Adams family?”
Gertie grinned. “I know. I can barely hold in a chuckle every time I say it. You’re really catching up on regular society, Fortune.”
I nodded. “I’ve been spending a lot of time watching TV and on the Internet. I never realized the world was so big, interesting, boring, and odd, all at the same time.”
“That pretty much sums it up.”
“So is this Ted going to be any competition? I figure with him not being here very long and being a Yankee on top of it…”
Gertie frowned. “You wouldn’t think, but he’s managed to ingratiate himself pretty well in town.”
“By ingratiate, you mean throw money around?”
“Of course. Money’s the only thing that’s always scarce in Sinful. It doesn’t take much to impress this bunch of yahoos, or to buy loyalty. My guess is most of the men are going to vote for Ted—because of the man thing and because he hands out fishing equipment like business cards.”
“And the women?”
“Except for Celia’s group, I think most of the women will swing Ida Belle’s way.”
I shook my head. Celia Arceneaux was the leader of the Catholic-based women’s group who called themselves the GWs, short for God’s Wives. Ida Belle referred to them as “Got No Lives” and based on what I’d seen in my short stint in Sinful, I was leaning toward agreeing with Ida Belle, despite the fact that it seemed kinda rude.
Ida Belle ran the Sinful Ladies Society, the other women’s group in town, which was completely comprised of old maids and women who had been widowed for at least five years. The Sinful Ladies believed that having men around tended to dull a woman’s natural superior abilities, so no women with men in tow were allowed. This set of rules tended to infuriate Celia’s group and a long-standing feud had ensued, mostly over banana pudding.
“You don’t think Celia will vote for Ida Belle,” I asked, “even after we found out who killed Pansy?”
The prior week, Celia’s daughter had been the victim of a most sordid murder. Ida Belle, Gertie, and I had managed to “out” the killer, almost getting me killed in the process. I’d assumed—apparently incorrectly—that our success would have paved the way for a better relationship between the two groups.
Gertie sighed. “You’d think it would be that simple, wouldn’t you? But the reality is, if Celia tells her ladies to vote for Ida Belle, then she’s breaking down the fabric of their thirty-year existence. It wouldn’t surprise me if Celia herself voted for Ida Belle, but she’d never admit to it.”
I shook my head. “It seems like such a waste of energy.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Gertie pointed at the stage and clapped. “They’re about to get started.”
The election coordinator, an enormous woman named CindyLou, stepped up to the microphone and I cringed, waiting for the screech, then smiled when only her nasally Southern accent blasted through the speakers.
“Quiet down, y’all,” she said, waving at the crowd. “We’re about to get started with the debate. As Sinful is a Southern town with manners, we’re forgoing the coin toss and Ida Belle will speak first because she’s a lady.”
I heard someone mumble “that’s debatable,” but when I scanned the crowd behind me, no one stood out as the guilty culprit. It was just as well. The last thing I needed to do was hand Carter an excuse to arrest me and dig further into my background. So far, I’d narrowly escaped harsh scrutiny from the deputy, and I wasn’t certain my cover would hold if he took a hard look.
The noise level fell to practically nothing as Ida Belle stepped up to the microphone and started her speech. It was a good one, I guess. As I’d just started watching regular tele
vision the past week, I really had no basis for comparison. And the last thing I’d watch was politicians. Given half an opportunity, they meddled enough with the CIA and often made it difficult for us to do our job. So I didn’t spend any more time listening to them than was absolutely required.
Ida Belle finished up her speech and the female half of the crowd cheered. Then Ted stepped up to the microphone and the men hooted.
A shrill voice a couple of people down from us yelled, “Get those votes, baby!”
I leaned forward and gave the woman a quick once-over.
Midthirties, one hundred and forty pounds—ten of it fake breasts, nails so long she couldn’t pick up a weapon, much less fire one. Puppies were a bigger threat.
The rest of the package was just as disturbing. Skintight pants, a top cut so low that it bordered on porn, poufy auburn hair, and more makeup than all of the women attending the rally combined.
“The wife?” I asked.
Gertie glanced over and rolled her eyes. “Yeah. She blends so well.”
“She’s a good twenty years younger than him. Why would a woman like that want to live in a place like Sinful?”
“Age-old story is my guess—daddy issues. Plus, Ted’s got money, and Paulette doesn’t seem like the brightest tool in the shed.”
I shook my head, amazed at how much women would lower their standards simply to avoid getting a job. The general population was a confusing and contradictory lot.
Ted started his speech, and immediately, I flashed back to the last time I had to buy a car. Yep, that was it. The broad, fake smile, the nod…Ted had that used-car salesman rap down pat. What was even more irritating is that the men in the crowd seemed to buy it. Or maybe it was as Gertie said, and they just liked the free stuff he handed out.
It seemed like forever before the old gasbag wrapped up, and I prayed that was the end of it, but then CindyLou placed another microphone on the stage and Ida Belle and Ted took their places in front of them.
“There’s a debate?” I asked. Given my knowledge of Sinful, I couldn’t begin to fathom how that would play out.