The Miss Fortune Series: Overdue (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Shari Hearn

  Female. Three-foot-four inches. Dark hair in pigtails. Wearing a pink, frilly tutu and purple sparkly shirt. Remnants of a green candy substance clinging to her lips and hands. Threat level: Sticky.

  Male. Three-foot-eight inches. Shooting everyone in sight with his finger-gun. Threat level: Annoying.

  Twin boys. Three-foot-six inches. Wearing matching shorts and Sponge Bob shirts. Screeching greetings to the other kids. Threat level: Ear Splitting.

  Female. Three-foot-six inches. Wearing a pink bathing suit and swim goggles, holding a blow-up floaty ring wrapped around her middle. Threat level: Weird.

  There were ten children in all, only one of them earning a threat-level rating of low, that is, until she snacked on a little treasure she found inside her nose. I’d definitely be wearing latex gloves around that one.

  Gertie and Ida Belle stood up from their chairs in the magazine section. Ida Belle took a deep breath and then joined Gertie in a quick prayer. After an “amen,” they opened their eyes and Gertie nodded to me. Time for Operation Story Hour.

  I heard a low, guttural laugh a few inches from my ear and whipped around, almost putting my eye out on Lucy’s pointy nose.

  “Enjoy yourself, Miss Morrow,” Lucy said, shoving a thin children’s book in my hand.

  “I intend to, Lucy.”

  Our eyes locked, challenging one another to break the stare. Until: “She wiped her booger on me!” a boy shrieked from inside the children’s section.

  “Your public is waiting,” Lucy said, stepping back. “Don’t forget your hand sanitizer.”

  I joined Gertie and Ida Belle and we began our slow march to the children’s section.

  “Hold it!” Lucy whisper-shouted as she came up from behind. She glared at Ida Belle and Gertie. “You two are not joining her. This is a children’s story hour.”

  “The flyer for the story hour says it’s specifically geared for ages four to six,” Ida Belle said, holding up the flyer. “But, and I quote, ‘enjoyed by children of all ages.’ I’m all ages.”

  “And I’m a child at heart,” Gertie added.

  “You’re staying out here,” Lucy said firmly.

  “Well, we could deny them entry into story hour,” I said. “But then they’d probably call a meeting of the Sinful Ladies Society, which would most likely lead to a boycott of the library. I believe the Sinful Ladies’ Annual Book Drive raises money for acquisitions and computer upgrades, does it not?”

  “It does,” Ida Belle said.

  I shrugged and stared at Lucy. “And once it gets out that you discriminate against seniors, you’ll have busloads of Gray Panthers ringing this place in their RVs. They’ll be talking about this at library conventions for years.”

  “Fine,” Lucy hissed. She shot a look at Gertie and Ida Belle. “If you two can fit your behinds in one of the children’s chairs, be my guests.” She whirled around and stomped back to her desk.

  “I forgot about the little kid chairs,” Gertie said, wincing. “The last time I sat on one of those my butt was numb for days.”

  Crossing over into the children’s section felt like the first time I had crossed over into enemy territory as a CIA trainee. I was still on planet Earth, yet somehow everything had changed. Papier–mâché children’s characters looked down on us as we passed through the archway. The walls were painted in bright primary colors, with one of the walls displaying children’s artwork. A huge papier–mâché Harry Potter stood smiling in the middle of the room, his large arms holding a collection of Harry Potter books. The decorations may have been huge, but everything else was child-sized. Little chairs. Little tables. Little bookshelves. Little children running around on little shoes with eardrum-piercing voices. Little hands wiping up big scoops of runny noses.

  I raised my hands in the air. “Okay, quiet now.”

  My request went unnoticed.

  Ida Belle placed her fingers in her mouth and produced the highest-pitch whistle I’d ever heard. Instantly there was silence as stunned children and mothers looked up at us.

  Ignoring the ringing in my own ears, I addressed the crowd.

  “Welcome to the Little Sinful Readers’ Book Hour. I’m Fortune, and I’ll be reading Hey There, Little Bear. Well, that title certainly is gripping, isn’t it?”

  Ten blank little faces stared back at me. Gertie clapped. “I know I can’t wait.”

  A girl came up beside Gertie and looked up at her.

  “I bet you can’t wait to hear about Little Bear either, can you?” Gertie asked, smiling, patting the child on the head.

  The little girl had a weird look on her face. Where had I seen a face like that before? She leaned forward and stuck out her tongue. Oh, yeah. My cat, Merlin had that face on occasion. Just before he was about to…

  “She’s gonna blow!” Gertie screamed as she backed away from the resulting stream of child vomit and stumbled over one of the children’s chairs. She sideswiped the giant, grinning Harry Potter, breaking his arm and causing the books he was holding to topple down on her as she crashed to the floor.

  I’d heard parents talk about their kids’ projectile vomiting before, but I’d never seen anything like it outside of a horror movie.

  Vomit Girl’s mother grabbed her daughter. “Sorry,” she said, wiping the dribble off her daughter’s blouse. “Guess I gave her one bowl of Fruit Loops too many. Let’s get you to the bathroom,” she said, scooping the little girl into her arms.

  “Ooh, gross,” one boy shouted.

  Another boy wearing a Spiderman shirt raced over and ran through the vomit, laughing, proclaiming himself to be “Throw-Up Boy.”

  “Carson, you stop that!” his mother shouted. Several girls screamed as he chased them.

  Gertie hobbled over to join us, her arms wrapped around her chest.

  “You okay?” Ida Belle asked.

  Gertie winced. “Harry Potter speared my boob.”

  Ida Belle shook her head. “We have to get these kids calmed down or they’ll never sit still for the reading.”

  “I think it’s time for Plan B,” Gertie said.

  Ida Belle stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled, getting the children’s attention.

  I clapped my hands. “Okay, kids, looks like we all have a case of the wiggles, giggles and screechies. Who here would like to go on a safari?”

  Screams of delight exploded from the kids. Ida Belle started to put her fingers in her mouth to whistle again, but Gertie held her hand up. “Let me handle this.”

  She placed her hands on her hips and stared at the kids. They were mesmerized. I suddenly had a glimpse of Gertie as she must have been during her days as a teacher. She spoke softly, counting down from ten to one, with each number her voice getting softer and softer.

  “This is a quiet safari,” she said after the countdown. “And we’re on the hunt for the most quiet grown-up in the library. But we have to be extra-special quiet so we don’t scare that person off. Okay?”

  The kids nodded.

  “And when we find the most quiet person, that person will get a prize. And if you are all extra quiet, you’ll get one too. Nod your head yes if you want a prize for being quiet.”

  Ten heads bobbed up and down.

  “Good. Hold your neighbor’s hand.”

  Each child grabbed hold of the child’s hand closest to them.

  “I’ll stay behind and clean up that mess,” Ida Belle said.

  I nodded as Gertie instructed the kids to follow me, with her taking up the rear. Hopefully a few laps around the library and the kids would be calmed down enough for story time.

  Gertie pulled out a pair of latex gloves from her purse. I pulled a pair from my pocket. We snapped them on. I took the hand of the first child in line, and Gertie, the hand of the last child. We tiptoed out of the children’s section and headed straight for Lucy’s desk.

  She stood and crossed her arms. “What are the children doing outside the children’s area?”

  I looked back
at the kids and whispered, “Look what we discovered, kids. A grumpilopolis. And not a very quiet one, either.”

  Gertie looked at Lucy and held her finger to her lips. “Shhhhh.”

  The kids imitated her, shushing Lucy as we snaked around her and headed for the adult fiction area. Several of the adult patrons waved to the kids as we passed.

  We tiptoed past several rows of bookshelves before the girl behind me pulled at my hand. “I found the most quietest one!” she whispered. At the far end of the row, tucked in a little alcove next to the outer wall, a man was seated at a desk, slumped over an opened book.

  “He’s asleep,” one boy said.

  I called to Gertie quietly, “Stop, Gertie. I think we found the most quiet grown-up.”

  “He gets the prize,” the girl next to me said.

  I looked at Gertie. “Do we have a prize?”

  She shrugged. “I’m sure I have something in my purse we can give him.”

  I let go of the girl’s hand and moved down the aisle toward the sleeping man. As I approached him, though, something seemed off. One arm was dangling at his side. A bottle of iced coffee, the kind Walter had started selling in his store, was tipped over and the liquid had pooled around the man’s head. I craned my neck to see his face, which was pointed toward the wall. What looked like a puncture mark was visible on his neck. I held my fingers to a pulse point.

  The beating was faint.

  No wonder this man was the most quiet grown-up in the library.

  He was dying.

  Chapter Four

  The past couple of days I had fantasized a myriad of ways Carter and I would reunite for the first time since our breakup. A bottle of chardonnay, a platter of fried oysters, and my backyard hammock figured in most of my fantasies.

  A potential crime scene did not.

  “He was found over here, Deputy,” Lucy said, leading Carter to the back of the library where I had found a man named Waddell LaCroix slumped over one of the library desks. The EMTs had since arrived and were transporting him to the hospital.

  The children I had been attempting to calm with a quiet safari had since been sent home with their parents, convinced that the man they found slumped at the desk was just a big sleepyhead. To further cement that impression in their little brains we had even awarded Waddell a wrench from Gertie’s purse as a prize for being the most quiet grown-up in the library. Needless to say, Waddell gave no acceptance speech.

  I made eye contact with Gertie and Ida Belle, then turned away as Carter approached.

  “He was discovered by Gertie and our temporary librarian,” Lucy said. “They noticed a puncture wound on the side of his neck and called the EMTs.”

  “Gertie?” He sighed. “I should have known one of you was involved.”

  “What do you mean, involved? I didn’t try to kill him,” Gertie said.

  “I didn’t say you did.” I could hear him snapping on a pair of latex gloves. “So… this temporary librarian… Who might that be?”

  I could feel several pairs of eyes staring at me.

  “Sandy-Sue Morrow,” Lucy said. “I believe you two know each other.”

  “Hm-hm.” Another sigh. And it didn’t sound like a happy to see you sigh. My heart sunk.

  “You going to turn around any time soon, Fortune?”

  I turned around and gave him a quick smile. His eyes widened as he took in my conservative dress pants and blouse. “You’re the temporary librarian?”

  I nodded. “For a few days, anyway. Until the other replacement is able to take over.”

  “I guess that makes sense. You are a librarian. Right?” His eyebrows shot upward.

  I couldn’t help but think that until a few days ago he thought I really was a librarian. I couldn’t imagine how he was feeling, trying to adjust to the reality of the woman I was—and wasn’t.

  He shifted into deputy mode. “Tell me how you discovered the body.”

  I began by recounting everything that had happened since Lucy opened the library doors and let in the first patrons. I told him that, including Ida Belle and Gertie, there had been five other people waiting for the doors to open. Waddell wasn’t one of them.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I notice people.”

  He nodded. The slight grimace on his face told me he knew exactly what I meant. Operatives like me had to be extra aware of their environment. It was wired into our brains, especially since our lives depended on it. His sigh told me he wasn’t happy about it.

  “We can attest to that,” Ida Belle said. “I knew all the people standing outside with us. Waddell wasn’t one of them.”

  I then mentioned the author, CJ Banks, who stopped by my desk to give me a copy of his book, as well as a woman who wanted an author recommendation for her mother.

  “Waddell could have come into the library then and I wouldn’t have seen him because the two people I spoke with would have blocked my view of the entrance,” I said.

  “And that would have been approximately—”

  “Mr. Banks came in at ten-twelve and the woman came in at ten-twenty-one.”

  “The woman was Karen Guilory,” Ida Belle added. “I remember because her mom’s a Sinful Lady and just had surgery, so when I saw Karen it reminded me I need to go check up on her.”

  Carter recorded the information in a small notebook. He looked back at me. “Then what?”

  I told him how a few minutes later Gertie, Ida Belle and I headed to the children’s section so I could lead story time. Carter’s professional demeanor cracked ever so slightly, his bottom lip quivering.

  “You were leading the children in story time?”

  “Yep.”

  “And how did that go?”

  “Well, there was a projectile vomiting episode from one of the little girls, but other than that, it went well.”

  He cleared his throat, pushing the smile away from his mouth.

  “That reminds me, Lucy,” Gertie said, “I crashed your Harry Potter display to avoid the upchuck.”

  “What?” Lucy brought her hands up to her face in horror.

  “But Ida Belle fixed it.” Gertie glanced at Ida Belle. “Didn’t you?”

  “Pretty much. Harry’s right arm’s a little shorter than it was. Well, a lot shorter. He can only hold five of the seven Harry Potter books now.”

  Lucy closed her eyes and shook her head. “It took Chrissy and me an entire weekend to papier–mâché Harry.”

  Gertie shrugged. “Well, maybe you can ask the boy wizard to wave his wand and make it grow back.”

  Ida Belle shook her head. “The wand’s in pieces.”

  “Unbelievable,” Lucy hissed.

  “You’re lucky I’m not suing the library,” Gertie said. “Those Harry Potter books are thick. I may end up with a permanent dent on my chest.”

  “Could we get back to the investigation, please?” Carter said. He nodded to me. “Okay, so a girl threw up, Gertie destroyed a papier–mâché Harry Potter, and then what?”

  I told him how I used the quiet safari to get the kids to calm down, and while on that safari we came upon Waddell slumped over. Carter moved in close to the desk and examined it. He picked up a wrench from the desk and held it up.

  “We put that there,” I said.

  “It was his prize for being quiet,” Gertie added.

  Carter’s eyes widened.

  “While I called the EMTs, Gertie held the award ceremony. We did it for the kids’ benefit,” I said. “So they’d think he was asleep.”

  “I don’t suppose I can have the wrench back.”

  He held it out for her and she took it, dropping it into her purse. Carter used his phone to snap several photos of Waddell and the area surrounding the desk.

  “Poor Waddell,” Lucy said. “Why on Earth would someone do this at a library?” Was she casting an accusing eye at me?

  “Well, we’ll know more after the hospital runs some tests. If he becomes alert he can tell us wh
at happened,” Carter said. “In the meantime, could your staff compile a list of the patrons they recall wandering around back here? Maybe someone saw something that could help us determine what happened to Waddell.”

  “Are you thinking someone tried to murder him?”

  “I just want to get a head start on an investigation, if need be.”

  “Lucy?” a voice called from the front of the library.

  Ida Belle rolled her eyes. She mouthed, Celia, and shook her head.

  “Be prepared to be blamed,” Gertie said.

  “We’re back here, Celia,” Lucy called out. “I took the liberty of calling our mayor,” she explained to Carter.

  He sighed. The last thing he’d want was Celia butting in. “A man was found unconscious in the library. Do you really think it’s something to bother the mayor with?”

  “She’s the leader of our city. I think she deserves to be apprised…” Lucy dropped her voice, “if it was an attempted murder.”

  Carter pursed his lips. “We won’t know what happened to him until the doctors run some tests. For God’s sake, the man’s still alive. Let’s not bury him prematurely.”

  Celia came around the corner. In the six weeks that I’d been in Sinful, she’d suffered through the murders of both her daughter, Pansy, and her formerly long-lost husband, Max, as well as almost becoming a murder victim herself. Even though I had helped save her life, that never stopped her from somehow blaming me for every misfortune that befell anyone in Sinful.

  “How’s he doing?” Celia asked Lucy.

  “Well, he’s still alive.”

  “Waddell LaCroix. He’s Lila Rose Fontaine’s nephew, isn’t he?” Celia asked.

  “Hm-hm. Young man. Early thirties. His whole life ahead of him.” Lucy glanced at me accusingly. “He does odd jobs for me every now and again. There was a puncture wound on his neck.”

  “Who found him?” Celia asked.

  Once again Lucy’s eyes roamed my way. “Miss Morrow.”

  “Well, of course she did,” Celia said, crossing her arms.

  “First day on the job,” Lucy said.

  “As a temp,” I reminded her.