Gators and Garters (Miss Fortune Mystery, #18)

by Jana Deleon

“I haven’t worn a dress since my father gave me my first gun,” Ida Belle said. “Did you pull it on your mother?” I asked. Ida Belle waved a hand in dismissal. “There was an Easter sermon at church. She had this frilly pink lacy thing that would have itched and made me look ridiculous. She asked for it.” The saleswoman made a noise that sounded something like ‘eep’ and fled the consultation room. Unfortunately, she took the tray of wine with her. “You were six years old,” Gertie said. “And pulling a gun on your mother over an Easter dress is the reason the South gets a bad name.” “The reason?” I asked. “Well, one of them,” Gertie said. “It’s still the best place in the world but I will admit to a few quirks.” “A few?” I asked. The saleswoman chose that moment to ease back in, this time with a tray of sweets. She was going for either alcohol poisoning or diabetic coma. “You decided to move here,” Gertie said to me. “The quirks must not have been bad enough to scare you away.” “She was an assassin, for Christ’s sake,” Ida Belle said. “You can’t scare assassins.” The saleswoman’s eyes widened and the color drained from her face. I jumped up to grab the tray of food before she dropped it but when she saw me hurrying toward her, she threw the tray and ran. It was either catch the tray and hope some goodies remained on it or block for the dress. The goodies ended up claiming the floor mostly, but a few remained on the tray. “Hey, what’s the ruling on pastries on a wedding dress t...

“But this is your wedding,” Gertie said. “It only happens once and quite frankly, as long as you waited to say yes, I’m surprised one of you isn’t already in the grave.”

“Then what do you plan on wearing to be married to the man who has waited patiently for a million years for you to wise up?” “Don’t worry,” Ida Belle said. “Wedding wardrobe is our next stop.” Gertie eyed her suspiciously. “Where exactly are we going?” “Army-Navy store,” Ida Belle said. The dismayed look on Gertie’s face was so hilarious I snapped a picture of her. “You’re not wearing camo to your wedding!” Gertie insisted. “It will be new camo,” Ida Belle said. I laughed. “Gertie, you haven’t looked this upset since Ida Belle told you Francis couldn’t sing in the church choir.” “An idea almost as ridiculous as me wearing a wedding dress,” Ida Belle said. “The choir needs another tenor,” Gertie said. “And Francis loves singing.” “He also loves talking,” I said. “He’ll hijack the sermon and since he spent half his life with nuns and the other half with criminals, I hesitate to think what kind of trouble that would cause. Maybe you could check with Celia. Francis is Catholic, after all.” Gertie gave me a dirty look. “I would never allow Francis in the Catholic church, especially as long as Celia’s running the show over there. Any congregation that has Celia in charge of their events doesn’t deserve to have Francis’s talent to entertain them.” “She called animal control on you again, didn’t she?” Ida Belle asked.

“So you’re not…” The woman’s voice trailed off. “An assassin?” I asked. “Not anymore. Nowadays, I try to apprehend people without killing them. Doesn’t always work out, but you know how it goes—you have the best intentions when you head off to work and sometimes things just don’t go the way you planned.” She paled a bit. “You’re joking, of course.” “Heck no, she’s not joking,” Gertie said. “Fortune was one of the CIA’s best operatives.” The woman relaxed a tiny bit. “CIA. I see.” Gertie smiled. “So it’s all aboveboard. Government-sanctioned killing, and you know our government always gets everything right.” The pained look returned.

“You dragged me all the way out here for a garter?” Gertie said. “Why don’t you just order one online like you do everything else?” “It’s going to be on my thigh,” Ida Belle said. “I don’t want anything that close to my privates to come from an online store. God only knows how many people would fondle it before it got to me.” “You buy your underwear online,” Gertie said. “And they’re kissing your privates.” “My underwear come in a package,” Ida Belle said. “Less handling by strangers. Besides, I wash them in bleach and hot water before I wear them and that wouldn’t be good for the garter. Please tell me you’re not wearing drawers right out of the package.” Gertie suddenly grew interested in the stained wedding dress.

“Don’t even think about buying that. It’s a disgrace to people who wore the real thing.” “Why?” Gertie asked. “You can run in it. It’s not long enough to trap your knees.” “It’s not long enough to trap your important parts,” Ida Belle said. “You run in that, your heinie will be showing in about five steps.” “Depends on your heinie,” Chappy said. “It’s that stretchy stuff. If you’ve got enough for it to tuck under, you’d probably be okay.” I stared. “Exactly what kind of religious leader were you?” “The kind that wasn’t blind,” Chappy said. “You keep looking at young girls’ tuck-unders and that could change,” I said.

“You could always get married yourself and have it your way,” Ida Belle suggested. “Just as soon as I find a man who can handle a woman like me, I’ll see about it,” Gertie said. Ida Belle looked at me. “Looks like you’re safe from having to wear a bridesmaid dress.” Gertie gave her the finger and stomped toward the dressing room, waving the miniskirt above her head. “I’m wearing this to your wedding, even if I have to grease up to get it on. I might even run.” “Maybe you should just pick out one of those frilly, ruffled monstrosities for her to wear,” I said. “At least you could avoid the potential for a bare-buns scene.” “It’s half of Sinful’s residents, outside in July, with five hundred pounds of crawfish and five kegs of beer,” Ida Belle said. “We’ll see someone’s buns before the night is over. That’s a given.” I grimaced.

We’d already had to stop for Gertie to pee in a bush, and the subsequent round with her and an overly friendly snake had taken up more of my time and energy than I’d wanted to expend. Ida Belle cheering on the snake hadn’t helped matters. Neither had the fact that the bottom of Gertie’s pants had been caught on her tennis shoe.

“She wouldn’t be allowed to paint that color in Sinful proper,” Gertie said. “Don’t tell me there’s an approved list of colors,” I said. “Not exactly,” Gertie said. “Back years ago, a former mayor’s wife ran off with a musician with a traveling band—the Purple Experience. He managed to sneak a law in that prohibits purple houses in the town limits.” “How did he manage to sneak a law in?” I asked. “He got the council drunk first,” Gertie said. “That explains a lot about Sinful laws,” I said. Gertie nodded. “If we removed all the laws from the books that came about as part of a drunken stupor, it would be a free-for-all.” “Of purple houses?” I asked. “And probably a lot more public nudity,” Gertie said.

She looked me up and down, then shook her head. “I’ve heard about you. I have to say, the looks don’t fit the stories, but then I guess that gives you an advantage, doesn’t it? I mean, people see me coming and figure I can do some damage, but they see you and think pretty little thing. I bet you have more confirmed kills than I’ve got knockouts.” “Maybe, but the day’s still young,” I said. She laughed—one of those huge laughs where your head goes all the way back. “I like her,” she said to Ida Belle. Thank God. Although I really hoped liking me didn’t mean I was in for a hug.

“Wow!” Gertie said. “Your kitchen is a dream. I couldn’t do something like this justice, but I’d pay to spend a day in here baking.” Molly frowned. “I’d loan you my boyfriend before I’d let you use my kitchen.” I worried for a second that Gertie might take her up on that loan. She had been on a bit of a manhunt lately, but apparently Molly’s boyfriend wasn’t on Gertie’s menu. She said thank you so politely that I had to cough to cover my laugh. I supposed even Gertie had a line in the sand when it came to men.

Gertie groaned. “I’m going to have to have water and air only until your wedding, or I’m not going to fit into my dress.” “You aren’t going to fit into that dress unless you die and decay for a year or two,” Ida Belle said. “Why didn’t you just order it in your size?” “I thought I’d be thinner by the time the wedding came around,” Gertie said. “You ordered it two weeks ago,” Ida Belle said. “Were you planning on getting a horrible stomach flu?” Gertie waved a hand in dismissal. “I can take a water pill and lose ten pounds in a day. I didn’t think another ten was out of the question.”

“Gertie had a hot date with the new widower in town,” Ida Belle said. “His wife’s body wasn’t even cold before the casserole queens lined up to get a shot at him, but that’s small-town living for you.” “He had all of his teeth and hair,” Gertie said. “What did you expect?” “Pension plan?” I asked. “No one’s perfect,” Gertie said. Ida Belle grinned. “So someone thinks she’s going to take a water pill and squeeze into a skirt she bought back when JFK was still alive.” “It lifted my butt,” Gertie said. “It squeezed your butt so tight it scared gravity,” Ida Belle said. “Anyway, Gertie took the water pill, thinking she had a few days before the wife kicked it, but she went early. So she grabs her casserole and heads over there the next day, then promptly runs past the eligible widower and straight into his bathroom…and didn’t leave until the next day.” I grinned. “I hope you had enough toilet paper.” Gertie grimaced. “There was only half a roll and the bathroom wasn’t even clean. Who has a death in the household and doesn’t think to clean their guest bathroom?”

“It was clean when I left,” Gertie said. “I asked for Comet and a scrub brush. I could reach the sink and the tub from where I was sitting.” I laughed. “Oh my God! I wonder what he was thinking when you asked for cleaning supplies.” “Probably thinking about what his house would sell for,” Ida Belle said. “He listed it the day after he got Gertie out of there.” “I’m sure he got more for it since I cleaned his bathroom,” Gertie groused. “Anyway, that was a fluke.” “Oh Lord,” I said. “Another fluke. What does that make, like ten million flukes in your lifetime?”

“Keep laughing,” Gertie said. “But one day, Carter will have less hair and teeth and you’ll be lucky if he ever leaves the seat down.” “Less hair and teeth I can deal with,” I said. “But he knows I’ll shoot him if I fall in the toilet in the middle of the night.” “Threat of death is a good motivator,” Ida Belle said. “I’ll

“I know where I’ll be living,” Ida Belle said. “It’s Walter who’s unsure.” “Is he unsure because he doesn’t want to leave his house or because he’s not sure if he’ll be shot for moving a toothbrush into yours?” Gertie asked. “Don’t be silly,” I said. “There’s plenty of room for Walter’s bathroom essentials and his clothes. Not like Ida Belle is girling it up in either of those areas. The question is whether he gets any garage or freezer space.” Ida Belle nodded. “So you see my dilemma.”

“I think about Carter all the time,” I said. “I just don’t think about marrying Carter.” Gertie gave me a mischievous grin. “Is he naked when you think about him?” “Oh good God!” Ida Belle threw her hands in the air. My cell phone rang and I checked it. “Speaking of naked thoughts,” I said. “I knew it!” Gertie said. I laughed and answered, but I could tell right away that something was wrong. “What happened?” I asked. “Is Ida Belle with you?” he asked. “Yeah, she’s right here,” I said. “Why? Was there an explosion somewhere? Because I swear, we spent the last couple hours eating ourselves into oblivion and then crashing in my living room.”

“And a lot of people have been known to take a boat ride during hot weather to get some outside air but not sweat to death. If you guys wouldn’t mind hosing me down before we leave, that would be great.” It actually didn’t sound bad, now that she’d mentioned it. “Good idea,” I said as we headed outside. “If we get caught, we tell Carter we’re playing wet T-shirt contest.” “As long as I get to win,” Gertie said. “You’re not winning if Carter’s voting,” Ida Belle said. Gertie shook her head. “The game is always rigged.”

I was waiting for the inevitable finger but all of a sudden, Gertie’s eyes widened and she bolted up like she’d been ejected from her seat, flinging the patch of weeds off her head. She grabbed her T-shirt and started pulling it, yelling at the top of her lungs. Ida Belle appeared as lost as I was, but the one thing I knew was that she wanted that shirt off and T-shirts just didn’t tear in real life like they did for sexy guys in movies. I grabbed the bottom of her shirt and yanked it up over her head, and that’s when I got a firsthand look at the problem. There was a water moccasin in her bra.

I picked up the bra from the bottom of the boat. “We can salvage this. Tie it back together.” Gertie turned her back to us and slipped the bra into place while Ida Belle worked on tying the back into a knot. Gertie grunted as she stretched the fabric to its limit, finally managing to get a small knot. Gertie turned around and we couldn’t help laughing. It was so tight it had her chest not far from her chin. “Maybe pull it down all over,” I said. Ida Belle adjusted and Gertie looked down and sighed. “I look like a white trash dirty movie.” I pulled a life jacket from the storage bench and handed it to her. “Wear this. It covers the important things.”

“Now she’s the alligator whisperer,” Ida Belle said. “Do I need to remind you that Godzilla ate a guy at Fortune’s house?” “He was a bad guy,” Gertie said. “He didn’t count.” “I think Wildlife and Fisheries might have a different opinion on that one if they ever got wind of it,” I said.

“There’s Carter.” I sighed. “And me dripping wet and Gertie still damp.” “Wet T-shirt contest, remember?” Gertie said. “You’re not even wearing a shirt,” I said. “I’m never going to hear the end of this.” “Sure you will,” Ida Belle said. “You’ll do something worse and this will all be forgotten.” “Always the optimist,” I grumbled. “More of a realist,” she said.

It was 8:00 the next morning before I crawled out of bed. Even Merlin’s complaining about his late breakfast hadn’t fazed me. After ten minutes of opera yowling and one run across my forehead, he’d probably decided I was dead. I suppose I was lucky he didn’t start eating me. I had read up on house cats. You didn’t want to die alone with one. Not if you weren’t going to be missed for a while.

“Your job and your ethics really get in the way of all the good gossip. But have it your way. When you start an investigation, we’ll all know it was murder.” “I’m really hoping it wasn’t. This town has had enough bad things happen lately. It would be nice to have something be just a tragic accident.” “We have plenty of those—but mostly Gertie causes them and usually no one dies.”

“I’m just saying that a bouquet would be nice,” Gertie said. “No one’s telling you to carry a bush around. You’re so drama these days.” “I already told you that these hands carry exactly two things when I’m wearing camo—guns and dead things. I’m guessing neither would be appropriate for a wedding.”

“Looks like we could all use another round of sleep,” I said. “I had cucumbers on my eyes for thirty minutes,” Gertie said. “I finally gave up and pulled out the Preparation H.” Ida Belle gave her a look of dismay. “Those kinds of problems have nothing to do with a lack of sleep. And we don’t want to hear about them.” “I put it on my eyes,” Gertie said. “It reduces inflammation. Doesn’t matter if it’s your eyes or the thing you don’t want to talk about. Those beauty pageant girls have been doing it for years. I’ve told you about this.” “I probably zoned out when you got to the Preparation H part,” Ida Belle said. Gertie shook her head and looked over at me. “I have some in my purse if you’d like a swipe before Carter sees you looking like a Walking Dead extra.” “Carter has already seen me,” I said. “I sent that text right after he left and since he didn’t look any better than we do, I’m calling it an equal rights thing and moving on. Plus, I don’t care, which pretty much solves everything.” Gertie looked at Ida Belle and sighed. “She’s you. A younger, better, prettier you.”

Carter flashed his badge. “Hello, Dexter. Remember me?” The man’s face flashed with anger. “I told you it’s Nutter Butter.” “Because that’s better than Dexter?” I asked. “That’s my stage name and it’s what I prefer,” Dexter said. “What the heck kind of fighting name is Nutter Butter?” Gertie asked. “Last name’s Nutters,” he said. “And I like the cookies. You got a problem with that?” “Your name is Dexter Nutters?” I asked. Ida Belle shook her head. “No wonder you’re a fighter.” “And angry,” Gertie said. “Don’t forget angry.”

“If stubbornness is the secret to longevity,” Ida Belle said, “Gertie is going to live forever.” “You might give me a run for my money,” Gertie said. “I’m pretty sure ‘stubborn’ is your middle name. “My middle name is Belle,” Ida Belle said. “You only call me by it ten times a day.”

Distraction was always the best course of action when Ida Belle and Gertie were in one of their disagreements. I usually distracted them with gunfire and explosions and bad guys, but Ally’s way would probably work. And it would be a lot less exercise.

“I know what I need to do. The question is, do you three know what you need to do?” “Stay out of it?” Gertie asked. “You say that like it’s a question,” Carter said. “I’m optimistic,” Gertie said. “Well, don’t be,” Carter said.

It was officially only ninety-three degrees but felt like 10,002. Even with the air current flowing across my body from Ida Belle pushing the boat at least one mile per hour beyond its capacity, sweat was still dripping down my body in a matter of minutes. I felt like I’d gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. On the upside, I’d probably sweated out all the calories I’d eaten at Ally’s house.

Then something rattled inside the lean-to and I pulled out my gun just as a raccoon shot out and ran between my legs and into the woods. I jumped back from the lean-to, in case he was partying with friends, and Ida Belle and Gertie laughed. “Sure, you can laugh,” I said. “You never shot a hole in your roof over one of those things.” “That’s not entirely true,” Ida Belle said. “Not for all of us, anyway.” “How was I supposed to know it wasn’t a ghost in my attic?” Gertie said. “And I was shooting rock salt because that’s what those paranormal hunters do on television. It didn’t leave a hole in my roof. Not exactly.” “Why on earth would you assume you had a ghost in your attic instead of one of the many critters around here that seem to crave air-conditioning and a fully stocked pantry?” I asked. “I was being optimistic,” Gertie said. “Having a ghost would be a lot more interesting than a raccoon. Everyone gets raccoons in their attic at some point, but no one in Sinful has had a ghost.” “Maybe because they don’t exist,” Ida Belle said.

“This is Sinful, not a circus,” Ida Belle said. “Well, maybe that sentence could be restated to more accurately reflect things. This isn’t an official circus with tickets, and tents, and roasted peanuts.”

“You know,” Gertie said, “they should make a special Louisiana Fitbit edition that tracked that stuff. You should get double or triple steps when fleeing for your life.”

I dropped beside her, cringing as the metal burned through the thin cotton I was wearing. I tucked my arms behind my back and kept my head lifted, noticing Ida Belle and Gertie were doing the same. We looked like a lineup for handcuffs on one of those reality cop shows. But the burns could be fixed with some aloe vera. Maybe a skin graft. A single bear claw across your body left it shredded beyond repair. “Why don’t these things ever happen in the winter when we’re wearing jeans and jackets?” Gertie asked. “These things aren’t supposed to happen at all,” I said. “I’m starting to believe in curses. On me, one of you, this town, the local wildlife…something is clearly wrong.” “It’s just another day in the bayou,” Ida Belle said, looking completely relaxed. I swear, if she were a smoker, she would have pulled out a cigarette and lit up. “How is it there’s a killer bear coming right toward us,” I said, “and you’re lying there like we’re sunbathing, but you were scared to marry Walter?” “I wasn’t scared,” Ida Belle said. “I just wasn’t ready.”

The bear slowed and I silently cursed. Could she smell us? Probably, right? Heck, it was July in southern Louisiana. Humans could probably smell us over in Mississippi, and it didn’t help that we were all wearing gloves that had been holding stinky paper.

“Remember the time Lester thought he was being chased by rabid raccoons and stole Sheriff Lee’s horse? Everyone headed downtown to watch him circle around, trying to get the horse to go faster. Sheriff Lee was limping after them, yelling at the top of his lungs.” “So what was chasing him?” I asked. “A couple of dachshunds,” Gertie said. “He was drunker than Cooter Brown.” “Who is this Cooter Brown you keep mentioning?” I asked. “It’s a saying,” Gertie said.

He stuck his head in the window and looked back at the missing door and then Gertie and me. We waved and smiled. He didn’t smile back.

“I was not amused. You know how I hate rats, and there was a hundred of them—” “Not a hundred of them,” Ida Belle interrupted. “Okay, two hundred,” I said, even though there had probably been twenty at the most.

“Mother bears are nothing to play around with.” “We weren’t playing,” Gertie said. “That much, I can assure you. We were running like it was the Second Coming and spots on the elevator up were limited.” “Yeah, this was definitely not on my list of things to do in this lifetime,” I said. “Well, for someone who doesn’t want to be chased by man-eaters,” Carter said, “you’ve managed to do it somewhat regularly. And I might also point out that if you weren’t sticking your nose into law enforcement business, you wouldn’t have ever been chased.” “I told you—” Ida Belle said. He held up his hand to stop her. “I know. Your missing trailer hitch. If you think the DNA in my family lends to gullible and stupid, why are you marrying into it?” “One, I’m not planning on procreating, so unless God himself gets other ideas, I don’t have to worry about your family’s faulty DNA,” Ida Belle said. “Two, Walter is gullible but not stupid. That must come from the other side of your family.” I watched Carter closely, wondering how he was going to handle this one. In less than two weeks the woman standing there lying to him was going to be his aunt. I was already his girlfriend and Gertie…was Gertie. Convoluted didn’t begin to describe his life at the moment. “Hey, at least we didn’t have the rocket launcher,” Gertie said.

suppose I can let the grand theft auto go, and I’m not even going to try to convince a jury of trespass. They’ll all see sweet little old ladies. They’ll have no idea of the truth.” “Who are you calling old?” Gertie asked. “I was thinking ‘sweet’ was the bigger stretch,” I said.

Either way, I’d probably get an earful tonight over dinner. Or maybe after dinner. Carter said being angry interfered with his polite enjoyment of food, and he was grilling steaks tonight.

“Doesn’t matter. Look, we’re more than exhausted. We’ve been out looking for Molly—with no success—and have been chased by a million nutria and an angry mama bear. Carter caught us stealing a van, and we sort of caused him to wreck his truck.” “The bear did that, actually,” Gertie said. “I don’t think he sees it that way,” I said.

“Whiskey has my phone number,” I said. “You could have called.” Nickel stared down at the ground. “I don’t want him to know about this.” “Uh-oh,” Gertie said. “No,” Nickel protested. “It’s nothing like that. I would never ask you to do something wrong. I’m respectable now.” We all gave him the I-don’t-buy-it-for-a-second look. “Respectable for Sinful?” he suggested. Still silence. “Respectable for the Swamp Bar?” he tried. It was an acceptable compromise so we all nodded.

“Yeah, Carter isn’t going to be happy, but it is what it is. We both know that my work might overlap his. As long as I don’t break the law, it’s not his concern.” “Ha!” Gertie said. “If you didn’t break the law, Carter would hold a mirror in front of your mouth to see if you were still breathing.” “I attempt to follow the rules,” I said. “Sinful just makes it hard.” Gertie nodded. “That reasoning has been the primary defense in a lot of court proceedings.” “How’s it working out for people?” I asked. “Better than you might think,” Gertie said. “But I don’t know that you’re going to be able to pull off the uneducated fisherman routine as well as others.”

“Nickel telling Molly about Dexter hitting on other women,” I said. “I’m sure she knew he wasn’t making it up, so why keep that guy around?” “No idea,” Ida Belle said. “Maybe so she could whup up on him in that cage,” Gertie said. “He was mad as heck when we saw him at her house the other day. I bet given an opportunity, he’d return the favor.” “Possibly,” I said. “But then we’ve only seen him twice and he was angry both times. For all we know, he might sing opera while petting kittens every night.” Gertie giggled. “Now there’s an image. You definitely have a way with tall tales. Another forty years or so, and you won’t be the newcomer anymore.” “Another forty years in Sinful and I’ll probably be locked in a padded room,” I said.

“But only old people have dinner and turn in at this hour.” “Well, it’s too late in life to make me into one of those bar whores,” Ida Belle said. “I have a good stereo system, plenty of wine and food, and we can talk about your honeymoon,” Gertie said. “Woman, no one is talking about my honeymoon. Not even me and Walter to each other.”

“I only knew her from a couple events she catered. She wasn’t much on law enforcement, as you can imagine, but she allowed as how she’d heard I was one of ‘the good ones’ so she would probably let me eat without arm wrestling her for the privilege.” I laughed. “That sounds like her. And you’re lucky your reputation preceded you. You’re no lightweight but I’d put my money on Molly in an arm-wrestling match.” “So would I.”

“Listen, I know your day sucked probably more than mine even, although you didn’t get chased by giant rats.” “I’d think the bear would have been a larger concern.” “I suppose in the bigger scheme of things, she was. But only if you’re assuming death is the bigger scheme.” “I’m not quite sure how to respond to that.”

“So we both watch our backs,” I said. “And you keep Deputy Breaux in the loop. No playing James Bond, loner spy.” “You’re one to talk.” “Oh, my back is always watched.” “I know. It’s the two watching it who worry me the most.”