by Shari Hearn
I collapsed on the grass.
Seconds passed. Felt like hours.
“Ida Belle. Gertie.”
“Present,” Ida Belle said. I spotted her lying a few feet from me, covered in mud.
Gertie tapped my shoulder. “I’m right here.”
I turned and saw her inches from me. She plucked a fish out of her blouse and tossed it on the ground. “There goes my casket,” she said. “Where’s—”
“Carter!” I jumped up and ran in the direction of where Carter had turned around. Through the reeds I saw his boat, capsized. The stranger held onto the overturned boat while Carter was helping Celia to dry land. I ran into the water and swam to the stranger, placing my arms around his shoulder. “Here, lean back,” I told him. “I’ll get you to safety.”
I waded through the stinky, murky water until we neared the banks of the bayou. “You can crawl out from here,” I told him.
“Thanks,” he said, still pretty dazed.
Celia sat frozen on the muddy ground. Carter plucked a crab off her leg and tossed it back in the water.
“Is she okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, just a little in shock,” Carter said. “What the hell was that?”
“The casket was rigged with an explosive.”
“Of course,” Carter said. “Why did I even ask?”
CHAPTER THREE
After checking on Carter and Celia’s safety, I returned to the grassy area behind the rec center that was now covered in mud and plant debris from the explosion. Ida Belle and Gertie stood, wiping mud off their hair and clothes.
“Anybody else have swamp mud in her bra?” Ida Belle asked.
“I’ll have to burn these clothes,” Gertie said. “How’s Carter and the others?”
“They’re all fine. But I wouldn’t count on Sinful being in the movies anytime soon. Look, Carter’s on the phone rounding up some assistance to process the crime scene. He may have to call in the ATF.”
“Who would want me dead?” Gertie asked, a tear rolling down her dirty face. “And on the day of my fake funeral. That’s just rude.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have a pair of latex gloves in your megapurse, would you?” I asked Gertie.
She grabbed her gigantic, used-to-be-white purse from the ground next to her, opened it, and after a few seconds of rummaging through it, pulled out two fat packages of latex gloves.
“Powdered or non powdered?” she asked.
“Non. And if I asked if you had some sterile paper bags…”
Ida Belle rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.”
Gertie pulled out a bundle of new lunch bags.
“I’m not even going to ask why you carry those things.”
“Evidence collecting, of course.” Gertie said, shrugging. “Isn’t that why anyone carries latex gloves and lunch bags?”
She handed me a pair of gloves and I slipped them on, plucking a bag from the bundle. “We don’t have much time before Carter gets here. Once this area’s declared a crime scene, we won’t find anything.” I scanned the grassy area. “Okay, what we’re looking for are pieces of the bomb. It was a digital timer, so look for something electronic.”
“Something like this?” Ida Belle held up a bag. She opened it and I saw several black plastic shards inside.
“And this?” Gertie pulled out two rolled-up bags from her purse. “I found plastic bits and wires.”
I could feel my mouth drop.
Ida Belle shook her head. “What do you think we’ve been doing while you were gone? Twiddling our thumbs?” She pointed down to the ground. “And if I’m not mistaken, that looks like a piece of evidence under the bush by your left foot.”
She was right. I knelt down and plucked shards of the digital timer face from the grass and dropped them into my bag, shooting looks at both of them. “Who are you two?”
“We wouldn’t have lasted long as spies if we didn’t know how to gather evidence,” Ida Belle said.
I heard footsteps in the mud heading our way. “Carter.”
Ida Belle stuffed her bag in her purse. I threw mine to Gertie and she dropped it inside her purse. Carter stepped through the reeds, a shell-shocked look on his face that in a way made him hotter than he already was. I expected him to launch into lecture mode, so I thought it best to strike first.
“Okay, I know, it was stupid. But what were we supposed to do? Let it explode inside the rec center?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he rushed toward me and took my face in his muddy hands and planted one of the best kisses to date on my mouth.
Gertie cleared her throat. “We can leave.”
Carter slowly pulled away from me and released my face. He then walked over to Gertie and grabbed her face as well, kissing her forehead.
Releasing her, he then set his sights on Ida Belle, who looked at me and shrugged. After planting a kiss on her forehead, he rushed back to me and held me tight for a good minute before loosening his grip.
“You all could have been killed.”
“But we weren’t,” I said quickly. “That’s the most important thing.”
Carter glanced around the muddy debris. “Deputy Breaux’s on his way to help secure the crime scene.”
“The crime scene?” I asked, playing the innocent librarian he thought I was.
“The one you’re standing in. The one you should now leave so as not to disturb any evidence.”
“Evidence?” Gertie asked.
“From the blast.”
“Oh yeah… sure,” I said.
But we didn’t move. Gertie twiddled her thumbs.
“Now would be a good time,” Carter said.
I sighed. Hopefully the evidence we had been able to take would be enough to give us a clue to the bomb’s maker. But I had my suspicions—one Yankee hater named Fred. As I turned to walk away, Carter grabbed at my shoulders and spun me around for one last goodbye kiss.
“Whoa,” I said, taking in some air as he released me. “If this is what an exploding casket gives me, bring them on.”
“Don’t even say that,” he said, his eyes tearing up. “You’ll need to go to the station and give your statements before you head on home.”
“Of course.”
He looked at Gertie. “Be prepared with a list of anyone who might want you dead.”
“A list?” Gertie said, scowling. She looked at Ida Belle. “Did you hear that? A list. He didn’t say, ‘now, Gertie, could you possibly think of anyone who might want to kill you?’ No, he said, ‘come up with a list.’”
Ida Belle shrugged. “I’ll help you.”
“You can put my name at the top of that list!” Celia pushed her way through the reeds, covered in mud.
“I want them arrested!” she screamed.
“For what?” Carter asked.
“For trying to blow the mayor up for starters!”
“Excuse me, but I was the intended victim,” Gertie said. “And either your right boob likes to wiggle on its own or there’s something alive under your dress.”
Celia looked down at her chest, saw something squirm, and screamed at Carter. “Get it out! Get it out!” She shook her arms wildly in the air.
Carter rushed to her side and stuck his hand down the front of her dress. “Stop moving,” he said. Seconds later he pulled out a small fish and tossed it back into the water.
“Celia, why don’t you go back and keep our company… company.”
“That will be the last funeral you ever throw,” Celia hissed at Gertie. “From now on there will be a new city ordinance. Only one funeral per person!” Celia flicked a few specks of mud Gertie’s way, turned, and disappeared through the reeds.
“Go before she comes back,” Carter said. I turned to join Ida Belle and Gertie.
“Wait! One thing I’m curious about though,” Carter said. “How did you even know a bomb was hidden in the casket?”
I exchanged glances with Ida Belle and Gertie.
“Burn Notice marathon,�
� Gertie said.
I shrugged, remembering the spy show Gertie had me watch back-to-back episodes of several nights ago. “Oh yeah, Burn Notice marathon.”
Carter nodded.
It was a great show. I had instantly identified with the female character who just wanted to shoot everyone. Now, if we could only wrap this case up in one hour like they did on TV. But I had a feeling we weren’t going to be so lucky.
CHAPTER FOUR
It took about an hour for the three of us to give our statements to Deputy Breaux, who informed Gertie she may at some point be interviewed by an ATF agent.
We then stopped in at the after-funeral party at Francine’s. It almost seemed like a real after-funeral get-together, except for the black balloons and streamers. Ally was in the process of taking down the festive “RIP Gertie” banner when we walked in, stopping all conversation.
“The f-u-n has finally been taken out of my funeral,” Gertie said glumly, scanning the still-stunned faces of the funeral attendees.
Ally dropped the banner and ran over, hugging Gertie, tears in her eyes.
Ida Belle grabbed a water glass and fork from a table and signaled the crowd to quiet. “I want everyone to know the ATF may be on their way to town to do some investigating into the exploding casket, so everyone at the funeral will probably be questioned.”
“They think one of us did it?” one of the Sinful Ladies asked.
“No, no,” Ida Belle said, holding her hands to quiet the grumbling and cries of protestation. “But maybe one of you saw something. Something that seems unimportant, but can help crack the case.”
Oh no, the ATF wasn’t going to hog all our intel. I sidled up next to Ida Belle and said to the crowd, “So if anyone did see anything, you can let Ida Belle know, and she’ll pass it along to the people in charge.” Ida Belle lifted an eyebrow at me. “Isn’t that what Sheriff Lee said to tell everyone?” I asked her. “You know, so the deputies don’t have to waste their time sifting through useless info.”
Ida Belle grinned. “Yes, that’s right, he did say that. I’m acting as the tip line. So, text me if you remember seeing or hearing anything strange. And send me any photos or videos you took on your phones before and after. Send them all to my number.”
Ida Belle cast a glance at Lady Lamé. He pulled himself up from his chair and said, “While the food’s being served, the Divas will serenade you with a little r-e-s-p-e-c-t.”
I flashed a thumbs-up to Lady as he and the Divas began belting out Aretha Franklin’s Respect. “That should take the edge off everyone,” I said to Ida Belle.
In the mirror above the counter I saw the door opening behind us. I instinctively placed my hand on the waistband of my jeans. Ida Belle did the same with her capris. Ida Belle and I thought alike—we both hid our guns in the same place. Gertie undid the latch on her enormous purse, where she was known to keep one or two pistols, a hunting knife and a fun collection of handcuffs. We nodded a signal to one another and whipped around to face the new arrival.
“Jo-Jo?” Gertie said.
I could feel my body relax. He had a creepy vibe, what with his unresolved crush on Gertie, but he seemed harmless enough.
He shuffled into Francine’s, his eyes widening at the sight of Gertie. “Miss Hebert, I… I heard the news.”
He rushed to Gertie and enveloped her in a hug. A full-on body hug, despite Gertie’s best efforts to make it a shoulder-bump, stay away from my boobs hug. Gertie patted him several times on his back. Universal signal for hug’s over. But Jo-Jo wasn’t letting up. Ida Belle and I both grabbed Gertie’s shoulders and pulled her out of the embrace.
“We have to go,” Ida Belle said.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jo-Jo said. “I’m just… I’m just so excited to see you… alive. I heard you was dead.”
Jo-Jo glanced at Ally. He smiled. “Hey, Ally, remember me?”
Ally crossed her arms around her chest. “Yes, I do.”
“Well, you’ve certainly blossomed. Say, I’m in town for a couple days—”
Ally cut him off. “I see a spot next to Delphine and her mom. You go have a seat and I’ll bring a plate over.”
“Oh. Okay.” He looked at Gertie. “Can we sit and chat later?”
“Oh honey, I would love to, but there’s some business I need to attend to with my friends here. Maybe later.” She brushed at her hair, scratching her head.
Jo-Jo nodded, and then ambled over to the table next to Cookie, squeezing around her wheelchair and her daughter’s three-wheel scooter, and took a seat. He gazed up at Gertie and waved.
“I have a special table for the three of you,” Ally said. “Far away from Jo-Jo.”
Ida Belle shook her head. “I don’t think we can stay.”
“But you need to sit and have something to eat,” Ally said. “You’ve been through hell.”
Gertie sniffed the air. “Maybe we’ll take a to-go box, Ally. We’re all smelling a bit swampy. We need showers and some quiet time to settle our nerves.”
“Oh sure. I don’t blame you. I’ll make up a box.”
But quiet time wasn’t on our agenda. A potential killer was still out there. And we needed to find him before he struck again.
* * * * *
Our first order of business, even before washing the mud and swamp stench off our bodies, was to conduct a sweep of Gertie’s house. If someone wanted her dead enough to plant a bomb under her butt in a coffin, planting a bomb at her house wouldn’t be too far a stretch. Carter had assured us he had already swept the house while we gave our statements to Deputy Breaux. But we were trained professionals. And a professional never took someone else’s word for it. Even if that someone else was Carter.
To be on the extra-safe side, we decided to first look at the feed from surveillance cameras Gertie had stationed at entry points and hallways inside her house.
“Since when did you have security cameras put in?” Ida Belle asked.
“Four weeks ago. The day Beulah Sinclair threatened to steal my brownie recipe. I’ve been hoping to catch her in the act.”
We transferred the stored video feed of the past twenty-four hours onto Gertie’s laptop and zoomed through it to detect anything out of the ordinary. Nothing jumped out until 1:03 this morning.
“Slow it down,” I said. I leaned in to take a closer look. “Oh, God.” In the hallway, outside Gertie’s bedroom…
A figure emerged.
A naked figure.
“I got hungry in the night,” Gertie said as she frantically pressed buttons on the laptop, trying to speed through the footage.
“You’re naked,” Ida Belle said, leaning in to the screen.
“It was hot last night!”
Gertie nervously pressed another button on the laptop. Probably not the one she had intended. Her naked image not only froze on the screen, but zoomed in and enlarged as well.
“Don’t look!” she screamed.
“I told you not to say, ‘don’t look.’” I said. “Now I can’t stop looking. Jeeze, Gertie. What is that?”
Ida Belle pointed to the screen. “It’s what your boobs will look like in forty-some years.”
“If she’s lucky,” Gertie said defensively. “I’ve been told by my masseuse, Annabelle, that I have the boobs of a forty-seven-year-old.”
“Do you tip her?”
“Of course I do.”
“Enough said.”
Gertie turned the monitor away from us. “You two go check my backyard. I’ll finish with the video scan.”
Ida Belle and I sprung up from our chairs and fled into the backyard, where a thorough check revealed nothing out of order. By the time Ida Belle and I came back inside, Gertie had finished her security scan.
Our second order of business involved hiding any weapons or evidence of past “activities” Gertie may have taken part in. If the ATF did stick its nose in, they would want to take a closer look at the victim, in this case, Gertie. We had to make sure all they found was evid
ence of a meek, sometimes-confused white-haired old lady and not an illegal-alcohol-manufacturing, weapons-hoarding, criminal-investigation-hampering ex-spy.
“Marge has a secret panel in her bedroom where she kept her weapons. Is there someplace you can hide your weapons and other… stuff?” I asked, scanning her living room for a suitable hiding place.
Without saying a word, Gertie lifted an urn off the fireplace mantle, opened the lid, stuck her hand inside and produced a remote control. She pointed it toward a bookshelf next to the fireplace and clicked. The shelf, as well as the wall behind it, pushed inward and slid to the side, revealing a small alcove under the staircase.
I crawled in on my knees. “Dear God, it’s your purse on steroids.”
The alcove overflowed with weapons, boxes of files and costumes. I held up a red silk nightie with black lace bodice.
Gertie smiled. “Remember that one, Ida Belle?”
“Oh yeah, when you helped get the goods on the mayor of Mudbug. April, nineteen-eighty-one.”
I put the nightie down and held up a straitjacket.
“Eighty-six. We helped spring one of the Sinful Ladies out of the psych ward. Ida Belle pretended to be a psychiatric nurse and I was the mental patient.”
“Must not have been much of a stretch,” I said under my breath.
“I heard that.”
Apparently not under my breath enough.
“Okay, anything incriminating gets put in here. Anything that says you’re just a typical little old lady gets spread around the house.” I noticed a collection of grey and white wigs and old-lady getups on a shelf. “What do you need these for?” I asked, holding up one of the grey wigs.
“Oh my goodness,” Gertie said, taking it from me. I could see from her eyes the wig was taking her back in time. Way back. “We used these to disguise ourselves as seniors. Back when we were not much older than you.”
Ida Belle nodded. “You’d be amazed at the types of things people say around old people. Either they don’t notice us sitting there or they figure we can’t hear them or we’re too senile to understand what they’re saying. Those disguises yielded some of the best intel we every got.”
