by Jana DeLeon
A lot of people put their hands over their ears and I struggled to keep from following suit. If I’d known I would be subjected to bad opera, I would have brought cotton balls. Carter had taught me that trick at the Christmas Gala. Then Ida Belle jabbed me in the side and handed me some pieces of something.
“Sound-deadening material,” she said.
“Thank God,” I said and pushed the pieces in my ears.
I could still hear the awful singing but at least it was as if the volume were on low. Ronald wailed on for entirely too long, then finally finished with a high note that was so off-key even deaf people would have known. Then he did a curtsy to the crowd before strolling off. The crowd clapped enthusiastically, but I’m pretty sure it was because he was finished, not because they loved it. He tried three different times to sit down next to Scooter and finally they moved the chairs farther apart to make room for his dress.
“Two down,” Walter said as he pulled the material out of his ears.
The curtains parted again and this time Celia came out. A groan rippled through the spectators, except for Celia’s crowd, of course, who all jumped up and started cheering enthusiastically for their leader. I wondered briefly if they really liked her or simply did things her way to avoid listening to her complain. I glanced over at Ida Belle, who looked as uncertain of what was about to happen as I was. Finally, I decided Celia was trying to give Ronald a run for his money, at least in the wardrobe department. The difference, of course, was that while Ronald’s gown was elegant and masterfully sewn, Celia’s gown resembled one of those cheap Halloween costumes. The gown was putrid green and looked like one you’d see the owner’s daughter on a Southern plantation wearing, complete with the huge hat. She looked ridiculous.
“If she’s singing, I’m leaving,” I whispered to Ida Belle. “People will just have to deal with Gertie fallout on their own.”
Ida Belle nodded, her expression pained.
“I will be doing a dramatic reading from Gone with the Wind,” Celia said.
More groans. Ida Belle, Walter, and I promptly popped the bits of material back in our ears. At least it wasn’t singing. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to hear. Unfortunately, Celia’s voice carried, and I figured it was rude to hum, even though some people probably would have appreciated it. Just when I caught my right hand involuntarily reaching for my nine-millimeter, we were saved from listening to Celia’s horrible monologue of the entire movie.
Marie stepped out from behind the curtain and said, “Thank you for that lovely rendition of a beloved movie, Celia. That fulfills your time slot, so it’s time for the next act.”
Based on the way Celia glared at Marie, I had to assume that no time limits had been part of the rules when she’d signed up. But since the audience had started enthusiastically clapping when Marie announced Celia was done, the always disgruntled woman had no choice but to huff off to the side of the stage and flop into a chair. Ronald gave her an up-and-down look and sniffed, clearly not impressed with her gown. It was all I could do not to laugh.
“We owe Marie drinks or a pie or something,” I said to Ida Belle. “Maybe a new bass boat.”
Marie picked up the microphone from the platform where Celia had dropped it.
“Let’s get on with the show,” Marie said. “Next up is one of Sinful’s favorite and more colorful residents—Gertie Hebert.”
Cheers started before the curtain ever parted and then Gertie emerged. The entire crowd went quiet. She was decked out in the most elaborate costume I’d ever seen. It was a dragon, complete with actual scales that glittered and eyes that looked like jewels. No wonder she’d needed a big box. Before she could take the microphone from Marie, Ronald jumped up from his chair and started clapping.
“Bravo!” he yelled. “Absolutely stunning.”
“Sit down, you loon,” Celia said.
“Don’t speak to me,” Ronald said, looking down his nose at her. “You’re wearing machine-produced lace.”
Gertie took the microphone from Marie and called out a hello to the crowd. “Tonight, I will treat you to a show of fire-breathing.”
It was all I could do not to jump up from my chair and yell ‘No!’
Ida Belle clutched my arm, her expression frozen in fear. Walter had paled to the point that I was afraid he was going to pass out. I spotted Carter, who’d been standing in the back, dash for the stage, but he was only halfway there when “Great Balls of Fire” started blaring from the speakers. The entire costume tilted back, which I assumed was due to Gertie consuming something flammable, and then one claw came up with an igniter.
I jumped up from my chair, ready to rush the stage, when the igniter flicked on and a huge flame shot out of the dragon’s mouth. The crowd went wild. Everyone jumped up from their seats, cheering, and I held my position and looked over at Carter, who had stopped just in front of the stage. Ida Belle was standing beside me, still clutching my arm. None of us had any idea what to do. Yelling at her to stop wouldn’t work and tackling her didn’t seem to be a good idea as she had a mouthful of something that would probably eat up her insides if she swallowed it.
Celia jumped out of her seat, giving Carter a dirty look, then strode forward.
“Stop that right now!” she yelled at Gertie. “It’s not safe!”
Unfortunately, Celia’s yelling distracted Gertie right when she was getting ready to let out another breath, and she turned her giant dragon head toward the source of the disruption. Fire erupted from her mouth and caught the edge of Celia’s hat. Celia shrieked and yanked the hat off her head but instead of tossing it away from her, she dropped it right at her feet and the flames shot up her gown.
Half of the crowd—the entirety of which was already on their feet—ran for the exits. The other half pulled out cell phones and started recording. Ida Belle and I bolted for the stage and I saw Carter dash out the side of the tent, yelling for the fire department. People hollered for Celia to drop and roll but instead, she danced around in a circle, jumping as though she was doing a native fire dance. Except the fire was on her and not the ground.
Ronald, apparently deciding he was going to save the day, ran over to her and grabbed the back of her dress. In a surprising show of strength, he ripped the flaming lace travesty clean off of her, leaving Celia standing in her undergarments. It was really a shame she hadn’t chosen to wear a corset with her dress, because her plain white bra and big white panties that read O’Hara on the back were enough to send the second wave of spectators running out of the tent.
Ronald shrieked, yelling something about his eyesight, then tossed the gown onto the stage away from them before fleeing for the sidelines. Gertie, who had been struggling with the enormous dragon head, finally managed to pull it off, and then coughed whatever she had in her mouth onto Celia’s dress, which sent flames up a good ten feet from the floor. By that time the firemen had shown up with extinguishers. They directed streams of foam at the stage and Ronald let out a cry and jumped behind the curtain, yelling about his dress.
The fire on Celia’s lace nightmare was contained quickly and the foam managed the added benefit of covering Celia from head to toe. Ronald stepped out from behind the curtain and wagged his finger at her.
“That’s what you get for wearing cheap fabric,” he said before stomping off stage.
What remained of the crowd erupted in applause and Gertie and the firemen took a bow. Scooter, who’d had a prime view of the back—and uncovered—side of Celia, yanked one of the curtains down and threw the entire thing over her. A second round of applause ensued, and Scooter grabbed one of Gertie’s claws and they bowed together.
“I think I need to start drinking,” Walter said.
“You already drink,” Ida Belle said.
“I meant seriously,” he said. “Maybe professionally.”
I nodded. “You’ve got your whiskey. I’ve got my funnel cake. Who’s up for round four?”
Chapter Two
After I snagged my fun
nel cake, Ida Belle and I headed backstage to see if Gertie needed any help while Walter checked in with the firemen on the condition of the tent, figuring Sinful might be footing the bill for damage. Scooter was tugging at her leg, trying to get the dragon costume off, and Ronald was hovering nearby, giving Scooter directions that included things like ‘don’t pull on the scales or they’ll come loose’ and ‘don’t mar the jewels with your sweaty hands.’ Gertie looked up as we approached.
“About time you two showed up,” she said.
“I needed reinforcements.” I held up the funnel cake.
“Give me,” Gertie said. “My mouth tastes like jet fuel.”
Since she was still wearing the claws, I tore off a piece and popped it in her mouth. She closed her eyes and chewed, then sighed. “That was heavenly.”
“Compared to jet fuel, I imagine a lot of things are,” I said.
“You didn’t have jet fuel in your mouth, did you?” Ida Belle asked.
“Well, not jet fuel exactly,” Gertie said. “We don’t have jets in Sinful and I couldn’t get anyone at the airport in NOLA to sell me any.”
“Thank God,” Ida Belle grumbled.
“So I got some fuel from Bomber Bruce,” Gertie said.
Bomber Bruce was a former Navy pilot who had some prop planes and a skydiving school near Sinful. The last time we’d tried skydiving with him, Gertie had defrocked a nun, assaulted a cemetery, and generally upset most of the Catholics in Sinful. I made a mental note that when Bomber Bruce was involved—even peripherally—someone ended up with no clothes.
“Carter ought to arrest him for selling you plane fuel and arrest you for buying it,” Ida Belle said.
Scooter nodded. “Especially as we all had to see Celia in her drawers. Why does that keep happening? I’m going to need therapy or some of those antianxiety drugs.”
“Someone should really have a heart-to-heart with that woman about her wardrobe choices,” Ronald said.
“You want to volunteer for that?” Ida Belle asked.
Ronald’s eyes widened. “Good Lord, no! I can’t stand the witch. She’s everything wrong with fashion.”
“Celia is everything wrong with being human,” Gertie said.
Ronald nodded. “Well, if you no longer need my assistance, I’m going to get this dress off. I need to change into something that doesn’t present so many difficulties when nature calls.”
I grabbed the other leg of the costume and with Ida Belle and Scooter pulling from the top, we finally managed to get the suit off Gertie. Thank God, she’d had the good sense to wear clothes underneath although the bike shorts and tank top would have probably been better suited on someone who bothered to exercise regularly and was born in this century. But at least it wasn’t big white drawers.
“What happened to Celia?” I asked.
“The firemen held the curtain so that she could walk to her car,” Scooter said.
“Unfortunately,” Gertie cut in, “she has a change of clothes and claims she will not be missing the fair on my account.”
“I guess that white foam in her hair will go with whatever she brought with her,” Ida Belle said.
“Maybe she’ll wear a hat,” I said.
“Or do us all a favor and wear a mask,” Gertie said.
Scooter grinned. “The firemen told me she yelled about Carter not arresting Gertie and Ronald the entire way to the car. Once they ditched her at her vehicle, they went straight to Marie to talk about the pay scale when they had to see people like Celia half naked.”
“They need to tough it,” Gertie said. “If we paid bonuses for every employee who saw a resident half naked, we’d go broke in a week.”
“Maybe we could make a list of the people we’d like to see half naked and charge for it to offset the cost,” Scooter said, giving me a side glance.
“That’s going to be a short list,” Ida Belle said.
“Don’t look at me for volunteers,” I said. “I already have a job and I used to kill people for a living. I’m not inclined to step backward.”
Scooter looked a tiny bit afraid and made a hasty exit just as Walter wandered up.
“What the heck were you thinking?” Ida Belle asked. “You could have sent the entire place up in flames.”
“I was perfectly in control until Celia distracted me,” Gertie said. “But when you have the gas ready to go, you can’t just swallow it because someone wants you to stop production. I can’t stand the woman as it is. No way I’m losing a kidney over her.”
“That’s not the point,” Ida Belle said. “You know how you are. Did you really think fire-breathing was the best choice given your history with things that ignite?”
“I went to New Orleans and had private instructions,” Gertie argued. “And I’ve been practicing a lot.”
Ida Belle’s eyes widened. “This is why your storage shed burned down, isn’t it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gertie said.
“Lightning my butt,” Ida Belle said.
Walter’s eyes widened and he looked slightly pained.
I laughed. “So what do you guys want to do now? Rides? Games?”
“The games are rigged,” Gertie said. “The rides are cool. Just let me throw on some clothes, then I say we go do that one that flings you upside down.”
Walter looked up at a creaking Ferris wheel and shook his head. “I don’t know how much I’d count on correct maintenance on those things. Scooter said he has a whole pocket full of nuts and bolts that he found walking the grounds. Tends to give one pause.”
“Not me,” Gertie said. “Can’t be any more dangerous than the things we do when we’re on a case.”
I nodded. “So let’s go get flung upside down then before I have more funnel cake.”
Walter looked over at Ida Belle. “Professionally. That whole drinking thing? Probably starting tonight.”
Ida Belle patted his shoulder. “Maybe in the future, you shouldn’t attend things when Gertie’s coming. It could add years to your life.”
Once Gertie was properly dressed, we headed down the center of the midway, ignoring the calls of those running the games, and I tried to turn a deaf ear to the booths for candy apples, cotton candy, and a host of other sugary delights that were calling my name. Good Lord, I really had to work on my sugar addiction. But between Gertie and Ally, my kitchen was never without some home-baked dessert and it wasn’t as if I was going to turn down their offerings. I was gaining weight, not getting foolish. I’d just have to run a bit more. Heck, at the rate I was going, I was going to have to run a good four hours a day.
We’d almost made it to the upside-down flinging thing when I heard a scream—a scream that I recognized.
Celia.
We all turned in the direction of the noise and saw the funhouse.
“Celia went in the funhouse?” I asked. “Isn’t that like diametrically opposed to her personality?”
“Hence the screaming,” Ida Belle said. “She’s the only person I know who can make the funhouse a negative thing.”
More screaming ensued and I was about to suggest someone go in and shoot her to put the rest of us out of our misery when she appeared in a corridor, running as quickly as her legs would carry her. My first thought was, at least she was dressed. My second was that she really looked scared. My third was wondering if she realized she was running straight toward a solid glass panel.
A second later, the third question was answered when she slammed face-first into the glass. Her eyes widened as she crumpled onto the ground, and we hurried over to see if she’d finally killed herself with her antics. I arrived first and jumped onto the platform, running into the tunnel from the exit door. I leaned over and saw her chest moving.
“She’s alive,” I said. “But we need the paramedics. That was a pretty good hit to her head.”
“Her head is made of wood,” someone said.
“Maybe even stone,” another said.
I l
ooked down at her. “Celia? Can you hear me?”
I shook her a little and she groaned. Then her eyes opened a little and she blinked, trying to focus. Suddenly, she popped into a sitting position and clutched my shoulders, her eyes wide and frantic.
“Dead!” she yelled and promptly passed out.
I frowned. I expected the House of Horrors to have dead people, but I wasn’t sure about a funhouse. Was that normal? And would they really have done such a great makeup job that Celia had panicked enough to knock herself out? She was dramatic but she was still a Southerner. They tended to be made from sterner stock. I looked up at Ida Belle, Gertie, and Walter, who were standing behind me, all frowning.
“Maybe we better take a look,” I said. “Walter, will you tell the guy running this to hold off letting more people in until I can check it out? And if anyone went in after Celia, see if he can head them off before they get very far.”
“And will someone call the paramedics?” Ida Belle yelled at the crowd.
Walter took off for the front of the attraction, and I started through a revolving tunnel into a maze with distortion mirrors, Ida Belle and Gertie right behind me. It was easy to traverse if you knew the trick, which was looking down instead of in front of you. That’s why, despite the dim light, I didn’t trip over the body when I rounded the corner.
A woman with long brown hair was collapsed facedown on the ground, and I could see blood seeping from an impact wound on the back of her head. A feeling of familiarity and dread passed through me as I dropped down and swept her hair back.
I sucked in a breath. “It’s Emmaline!”
I yanked out my cell phone and cursed.
“No signal!” I looked at Gertie. “Go outside and get the paramedics. Go get them if you have to.”
“Medical kit’s in my bag,” Gertie said as she pulled her phone out of her purse, then dropped the bag in front of me and set off running, banging mirrored walls as she went.
