I tossed my shopping bag behind the counter and lunged for the cup just as RJ reached to take the lid off. Gertie had scrambled for the door and flung it open, so in one fluid motion, I grabbed the cup, shoved RJ outside, then tossed the contents onto her as she fell onto the sidewalk. Celia ran for the door, shoving Gertie as she rushed outside. Gertie fell backward into the window display and a shower of sequins and feathers rained down on her.
“Oh my God!” Daphne screamed. “Not the Valentino! Those feathers are a hundred dollars each!”
The distraught shop owner took one look at the collapsed display as a disheveled Gertie rose up, with what I presumed were some of the ridiculously expensive feathers sticking to her head, then sprinted out the door and tackled RJ right as she stood up.
“That was a Super Bowl Sunday kind of move,” Ida Belle said as she leaned back against the counter and pulled a bag of peanuts out of her pocket.
Ronald took one look at Gertie in the destroyed display and Daphne rolling around in the street, ruining her Dior—according to him—in what looked like strawberry daiquiri, and passed out.
While I was trying to decide which situation needed my attention the most, Celia waded into the grappling match out in the street and started swinging her purse at Daphne.
“Two against one,” Ida Belle pointed out and popped another peanut in her mouth.
I sighed, more worried about the spectators and their phones. Celia would be yelling for the police in a matter of seconds, and Daphne didn’t deserve to go to jail for helping us out. As I headed out the door, Celia gave the purse a home-run swing and hit Daphne’s rear. The purse clasp broke and what looked like a shrimp pie spilled out. A dog at the corner, who’d been legs-up in a coffin with his fake priest owner giving last rites when we’d passed earlier, made a miraculous recovery and bolted out of the coffin and straight for the spoils.
I figured he’d grab the random pie and be on his way, but apparently the purse contained a bigger score than the sidewalk. The dog leaped up and grabbed the bag and got into a tug-of-war with Celia. Ida Belle strolled out of the dress shop with a wrench, loosened the valve on a fire hydrant, and stepped back to finish her peanuts as the water gushed out.
The stream was a direct hit on Celia and sent her sprawling into the street. The dog took that opportunity to bolt away with the purse, his owner running after him, waving his Bible in the air and yelling things that no priest would ever say. Celia had made an unfortunate sprawl with the hem of her skirt downstream of the blast. The bottom flew up and over her head while her big underwear proceeded to give her the king of all wedgies. Two teen hustlers who had been working the street doubled over laughing.
“Hey, lady,” one of them said. “I can tell you where you got dem shoes and when.”
Celia crawled out of the stream of water and glared up at them. “I can tell you where these shoes are going to be in about ten seconds.”
The other hustler elbowed the first one. “We better bounce. Her butt’s eating her clothes. Don’t want to follow them big panties into the void.”
They both ran off, still laughing.
Celia managed to pull herself up and her skirt down. She didn’t even bother giving the panties a tug, but then that stream of water had probably lodged them somewhere near her tonsils, and the whole process might take more doing than was legal on a public street. Even New Orleans had limits. Outside of Mardi Gras.
RJ and Daphne were still rolling around in the daiquiri spill, both so covered with the bright red liquid that they looked like stabbing victims. Gertie had finally managed to crawl out of the display and came running out of the shop, feathers still clinging to her head. Ronald had pulled himself upright on the doorframe but as soon as he got another look at the Dior, he went straight down again, and I was pretty sure he was crying.
Celia waded into the daiquiri fray but only managed to fall on top of the fighting women. Gertie started cheering, and I reached over to pluck the super-expensive feathers off her head, figuring Daphne had already been through enough with us that day. I had just stuck the last one in my bra when an unmarked vehicle pulled up and Detective Casey—a cop we’d met during a previous investigation—stepped out, grinning.
“You’re early,” I said. “There’s no homicide yet.”
Ida Belle finished off her peanuts and motioned around. “This is below your pay grade, Detective.”
“Couldn’t help myself,” Casey said. “A call went out about a zombie dog, old ladies, butt flashing, and a WWE smackdown, and I just had a feeling. Although I’m finding the location a bit confusing.” She motioned to the storefront of the dress shop.
“Yeah, there’s a thing,” I said.
Casey raised one eyebrow. “There’s always a thing, but women who look like you don’t need an evening gown to get it.”
“God, isn’t that the truth,” Ronald said as he sidled up and clutched my arm for support. “Life is humongously unfair.”
“It’s more of a Sinful women’s group rivalry thing that has a betting pool attached,” I said.
Casey laughed. “So a gang thing. Walking on the wild side there, Redding. What’s the rivalry—who can find the most sequins?”
“I’ve been coerced into wearing an evening gown and being Queen of the New Year representing the Baptists,” I said. “My competition is put up by the Catholics. Hottest queen wins.”
Casey stopped laughing and her jaw dropped. “Come back?”
“I get the biggest cut of the betting pool, a couple cases of beer, and housekeeping for two months,” I said and motioned to Celia. “That, along with making sure the scourge on Sinful loses, has spurred me into participating in the madness.”
“So there’s still a chance of a homicide,” Casey said.
“I’d give it better than a chance,” Ida Belle said.
“I have to push my boobs up,” I explained.
Casey shook her head. “Just don’t go for stilettos. The last thing you need under those circumstances is a weapon.”
Ronald rolled his eyes. “That whole killing-with-the-stiletto thing is so retro Hollywood. People don’t actually kill with their footwear.”
Since killing a terrorist with a stiletto was exactly how I’d wound up in Sinful in the first place, Ida Belle, Gertie, and I just maintained silence. Ronald looked at the three of us, his expression shifting from aggrieved to horrified.
“Please tell me they weren’t designer,” he said.
“Prada,” I said.
The blood rushed from Ronald’s face and he fanned his face with his hand.
Casey laughed again. “On that note, I think I’ll get back to work.”
Celia, who’d finally managed to get up from the fray and start stomping again, huffed up to Casey and pointed a finger at me. “You’re a cop, right? You have that look. Aren’t you going to arrest her?”
Casey smirked. “I’m a homicide detective, lady. You don’t need my services…yet.”
She climbed back into her car and drove away with a wave.
“I like her,” Ronald said.
RJ and Daphne had finally separated and were staring at each other like lions in the wild. Celia pulled out her phone.
“I’m calling the cops,” she said.
“There’s a shocker,” Gertie mumbled.
“No,” RJ said and grabbed her arm. “They’ll just say we started it and I might end up in jail. Then I can’t do the float thing.”
“Gee, I wonder why you might end up in jail?” Ida Belle said. “Got a warrant out by any chance?”
The hard line of RJ’s jaw told me Ida Belle had hit the nail on the head. Interesting. Celia stared at RJ for a couple seconds before finally cluing in on the issues at hand. She whirled around to face Ida Belle and pointed her finger.
“This isn’t over,” she said.
“This has been over since the day you were born,” Ida Belle said. “You just won’t admit it.”
RJ glanced around, probably worried that regular cops were going to materialize, and tugged on Celia’s sleeve. Celia shot us all one last dirty look and stomped off after RJ, who’d already given us the finger, then fled down the sidewalk.
“She’s lovely,” I said, gesturing toward RJ.
Ronald laughed. “She’s no better than she’s ever been—a spoiled, narcissistic bully. The shell was pretty before it got so worn out, but everything beneath the skin has always been as ugly as that troll Celia.”
I nodded. “Well, she made a mistake bullying Ally. I’m going to wipe the road with her.”
Ronald threw his arm around me and squeezed. “Of course you are.”
He gave Ida Belle a stern look. “But you are in trouble for telling my secrets.”
Ida Belle sighed. “I didn’t mean to let the cat out of the bag, but that woman puts me into the red zone sometimes.”
“It was a really nice thing, funding the youth center,” Gertie said. “And it would have eventually gotten around.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Ronald said. “Well, at least it put Celia in her place for the moment. Sort of a bonus. But Ida Belle is still buying lunch, and I refuse to eat a sandwich. And I want to sit down with actual linens, no paper.”
I grinned. “We’re in the right place for eating.”
“Then let’s get our things and head out,” Ida Belle said and headed back inside with the wrench.
“Where the heck did you get the wrench anyway?” I asked as I followed her.
“Working girl display,” Ida Belle said and pointed to a mannequin wearing a sequined suit and sitting on a set of pipes. The wrench was now leaned against them.
Daphne stumbled in, clutching one shoe with a broken heel and looking as though she’d starred in Carrie. Ronald relapsed, beside himself over her clothes, shoes, hair, and pretty much everything.
“I’m really sorry about all this,” I said. “Is there some way we can make it right?”
Daphne shook her head. “Just promise me you’ll beat that cow. I don’t care if you have to shove your boobs up under your chin. Just do it.”
I nodded and pulled the feathers out of my bra. “I snagged these before they could blow away.”
“Oh my God!” She grabbed the feathers and petted them like a prize dog. “I have a seamstress who can put them back. Thank you! That dress will cover six months’ rent on this space.”
A salesgirl, who’d hidden behind the counter during the fray, handed me my bags. I figured the best thing we could do for Daphne was clear out of her shop.
“Thanks for everything,” I said to Daphne. “When this is over, I’m happy to bring the dress back. Maybe you can sell it at a discount and recoup some of the damage.”
Daphne smiled. “That’s very kind of you. Hopefully, the parade will go better than shopping did.”
Famous last words.