| |
IT WAS AS IF CELIA’S words turned us all to stone.
We sat in stunned silence. Aunt Ida Belle didn’t even blink. It took the arrival of Francine with our bowls of banana pudding to break through the shock that had descended over our table.
“Nice bit of running you did, Stephanie,” Francine said as she slid my bowl in front of me. “I know the Sinful Ladies thank you.”
“They’re most welcome,” I said as if on auto-pilot. My manners rarely deserted me, even if my wits did. I picked up my spoon but was unable to make myself partake of the prize in front of me. I replaced my utensil on the Formica table top.
Francine frowned. “Something wrong here, ladies?”
I looked at Aunt Ida Belle but she remained uncharacteristically quiet. Gertie’s eyes were downcast, which, I will say, did little to reassure me that Celia had just been stirring up trouble. Fortune, however, met my gaze. She shook her head nearly imperceptibly, as if to suggest I not repeat Celia’s bombshell. I remained silent.
“Nope, nothing’s wrong here,” Fortune said. She picked up her spoon. “Is there, Stephanie?”
I took the cue and dipped my spoon into the banana pudding. “Everything’s fine, thank you, Francine.” I then took my first taste of the famous pudding. Emotional devastation aside, I was able to fully appreciate the flavor explosion. I had no doubt I was experiencing a taste of the finest banana pudding south of the Mason-Dixon line. I told our hostess so.
“South of the line?” Francine scoffed. “Don’t try to convince me that you’ve tasted finer pudding than mine up north.” She shook her head. “Yankees,” she muttered as she wandered back toward the kitchen.
Once we were alone, Fortune turned her attention to Gertie. “Please tell us that Celia was just blowing smoke.”
Gertie shrugged without looking up. “Doesn’t she always?”
“That’s not an answer.” Fortune’s voice was no-nonsense. “Let’s try this again. What was Celia talking about?”
Gertie picked up her fork and began tapping it on the table. “Nothing, I told you.”
Aunt Ida Belle shot her a look of pure frustration. “You’re going to do it, aren’t you?” When Gertie didn’t answer, or even look up, she cursed under her breath. “You old fool.”
I lifted another spoonful of banana pudding to my lips. What on earth was going on? Gertie looked both defiant and contrite. Aunt Ida Belle appeared angry, and yet wounded. I glanced at Fortune. My guess was that she was as confused as I was. I took another bite, justifying that it was socially acceptable to eat under the rather tense circumstances because I didn’t know what to say.
We sat in uncomfortable silence for several more moments before Fortune slid out of the booth and headed to the register. She returned with three take-out containers, which she made short order of filling. As inconspicuously as possible, I scraped the last of my pudding onto my spoon and savored it. Under any other circumstances I would be asking how we planned to spend the remainder of the day but I held my tongue. Clearly, our highest priority was to sort this out.
Whatever this was.
“I don’t have to take this abuse,” Gertie blurted out. She elbowed Fortune to let her out of the booth. “I’m old enough to do what I want but still young enough to enjoy life.” With that rather odd pronouncement, she slung her purse up onto her shoulder and took off for the door.
I stood, assuming we were going to follow her, after all, she was the one with the car, but when neither my great-aunt nor Fortune made a move to follow her, I sat back down. We listened as Gertie fired up the Caddy and peeled out onto Main Street as if she were fleeing a heist. I sighed. It looked as if we would be walking home. At least I had sneakers on.
Fortune was the first to break the silence. “You seem to know what this is all about, Ida Belle. Care to enlighten Stephanie and me?”
Aunt Ida Belle blew out a long breath. “The old biddy has finally lost her mind. Gone loco.” She shook her head in disgust. “I saw the signs but I couldn’t believe anyone would be that stupid. Especially not Gertie.”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Ida Belle, but I’m completely lost. What exactly has Gertie done?”
“She’s made a fool out of herself, that’s what.”
Now this was a tricky thing to respond to without being offensive because, quite frankly, Gertie has been known to act foolish before. A time or two. Or three. “What exactly is she going to do?”
“I can hardly bear to say it aloud.” Aunt Ida Belle pinched the bridge of her nose. Were those tears in her eyes? I didn’t dare ask, but she was clearly upset. I’d never seen her like this. “She’s fixin’ to run off with the idiot,” she finally said.
“What idiot?” I thought it a fair question considering this was Sinful.
“Bull Dozer,” she nearly spat out his name.
“Run off as in go away for a long weekend?” Fortune asked.
Aunt Ida Belle shook her head. “No. She’s leaving Sinful, and she’s not coming back.”
I gasped. “That can’t be.” When several other diners turned to look in our direction, I realized I’d spoken too loudly.
Fortune frowned. “Something’s not adding up here. Why aren’t you shocked, Ida Belle? Have you and Gertie spoken about this before?”
My great-aunt shook her head. “No. I put together the pieces from overhearing her talk nonsense with the pipsqueak.”
The pipsqueak, I assumed, was Bull Dozer. “What do we know about him?”
Ida Belle snorted. “Nothing fit for repeating.”
“We can get all the info we need,” Fortune said. “It’s the beauty of small town living. Where’s he from originally? Sinful?”
Aunt Ida Belle shook her head. “Mudbug.”
“How did Celia find out about their plans?” I asked.
“Gertie was probably flapping her gums when she went in to City Hall to pay her parking tickets.” Aunt Ida Belle shook her head. “She should have known that Celia gets regular gossip reports from her minions.”
Fortune nodded. “Good, getting information won’t be a problem then.” She turned to me. “This is as good a time as any for you to start helping us, Stephanie. But you’re going to have to do things our way.”
My eyes widened. What did she mean start helping? Hadn't I just sprinted down Main Street this morning as if I were being chased by a Malayan tiger? In the last several weeks, I'd learned that doing things their way meant being involved in shoot outs, wild car chases, meetings with mobsters, and, worst of all, regular run-ins with the newly elected mayor of Sinful.
But there'd also been plenty of laughter and a sense of camaraderie that I'd grown to cherish in a very short time. I wanted to help Gertie any way I could. “You can count on me.”
“Good. We’re going to need you onboard. Gertie’s stubborn to begin with, add that to being under the influence of a man, and it’s not a good combination.”
I studied her. Fortune was a beautiful woman. Her hair was long and blond, her eyes were blue, her figure trim, but something about her story was as phony as her acrylic nails. I'd watched Fortune handle a gun like she was twirling a baton, converse with mobsters as smoothly as if she were talking to pageant judges, and I'd witnessed her take down armed opponents like she was taking off her tiara for the night. If she'd ever been a beauty queen, I'd eat my lace trimmed handkerchief.
But she'd risked her life to save mine, and for that I owed her. If she wanted to pretend to be someone she wasn't, it was fine by me. Besides, we had other things to worry about, like Gertie running off with a man she barely knew.
A funny look flitted over Fortune's face. "Carter's coming. I don’t want him knowing what’s going on."
Seconds later, Carter stopped by our booth. He was out of uniform, dressed in faded jeans and a plain black t-shirt that fit his well-muscled chest rather nicely, I couldn’t help but notice. I glanced in Fortune's direction. Yes, she'd noticed too.
I waited for someone to say something but when no one did, I greeted him. "Hello, Carter.”
“Stephanie,” he nodded. “How was your trip to Hawaii?”
“Blissful,” I replied, although it seemed so much longer than a week since Kase and I had arrived back in Louisiana. “If you haven’t been to the islands yet, I’d highly recommend a visit.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. I hear Mayeux has been called back to New Orleans for a few weeks.”
I nodded. “That’s right. With any luck, he’ll be coming back to visit on the weekends.” The awkward tension in the air was palpable. “Would you care to join us?”
He shook his head. "No, thanks. Uncle Walter and I are going fishing. I just stopped by to pick up some lunch." He eyed us each in turn. "Whatever it is that y'all are up to, you'd better forget about it."
"Not that it's any of your business, young man, but we're talking about Gertie," Aunt Ida Belle said.
Fortune and I nodded in agreement. It felt good to finally be telling Deputy LeBlanc the truth for a change.
He shot a glance at the empty spot next to Fortune. “Where is she?”
“Home sick,” I said.
“Car trouble,” Fortune said at the exact same moment.
He frowned. “Which is it?”
“She’s home, worried sick about her car trouble.” It was lame but it was the best I could come up with on the spot.
"Right, like I'm going to believe that. You three are plotting some sort of nonsense. I can sense it."
Before we could demur, deny, or protest, Francine approached our booth, a pot of hot coffee in hand. “Run along now, Carter, and quit pestering these poor, innocent ladies."
I admired the way Francine could say that without cracking a smile. She'd been extra kind to me since I'd been kidnapped from the back of her restaurant. None of what happened was remotely her fault but I wasn't above accepting an extra order of fries every time we came in here. I appreciated that she was trying to run interference with Carter.
"Go on." She pointed in the direction of the kitchen. "Your packed lunches are up front. Just leave the cash by the register."
"Mind what I said," Carter warned us.
Once he'd left, we sat staring at our coffee cups. I don't know exactly what my companions were thinking, but I was struggling to envision what life in Sinful would be like without Gertie around. Unimaginable.
“We have to do something,” I said. “Gertie can’t go.”
Aunt Ida Belle didn’t look up or acknowledge my words.
Fortune stood and gathered up the take-out containers. “Let’s head back to your house and hatch a game plan.” She had to prod Aunt Ida Belle to get her to move. Watching my great-aunt shuffle toward the door with a downcast head was galling.
It appeared as if Swamp Team Three plus one (me) had now shrunk down to just Fortune and myself – a mismatched pair if ever there was one.
Heaven help us.