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“What do you want?” Mercy sat up in bed and shouted, glancing at the clock. Eight? It felt like she just went to sleep. Maybe because she’d only slept four hours. Muttering, she wrapped herself in the sheet and tripped to the door. The blinding light was nothing compared to the violent blouse that assaulted her senses. She nearly made the Sign of the Cross, hoping to ward off bad taste and ugly clothes. Then the magical fingers of fresh coffee reached out and tickled her nose, sending shivers down her spine. The woman standing behind Gertie Hebert held the cup while Gertie smiled and gave her a paper sack.
Mercy’s hopeful expression dropped into a grimace. “Is it dried fruit?”
The unknown woman snorted and pushed Gertie out of the way. Mercy jumped back because the woman didn’t stop until she was inside. Then she turned and said, “Get in here before it’s too hot to cool it down!” Gertie slipped by Mercy, leaving her no choice but to shut the door. She rested her forehead on the frame. Sixty seconds ago she’d been asleep. Now two senior women had invaded her room, and she just let it happen.
“This is Ida Belle,” Gertie said, and Mercy finally turned to look at them. Once again the astonishing blouse held her attention, like a car burning on the side of the road. It seemed to be an optical trap. Every time she tried to look away another obscene figure appeared in the blouse’s pattern.
“Lift your arm and turn,” Mercy instructed Gertie. “No, the other way.”
Gertie smirked at Ida Belle and asked Mercy, “Do you like it? It’s an Italian designer original.”
Mercy didn’t reply, but slapped her hand over her eyes. “Never mind. I’m sorry I asked.” The other woman cleared her throat, and Mercy peered through the cracks of her fingers, smiling at the holder of liquid caffeine. “I hope there’s more coffee available wherever you got that from.”
She sighed with joy when Ida Belle offered the coffee cup. Then she opened the sack, which contained a cinnamon roll. “Have a seat.” Crumbs flew and coffee dribbled, but Mercy didn’t care, although she wondered if Eugene would rush down and hand her a bill for an hourly room rental with her morning sustenance. The Asphalt bar bathroom episode was nothing compared to the pleasure of good coffee and a homemade roll. She bounced on the squeaky bed and asked with a yawn, “What brings you by?”
Gertie stared with a frown while Ida Belle worked to keep a pleasant expression on her face. Finally, Ida Belle jabbed her friend with a sharp finger. “What’s wrong?”
With a guilty expression, Gertie looked up before her eyes drifted again, and Mercy realized Gertie was staring at her bare feet. Bare feet? Her eyes locked with Gertie’s when she realized she’d walked the mystery carpet with no protection. “I wonder if Eugene sells foot condoms?” she joked.
“Gertie! What are you doing?” Ida Belle hissed as Gertie rifled through her luggage-size purse. She pulled out a pair of socks and tossed them to Mercy. Then she held up a finger and tossed her a wrapped sanitizing wipe to use first.
Mercy stared at the package with a puzzled look. Then she shrugged and decided carrying wipes was probably a Southern thing.
“Do you have something for my corns?” Ida Belle asked scornfully. “I wasn’t serious!”
Gertie huffed and returned the ointment to her bag. “Then stop wasting my time.”
Mercy put her coffee on the nightstand and washed her feet before putting on the socks. “Thanks for the socks. And for the infusion.” She raised the coffee cup to Ida Belle. “Why are you here?”
“She’s not much for subtleties, is she?” Ida Belle murmured.
“We thought you might need transportation,” Gertie hastily shouted to drown out Ida Belle’s remark.
“I got my own car!” someone yelled from the next room.
“Can you drive me to the junkyard?” Mercy asked. The older women exchanged a look.
“Did you say junkyard?” Gertie inquired.
Mercy nodded. “The thief stripped it. I’d like to see what’s salvageable.”
“Well, did you hear that, Gertie?” Ida Belle asked in a clipped tone. “Her car is at the junkyard.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that,” Gertie told Mercy, who waved her off.
“Give me a minute to throw on my clothes. Oh, I’d appreciate it if you could drive me to civilization so I can see about a rental car.” She disappeared into the bathroom, and Ida Belle gave Gertie a dirty look.
“Nice going! Joy didn’t tell you that, did she? Now you’re her granddaughter’s personal chauffeur. I bet she doesn’t rent a car. You mark my words—”
“All set?” Mercy asked. Her dark wavy hair was wild, her eyes deeply shadowed, and her clothes looked like she dug them out of a dumpster. The bottom of a full dumpster. One used by a restaurant.
Gertie worked her mouth, but no words came out. Ida Belle released a rude noise and Mercy scowled. “My hair won’t look better until I wash it. My eyes will look like charcoal briquettes until I get more sleep. And these clothes?” She shook her head. “These will never recover.” Halfway to the door, one sandal strap broke. She kept moving and shuffled her foot to keep it on. “It’s a good thing you brought me socks,” she told Gertie as she waited for the women outside her room.
She suddenly felt odd and turned to see the curtains close in one of the rooms. But not before she got a look at the person on the other side. It was Gabe Boucher, and he gave her a brief nod of acknowledgement. She instinctively smiled in response while the older women’s eyes met.
But Ida Belle and Gertie weren’t the only ones who witnessed the exchange. A man sitting in a parked car quietly observed.
Ida Belle clamped her lips together and got into the Cadillac. So the lady in distress is on familiar terms with one of Sinful’s disreputable citizens? It’s beginning to look like my caution is warranted.
Gertie’s face was grim when she climbed behind the wheel of her vehicle. Like Ida Belle, she saw Mercy’s reaction to Gabe’s “curtain signal”, and she’d just as soon drop Mercy in the bayou. But maybe she and Ida Belle could take out all the trash at once: Gabe Boucher and Mercy, the not-so-innocent stranded newcomer.
Meanwhile, the unsuspecting Mercy hopped into the back seat, hoping that she’d be able to put this whole trip behind her soon. Then Gertie revved the engine and Mercy forgot about her cousin, wondering if the car was road-worthy, considering the rust, dents, and duct tape that held it together. After a minute she decided it was better that Gertie didn’t have a new vehicle with digital displays and a camera to distract her.
Gertie Hebert flew out of the Sinful Inn parking lot with only a pause before hitting the street- literally. With broken springs, the Caddy scraped bottom and Mercy bounced on the back seat. Her head hit the roof, and before she could right herself Gertie took a sharp turn and Mercy found herself on the floor. It wasn’t bad except for the rust eating through the floor pan and the dust rising through the holes. Gertie flashed a grin at Ida Belle and yelled to Mercy, “Are you okay back there?”
Mercy grasped the top of seat and poked her head up. Her messy hair was mashed to one side of her head. “I ripped my pants. Oh, God!” She screamed and Gertie stomped the brakes to avoid the bicycle that wheeled in front of her from a side street without even braking. Mercy held her breath as the nose of the Cadillac gained on the bike and she could no longer see the back half of it because it was so close. Just when Mercy was sure they would run the cyclist over, the man pulled away and raised his middle finger without looking back.
She expected Gertie to pull over and burst into tears at the near death experience, and she hoped it was near an open bar because she could use a belt or five. Instead, Gertie glared at Ida Belle. “Who gave Dickie Mason another bike? And why is he riding without a helmet again?” she grumbled. “Never mind. When we get back, I’m going to tune that bike with the sledgehammer in my trunk.”
The rest of the trip was uneventful, although Gertie drove like a kamikaze pilot. They all hopped out when they reached the junkyard, and Mercy checked in with the attendant before running to look into the trunk of her car. Ida Belle and Gertie stopped to watch. After falling into the trunk when she stretched too far, Mercy climbed out and briefly looked inside the cabin. It was exactly like the pictures showed; even the airbags had been removed. Well, she would be in Sinful for a few more days—or until she retrieved her package. And then she’d fly back to Denver to recover. This vacation was already shot to hell.
“Are you finished?” Ida Belle asked, and Mercy nodded. They climbed into Gertie’s car and left.
“Do you still want a rental car?” Gertie asked Mercy in the rear-view mirror.
“Yes, I do.” Mercy skated across the backseat on her butt when Gertie cranked the wheel and headed in the opposite direction. “Do you have seatbelts?” Mercy’s voice came from the floor.
“Of course I do! It’s against the law to drive without them,” Gertie replied. “Although Ida Belle doesn’t always wear hers. Mercy, are you there?”
“Where are the seatbelts?” she squawked with her hands crammed down the crack in the backseat.
“We’re wearing them.” Gertie might as well have called her stupid.
“How about the backseat?” Mercy asked.
Gertie flapped her hand and pressed the gas. “Adult backseat riders don’t need them.”
Ida Belle smirked. “That means she used them to tie her fishing boat to the dock when she forgot her rope.”
Gertie sniffed. “I improvised, Ida Belle, and you know it. Had I realized the chipmunks had eaten my rope I would have bought more before setting out that day.”
However, Ida Belle paid no attention to Gertie. She stared out the back window as a black SUV with mirrored windows pulled from a side road and gained on them. “Uh, Gertie?”
“I see them.”
Mercy looked and knew how the cyclist must have felt with Gertie’s grill bearing down on him. She turned back and found herself under Ida Belle’s scrutiny.
“Friends of yours?” Ida Belle asked.
Mercy’s eyes popped. “Heck, no!”
“You seemed to know the driver when you saw him at the motel this morning,” Ida Belle accused with a cold stare.
“I talked with him briefly last night,” Mercy explained as she anxiously checked the back window, thinking Ida Belle must recognize the vehicle as Gabe’s.
“Well, you must have upset Gabe because Gertie and I haven’t seen him in months and he seems mighty anxious right now.”
Mercy gnawed a fingernail, wondering what she should do. She had no idea why Gabe was chasing them—if it was Gabe. There could easily be more than one black Hummer in the area, but she doubted the FBI would follow them so carelessly. Who else could it be? Someone who knew she was carrying a boatload of cash for Loyal? Well, putting two senior women and herself in serious danger hadn’t been in her plans.
Ida Belle growled, and Mercy’s head bobbed up at her tone. Then she shrugged as if asking What? Wrong move. Gertie slowed down, and Ida Belle raised a brow. “Tell us what you’re doing in Sinful, or we’ll leave you here.”
Mercy visibly gulped as she looked at the deserted stretch of road and the menacing vehicle now even closer. It was too dark to see through the windshield, and the Cadillac began to decelerate.
“I only got information on a poker game from Gabe,” she confessed, hoping they would be satisfied and not want more details.
Ida Belle’s eyes narrowed, and Gertie held steady on the speed- slow. But at least she drove down the center of the road and prevented the SUV from passing them.
“You can do better. Before I open your door and shove you out,” Ida Belle threatened. If this woman wants to move her nasty criminal business to Sinful, she’ll soon learn she chose the wrong town!
Mercy’s eyes nearly rolled from her head. She was trapped in a death mobile with two crazy old women and a maniac on their tail. She screeched when Ida Belle leaned over the front seat and pushed the back door open. Gertie turned the steering wheel back and forth and Mercy nearly toppled out the door. For a few seconds she stared at the road whizzing by just a few inches from her head before she pulled herself back in. She sent a frightened look at Ida Belle, who shot lightning bolts with her eyes.
“What else?” Ida Belle reached for the door handle again and Mercy put her hand out to stop her. She bit her lip in hesitation, and the door swung open. Gertie stepped on the gas, and Mercy was afraid Ida Belle would sharpen her head like a pencil when she leaned over the seat and pushed it out the door.
“Documents!” Mercy screamed in horror at the hot pavement under her nose. “I lost the documents I was bringing for my cousin.” Please, God, don’t let her be hard of hearing because I’m ready to pass out and she’s the only thing between me and a permanent shave. And please never let Grammy know I just blabbed!
She felt herself being pulled up. The car door closed, and Ida Belle nodded to Gertie. “Lose him so we can talk.”
Gertie placed a heavy foot on the accelerator as they approached Chalk Lake. A few death wish maneuvers on Gertie’s part sent Mercy to the floor on purpose, but Gertie lost the SUV when she ran a red light.
Soon the car stopped and Mercy looked over the seat cautiously. They were parked at a cemetery, and she prayed it wasn’t a sign. Her blouse was wet; she wondered if she was panting like a dog or drooling like a baby. Neither. It was sweat that drenched her clothes even though the air conditioning in the car blasted out the vents. One of hers eyelids fluttered, and she tapped Ida Belle.
“Where are we?” she stammered.
“Safe- for now,” Gertie replied.
Both women twisted to look at her, and Mercy feared getting thrown from the car might have been a safer option.
“What were you saying about lost documents?” Gertie asked.
Mercy’s shaking hand wiped the perspiration from her face, and she explained. “I had some important papers in my car. I was taking them to my cousin. But someone stole them along with my car.”
“No drugs?” Ida Belle’s voice was stern, and Mercy nearly wet her pants when she saw the muzzle of a gun pointed at her.
Her head shook so fast she almost made herself dizzy.
“It seems those papers are more important to you than your car.” Gertie wasn’t as scary as her friend now that she wasn’t driving.
Mercy expelled a puff of air, unsure how to proceed. She’d already confessed more than she should have, and she didn’t know if she could trust these women. On the other hand, the nose of that gun hadn’t wavered, and neither had Ida Belle’s sharp eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Please don’t shoot me. I haven’t really done anything wrong.”
“Ida Belle, put that gun away,” Gertie demanded. “You’re scaring her!”
“Pfft! She just survived a ride with you, which is scarier than any weapon,” Ida Belle protested. But she complied, and Gertie nodded at Mercy.
“Something isn’t right with your story,” Gertie stated.
“What do you mean? I’m not lying!”
“Someone is lying,” Ida Belle said under her breath. “If it’s not you, then it must be Joy.”
“You know Grammy?” Mercy breathed in relief. “Why didn’t you just tell me that to begin with? Is Loyal hiding out with—” She realized her mistake too late.
Ida Belle lowered her brows at Gertie. “That’s it! I knew something struck a chord.” Her intense scrutiny turned back to Mercy. “Loyal Merrymaker is wanted by the FBI.”
“How do you know that?” Gertie asked.
“Some of us keep up with the recent news, Gertie,” Ida Belle retorted.
“You’re hanging out at the post office again, aren’t you?” Gertie laughed.
“Nonsense. They only post the most wanted, so I check the FBI website regularly. A name like Loyal Merrymaker isn’t easy to overlook.” Ida Belle turned to Mercy. “Why are you in Sinful?”
Mercy wearily scratched her head. “I took a wrong turn. Seriously.” It was too late to take back her slip of the tongue, so she told them the truth about the details of her trip- minus the fact that she left her keys in the ignition of her car. When she finished, she flopped back against the seat and waited for their response. It wasn’t what she anticipated.
“Wonderful! Thanks a lot, Gertie. You just made us accessories to a felony,” Ida Belle said.
Gertie rolled her eyes. “Please, Ida Belle. You know darn well you’ve been itching for some action. I can always tell. You get extra crabby.”
“Extra crabby? As opposed to what?”
“Irritable and crotchety.”
Mercy watched the exchange with wide eyes. The women seemed to have forgotten all about her.
“And you know darn well it’s been boring without Fortune these past few days. Her visit to Washington put a crimp in my fun,” Ida Belle defended herself.
“The only crimp is in your hair where you wrapped the curlers wrong. Your head looks like a box. And it’s not like Fortune moved back to DC. Attending Ben’s wedding and keeping an eye on his place while he honeymoons is a nice break for her. You need to relax. Maybe you should try Yoga,” Gertie suggested.
“I already did, and it’s boring. Sitting around trying to empty my head while folding myself into a pretzel doesn’t calm me. Kick boxing is much better. Of course, you wouldn’t know that because you can’t keep your balance.
“If the good Lord wanted me to kick box, he’d have made me a kangaroo,” Gertie replied. “You know I need low-impact sports since I twisted my ankle training for the triathlon last month.”
“That was just an excuse to get out of it,” Ida Belle scoffed.
Gertie grinned. “It worked, didn’t it? Besides, with your hip trouble you should give up things that aggravate it. Like kick boxing.”
“Do you want to know what aggravates me?” Ida Belle asked.
Mercy’s astonished gaze moved back and forth. For a couple senior citizens, these two didn’t act anywhere close to their age. Gertie sure wasn’t the same vague woman she met in the park. She’d bet Gertie moonlighted at the drag racing track, and Ida Belle? Shooting range, paintball, laser tag? Big game hunting? All the above? Probably. She realized it was now quiet as they watched her, and she gave them a toothy grin. After all, they were still parked in the cemetery.
“Making plans to join your felonious cousin?” Ida Belle asked.
“Now you’re being rude to our guest,” Gertie chided.
“Guest?” Ida Belle roared. “When did that happen?”
“You aren’t planning to turn your back on her, are you?”
“Just watch me. Where are you going?” Ida Belle asked Mercy who slid to the end of the seat and reached for the door handle. “You weren’t excused.”
Mercy sat up and straightened her wrecked hair with as much dignity as she could muster. Then she smelled her armpit and quickly lowered it. “Well, I wish you’d make up your mind,” she said, crossing her arms.
Ida Belle glared at Gertie. “You realize the FBI might be watching her and us too?”
“There’s no FBI at this cemetery- unless they’re permanently retired,” Gertie replied, fluffing her hair with one hand. “If they show up, I think we can manage to stay ahead of them.”
“You need to leave Sinful before the bottom falls out,” Ida Belle told Mercy. “I don’t want to be locked away answering questions about a crime I know nothing about. If you get hauled in, you’d best tell the feds we were just helping a woman down on her luck and had no idea you were breaking the law.”
“I’d be on the next flight home if I didn’t know Grammy would send me back,” Mercy confessed. “I’m supposed to meet Loyal at Francine’s for supper. He might be willing to just take the money and make his own arrangements after that.”
“Do you have plans if he doesn’t show up?”
Mercy nodded. “I’m sure Loyal will be at one of the poker games Gabe told me about.”
“What if Loyal demands the new ID you lost?” Ida Belle wanted to know.
“Then we help her get it back,” Gertie answered firmly. “She needs us, Ida Belle! Besides, we’re accessories until she leaves Sinful.”
“We’ll always be accessories,” Ida Belle reminded her. “But the sooner she’s gone, the less likely we’ll be dragged into her mess.” There was no reply, and Ida Belle flicked her hand at Gertie. “Go ahead. I should have known you planned this all along.”
Gertie shot a grin to Mercy in the rear-view mirror, put the car in gear, and then consulted Ida Belle. “Wal-Mart?”
“Why are you asking me?” she sniffed. “I don’t need to shop.”
Gertie raised her brows at Mercy who said, “I need clothes. Shoes. Valium. Socks. Booze. Underwear.”
“Wal-Mart,” Gertie decided. “Although you won’t get Valium or booze there.”
“I don’t suppose we could stop at a bar first—heh, heh. I’m not really kidding.” Mercy gave them a hopeful look.
Ida Belle reached into her bag and tossed a bottle into the back seat.
“I’m not sick,” Mercy replied after she read the cough syrup label.
“Try it first,” Ida Belle suggested. Then, “Would you like a nipple on the end so you can finish it laying down?”
Mercy shook her head with her lips stuck to the bottle, not caring what it tasted like. It was booze, it was available, and she was desperate. Finally, Ida Belle lunged over the seat and wrestled the bottle away from her. Mercy reached longingly into the empty air and groaned when Gertie pulled into the store parking lot.
“Later. First, get your fanny through the store in record time so we can get back to Sinful and make plans. Right, Gertie?” Ida Belle’s tone held a steely edge and Gertie nodded.
Mercy hiccupped and hopped out, now on autopilot. She shuffled into the store and headed straight to the restroom. Even the Wal-Mart weirdos had stared at her, so she decided a quick tidying of her person was in order before tackling the shopping. She returned to the car a few minutes later.
“I only have one shoe,” she told them and raised her bare foot, now dirty from her trek through the parking lot. “My pants have a hole.” She turned and showed them the split back seam. Cranking her head over her shoulder, she explained, “It’s okay unless I move. See?” She shook her fanny, and her underwear showed when the fabric gapped. “Someone in the store told me.”
Ida Belle leaned over to speak to Mercy standing outside the driver’s window. “So what? Buy new pants.”
“That’s not all!” she said, leaning down to Gertie’s window. “I got my comb stuck when I stopped in the bathroom to tidy up.” She shook her head and pointed to the hunk of plastic nearly buried in the knotty tresses. Her hand flapped and her eyes rolled side to side. “I died and no one let me know. They just sent me to a place worse than hell. How long have you been here?” she asked before she fell down.
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Ida Belle griped as she and Gertie got out. “You go get her things and I’ll stuff her into the car. And be quick, okay? I don’t want to be alone with her when she regains her senses.”
Mercy heard them and saw Gertie reach into her purse for her wallet. “You want a slice of gum?” she offered, holding her bag to the women. “It’s Fruity Juice flavor.” She tipped her head at Gertie. “And it takes up less space than the fruit you carry.”
“Gertie, go!” Ida Belle hollered as she opened the back door and grabbed Mercy by her armpits. She helped Mercy into the car and slammed the door, once Mercy’s limbs were stuffed inside.
Mercy’s head popped up, and she pounded the window. “My sandal.” She pointed to the ruined footwear in the parking lot and lifted her bare foot.
Ida Belle nodded and then kicked the trashed sandal across the parking row. It skidded underneath a van. “Sorry, it’s gone,” she told Mercy as she climbed into the front seat.
“My sandal,” Mercy whispered. “Someone stole that too?”
“A crow took it,” Ida Belle lied as she checked the cough syrup bottle with a frown. “When’s the last time you ate?”
“I had a sweet roll this morning, remember?”
Ida Belle bit back a sharp retort. “Before that.”
“I ate yesterday,” Mercy announced with one eye cracked. She nodded. “Yep. That’s right.”
Gertie, buy crackers and a bottle of water. SLS cough syrup and an empty stomach don’t work for Mercy. Ida Belle sent the text and hoped Gertie wasn’t in the checkout line already. At this rate they’d end up carrying Mercy once they returned to Sinful. It was best to dilute the alcohol in her system as soon as possible.