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APRIL, 1970 – SINFUL Cuts Hair Salon
Beatrice Hebert flipped through a McCall’s magazine while waiting for her favorite stylist, Kitty, to wrap up with another customer. After three pages of hippie styles that utterly turned her stomach, she spotted it. The perfect bangs for her face. She could always count on McCall’s to feature a cut she’d like. She reached over to her friend Acadia Boudreaux, seated in the chair next to her and engrossed in the latest edition of Sinful Times, and tapped her on the shoulder.
“I think I found the perfect hairdo. And there’s also one I think would look good on you.”
Acadia held up a finger. “Just a sec. I’m almost finished with this article about Mavis Allair setting her bra on fire.”
“Her bra?” Beatrice could feel her face grimacing in disgust. “Don’t tell me she’s one of those women liberators.”
Acadia laughed and looked up at Beatrice. “That’s what she wanted Sheriff Lee to think. Turns out she was stalling so her husband could break down the still behind their house.”
Beatrice sighed in relief. “Well, thank the Lord. I don’t think Sinful’s ready for a bra-burning woman.”
A gal seated in the chair across from them spoke. “I burned my bra once.”
The woman was ten years older than they were, putting her in her midsixties. Curly gray hair and a bright-yellow dress that Beatrice could swear she’d seen before. The gal, however, Beatrice didn’t recognize. She’d been sitting there quietly knitting since Acadia and Beatrice arrived together fifteen minutes ago.
“Problem was, I was wearin’ it at the time.” The gal laughed, causing her crow’s feet to deepen. “It was Fourth of July and our church was setting off fireworks. A burning ember landed down my blouse and damn near turned my 18-hour Playtex bra into a tiki torch. Luckily the preacher was also a volunteer fireman.” She laughed so hard she snorted.
“I don’t believe I’ve seen you around town,” Beatrice said.
“Oh, where are my manners? I’m Gabby Esther Riggs.” She looked back down at her knitting. “And you’re right, I’m new around here.”
Acadia folded her Sinful Times and glanced at Beatrice before turning her attention to the new gal. Someone new in town they didn’t know the skinny on? Acadia could never let that stand. “Visiting someone, or will you be moving to Sinful?”
Gabby shrugged and looked up at them. “I’m not sure yet. At the moment I’m visiting. My friend is expecting her daughters to arrive home in a couple of days, so she’s having her hair styled. She even had her stylist give my hair a new look.” She swept her head back, showing off her curls.
“Well, isn’t that a coincidence,” Beatrice said. “We’re expecting our daughters to arrive home in two days. Along with a friend of theirs whose mother passed when she was little.”
“They’re coming home from the Vietnam war,” Acadia said. “They’ve been over there for several years now, helping our boys out.”
“But now all three of them are coming home to get married and start families,” Beatrice added.
Gabby’s brows shot up. “Well, congratulations! When are the weddings?”
Acadia tossed Beatrice a sly look. “As soon as we can fix them up.” The two shared a knowing giggle before Acadia continued. “For my daughter and her friend, I’ve chosen twins. Two lovely boys who drive for the Wienerfleet. Though to be honest, my daughter’s friend is already spoken for by a boy named Walter.”
Gabby’s eyes lit up. “Did I hear you say, the Wienerfleet, as in, the Wienermobile?”
Acadia nodded. “That’s the one. And those boys just don’t drive across Louisiana, but Mississippi and Alabama as well.” She opened her purse and pulled out a wiener-shaped whistle and blew into it. “They’re coming to dinner the night the girls arrive home. Of course, I’m grilling hot dogs.”
“I have a wonderful man picked out for my daughter, too,” Beatrice said. “He lives in Lake Charles but often visits his mother here in Sinful. I’m inviting him to dinner the night my Gertie arrives home as well.”
Gabby’s eyebrows shot up again. “Your daughter’s name is Gertie? Isn’t that funny. That’s also the name of one of my friend’s daughters. The other two are Marge and Ida Belle.”
Beatrice could feel the smile on her face turning into a frown as Acadia buried her face in her hands and groaned.
“Who is your friend?” Beatrice asked, though she already knew from Acadia’s reaction. Acadia’s sister-in-law Louanne had been calling those three her girls ever since they were toddlers, something that never sat well with any of the mothers.
Gabby pulled her hands away from her knitting and raised both her arms to point to a chair in the back of the salon, where Louanne Boudreaux was looking at the back of her hair with a handheld mirror. Gabby’s sleeves slid a few inches along her arm, revealing both hands cuffed together at the wrists.
“Are those handcuffs?” Acadia asked.
“Oops, you probably weren’t supposed to see those,” Gabby said, resting her hands back in her lap. “Now, don’t you two worry. I’m not from a chain gang or anything. These are just a little reminder that the state of Louisiana didn’t like me skipping out on my trial.”
“What were you on trial for?” Beatrice asked.
“Taking a few swings of an axe to my husband’s best pants.”
Acadia rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t seem like such a crime.”
Gabby tossed them a sly smile. “Well, he was in ‘em at the time.”
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LOUANNE BOUDREAUX STARED at her new chin-length haircut in the salon mirror and smiled. Fifty-one and still no gray. God bless her mother’s hair genes.
“It’s lovely,” Louanne said, “but am I mistaken or does Bonnie Cotton also have this cut?”
Her hairstylist, Kitty, shook her head. “From the back they look alike, but yours is more modern in the front. It’s called an updo. I figured since you look like Audrey Hepburn, you oughta have her haircut, too.”
Louanne snickered at that. “I have a good ten years on Audrey Hepburn.”
“Well, this is what she’s going to look like in ten years.” Kitty handed her a small mirror. “Take a look at the part on the right side. You’ll be the envy of Sinful.”
Louanne held it above the left side of her head so she could see her reflection in the big mirror. It was then she noticed her sister-in-law Acadia sitting alongside Beatrice Hebert at the front of the salon, casting angry glances her way. She moved the mirror slightly to include Gabby.
“Uh-oh. Trouble,” Louanne said. “The Baptist Mafia.”
Kitty glanced over at the waiting area. “They probably got a gander at the handcuffs on that gal you brought in.” She pulled in a breath and continued, “Not that I don’t appreciate the extra business, but some folks may not take kindly to your bringing your... ‘clients’ into town.”
Louanne lowered the mirror. “Technically, Gabby is my prisoner, not my client. My client is a bail bondsman from West Feliciana Parish.”
Kitty shook her head. “I never understood why you decided to open a bounty hunter business, Louanne. Honestly, you already own the photo store, and you’re putting together a photography book. Isn’t that enough?”
Louanne shook her head. “You know I don’t like to stand still for long.”
“Well, you best go take your prisoner out of here before Beatrice and Acadia have a royal conniption and call the sheriff.”
Louanne paid Kitty, tipping her generously, and walked toward the front of the salon, hoping she could stop her sister-in-law’s conniption before it began, something she’d had lots of experience with over the years. Acadia was the manager of Louanne’s photography store, Sinful Photo, and a good one at that, but outside of the store, their relationship could be described as chilly at best. Acadia and her circle had never warmed to Louanne, not when she was an outspoken girl growing up in Sinful, and definitely not when she returned from World War II with her “worldly beliefs.” Becoming a bounty hunter had just further deepened their divide. A good Baptist woman just doesn’t do those things.
Louanne approached the trio. “Why Acadia and Beatrice. How lovely to see you here.” Louanne pointed toward the magazine. “Ah, the McCall’s. Good choice. That issue is filled with new, exciting styles.”
Acadia stood. “Louanne.” Louanne could have sworn the temperature of the salon just took a nosedive. “Your friend here was telling us about how she murdered her husband.”
“Attempted murder,” Gabby said as she gathered her yarn and knitting supplies and placed them in a canvas bag. “And I wasn’t trying to kill him. I was trying to show him I meant business. Not my fault the axe slipped and whacked a slice of his buttocks off. He should consider himself lucky I didn’t get a whack at his crown jewels.”
Beatrice gasped.
Gabby stood. “Oh, honey, I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. The surgeons fixed his bottom up just fine, although he does sit a little crooked now.”
Louanne looked at Gabby. “Perhaps we should go.”
“You’re the boss,” Gabby said.
Louanne ushered Gabby to the door.
“And is that Mama Boudreaux’s dress she’s wearing?” Acadia asked, stopping Louanne.
Louanne turned and smiled. “In fact, it is my mama’s dress. But it’s her least favorite. I didn’t think she’d mind.” Louanne opened the door.
“I made your mother that dress,” Acadia said as Louanne pushed Gabby through the door. “And another thing. Please stop confusing people by calling Marge, Gertie and Ida Belle ‘your girls.’”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” Louanne said as she slipped through the door and closed it behind her.
“Those two gals are a bit tightly wound,” Gabby said as the two walked toward Louanne’s Mustang convertible parked in front of Sinful Cuts.
“Gabby, I told you to keep your handcuffs hidden and not tell anyone you’re my prisoner,” Louanne said as she unlocked the passenger door of her Mustang. “Information like how you chopped off your husband’s butt tends to rattle some people. Especially those two ladies.”
Gabby slid into the right bucket seat. “Point taken. So if Marge, Gertie and Ida Belle aren’t your daughters, who are they?”
Louanne shut the car door and smiled. “They’re the ones who are about to turn this town upside down.”