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MARY-ALICE ARRIVED at Fortune’s house to find Fortune and Gertie taking turns punching a heavy bag in the backyard.
“Mary-Alice!” Fortune exclaimed. “Back so soon! We were just...doing bone density building exercises.”
“So important at our age,” Gertie added as she began to unwind the tape protecting her hands. She had changed out of her aerials costume and was wearing a silver unitard. “So what did the Wicked Witch of the South have to say for herself?”
“Ida Belle will be here in a few minutes,” Fortune said. “Let’s wait until she gets here to debrief. We all need to be on the same page. I have Gertie’s meatloaf in the oven. You two go on inside and I’ll clean up out here.”
“My, the meatloaf smells delicious,” Mary-Alice remarked as she folded paper towels into neat triangles. Fortune, bless her heart, didn’t have a proper cloth napkin to her name.
“Half a bottle of ketchup, a scoop of barbecue sauce, and a whole chopped onion,” Gertie said proudly as she lifted the pan out of the oven. “And I fry up the onion first to caramelize it.”
Mary-Alice was dying to talk about her visit to Celia, and she sensed that Gertie was eager to hear about it. But Fortune had told them to hold off.
“Miss Gertie, however do you find the time and motivation to exercise?” Mary-Alice asked. “Aerials, boxing, why, it’s all I can do to get my daily walk in, and that usually ends up with me at Francine’s Diner.”
“I’m not particularly fond of exercise,” Gertie said frankly. “If it were up to me I’d sit on my butt all day and watch reruns of Justified. But I feel like I have to keep up Ida Belle and Fortune.”
“For such a skinny little thing, Miss Fortune does throw a powerful punch,” Mary-Alice observed.
“It’s all that pent-up aggression from her beauty pageant days,” Gertie said. “She had to spend her teenage years smiling and pretending not to have opinions. Sounds almost as bad as being married. Oh, here’s Ida Belle and Fortune.”
Ida Belle had brushed her snowy hair into smooth waves and wore a fresh blue oxford shirt. She was a contrast to Gertie, still in her sweaty silver unitard, her cottony white hair sticking out in every direction.
Fortune, who had been working out right along with Gertie, didn’t look like she’d even broken a sweat.
The four women sat down to dinner and Mary-Alice told them all about that afternoon’s visit to Celia.
“So she changed her story and now she’s blaming you?” Fortune asked. “Mary-Alice, I am so sorry. If I had any idea this was going to blow back on you...”
“Why, Miss Fortune, there’s no need at all to apologize. I knew the risk going in.” Mary-Alice felt a little bit like a hero in a spy novel as she said it.
“And you say she looked like she’d really been beat up?” Gertie asked.
“I still say she’s faking,” Ida Belle insisted. “You can gin up some pretty realistic-looking cuts and bruises with makeup and putty.”
“Realistic enough to fool a bunch of doctors and nurses?” Fortune asked. “Or do you think she bribed someone to keep her there?”
Mary-Alice took a sip of tea and swallowed before she spoke.
“Now, I’m no medical expert, of course, but Celia certainly looked injured to me. And it wasn’t just skin-deep. She was having a little trouble talking. She needed to pause and gather her strength before she spoke.”
“Do you think she was acting?” Fortune asked.
“Celia can’t act her way out of a paper bag,” Ida Belle said. “Gertie, remember when Old Mayor Fontleroy put on that production of Streetcar, and Celia tried out for Blanche DuBois?”
“Please.” Gertie wrinkled her nose. “Some of us are trying to eat.”
“Could she have hurt herself on purpose?” Fortune asked. “Maybe threw herself down a flight of stairs or something?”
“If we can find out who hurt Celia, we can save Mary-Alice,” Gertie said.
“Me?” Mary-Alice exclaimed. “Oh, I don’t believe Celia meant what she said. She was feeling poorly and didn’t like my questions.”
“Does Celia really know the layout of your house?”
“Why, yes, I’ve had her over to visit. I mean, I had no reason to think anything bad would come of it.”
“So she could fabricate a credible kidnapping complaint against you,” Ida Belle said.
“Now, I’m not certain Celia really means to follow through on that,” Mary-Alice said lightly. “She was only trying to get me out of her room. You don’t believe she would...” Mary-Alice trailed off as she looked around the table.
“Oh dear.” Mary-Alice took another sip of tea to collect her thoughts. “She was willing to lie to the sheriff to get Fortune in trouble. And I convinced her it wouldn’t work. Now she’s going to do the same thing to me.”
“Should we tell Carter?” Gertie asked.
“Yes.” Fortune pulled out her phone and began to dial. “We have nothing to hide. Carter, it’s me. No, I haven’t changed my mind about the search warrant. Never mind about that. Listen. Mary-Alice Arceneaux has something to tell you.”