Table Of Content
Lethal Bayou Beauty (Miss Fortune
Mystery #2)
Copyright 2013 by Jana DeLeon
Published by Jana DeLeon
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incidents are either the product of the
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Chapter One
I was right in the middle of a dream
where I was Lara Croft, but not as girlie,
when my cell phone rang. I sprang out of
bed, grabbed my nine, and hit the floor in
a firing stance, facing the bedroom door.
Then I remembered I was hiding out in
Sinful, Louisiana, and not on a CIA
mission in the Middle East. I lay my nine
back on the nightstand and reached for my
cell phone.
Seven a.m.
I looked down at the display and saw it
was Gertie, one of the seemingly quiet and
unassuming seniors I'd met the day I
arrived in the tiny bayou town. I’d thought
when I came to Louisiana to hide from the
arms dealer who had placed a price on my
head that my biggest fear was being bored
to death. Instead, the merry seniors and I
had been chased by police, been stalked
by a killer, killed the stalker, and solved a
five-year-old murder.
And I'd only been in town five days.
“We have an emergency,” Gertie said
as soon as I answered. “Ida Belle and I
are on our way over.”
She disconnected the call before I
could ask for any details, and I rushed into
the bathroom to wash my face and throw
on clothes. As I pulled on jeans and a T-
shirt, I hoped nothing had happened to
implicate Marie in her husband's murder.
I'd thought she was safe after everything
that had gone down the day before, but
things in Sinful, Louisiana, had a way of
shifting beneath you.
I ran downstairs at the same time
Gertie's ancient Cadillac pulled up in my
driveway. I unlocked and opened the
door, then hurried into the kitchen to put
on coffee. Conversations with Gertie and
Ida Belle weren't good without something
to drink. Given the strain in Gertie's
voice, I thought whiskey might be a better
option, but as it was only seven a.m. it
was probably too early for good manners
to take me straight to the bottle.
But I could always play that one by ear.
Ida Belle, the leader of the Sinful
Ladies Society—a group referred to by
Sinful citizens as The Geritol Mafia—was
the first to enter the kitchen, and she did
not look happy. But then, if I'd had that
mass of rollers in my hair and had been
prompted out of my house in my bathrobe,
I probably wouldn't have looked happy
either. Gertie trailed behind, her
expression one of exasperation and worry.
I figured the exasperation was due to
listening to Ida Belle complain the entire
two-block drive to my house.
Ida Belle glanced at the empty
coffeepot and sighed, then slumped into a
chair at the breakfast table.
“Sorry,” I apologized for the coffee
situation. “I was still sleeping when
Gertie called.”
Ida Belle waved a hand in dismissal.
“Vampires were still sleeping when
Gertie called. Damn woman is always
awake at indecent hours.”
“If you’d go to sleep at a normal time
like other women your age,” Gertie said,
“you wouldn’t have so much trouble
getting up.”
“I was busy waxing my car,” Ida Belle
grumbled.
Gertie rolled her eyes. “You and that
car. I thought you said you were going to
address your overly protective issues
concerning that car.”
I reached for coffee mugs. By the time
they finished this age-old argument, the
coffee should be ready. And I wasn’t
about to step into the middle of that fight. I
had personal feelings about Ida Belle’s
car, and none of them were polite enough
for seven a.m.
“For your information,” Ida Belle said,
“I was waxing it so that I can sell it.”
I froze and stared. For the first time
since I’d met her, Gertie ran out of words.
“Stop staring at me like I’ve lost my
mind,” Ida Belle said. “You two are the
ones who accused me of having an
unhealthy relationship with my car. This is
all your fault, really.”
I remained still and silent. Ida Belle
was a crack shot and I couldn’t be certain
she wasn’t packing, even in a bathrobe.
“Well,” Gertie said, and wisely pushed
her chair back an inch from Ida Belle’s. “I
guess I better get on with the business at
hand then.”
Change the subject. Good choice.
“The GWs met this morning at the crack
of dawn,” Gertie said.
I poured three cups of coffee and
passed them to Gertie. “The who?”
“The GWs,” Gertie said.
I slid into my chair and took a sip of
coffee. “Do I even want to know what a
GW is?”
“Probably not,” Ida Belle said.
“The GWs are a local women’s group,”
Gertie said.
“Doesn’t Sinful already have enough
trouble with the Sinful Ladies Society?” I
asked. The SLS, led by Ida Belle, had
been covertly running the town since the
sixties.
“My society is not trouble,” Ida Belle
said. “We keep things running smoothly.
But some of the women had issues with
our admission requirements and decided
to form their own club.”
“Ah.” I was starting to get the picture.
Only old maids and women who’d been
widowed for over five years could apply
for membership in the SLS. They had a
