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  Text copyright ©2015 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Jana DeLeon. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original The Miss Fortune Series remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Jana DeLeon, or their affiliates or licensors.

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  Mutiny on the Bayou

  A Miss Fortune Kindle Worlds Novella

  Written by

  Shari Hearn

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Cover design by Susan Coils at coverkicks.com

  Chapter One

  I hated my weekly phone updates with Harrison, my CIA partner and now, handler. If it were up to me I would have stuck with our heavily encrypted e-mails, which always made his reprimands seem less harsh. Dad thinks you should sell the two antique end tables sounded so much better than hearing him screech, “Stay away from those two old broads” in my ear.

  When I arrived in Sinful five weeks ago, Harrison had advised me to stay under the radar. A price had been put on my head by Ahmad, a Middle East arms dealer. One of the many hazards of being a CIA assassin. But staying under the radar after I met Gertie and Ida Belle? Easier said than done.

  I poured myself a cup of coffee, sat at the kitchen table and spoke into my cell phone, “They have names, Harrison. Ida Belle and Gertie.”

  “Oh, trust me, Redding, I know their names. They keep popping up in my alerts. Seems they can’t stop shooting people.”

  “All in self-defense. And, not to pat myself on the back, but some of those shoots were mine. You’d be proud. And I made sure Sandy-Sue Morrow wasn’t implicated in any of them. So you’re welcome.”

  Sandy-Sue Morrow was the woman I was pretending to be. CIA Director Morrow’s niece. A former beauty-queen, now librarian, visiting Sinful to catalog the possessions of her late, great-aunt Marge. So far I hadn’t gotten around to listing all Marge’s china and silver, but I did find her secret cache of weapons and form a bond with her closest friends, Ida Belle and Gertie. Together we’d helped solve a mystery or two.

  Or three or four. Not exactly lying low.

  “What’s the status on the search for our boy?” I asked, referring to Ahmad.

  “Stalled. But we think we’ll still be able to get you out of Sinful by the end of summer.”

  I hesitated a beat. When I first set foot in Sinful I couldn’t wait to get out. Now… It was complicated. “Uh… Good.”

  The momentary silence on the other end of the line told me Harrison had caught my hesitation. “Good? That’s it?” He sighed into the receiver. “You’re still associating with them, aren’t you? You’re getting too close to these people, Redding. Sinful’s not your permanent home.” Another moment of silence. “Oh, God, you’re not dating anyone there, are you?”

  Frankly, I was surprised it had taken him this long to ask. Which meant I’d become way too solitary in my old life. Of course he wouldn’t think about me dating anyone. I was married to the CIA.

  “I might have had a date or two with Carter.”

  Harrison choked on his coffee. After a few seconds of coughing, he came back on the line. “The deputy? Inventory your fake aunt’s things, Redding. That’s all you were supposed to do.”

  Someone banged on my front door.

  “Fortune! Are you home?” It was Ida Belle. She sounded frantic.

  I sprang from my chair and rushed to the front door, still holding the phone to my ear.

  “Did you hear me?” Harrison asked.

  “Yeah, yeah. Inventory things. Heard ya.”

  I opened the door and Ida Belle rushed inside. “Didn’t you get my text?”

  “I’ve been on the phone with… you know.” I shrugged. Ida Belle and Gertie knew about Harrison. They’d even listened in on one of my conversations with him.

  “Well tell him goodbye. Gertie’s having it out with Celia at City Hall.”

  “Redding!” Harrison shouted into the phone. “Is that one of the old ladies? Get rid of her.”

  I tapped my fingernail on the phone. “What?” I shouted into the phone. “You’re breaking up.”

  “I hear an old lady.”

  “It’s the signal. Makes me sound like an old lady. Must be a solar storm or something.”

  Ida Belle grabbed my phone and spoke into it. “Hi. This is Old Lady Number One—Ida Belle. Fortune can’t play right now. She has to help save Old Lady Number Two’s butt. Bye.” She handed back my phone.

  “You hung up on the CIA.”

  “So? They hung up on me once. We’re even.”

  I stared at her, lifting an eyebrow.

  “From my war days. It’s still classified. I’ll tell you over some cough syrup sometime.” Ida Belle grabbed my arm. “Come on, Gertie’s madder than I’ve ever seen her. I’m afraid she’s going to do something really stupid.”

  While driving to City Hall, Ida Belle filled me in on Gertie and Celia’s latest row. As acting mayor, Celia had become quite the evil dictator, taking it upon herself to comb through archaic laws on the books to be used against women in the Sinful Ladies Society. Apparently there still existed a law in Sinful that outlawed playing pinball on Sundays. So when Celia discovered that for the past year Sinful Ladies Society member Donna Bikle’s monthly Sunday supper included a few rounds on her vintage collection of pinball machines, she tabulated the fines and presented Donna with a bill for $8,738.

  “Nobody ever paid attention to that stupid law,” Ida Belle said as we turned onto Main Street and headed toward City Hall. “It was meant as a no-gambling-on-Sunday law. Donna and her friends never gambled; they just played. Now Donna’s going to have to sell her late husband’s vintage Mustang to get the money. I told Donna, ‘tear up the bill and make Celia take you to court to get it from you.’ No jury in Sinful would make her pay. No judge would either. Besides, you, Gertie and I just need to dig up some fresh dirt on Celia to make sure it never even goes to trial. But you know how much Gertie hates Celia. This just sent her over the edge.”

  I pulled my Jeep into a parking space in front of City Hall.

  “Oh, hell, not good,” Ida Belle said, looking out the window.

  I followed her gaze to the flagpole, where Gertie dangled a few feet above the ground, flailing her arms and screaming at Celia, who stood just out of Gertie’s reach. Celia was clutching a bunched-up ball of white fabric.

  “How did that happen?”

  “You have to ask?”

  Carter’s truck pulled into the space next to ours. He glanced over at us and shook his head, got out of his truck and took off running toward the flagpole. Ida Belle and I followed close behind. A crowd had formed, some laughing, some jeering at Celia, who wasn’t the most popular person in town.

  “I want her arrested!” Celia yelled at Carter as the three of us reached the flagpole.

  Gertie lifted her head and glared at Carter. “If anyone should be arrested it’s that old prune!”

  “She tried to run this up the flagpole,” Celia said. She unfurled a white fabric flag displaying a blown-up photo of herself sprawled on the ground with her dress above her head, flashing her granny panties. I remembered the photo well. Ida Belle had snapped it about a week ago at the July Fourth festival after Celia fell and landed butt-up on the ground. The
word “MUTINY,” in thick lettering, dominated the space above the photo. Below it screamed the words, “THROW HER BUTT OUT!”

  “Damn fool had her purse wrapped around her and got it hooked instead,” Celia said. She glowered at Gertie. “Serves you right!” Then shot a triumphant look at Carter. “And the city council balked at buying the new easy-rise flagpole. Worth every penny if you ask me.”

  “Let’s get her down,” Ida Belle whispered.

  We moved toward Gertie.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Celia barked. “She can stay there all day as far as I’m concerned.”

  Ida Belle drew her face within inches of Celia’s. “We’re getting her down. If I were you I wouldn’t try to stop us.”

  “Did you hear that?” Celia asked Carter. “Sounded like a threat to me.”

  “Now, Celia…” Carter said.

  “Mayor Arceneaux,” Celia said, clenching her jaw.

  “Mayor,” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s probably against the law to let a citizen dangle from the flagpole.”

  “Good. Then arrest her. She’s the one who got herself up there.”

  Gertie lifted her head again. “I’m the one who hooked myself by accident. She’s the one who did the hoisting.”

  “Well, I had to keep her here until law arrived.”

  Ida Belle disengaged Gertie from the halyard while I supported her body and eased her to a standing position.

  “Don’t say a word,” Ida Belle whispered.

  “Bitch!” Gertie screamed at Celia.

  “Especially that one,” Ida Belle said, raising her eyebrows.

  “Good one, Gertie!” an elderly man walking his dog shouted from the sidewalk. He stopped and joined the others watching the confrontation.

  Celia whipped around to Carter, jabbing her finger at him. “You can add ‘swearing on government property,’ to her growing list of charges.”

  Gertie folded her arms, her face getting redder by the second. “Embrasse moi tchew, you dried-out old turd.”

  Celia gasped. Her bulging eyes resembled one of those cartoon characters with the eyeballs flying out of their sockets. I didn’t speak Cajun, but I knew enough French to know Gertie had asked Celia to kiss one of her body parts. The ‘dried-out old turd’ part was self-explanatory.

  Carter placed his hand on Gertie’s shoulder. “Okay, Gertie, why don’t you calm down.”

  “She’s going to make poor old Donna sell her husband’s prized Mustang.”

  “Donna should have obeyed the law.” Celia held up Gertie’s homemade flag. “Gertie’s calling for a mutiny. There must be some law against that.”

  “You’re harassing the women of the Sinful Ladies Society. You need to be removed. Now, give me back my flag.” Gertie reached for the flag, but Celia slapped her hands away.

  Ida Belle stepped in. “Gertie, why don’t you, Fortune and I go to Francine’s and we can talk this over.” She cast her piercing eyes to Celia. “We have other ways we can resolve this issue.”

  “That sounds like another threat,” Celia said.

  “Ladies, please…” Carter pleaded.

  “No, that wasn’t a threat,” Gertie said. She began swinging her enormous purse like a pendulum. Slowly at first, then increasing the swing. “But this is.” Gertie stepped around Ida Belle and swung her megapurse at Celia. Carter launched his body between them, Gertie’s purse connecting with his upper torso, knocking him to the ground.

  “Oops,” Gertie said.

  Celia shook her head. “Incompetent boob.”

  “That does it,” I said to Celia as Carter sprang up from the ground and dusted himself off. “You are so out of line, lady.”

  “Oh, finally, she speaks.” Celia jabbed her bony finger in my face. “The harbinger of all our troubles here in Sinful. Aren’t you ready to leave our lovely town yet? Or do you want to see it destroyed first?”

  I was so tired of being blamed for everything that happened here. Not surprising, then, that I ignored Carter’s pleading eyes and shake of his head, allowing every curse word I’d ever heard, read or dreamt about to suddenly erupt from my mouth. Today would be yet another day I failed to keep a low profile in Sinful.

  * * * * *

  An hour later Gertie and I sat in Carter’s office, waiting for him to get off the phone with Judge Annette Renaud. This wasn’t good, especially if it involved a hearing before a judge and having my fingerprints taken or being sworn in as Sandy-Sue Morrow. Though Harrison and Director Morrow could make a count of perjury go away, and had a contingency plan for my fingerprints, this might be the final straw for Director Morrow, forcing him to move me to another location. The thought turned my stomach.

  “Lunch at Francine’s when we’re done here?” Gertie asked, grinning at me as if the events of this morning hadn’t taken place.

  I glared at her.

  “What crawled inside your butt?” she asked.

  “You did. I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t decided to flip out and run yourself up the flagpole.”

  “She’s the one who hoisted me. Don’t blame me for your hissy, although I have to admit, you got creative with your choice of cuss words. I’ll have to look some of those dandies up on the internet when I get home.”

  “We won’t be going home. Celia’s demanding jail time.”

  Gertie waved me off. “This is Sinful. Big talk and no action.”

  I leaned into her and whispered, “I wish you’d listened to Ida Belle. We could have dug up some dirt on Celia and made her forgive the fine against Donna.”

  “Oh, yes, because Ida Belle’s always right and I’m always wrong.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Carter said goodbye to the judge and hung up. “Well, ladies, there will be no jail time.”

  Gertie stood and held out her hand to high-five me. “This time, I was right.”

  “Not so fast.” His gaze bore into me. “Sandy-Sue Morrow,” he said, using my fake given name. He pulled his gaze toward Gertie, “Gertrude Hebert… in lieu of being charged with defacing public property and swearing at an elected official, you two are hereby sentenced to undergo an intensive three-day anger management training.”

  Chapter Two

  “What the hell?” Gertie said. “That’s stupid. I do not have an anger problem.” She pounded her fist on his desk. “I have a Celia problem.”

  “This sucks,” I said. “Celia provoked me.”

  Carter held up his hands. “Not my decision. You either accept anger management training or I have to arrest you and you’ll serve twice as many days in jail.”

  “Unbelievable,” Gertie hissed.

  Carter cleared his throat. There was more. “Uh… now this part you may not like.”

  Gertie folded her arms. “We have to pay for it, don’t we?”

  Carter nodded. “A hundred and fifty a day. The state kicks in an extra hundred.”

  I joined Gertie, hopping up from my chair. “You have to be kidding. We have to pay four hundred and fifty dollars? Celia provoked me.”

  “She hiked me up a flagpole.”

  “And I would have let you both go with a warning not to get so hotheaded,” Carter said. “Look, Celia called the judge and my hands are tied. Until our whole mayor situation is straightened out, we have to learn how to live with her.” Carter glanced at his watch. “There’s an all-women’s, three-day intensive starting this afternoon at Camp Happy Frog about a hundred miles from here along the bayou. The camp’s shuttle will pick you up in front of City Hall in two hours.”

  “Two hours?”

  “Did I tell you how much this sucks?”

  “Yes you did, Fortune. In about fifty different colorful ways this morning. Some of those I think were even in a foreign language. Oh, and I want you to take me seriously on this point. No weapons.”

  Gertie drew in a deep breath and blew it out. “By ‘no weapons,’ you mean…”

  “Guns, Gertie. And knives. And those Chinese throwing stars you ca
rry in your purse.”

  “What? I’ll have you know those are the Stars of Bethlehem tree toppers I use at Christmas. I honor the newborn King with those stars.”

  “Hm-hm. Well those Stars of Bethlehem have some mighty razor-sharp edges. Don’t insult my intelligence. Leave them home. If you’re caught with them, you can be jailed for contempt of court. Do you want to know how many days you could spend in jail then?” He turned to me. “You know, maybe this could be a turning point for you, Fortune. Maybe now you’ll see Gertie and Ida Belle might not be your ideal playdates.”

  * * * * *

  I arrived at the shuttle stop in front of City Hall with a few minutes to spare, a backpack slung over my shoulder and holding a stuffed duffel bag. Carter sat on a bench under an oak tree next to the stone steps leading into the building, watching me as I approached. He patted the space next to him.

  “What? You’re here to make sure we get on the bus?”

  His sexy lips upturned slightly. “I wanted to see you before you left.”

  “You saw me.” I turned and headed back to the sidewalk.

  “Aww, come on.” He stood and strode over. “I had to do this. The judge ordered it.”

  Soon his arm draped around my shoulder, the faint scent of his cologne teasing my nostrils. Don’t do it, Fortune. Don’t give in to his annoying sexiness.

  “I’m going to miss you,” he whispered into my ear, the ear now betraying me and sending goosebumps along my arm and to places I’d specifically ordered the goosebumps to avoid. I had to imagine myself on a shooting range, plugging a hundred rounds into Ahmad in order not to drop my duffel bag and begin making out with him.

  “You don’t have to enjoy it so much,” I said.

  He removed his arm. “I’m not enjoying it. In fact, I just said I’m going to miss you.”

  “Uh huh, and earlier you said maybe it was a good thing. That Ida Belle and Gertie weren’t ideal playdates.”

  “They’re not. Look, you’ve only been here five weeks. I’ve had a lifetime with those two, not to mention Gertie was my teacher way back when. They’ve done good things for this town and the women in it, I’ll give you that. But sometimes they act as if they’re above the law. Who knows what all they’ve done they could be arrested for.”