Tabasco Fiasco: Miss Fortune World: Hair Extensions and Homicide, #2

By Frankie Bow

I found cooking to be something of a mystery. Fortunately, I had a strong stomach and what a fellow agent once enviously described as "taste buds of steel."

Deputy Sheriff Carter LeBlanc has been seen around Sinful with a beautiful, blonde stranger. But Fortune is fine with it, really. It's not like she and Carter had a future together or anything. To show there are no hard feelings, Fortune hosts a dinner party for Carter and his new associate, and even volunteers to cook. But when she tries her hand at a spicy gumbo, things start to heat up for real. As bodies pile up, Fortune suspects that she's the real target--and only Swamp Team Three can save the day.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J&R Fan Fiction
• Release date: Aug 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386718130

Frankie Bow

Frankie Bow teaches at a public university and writes two mystery series: The Professor Molly Mysteries, and licensed works in the Miss Fortune World. Unlike Professor Molly, Frankie is blessed with delightful students, sane colleagues, and a perfectly nice office chair. She thinks if life can’t be fair, at least it can be entertaining. From the author: Thank you for taking the time to read this book. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends and posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated. Sign up for Island Confidential, Frankie's mystery newsletter, at subscribepage.com/ProfessorMolly

Book preview

Chapter One

NICE T-SHIRT, GERTIE. I helped her into the front seat of the Jeep. "Bound for Love. The daring erotic masterpiece by Lexi Tingle. So how did you like your first romance conference?"

Oh, I had a blast! Gertie exclaimed. And I’m going to wear this shirt to church next Sunday. Under my sweater. Then when we all start over to Francine’s for lunch I’ll whip the sweater off and give the Catholics an eyeful of the shirtless guy on the back.

Good thinking, Gertie, Ida Belle chuckled. Gertie turned around and she and Ida Belle high-fived.

Right? Celia Arceneaux and her Catholic crew are gonna be so stunned I bet they’ll trip over each other and we’ll get there first. All the banana pudding will be ours!

I buckled in, started the engine, and shifted into reverse. I don’t like hotel parking garages. Escape routes are limited. There's no phone reception, which means you can't call for help in case of an ambush. But in the middle of New Orleans’ French Quarter, there aren’t a lot of parking options.

So is your new friend going to come visit Sinful, Gertie? I asked. Or was this just a conference fling?

Sinful’s awfully far for him to travel, Gertie said. And you know I can’t get too serious about anyone. I don’t want to lose my place in the Sinful Ladies’ Society.

I was worried we were gonna lose you there for a minute, Ida Belle added.

The Sinful Ladies’ Society, of which Ida Belle and Gertie are the only surviving founders, has strict membership requirements. You must be a woman of at least forty years of age. You must be an old maid, or if widowed, at least ten years must have passed since your husband’s demise.

The SLS believes that the close proximity of men clouds logical thinking. I have to admit, if my own experience is any guide, they’re not wrong.

But I will keep up with the online writing course, Gertie said. So we'll stay in touch that way. We’ll be pen pals. He's an awfully sweet man.

And here I thought you’d left your heart in Beaumont, Ida Belle teased.

Beaumont? I asked.

I believe it's possible to love more than one man, Gertie replied. "In fact, that's a major theme of Passion's Promise."

What’s in Beaumont? I repeated.

Beaumont’s across the Texas border, was Ida Belle’s non-answer.

Fortune, Gertie asked, "do you mind getting the large-print version of Passion’s promise? That’s what all the Sinful Ladies Society asked for, so I ordered a box of 24."

Anything is fine. I can’t wait to read it, Gertie.

That was me being tactful. To be honest, I’m not much of a romance reader. Nonfiction is more my thing. Give me a nice big book on Celtic weaponry or Roman military disasters, and I'm good for a whole afternoon.

I backed out of the narrow parking space and steered the Jeep around the twists and turns of the parking garage, unconsciously ducking my head to stay clear of the low concrete ceiling. I fought off a twinge of claustrophobia. I’d seen what an improvised explosive device can do to a structure like this.

That life was half a world away, I reminded myself. As far as anyone could tell, I was a law-abiding resident of the tiny bayou town of Sinful, Louisiana, living a normal life. More or less.

We made it to the parking booth without the ceiling crashing down on our heads. I handed over the validated parking ticket and enough cash to cover the expense. The attendant painstakingly counted out the correct change, leaving me to drum my fingers on the steering wheel. As the gate arm swung up I gunned the engine and pulled up to wait for a break in the thick morning traffic on Canal Street.

It’ll be nice to get home, I said. Although I’m not looking forward to a two-hour drive.

Ida Belle smacked her forehead. We have to make a stop. I want to get something for Marie. And Justin asked me to pick up some dried tabasco peppers.

We don’t need to stop and buy extra gifts, Gertie said. I’m just going to give people the books we got from the conference. 

What about Pastor Don? Ida Belle challenged her. You can’t give a smutty romance book with a half- naked man on it to Pastor Don. And I’m not sure all of the Sinful Ladies would appreciate it either.

Oh dear, Gertie sighed. I suppose you’re right.

We’re buying presents now? I said. Well, if Ida Belle’s buying something for her roommate then I need to get something for Ally. I can’t be the only one to come back empty-handed.

Let's just stop somewhere quick on the way out of town, Ida Belle said.

If anyone lets me in. I gripped the steering wheel impatiently. Come on, people. We don’t want to spend all day in a parking garage.

I have to admit, Gertie said, I wasn’t sure about you taking in a lodger, Ida Belle. But Justin seems like a really nice boy. I mean, now that he's adjusted a little.

Oh, he’s a perfect housemate. Grad students are the best. He’s either in his room studying, over at Fortune’s place visiting Ally, or out in the field counting swamp rat poops or whatever he does. And five hundred bucks a month is five hundred bucks a month.

What's he going to use the peppers for? I asked.

He wants to make something called chili pepper water. He says it’s a Hawaiian specialty but it sounds to me like plain old pepper sauce. Peppers in vinegar, a little bit of garlic, some black pepper.

You’re making me hungry. I spotted a break in traffic and peeled out onto Canal Street. It was broad and busy, with several lanes in each direction, lined with glittering high-rise buildings and shops. A row of palms ran down the center divider. It looked more like my idea of Los Angeles than New Orleans.

So where should we stop? I asked.

How about the spice and tea shop? Gertie tapped on her phone to access her GPS app. Fortune, go right on Royal Street.

I can’t, I said. It’s one way.

Wait, don’t turn there. It’s a one-way street.

That’s what I just said.

Keep going, then turn right on Bourbon Street. I’m glad we’re stopping. I could use a break.

"A break? Gertie, we’ve been driving for four minutes. I can

Reviews for Tabasco Fiasco

[Alisa Morrison · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I can't get enough of the Miss Fortune series. I enjoy the adventure.