Shot in the Park: Miss Fortune World: Mercy on the Bayou, #2

By Kamaryn Kelsey

When Mercy wakes up in the park wearing a bloody bath towel, she realizes her attempt to help someone in need didn't turn out as planned. But just how bad can things get? Worse than having the whole town of Sinful observe her "morning after crawl of shame"? Worse than having someone shoot at her? Oh, yes!

Figuring out who shot at Mercy involves solving the mystery of what happened in the park that night. Of course Ida Belle and Gertie won't just sit by when they can get in on the action. So while Carter and the feds look for clues, Mercy's friends mount their own investigation and she learns waking up in a bloody towel isn't the worst thing that can happen in Sinful.

Authors note: This is Fan Fiction. It is not written by the original author, but by a fan who has special permission to create stories using the author's characters and locations.

Special thanks to Jana DeLeon and J&R Fan Fiction for making this possible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J&R Fan Fiction
• Release date: Aug 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393401971

Book preview

Author's note:

This is Book 2 in the Mercy on the Bayou Series and is not a standalone book. This series does not feature Fortune Redding as the main character.

Other than Jana DeLeon's original story elements, the characters and names are creations of the author's imagination.

Events, timeline, and descriptions in this book/series may not coincide with those in the original Miss Fortune series.

Special thanks to Jana DeLeon and J&R Fan Fiction for making this possible.

Also Kit Dawson, Line Editor.

Chapter 1

Gertie, whose stupid idea was this? Ida Belle complained as she swatted at a buzzing fly.

They sat in the Sinful Park along with dozens of others, but only a few paid attention to the stage set up for the Sunday morning event. Above the platform, a banner reading 2nd Annual Show Your Faith Service hung limply, the stifling humid air and lack of breeze causing even the stiff fabric to wilt. Most of the audience dozed or played games and sent texts on mobile devices.

At least Fortune gets to escape the monotony by walking the perimeter with the excuse of crowd control. I think she’s chasing pigeons just to look busy. Why didn’t Carter ask us to help? Ida Belle continued.

Gertie ignored her and fanned herself.

With a nudge, Ida Belle asked, "Are you comatose? Because that seems to be the general effect of this snoozefest. In another minute the whole row of Mooneys will go over like dominoes. Which leads me to another point—when Shirlene Mooney is third on the program after Father Michael and Pastor Don, something is wrong! Except it’s backwards, and she’s actually eighth, but you know what I mean."

Sh! A woman sitting behind them hissed loud enough to disrupt the program, and Ida Belle looked over her shoulder with scorn.

Did you run out of popcorn already, Millie?

Hush, Ida Belle. You’re being disrespectful to my Clayton.

The fact that your Clayton is using this venue to push his pyramid scheme is disrespectful, Ida Belle said.

I’ll have you know he earned his ministry title and therefore has the right to be part of this program. Clayton’s mother disrupted the program again, and Clayton wasn’t happy. He stopped speaking, the microphone squealed, and the sleepy audience stirred. Then he cleared his throat into the microphone before promising heavenly riches to those who generously opened their pockets and emptied them into the hands of the needy.

Millie scanned the crowd for the irreverent person who called out, You mean greedy.

He should have paid for a Dale Carnegie course before he bought a fake church, Ida Belle scoffed.

Millie took a deep breath and everyone seated nearby turned to watch. Her eyes shifted to Clayton, and she gave Ida Belle a tight smile before tipping her nose and flapping her fan like a hummingbird’s wings.

I bet the organizer used Dial-A-Joke to screen the participants. How many more are there? Ida Belle moaned after Clayton left the platform and another person took his place.

Ida Belle, be patient, Gertie advised. We can’t leave yet, and you know it.

There’s a reason they scheduled the Baptists and Catholics last, Ida Belle retorted. Otherwise, this park would be empty by now. Like last year.

Well, I think rotating the mainstream services to the end of the program is a good idea. Gertie nudged Ida Belle and nodded at a woman wearing cheeky shorts and a halter top. She painted her toenails with a cigarette hanging from her bright pink lips while her three barefoot children ran up and down the row. Some people need the guidance.

Guidance? Ida Belle asked incredulously, pointing to the program. Parley and Emmett’s Church of Enlightenment? What’s their creed? Poaching and sloth?

The program does seemed to have slipped a little this year, Gertie admitted.

No, Gertie. Letting Shirlene on the program is a little slip. But the Higby Brothers using Genesis to promote their God-given right to mow in the nude? Do you actually want to see them practicing their faith?

Gertie didn’t have time to reply. At first loud voices interrupted the program from the front row when the curtain below the stage began to shake. Then a hand appeared, the voices grew louder, and the speaker stopped talking. Soon an arm followed the hand, and a full head of messy dark hair popped out. Finally, a woman emerged from beneath the stage, wrapped in a bloody white bath towel. She clasped the towel and looked about in confusion.

What happened? Mercy Hazeldine asked right before she fell face down on the ground in front of the stage, the towel slipping to reveal her bare back.

Several onlookers stood and made the Sign of the Cross. Shrill screams, whistles, and catcalls erupted amidst shouts of, Lord, have mercy! and I don’t think so, but it looks like someone did.

Ida Belle turned to Gertie. Now that’s more like it.

What do you mean?

Floyd Mooney just tripped and landed on Celia Arceneaux. Is it a miracle or an answer to my prayers?

Ida Belle, be serious!

I am, she crowed. Floyd just grabbed her boob by accident! He can’t see with his glasses all kitty wampus.

You’d better pray for poor Floyd, Gertie murmured as Celia stood, pulling the bewildered man with her. She had one fist drawn back while the other held him upright by his shirt.

To Ida Belle’s delight, someone yelled, I got ten bucks on the broad with the big hips.

Which one? another person shouted when Shirlene stepped in to defend her brother-in-law.

Oh, hell! Ida Belle snapped when Celia handed Floyd over to the larger and younger Shirlene with a sour smile. Then Ida Belle shrugged. Well, I guess the program is over. Let’s go thank Mercy for the reprieve and see if we can hire her for next year.

***

What time is it? Mercy sat on a hot metal folding chair with the stained towel clutched tightly in her fist. She was tired of hard surfaces. When she first awakened under the stage, she thought the motel mattress was worse than ever. Then she realized she was on the ground and wondered how many drinks it had taken to put her there. So she crawled out to ask, but tripped on a discarded plastic cup. The rest was history.

How many fingers am I holding up? the paramedic asked after waving the onlookers back.

She crossed her brown eyes, then uncrossed them. Give me a hint.

She’s going to the hospital, the man told Carter.

Why? Mercy asked.

Why? Ida Belle mimicked in disbelief, even though Gertie elbowed her. Gertie, I’m being honest, not rude! She leaned over and patted Mercy’s shoulder. You lost your marbles.

That ain’t all, someone murmured and Gertie turned to hush them.

The medic is standing with his back to the sun and holding his fingers in front of his face. Let’s see you stare into the sun and count them, Mercy suggested.

All eyes flipped to the EMT, who didn’t seem convinced. He pulled out his penlight to examine her pupils a second time. Mercy snatched it and pitched it over his shoulder. I’m already blind, thank you. Why don’t you just shove a thermometer in my mouth and ask me to count?

We can’t do that, he told them. It’s discrimination.

What’s discriminatory about counting? Gertie asked, puzzled.

The regulars at the Swamp Bar filed a complaint after a brawl last year. Most of them can’t count when they’re drunk, the tech explained. So we’re only allowed to ask their name.

Good luck. Ida Belle laughed. Most of them don’t know that either, drunk or sober.

Oh, for crying out loud, Mercy complained. My question was rhetorical! Now can I go home? The tech packed his bag and left, and Mercy rose to follow suit.

Not so fast, Carter said. You look beat to hell, and you’re wearing a bloody bath towel. I know you didn’t visit the slaughterhouse last night, and the EMT says it’s not yours. So whose blood is that?

Maybe she turned into a vampire, Ida Belle suggested. Although the white towel suggests a ghost.

Carter’s face turned red. Go help Fortune with crowd control, he snapped.

"Now he asks," Ida Belle grumbled as Gertie dragged her away by the arm.

Mercy looked at the wrap in disgust. Well, it’s not my first choice, but I’m kind of limited on options right now.

This isn’t a joke, Carter reproached. I’ve sent Deputy Breaux to check your motel room.

What do you expect to find? A body? Mercy asked. I didn’t kill anyone!

How can you be sure? You just said you don’t remember last night. Carter stood over her with his arms folded, but Mercy didn’t have a chance to reply.

Ida Belle and Gertie pushed their way back to her, ignoring Carter’s warning scowl. When Ida Belle leaned down and whispered in Mercy’s ear, her eyes bulged and she hugged the towel tighter.

Are you sure? she asked the older women.

Fortune said your whole backside is grass stained, Gertie replied.

Carter rubbed his knuckles on his forehead. Ladies, this isn’t a social chat. The screaming ambulance siren interrupted him again.

Why is he returning? Mercy yelled. I can wash my own green back!

Can I quote you on that?

Everyone turned at the question from the Chalk Lake reporter, who came to cover