Sinful Alibi: Miss Fortune World: Sinful Past, #2

By Shari Hearn

It's 1970. Hip huggers are the rage. A letter costs six cents to mail. The Carpenters long to be "Close to You."

And Ida Belle, Gertie and Marge (the original Swamp Team 3) return to Sinful from a ten-year stint as spies in Vietnam, hoping for a little R&R and looking for a house they can share.

Their R&R quickly becomes murder, literally, as they check out a rental and discover the body of property manager Wade Guillory dead on the kitchen floor. Suspicion quickly falls on Marge's Aunt Louanne, who visited Guillory the night before to pressure him to rent to the three ladies.

Will Ida Belle, Gertie and Marge solve the crime before Louanne is arrested? Or will they be fooled by a murderer with a most sinful of alibis?

Sinful Alibi is book 2 in the Sinful Past series of stories featuring Ida Belle, Gertie and Marge in their younger years. Join the original Swamp Team 3 as they raise hell, solve mysteries and keep the town of Sinful, Louisiana from going to pot. Oh, and maybe have a romance or two along the way. These stories take place from the 60s on up and can be read in any order.

A WORD FROM THE AUTHOR: Sinful Alibi is a novel in the Miss Fortune World, wherein Jana DeLeon has allowed writers to create stories using the world of Sinful and the wacky characters it's famous for. I wish to thank Ms. DeLeon for graciously allowing other writers to explore their own writing in a most Sinful way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J&R Fan Fiction
• Release date: Oct 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393324645

Book preview

Prologue

APRIL, 1970 – SINFUL Cuts Hair Salon

Beatrice Hebert flipped through a McCall’s magazine while waiting for her favorite stylist, Kitty, to wrap up with another customer. After three pages of hippie styles that utterly turned her stomach, she spotted it. The perfect bangs for her face. She could always count on McCall’s to feature a cut she’d like. She reached over to her friend Acadia Boudreaux, seated in the chair next to her and engrossed in the latest edition of Sinful Times, and tapped her on the shoulder.

I think I found the perfect hairdo. And there’s also one I think would look good on you.

Acadia held up a finger. Just a sec. I’m almost finished with this article about Mavis Allair setting her bra on fire.

Her bra? Beatrice could feel her face grimacing in disgust. Don’t tell me she’s one of those women liberators.

Acadia laughed and looked up at Beatrice. That’s what she wanted Sheriff Lee to think. Turns out she was stalling so her husband could break down the still behind their house.

Beatrice sighed in relief. Well, thank the Lord. I don’t think Sinful’s ready for a bra-burning woman.

A gal seated in the chair across from them spoke. I burned my bra once.

The woman was ten years older than they were, putting her in her midsixties. Curly gray hair and a bright-yellow dress that Beatrice could swear she’d seen before. The gal, however, Beatrice didn’t recognize. She’d been sitting there quietly knitting since Acadia and Beatrice arrived together fifteen minutes ago.

Problem was, I was wearin’ it at the time. The gal laughed, causing her crow’s feet to deepen. It was Fourth of July and our church was setting off fireworks. A burning ember landed down my blouse and damn near turned my 18-hour Playtex bra into a tiki torch. Luckily the preacher was also a volunteer fireman. She laughed so hard she snorted.

I don’t believe I’ve seen you around town, Beatrice said.

Oh, where are my manners? I’m Gabby Esther Riggs. She looked back down at her knitting. And you’re right, I’m new around here.

Acadia folded her Sinful Times and glanced at Beatrice before turning her attention to the new gal. Someone new in town they didn’t know the skinny on? Acadia could never let that stand. Visiting someone, or will you be moving to Sinful?

Gabby shrugged and looked up at them. I’m not sure yet. At the moment I’m visiting. My friend is expecting her daughters to arrive home in a couple of days, so she’s having her hair styled. She even had her stylist give my hair a new look. She swept her head back, showing off her curls.

Well, isn’t that a coincidence, Beatrice said. We’re expecting our daughters to arrive home in two days. Along with a friend of theirs whose mother passed when she was little.

They’re coming home from the Vietnam war, Acadia said. They’ve been over there for several years now, helping our boys out.

But now all three of them are coming home to get married and start families, Beatrice added.

Gabby’s brows shot up. Well, congratulations! When are the weddings?

Acadia tossed Beatrice a sly look. As soon as we can fix them up. The two shared a knowing giggle before Acadia continued. For my daughter and her friend, I’ve chosen twins. Two lovely boys who drive for the Wienerfleet. Though to be honest, my daughter’s friend is already spoken for by a boy named Walter.

Gabby’s eyes lit up. Did I hear you say, the Wienerfleet, as in, the Wienermobile?

Acadia nodded. That’s the one. And those boys just don’t drive across Louisiana, but Mississippi and Alabama as well. She opened her purse and pulled out a wiener-shaped whistle and blew into it. They’re coming to dinner the night the girls arrive home. Of course, I’m grilling hot dogs.

I have a wonderful man picked out for my daughter, too, Beatrice said. He lives in Lake Charles but often visits his mother here in Sinful. I’m inviting him to dinner the night my Gertie arrives home as well.

Gabby’s eyebrows shot up again. Your daughter’s name is Gertie? Isn’t that funny. That’s also the name of one of my friend’s daughters. The other two are Marge and Ida Belle.

Beatrice could feel the smile on her face turning into a frown as Acadia buried her face in her hands and groaned.

Who is your friend? Beatrice asked, though she already knew from Acadia’s reaction. Acadia’s sister-in-law Louanne had been calling those three her girls ever since they were toddlers, something that never sat well with any of the mothers.

Gabby pulled her hands away from her knitting and raised both her arms to point to a chair in the back of the salon, where Louanne Boudreaux was looking at the back of her hair with a handheld mirror. Gabby’s sleeves slid a few inches along her arm, revealing both hands cuffed together at the wrists.

Are those handcuffs? Acadia asked.

Oops, you probably weren’t supposed to see those, Gabby said, resting her hands back in her lap. Now, don’t you two worry. I’m not from a chain gang or anything. These are just a little reminder that the state of Louisiana didn’t like me skipping out on my trial.

What were you on trial for? Beatrice asked.

Taking a few swings of an axe to my husband’s best pants.

Acadia rolled her eyes. That doesn’t seem like such a crime.

Gabby tossed them a sly smile. Well, he was in ‘em at the time.

LOUANNE BOUDREAUX STARED at her new chin-length haircut in the salon mirror and smiled. Fifty-one and still no gray. God bless her mother’s hair genes.

It’s lovely, Louanne said, but am I mistaken or does Bonnie Cotton also have this cut?

Her hairstylist, Kitty, shook her head. From the back they look alike, but yours is more modern in the front. It’s called an updo. I figured since you look like Audrey Hepburn, you oughta have her haircut, too.

Louanne snickered at that. I have a good ten years on Audrey Hepburn.

Well, this is what she’s going to look like in ten years. Kitty handed her a small mirror. Take a look at the part on the right side. You’ll be the envy of Sinful.

Louanne held it above the left side of her head so she could see her reflection in the big mirror. It was then she noticed her sister-in-law Acadia sitting alongside Beatrice Hebert at the front of the salon, casting angry glances her way. She moved the mirror slightly to include Gabby.

Uh-oh. Trouble, Louanne said. The Baptist Mafia.

Kitty glanced over at the waiting area. They probably got a gander at the handcuffs on that gal you brought in. She pulled in a breath and continued, Not that I don’t appreciate the extra business, but some folks may not take kindly to your bringing your... ‘clients’ into town.

Louanne lowered the mirror. Technically, Gabby is my prisoner, not my client. My client is a bail bondsman from West Feliciana Parish.

Kitty shook her head. I never understood why you decided to open a bounty hunter business, Louanne. Honestly, you already own the photo store, and you’re putting together a photography book. Isn’t that enough?

Louanne shook her head. You know I don’t like to stand still for long.

Well, you best go take your prisoner out of here before Beatrice and Acadia have a royal conniption and call the sheriff.

Louanne paid Kitty, tipping her generously, and walked toward the front of the salon, hoping she could stop her sister-in-law’s conniption before it began, something she’d had lots of experience with over the years. Acadia was the manager of Louanne’s photography store, Sinful Photo, and a good one at that, but outside of the store, their relationship could be described as chilly at best. Acadia and her circle had never warmed to Louanne, not when she was an outspoken girl growing up in Sinful, and definitely not when she returned from World War II with her worldly beliefs. Becoming a bounty hunter had just further deepened their divide. A good Baptist woman just doesn’t do those things.

Louanne approached the trio. Why Acadia and Beatrice. How lovely to see you here. Louanne pointed toward the magazine. Ah, the McCall’s. Good choice. That issue is filled with new, exciting styles.

Acadia stood. Louanne. Louanne could have sworn the temperature of the salon just took a nosedive. Your friend here was telling us about how she murdered her husband.

Attempted murder, Gabby said as she gathered her yarn and knitting supplies and placed them in a canvas bag. And I wasn’t trying to kill him. I was trying to show him I meant business. Not my fault the axe slipped and whacked a slice of his buttocks off. He should consider himself lucky I didn’t get a whack at his crown jewels.

Beatrice gasped.

Gabby stood. Oh, honey, I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. The surgeons fixed his bottom up just fine, although he does sit a little crooked now.

Louanne looked at Gabby. Perhaps we should go.

You’re the boss, Gabby said.

Louanne ushered Gabby to the door.

And is that Mama Boudreaux’s dress she’s wearing? Acadia asked, stopping Louanne.

Louanne turned and smiled. In fact, it is my mama’s dress. But it’s her least favorite. I didn’t think she’d mind. Louanne opened the door.

I made your mother that dress, Acadia said as Louanne pushed Gabby through the door. And another thing. Please stop confusing people by calling Marge, Gertie and Ida Belle ‘your girls.’

I’ll take that under advisement, Louanne said as she slipped through the door and closed it behind her.

Those two gals are a bit tightly wound, Gabby said as the two walked toward Louanne’s Mustang convertible parked in front of Sinful Cuts.

Gabby, I told you to keep your handcuffs hidden and not tell anyone you’re my prisoner, Louanne said as she unlocked the passenger door of her Mustang. Information like how you chopped off your husband’s butt tends to rattle some people. Especially those two ladies.

Gabby slid into the right bucket seat. Point taken. So if Marge, Gertie and Ida Belle aren’t your daughters, who are they?

Louanne shut the car door and smiled. They’re the ones who are about to turn this town upside down.

Chapter One

DAYS LATER, TUESDAY, April 21, 1970

Nine years as an Army spy had prepared Gertie to face most any foe. Soviet spy posing as a traveler across Southeast Asia? Check. Army Colonel turned traitor selling troop information to the North Vietnamese? That one was easy. But spend an evening with a man her mother was trying to set her up with? That was one mission she was totally unprepared for. Swallowing a grenade would have been an easier task.

Of all the men in South Louisiana, her mother managed to pick one who looked like Simon, the smarty-pants Chipmunk. He sat next to her on her parents’ sofa and droned on. Now, some people have asked me, ‘Hey, Gill, what’s it like being a scatologist?’ You know what I tell them? ‘It’s a lot of work. In fact, it poops me out.’ He slapped his knee and chuckled, his glasses slipping further down his nose with every guffaw.

Sensing that Gertie failed to share in his humor, he shifted his slight frame on the sofa and cleared his throat. But, seriously, analyzing animal scat is a big deal. You can tell a lot about migratory patterns of animals by analyzing their droppings. Of course, most people can’t tell their bear scat from their deer scat. Deer scat is more like pellets, with a slight dimple on one end and a point at the other, in case you were wondering.

She wasn’t. In fact, she began to feel herself slipping away. Psychologists would call it the fight-or-flight response, and she was definitely choosing to flee.

You’re not falling asleep on me there, are you, Gertie?

Her eyelids shot up as he rapped his knuckles on her knee. No, no. Dimply poop. Fascinating. She yawned.

You look a little ‘pooped’ yourself, he said, chuckling again.

Well, my friends and I just got back from Vietnam this afternoon, so I’m not used to the time difference. Lie. She, Ida Belle and Marge had left Vietnam about a month ago. They’d spent three weeks in Washington being debriefed by government intelligence officials, before spending a week in New Orleans, shopping for civilian clothes and getting reacclimated before heading home to Sinful. Her mother had wasted no time in trying to fix her up, inviting the bachelor son of a friend to dinner.

Your mother tells me you were a secretary to a captain in the Army, Gill said. I bet you’re eager to settle down to domesticity.

I was a spy, you boob! she wanted to blurt out. The problem with having had a top-secret job in intelligence meant she had to keep her mouth shut about it, pretending to have typed her days away, while a drone like Gill got to brag about his up-close and personal with bear crap.

The enemy, also known as her mother, popped her head around the doorway to the kitchen. You two kids up for some homemade cookies? She slithered into the living room carrying a plate of pecan bars.  

Gill tapped his stomach. Oh, Mrs. Hebert, I’m afraid I’m stuffed from that wonderful casserole of yours.

You can thank Gertie for the recipe. She created that dish before she left for the Army. Next to me, she’s the finest cook in Sinful. She’ll make a fine wife and mother someday. Mom shifted her attention to Gertie. Aren’t you glad I invited Gill to dinner? Did he tell you about his job with the Game and Fish Department? What do you think about that, huh? Her mom’s eyes widened as if Gill had discovered gold in that thar poop.

Gertie shot her mom daggers. Oh, I think you can guess how I feel about it.

Gill has two weeks’ vacation and a pension plan. Mom’s eyes were begging her to marry him on the spot.

A knock on the door brought a merciful end to the stare down. Gertie leapt up from the sofa. I’ll get it.

Please be Ida Belle and Marge, she whispered to herself. Relief flooded over her as she flung the door open to find them standing at her door. Ida Belle had her back turned toward her, waving to two men in a car with a giant hot dog sitting on the top. It took her a moment to recognize one of America’s national treasures.

Is that the Wienermobile? Gertie stepped outside and shut the door behind her.

Marge nodded. Mama’s futile attempt at setting Ida Belle and me up. The Martin twins. They’re part of the Wienerfleet now.

Ida Belle turned back to Gertie. They’re a bit full of themselves, but their ride is nice. They dropped us off on their way to an event in Lafayette. Ida Belle pulled a wiener whistle from the pocket of her bell bottoms and blew into it, then handed it to Gertie. They said to give this to you.

Gertie cradled the plastic whistle in her hand and looked longingly at the hot dog on wheels as the Martin brothers peeled away from the curb. You got to ride in the Wienermobile? Gertie could feel her face fall. When she was a kid, she’d see those commercials on TV with the Wienermobile traveling the country and wished one would stop in Sinful so she could ride in it. She slugged Ida Belle. And you didn’t call me?

Don’t worry, you’ll ride in it, Marge said, grinning. They said we could borrow it anytime.

No they didn’t, Ida Belle said.

Marge cocked her head. Yes they did. I said, ‘Hey, maybe we could borrow it sometime.’ They said, ‘Oh sure, anytime’ and then they laughed hysterically. But they said it. Everyone at the table was a witness. Just in case I decide to ‘borrow’ it sometime. Marge winked.

Ida Belle’s lip quivered as she tried to suppress a smile. I heard you had a special guest as well for dinner tonight.

Gertie rolled her eyes and sighed. She opened the door and stepped inside, planting a wide, phony smile on her face. Marge and Ida Belle filed in after her. Why look, it’s my fellow Army gals, Ida Belle and Marge. This is Gill Girard. He analyzes animal droppings for a living. Gertie cast a stern look toward Marge, who screwed up her face to keep in a laugh. She turned back to Gill and yawned. I hope you don’t mind, but we have some girl stuff to discuss.

Gill stood from the sofa. Oh, I should be getting back to Lake Charles anyway. I have an early day tomorrow. I need to collect some possum samples before the sun dries them out.

Oh no, you wouldn’t want that stuff all dried out. Gertie rushed to him and hooked her arm through his, escorting him to the door and nudging him over the threshold. You have a nice drive home.

Gertie shut the door.

Gertie! her mother said. That was plain rude.

Not as rude as ruining my first dinner back from Vietnam by talking about bear poop. Even Granny couldn’t take it and snuck out to go play Canasta.

Your daddy and I thought it was very educational. Mom sighed. I’m just trying to help you transition back to civilian life. It’s been a while since you’ve been part of the dating scene.

Gertie rolled her eyes. Mama, there were plenty of men around in Vietnam. Honestly, you act like we all went off to a convent.

Marge grabbed a pecan bar from Mrs. Hebert’s plate. That’s right, Gertie dated plenty.

And then some, Ida Belle said under her breath as she removed a cookie from the plate as well.

Apparently, Beatrice Hebert’s hearing hadn’t diminished over the years like her taste in men had. Her eyebrows shot upward. Gertie! Mom was a big believer in I do before and then some. I should ground you!

I’m almost thirty, Mama!

Mom folded her arms. And I’m still your mother. It’s a mother’s job to help guide her daughter. She eyed Marge’s cutoffs that showed way more thigh than was typical within the city limits, then gazed at Ida Belle’s floral bell bottoms and Gertie’s tie-dyed slacks that stretched tightly around her butt and flared out at the bottom. Honestly. Hot pants? Bell bottoms? And I don’t know what the heck you call those obscene things you’re wearing.

Hip huggers, Gertie said proudly. And she was very proud of them, indeed. They were the newest thing in women’s fashion. If her mama thought Gertie was returning to that square, frumpy girl of old, she had another thing coming.

Mom shook her head. Your privates ought to be kept private.

There’s nothing wrong with my pants, Gertie said. They’re what’s in style.

For hippies, maybe. This is Sinful. We are God-fearing people, not Mary Ann smoking hippies!

Gertie sighed. It’s called Mary Jane.

Mrs. Hebert’s face fell. Dear lord, you know the real name for it. I think I need to consult with the man upstairs about this. She turned and shot into the kitchen.

I haven’t smoked it, Mama! Gertie called out after her. But you’re gonna drive me to it if you try to fix me up with any more men who look like cartoon characters! The least you could have done was try to set me up with someone who looked like GI Joe and not a know-it-all chipmunk!

She’s going to go blab to your dad? Marge asked.

Gertie shook her head. She was referring to Jesus.

I think Jesus is pretty wise to your dating life, Ida Belle said, licking the cookie crumbs from her fingers.

And then some, Marge said.

They headed up the stairs. My mom’s driving me crazy, Gertie said. I’ve been back less than a day and she’s trying to plan my life. You should see the clothes she sewed for me and left in my closet. Plaid Bermuda shorts that go to my knees!

Marge shook her head. It was bad enough my mom tried to set me up, but I can’t believe she tried to marry off Ida Belle as well.

Gertie nodded. Especially since Walter’s already claimed her.

Ida Belle shot her head toward Gertie. What?

Claimed? Marge said. I can’t believe that word came out of your mouth.

Ida Belle opened her mouth to speak, but Gertie cut her off. You’re right. One day around my mama has me going back to the Stone Age. I meant, they’re an item.

Ida Belle held her hand up. Excuse me. I’m right here. And Walter hasn’t claimed me, and we are not an item. And I see that look between you two, but we’re just friends, that’s all. Besides, he’s been out of the Marines and back home for six months. I’m sure he’s been dating lots of women.

Does he know we’re home?

Ida Belle nodded. He had to travel to Baton Rouge on some kind of business thing, but we plan on having dinner together when he gets back in a couple of days.

He told her he had a big surprise he wanted to show her, Marge added. I think it’s an engagement ring.

Ida Belle shook her head. He knows better than that. I’ve had that conversation with him. I’m not the marrying kind. Though she tried to hide it, Gertie couldn’t help noticing her friend’s eyes light up when she talked about him. She could deny her feelings for Walter all she wanted, but the eyes never lied.

And your dad? Gertie asked. When are you going to see him?

Ida Belle frowned. I haven’t decided yet. She never tried to hide her feelings about her dad. Their relationship had been strained ever since her mother died when she was in first grade. Her dad had wanted a boy and never let her forget it. Every time the three came home on leave, Ida Belle would stay with Marge’s or Gertie’s families, sometimes with Marge’s Aunt Louanne. If it ever bothered her father, he never let her know.

They came to Gertie’s room. She stopped and placed her hand on the doorknob. Oh, prepare yourselves. Mama did a little redecorating.

Gertie pushed open the door and heard audible gasps from her two friends.

Ida Belle snickered as she took in the room. Holy crap.

It was as if they’d stepped back in time. Posters of teen heart throbs of the fifties lined the walls. A poodle skirt hung like a museum piece. Stuffed animals were poised on the bed.

Gertie nodded sadly. Uh, huh. Mama thought it would be fun to take all my old mementos out of storage and torture me with them. She calls it, ‘Gertie through the ages.’

Marge walked over to the posters and examined them. Is this Fabian?

Gertie grunted an affirmation.

Marge shook her head as she looked at another poster, which was plastered with lipstick imprints. I forgot how much you liked Roy Rogers.

Ida Belle picked up a doll from a shelf. Is this your old Betsy Wetsy?

Gertie nodded sadly. Be careful with that.

Ida Belle held the baby doll away from her body, a huge wet spot appearing on her blouse. Damn thing peed on me!

Gertie rushed over and took Betsy from