Spare Ribs and Cold Cuts: Miss Fortune World: Mercy on the Bayou, #3

By Kamaryn Kelsey

Mercy's new job as a bus driver hits a pothole when one of her passengers is murdered. But Rusty Ramon wasn't a nice man and it turns out there are plenty of people with a motive for stabbing him. She just doesn't agree with Ida Belle and Gertie's theory that it's Spencer. So what if he ran her off the street at night? He must have a good reason for doing so. One that she hopes doesn't include the beautiful blonde he's spending so much time with. 

Besides, something odd is going on at the BBQ rib stand. And what about the fixed cooking contest? When Rusty Ramon's Ranchero Roundup comes to Sinful it's food, fun, and felonies for all!

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: Oct 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393514091

Book preview

Author's note:

This is Book 3 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.

Chapter 1

Mercy wiped her damp brow with her arm and smiled sourly at the woman with a half dozen crabby and filthy children boarding the bus. She understood how the kids felt, except she wasn’t dirty. A quick glance at the gray streaks on her arm made her snort. Great! Now she was exactly like the kids, except those lucky dogs could get off this rolling circus when it stopped while she was doomed to continue driving the wretched excuse for public transportation.

Hey, driver! Are we just going to sit here all day?

Mercy checked the visor mirror and did a seat count before using a lever to close the door. Yes, it was rude because she really had room for the group of senior citizens making their way to the bus stop—if they sat three to a seat. But on a bus with no air-conditioner in the middle of a Louisiana summer? Nope.

She pressed the gas pedal and moved the bus thirty yards before stopping to let off an elderly couple who glared at her like it was her fault the transportation company sent the derelict unit to the Sinful Shindig, or whatever it was they were celebrating this week. After reading the annual schedule of events posted at Francine’s, Mercy didn’t know why a small town would host so many events, but apparently no one told the movers, shakers, and decision makers it wasn’t normal.

Fifty feet later she brought the bus to a halt, and the woman with five children got off and trudged to stand in the portable toilet line. Wait—FIVE kids? Oh, no! Mercy was wise to that move but not because it was covered in her training class. She had learned the hard way when she wound up with three ditched kids after her first trip that morning as her route took her through town.

Honk! H-o-n-k! She opened the folding door and shouted at the woman who whirled around looking vexed. They glared at each other, and one side of Mercy’s mouth lifted into a snarl of warning. You forgot one. Mercy thumbed over her shoulder and the mother got on the bus to check.

Little Ray, why didn’t you wait? She grabbed the little guy’s hand and pulled him off the bus.

Why didn’t he wait? That didn’t make sense. Mercy closed one eye, then shut the other with a sigh. She put the bus in park and reached for the bottle of cleaner and a roll of paper towels, anxiously wondering what to do when she ran out. Maybe she’d just have to designate one of the bench seats as—

Oh, my God! We’ll never get there!

The same whiny voice that had yelled a minute ago belonged to a teenage boy who was perfectly capable of walking from one end of the festivities to the other. The small carnival, booths, and displays were stretched throughout the town, but it was Sinful, for crying out loud—not New Orleans!

The kid made another snotty remark so, for spite, Mercy slowly sprayed the seat and wiped it until she was sure it hadn’t been so clean since it left the factory a few decades ago. Reluctantly, she headed back to the driver’s seat and continued the circle of monotony around the little town of Sinful, regretting her decision to apply for a job that sounded too good to be true. Enjoy the outdoors, no paperwork, flexible schedule, no experience necessary, we’ll train. Humph!

***

When her cousin Loyal came to her motel room a week ago, she thought he’d worked out a deal with the government to pay for his sins and had come to tell her she was free to leave Sinful. Not so. He came to explain why their grandmother, Joy Merrymaker, was incommunicado.

She’s on a monthlong retreat, he explained.

Mercy groaned and looked around the small motel room. What am I supposed to do now? I’ve used up the knitting supplies she forwarded, and I can’t afford to buy everything I’d need to get started again. Not to mention it would be stupid since those things are already in Denver. She scratched her forehead and squinted at Loyal. There really isn’t enough room here, anyway. I don’t suppose you could lend me enough money to move into something bigger?

He chuckled and tossed her two hundred dollars. You’ll have to make do with this. It’s all I can spare.

Mercy rolled her eyes, sure he’d wasted five times that amount in the past week. But until Joy was in a position to ship more supplies, Mercy would have to get by the best she could. So you still haven’t worked out your legal troubles? she asked her cousin. If you’d get things straight with the feds, we could both go home.

Loyal’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. It’s a work in progress, he stated. But I’ve reached the point that I no longer need to skulk about, hiding from the FBI.

Well, work faster, she suggested.

With a smirk, he said, I was under the impression you weren’t in a hurry to leave Sinful.

She bent over her purse to hide her flushed cheeks. Don’t be stupid, she muttered, tucking the cash into her wallet. She should have known she couldn’t hide her interest in Montgomery Spencer from the local busybodies. Apparently, Loyal had become one of them. Changing the subject, she rose and asked, Do you know anyone who is hiring part time help?

Loyal choked back a laugh. In Sinful?

No, idiot! In Denver! she snapped. Of course I mean Sinful.

He looked doubtful. If you had a car, you might be able to find something in Chalk Lake, but I think the job market in Sinful is a dry hole. Have you checked the community newspaper? Mercy gave him a warning look, and he held up a palm to her. I’m not joking. Use your head for something other than a hair nest, Merc.

I know Chalk Lake has a newspaper, but without a vehicle it’s a little hard to accept a job there, she retorted.

Take the bus, he suggested. I’m sure you’ve seen the public transportation buses around. From what I understand they service the whole county. I mean parish.

Well, I guess I don’t have much choice. She chewed her lower lip, then grinned. Take me to Francine’s because there’s bound to be a newspaper lying around on one of the tables.

You just want me to buy your meal, he complained.

She cast a dark look at him. You owe me more than a meal, she said. He ran to open the door, his natural exuberance forcing a reluctant smile from her. Don’t think you’re off the hook, she said as they headed to the café on Sinful’s main street. You still owe me a car.

You’re like a dog with fleas, he replied. Constantly demanding I scratch some itch.

Mercy snorted. I’m not one of your girlfriends, Loyal. Flattery will get you nowhere, she said sarcastically. They continued the good-natured banter while they walked.

At the café Loyal held the door for her and said, You’re as beautiful as you are intelligent, my favorite cousin.

She stomped on his foot as she passed him. You forgot graceful, she mocked, twisting her heel for good measure. Inside, Mercy claimed the nearest empty table with an abandoned newspaper and looked through it while Loyal read the menu.

What’s good here? he asked, and she lowered the paper incredulously.

Are you joking? She leaned over the table and whispered, You’d better not let Francine hear you ask that question or you might be banned for life, which is the equivalent of—

Mercy, who’s your friend?

She looked up, surprised to see Gertie eyeing Loyal with interest. Ida Belle stared at him with suspicion, and a curvy brunette wearing her dark hair in a ponytail looked amused. I wish Trixie was here, she said to Ida Belle before introducing herself to Mercy. Jo Jeffries.

Mercy tipped her head, sure she’d met the woman before. Then Ida Belle explained. You know her half sister, Mo. There’s another sister running around Sinful. She’s a bag of bones, but you can’t miss the resemblance.

Mercy’s brow cleared, and she introduced her cousin to the women. She had to bite her lips when Gertie checked him out and Ida Belle sniffed as though someone dropped a sack of hot dog crap on her foot. Only Jo seemed totally disinterested in her cousin and Mercy smiled at her. Who’s Trixie? she asked.

Jo’s blue eyes sparkled. Trixie’s my elderly great aunt, although not related to me by blood. And she loves handsome men, she added with a grin at Mercy’s cousin. Age doesn’t matter.

Loyal shifted in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck. Boy, where’s that waitress? he muttered before burying his nose in the menu while Mercy giggled at his obvious discomfort.

So, you’re no longer on the outs with the feds? Ida Belle’s eyes were as sharp as her tone of voice, but Loyal just smiled and shook his head over the top of the menu. Ida Belle’s response was a throaty snort.

Meanwhile, Gertie’s eyes drifted to the newspaper Mercy still held. The want ads? she asked.

Mercy nodded and set it aside without explaining. The Sinful women had done so much for her since she had arrived, and Mercy didn’t want to add to what she felt she owed them, especially Gertie. Her eyes shifted to Ida Belle, who gazed at her with one brow lifted. She’d already made a dent in her debt to Ida Belle, but obviously wasn’t finished.

You didn’t get the yarn yet, did you? Ida Belle demanded.

With a casual hand wave, Mercy shook her head. Sorry, she lied. She’d used all her yarn knitting small things for Ida Belle and since she made the deal with Gertie and Ida Belle for their help, she really shouldn’t complain. Still, how many pairs of socks could Ida Belle gift to graduates, newlyweds, and expectant parents?