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Lethal Bayou Beauty (Miss Fortune Mystery #2) Copyright 2013 by Jana DeLeon Published by Jana DeLeon All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people, except through author-approved sharing programs. Thank you for respecting the author's work. Chapter One I was right in the middle of a dream where I was Lara Croft, but not as girlie, when my cell phone rang. I sprang out of bed, grabbed my nine, and hit the floor in a firing stance, facing the bedroom door. Then I remembered I was hiding out in Sinful, Louisiana, and not on a CIA mission in the Middle East. I lay my nine back on the nightstand and reached for my cell phone. Seven a.m. I looked down at the display and saw it was Gertie, one of the seemingly quiet and unassuming seniors I'd met the day I arrived in the tiny bayou town. I’d thought when I came to Louisiana to hide from the arms dealer who had placed a price on my head that my biggest fear was being bored to death. Instead, the merry seniors and I had been chased by police, been stalked by a killer, killed the stalker, and solved a five-year-old murder. And I'd only been in town five days. “We have an emergency,” Gertie said as soon as I answered. “Ida Belle and I are on our way over.” She disconnected the call before I could ask for any details, and I rushed into the bathroom to wash my face and throw on clothes. As I pulled on jeans and a T- shirt, I hoped nothing had happened to implicate Marie in her husband's murder. I'd thought she was safe after everything that had gone down the day before, but things in Sinful, Louisiana, had a way of shifting beneath you. I ran downstairs at the same time Gertie's ancient Cadillac pulled up in my driveway. I unlocked and opened the door, then hurried into the kitchen to put on coffee. Conversations with Gertie and Ida Belle weren't good without something to drink. Given the strain in Gertie's voice, I thought whiskey might be a better option, but as it was only seven a.m. it was probably too early for good manners to take me straight to the bottle. But I could always play that one by ear. Ida Belle, the leader of the Sinful Ladies Society—a group referred to by Sinful citizens as The Geritol Mafia—was the first to enter the kitchen, and she did not look happy. But then, if I'd had that mass of rollers in my hair and had been prompted out of my house in my bathrobe, I probably wouldn't have looked happy either. Gertie trailed behind, her expression one of exasperation and worry. I figured the exasperation was due to listening to Ida Belle complain the entire two-block drive to my house. Ida Belle glanced at the empty coffeepot and sighed, then slumped into a chair at the breakfast table. “Sorry,” I apologized for the coffee situation. “I was still sleeping when Gertie called.” Ida Belle waved a hand in dismissal. “Vampires were still sleeping when Gertie called. Damn woman is always awake at indecent hours.” “If you’d go to sleep at a normal time like other women your age,” Gertie said, “you wouldn’t have so much trouble getting up.” “I was busy waxing my car,” Ida Belle grumbled. Gertie rolled her eyes. “You and that car. I thought you said you were going to address your overly protective issues concerning that car.” I reached for coffee mugs. By the time they finished this age-old argument, the coffee should be ready. And I wasn’t about to step into the middle of that fight. I had personal feelings about Ida Belle’s car, and none of them were polite enough for seven a.m. “For your information,” Ida Belle said, “I was waxing it so that I can sell it.” I froze and stared. For the first time since I’d met her, Gertie ran out of words. “Stop staring at me like I’ve lost my mind,” Ida Belle said. “You two are the ones who accused me of having an unhealthy relationship with my car. This is all your fault, really.” I remained still and silent. Ida Belle was a crack shot and I couldn’t be certain she wasn’t packing, even in a bathrobe. “Well,” Gertie said, and wisely pushed her chair back an inch from Ida Belle’s. “I guess I better get on with the business at hand then.” Change the subject. Good choice. “The GWs met this morning at the crack of dawn,” Gertie said. I poured three cups of coffee and passed them to Gertie. “The who?” “The GWs,” Gertie said. I slid into my chair and took a sip of coffee. “Do I even want to know what a GW is?” “Probably not,” Ida Belle said. “The GWs are a local women’s group,” Gertie said. “Doesn’t Sinful already have enough trouble with the Sinful Ladies Society?” I asked. The SLS, led by Ida Belle, had been covertly running the town since the sixties. “My society is not trouble,” Ida Belle said. “We keep things running smoothly. But some of the women had issues with our admission requirements and decided to form their own club.” “Ah.” I was starting to get the picture. Only old maids and women who’d been widowed for over five years could apply for membership in the SLS. They had a