Murder on the Sinful Express Read online

  Murder on the Sinful Express

  Miss Fortune World: Sinful Stories, Volume 7

  Shari Hearn

  Published by J&R Fan Fiction, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 by Shari Hearn

  All rights reserved.

  This story is based on a series created by Jana DeLeon. The author of this story has the contractual rights to create stories using the Miss Fortune world. Any unauthorized use of the Miss Fortune world for story creation is a violation of copyright law.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author and the publisher, J&R Fan Fiction, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Author Bio

  Sign up for Shari Hearn's Mailing List

  Also By Shari Hearn

  Acknowledgements

  MANY THANKS TO JANA DeLeon, first for writing such amazing characters and creating the town of Sinful, and second, for allowing other writers to write our own stories set in the world of Miss Fortune.

  Thank you to Carla and Kathleen for your wonderful notes.

  Cover design by Susan Coils at coverkicks.com

  Chapter One

  HIS LIPS LINGERED AGAINST mine. And I so wanted them to stay there, except...

  We were being watched.

  And although you can take the girl out of the CIA, you can’t take the CIA out of the girl. I pulled away from Carter and whipped my body around, facing the steps leading down to the dock behind the General Store where, five minutes ago, I had discovered a shirtless Carter working on Walter’s motorboat on his day off.

  A woman was slowly backing down the steps, her phone held above her head.

  “That camera had better not be pointing at us.”

  Startled, the woman lost her footing and missed the last step, screaming as she tumbled backward. Carter rushed over and caught her before she hit the dock.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as he helped her gain her footing.

  “Uh-huh,” she squeaked, her eyes glued to his chest.

  “I think the better question is, why were you taking a photo of us?” I asked.

  She finally tore her eyes from Carter and pulled her focus to me.

  Mid-twenties, blonde hair in a ponytail. Unusual blue eyes – most likely colored contacts. Dimples. An “I Heart Books” pin secured to the collar of her crisp, white blouse. Threat-level: Mousy.

  “Well?”

  Carter smiled. “I’m sure Madigan wasn’t taking our picture. Were you?”

  “No no, absolutely not,” she said nervously.

  The name sounded familiar. “Madigan?” I said, trying to remember where I knew her from.

  She nodded as she wiped the dust from her skirt. “You probably don’t recognize me. I lightened my hair. And I wear blue contacts now. I felt I needed a change.”

  “I thought I noticed something different.” Carter looked from Madigan to me. He was noticing what I was noticing. Her “change” made her look a lot like me.

  She stuck her hand out to shake mine. “Let me reintroduce myself. Madigan DuBerry. I’m an aide at the library. We worked together for a few days when you volunteered there a couple of weeks ago.”

  I snapped my fingers. “Oh that’s right.”

  I’d been roped into leading the children’s story hour. It didn’t go well. Long story short, the kids and I discovered a dead man, a local author and I had a shootout with his killers, and Gertie destroyed the Harry Potter papier mache display the head librarian, Lucy, had spent two weeks perfecting.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you, Madigan, it’s just... I saw the phone and...”

  Madigan looked down at her smart phone. “Oh, I wasn’t photographing you two in an embrace. Honest. I was taking a selfie from the steps and didn’t realize you were back here. I mean, the two of you. Together. I mean, I knew you both knew one another, but didn’t realize you two were THAT together.” Madigan stole another peek at Carter’s bare chest. He reached over and grabbed his shirt from Walter’s boat and put it on.

  She bounced nervously on her toes and began to overexplain herself. “It’s my lunch hour and I was in the General Store buying a can of tuna for my mother. Packed in oil. She’d raise heck if I bought the kind in water. She’s making tuna mac tonight. So that’s why I was here. For the tuna. And then I just thought I’d come out back and get a picture of my new Carter with the bayou behind me because I always liked this spot.”

  “Your new Carter?”

  “What?” she asked, horrified.

  “You said you were taking a picture of your new Carter.”

  “Hair color,” she said quickly, touching her hair. “My new haircut and color.”

  Oh, she was definitely taking a photo of Carter.

  She chewed her bottom lip. “I probably need to head back to the library.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Madigan smiled at Carter. If this were a cartoon, her eyes would be projected out like long coils, taking in every inch of him. “You take care, Deputy LeBlanc.”

  “You too, Madigan.”

  She scrambled up the steps and disappeared around the building. I poked my finger into Carter’s chest. “Someone has a crush on you.”

  Seconds later, Madigan popped her head back around the corner of the building. “Oh I forgot. I’m happy to hear you’re going to be volunteering again, Fortune.”

  “Volunteering where?”

  “The library, of course.”

  I shook my head. “I think you heard wrong.”

  “Oh no. Lucy told me this morning. She said you were going to be leading next week’s Sinful Express, the murder mystery book club.” Madigan pulled an imaginary train whistle cord and gave a “whoo-whoo” sound.

  I shook my head again, faster this time. “No, I’m pretty sure I’m not.”

  “Then you may want to talk to Miss Gertie, because she told Lucy you said yes.”

  I glanced at Carter. “Oh, Miss Gertie said that, did she?”

  Madigan nodded. “Well, I need to get back to the library. See you Monday, Fortune!”

  Madigan turned and disappeared up the steps.

  “I thought Lucy banned you from the library after you three destroyed it,” Carter said.

  I could feel the steam rising from my neck. “That’s why Gertie texted me to meet her in the store. She knew I was less likely to throw a fit in front of Walter. I’ll be back after I straighten her out, because you and I are going on a fishing trip next week.”

  I stormed into the store to find Gertie trying to return a flashlight she’d bought from Walter.

  “If I had known this thing took triple A batteries, I wouldn’t have bought it.”

  Walter picked up the flashlight and pointed to the bottom of it. “Says right here. ‘Takes three triple A batteries.’”

  “How am I supposed to read print that tiny?”

  “Put on a pair of glasses,” I said, maybe with more attitude than it deserved.

  Gertie spun around and glared at me.
“What crawled up your butt?”

  “A book club. And it’s feeling a little uncomfortable.”

  “I’ll throw in the triple A’s, how about that?” Walter asked, tossing me a welcome nod.

  Gertie waved him off. “Whatever.”

  “And fifty percent off a pair of reading glasses.”

  Gertie flipped him the bird and came over to me. “Did someone spoil my surprise?”

  “You had no right to tell Lucy I would lead a book club discussion.”

  Gertie grabbed my arm and led me to the canned goods aisle. “Lucy’s shorthanded next week because Claire, the other librarian, had to go tend to her sister in Texas. She didn’t have your number, so she called and asked me to ask you to help out.”

  “I’m going fishing with Carter next week. Besides, Lucy banned me for life from the library.”

  “You’ve been unbanned. Lucy and Celia are best friends, so Celia’s probably behind it. She wants you back in the library to monitor you. Ever since being booted out of the mayor’s office she’s been angry and bored and blames you for her run of bad luck. And a bored Celia is a dangerous Celia.”

  “What else is new?”

  Gertie sighed. “She’s stepping it up a notch. We heard she went to the offices of The Sinful Times and said she might have a scoop for them about you. That was after she came down to the sheriff’s office yesterday and demanded Sheriff Lee investigate you.”

  “For what?”

  “Celia thinks you’re not who you say you are. Which, you know, you’re not. I know you’re supposed to go fishing with Carter, but Ida Belle and I think Celia has something big up her sleeve. We just want to make sure people see a competent librarian helping out when needed to quell any rumors she starts about you.”

  I sighed.

  “There will be plenty of opportunities to go fishing with Carter after Ahmad is caught and you can be open about who you really are.”

  I hated to admit it, but Gertie was right. My butt was on the line. If Celia was on the warpath, it was best for me to stay behind and circle the wagons. “Fine. It’s just a book club, right? How hard can it be?”

  “Harder than you think. One of the most devoted book club members is Anna LeJeune, another Celia lackey. She’s Sinful’s biggest snoop and word is she’s taking some online private eye program. You’ll probably be her class project. Everything she discovers she and Celia will share with the newspaper.”

  I stared at Gertie. “I thought you were Sinful’s biggest snoop.”

  She reached over and twisted the flesh on my upper arm. For a small woman her fingers packed a punch, no doubt honed by years of teaching high school.

  “Don’t worry, Ida Belle and I will join you every day you’re there and assist.”

  “Every day? Not that I’ve ever been in one, but don’t book clubs just meet for a couple hours, slug back a few glasses of wine and discuss a book?”

  “This club’s different. It’s called the Sinful Express after The Orient Express and they all consider themselves amateur sleuths. They meet for one week a month over coffee and pastries in the library community room. They read a portion of the book the night before and discuss what they’ve read the next morning.”

  I frowned. “One week? As in, five mornings?”

  She shrugged. “The group is made up of retirees. They’ve got the time. The way it’s structured they spend a good half hour at the end writing in their sleuthing journal. Don’t worry, Ida Belle and I are going to brainstorm ways to run out the clock every day so you won’t have to say more than two words.”

  I was about to throw one more protest her way when, for the second time today, I could feel it. Actually, more like heard it. Squeaky shoes sneaking up on us. They stopped. We were being watched. I whirled around and noticed a woman Gertie’s age staring at us.

  Early seventies. Plump. Half her eyebrows missing, indicating a low thyroid. Lipstick staining her teeth. Threat Level: Low.

  “Gertie Hebert? Is that you?” she asked.

  Gertie turned toward her. “Trixi Meunier? Oh my gosh!”

  Trixi rushed in to hug Gertie, her shoes squeaking on Walter’s floor. Gertie leaned in, giving Trixi a barely touching hug. They parted, and Gertie shook her head. “My goodness if it isn’t Trixi Meunier.”

  “Yep, it’s me. Trixi,” the woman said, grinning.

  After an awkward pause, Gertie shifted her body toward me. “Trixi, this is Sandy-Sue Morrow, but we call her Fortune. She’s Marge Boudreaux’s great-niece.”

  “Well, land’s sake alive, would you look at her. A spitting image of Marge.” She came at me like a grandma starved for affection, ready to swallow me whole. I tried to deflect her by sticking my hand out for her to shake. She knocked my hand aside and enveloped me in a bear hug, squeezing the breath out of my lungs.

  Once she let go, I pulled in a huge breath. “Nice to meet you,” I said, backing away in case she wanted another helping.

  Gertie stepped a few inches away as well. “What are you doing here at Walter’s?”

  “Oh, just wanted to see how he’s holding up.” Trixi craned her neck to get a peek at Walter behind the counter. She rounded her hands like claws and emitted a low, “sexy” tiger growl, then laughed. “He’s still a looker all right.”

  Gertie winced.

  Trixi pushed past us and made her way to the counter. “Hey, old man, remember me?”

  He looked up and blanched. “Trixi?”

  “The one and only.” She made her right hand into a claw again and pretended to swipe at him while emitting another growl.

  Walter chuckled. But not the kind of chuckle that says, “Hah, that was funny,” but more the kind that says, “Shoot me now.”

  Gertie strode over to the counter and I followed.

  “So,” Walter said, “you came all the way from Church Point to do some shopping?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. I’ve moved back.”

  “Oh,” Walter said. “Again?”

  “Oh?” Gertie said. Now her face was blanching.

  Just then the door opened and Ida Belle stepped inside. She looked over and nodded to me. “Did Gertie give you the news?”

  Trixi spun around at the sound of Ida Belle’s voice and screamed like she’d just seen a ghost.

  “What the hell?” Ida Belle said. Her eyes widened. “Trixi Meunier?”

  Trixi placed a hand over her heart as if trying to stop it from beating through her chest. “Ida Belle? I heard you were dead!”

  “Dead? Who told you that?”

  She took a moment to slow her breathing. “I heard it from Sharon Strong. Her sister, Mavis still lives in Sinful and said you’d passed several months back.”

  Gertie shook her head. “Sharon never gets anything right. That was Marge who passed.”

  “Marge Boudreaux? Oh for heaven’s sake. I’m sorry to hear that.” Trixi quickly turned back toward Ida Belle. “Not that I wasn’t sorry to hear you’d passed. I was. Devastated. Well... my... I’ll have to set Sharon straight.”

  The three women stood awkwardly for a moment before Ida Belle asked, “What brings you through Sinful?”

  “Not through,” Gertie said. “Trixi has moved back again.”

  Ida Belle’s face took on a strange expression. Her lips were smiling, but a frown shone in her eyes. “Is that so? And your husband?”

  “Died five months ago,” Trixi said, some of her earlier enthusiasm fading.

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that about Fred.”

  “Oh no, Fred died years ago. This one was Allan. In between those two was Bud, but we divorced after a couple of years. Anyway, I thought I’d test the Sinful waters again. I’m renting one of Jock’s cabins until I see if I want to make things permanent.” She looked back at Walter. “I’m taking stock of what I need at the cabin. I’ll be by later to go on a buying spree.”

  Walter forced a smile. “Looking forward to it. Although, you know, Mudbug has more stores, so their inventory outsh
ines mine.”

  “Nonsense. I want to support your business.” She waved her arms, but in doing so, knocked a display of canned beans onto the floor. “For the love of Mike, how did that happen?”

  She bent down to pick up the cans but Ida Belle interrupted her. “Why don’t you leave those? We’ll get them.”

  “Well, for heaven’s sake, Ida Belle, I’m the one who knocked them over.”

  Ida Belle bent down to help her. Trixi retrieved a couple of cans and straightened up, her head knocking hard into Ida Belle’s forehead, throwing Ida Belle off balance and into the shelf, clunking the back of her head on one of the corners.

  “Ida Belle!” Gertie cried out.

  Walter and I rushed toward her, but she waved us off. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

  Trixi looked like she was about to cry. “Oh Ida Belle, I’m so sorry. This was all my fault.”

  Walter grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the cold case and brought it over. “Here’s an ice pack.” He placed the bag gently against Ida Belle’s forehead and felt the back of her head. “I may need another bag.”

  “I’ll get it,” I said. I dashed to the cold case and grabbed another bag of peas.

  “I’m fine,” Ida Belle said as I handed the peas to Walter, who applied the bag to the back of her head. She pulled her eyes to Walter. “I really don’t need this.”

  Walter smiled. “Humor me.”

  “Awww,” Trixi said. “You always were a gentleman, Walter. Say, did you two...” she wagged her finger between Walter and Ida Belle, “ever tie the knot?”

  Walter shook his head. “I keep asking.”

  Trixi looked at Ida Belle. “And you keep saying no? You’d better grab him before some old Q-tip does. But it won’t be me. After two divorces and two dead husbands, I think I’m going to try living alone awhile. But you keep asking her, Walter.”

  Walter nodded at Trixi and then cocked his head toward Ida Belle. “As long as we’re both breathing, I’ll keep asking.”

  “I hope you get your wish someday, Walter, I really do.” Trixi looked down at the remaining cans on the floor. “You want me to get the rest of those?”