Happy Birthday, Marge Read online

  Gertie was trailing behind the magician and his assistant as they meandered through the crowd of standing guests, performing card tricks for them. At one point The Amazing Andrew pulled a coin from behind Midge Allair’s ear, eliciting “oohs” and “aahs” from the ladies gathered around him.

  It was time to become an irritant to Audrey Hoover. Scott sat stiffly in his chair, while ball-of-nerves Audrey glanced nervously around the yard, freezing when she spotted me. I waved to her and she lifted her hand, unsmiling, and gave me a wave, a wiggle at her wrist, reminding me of a fish out of water flopping on the ground for air. She turned quickly back around, pretending to listen to the concert. I knew there was something she didn’t want me to find out, and I was determined to discover what that was. The more I could make her nervous, the quicker she’d spill her guts. And I felt strongly the burglaries would be part of the spillage.

  The Comfort Shoes were wrapping up The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy as I took a seat in a chair behind Audrey, who started when I leaned forward and spoke in her ear. “Those gals can really play those ukuleles, don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” Audrey said brusquely.

  The Comfort Shoes ended the song with a bow. Scott turned to face me, a huge smile dominating his perspiration-drenched face. Whatever it was these two were up to, I could tell Scott was the one who felt the least guilty about it. It was probably Scott who insisted they come today, to make it look like things were normal. Audrey’s eyes said things were anything but.

  “I don’t know why they don’t take their show on the road,” Scott said.

  I was about to agree when Didi stepped up to the microphone. “Marge had a soft spot for that song. It came out the year she was born, and she once told me her daddy, who served in World War II, played it on her birthday.”

  The crowd applauded and cheered.

  “Marge was one of those people who served,” Didi said once the cheers died down, “not only when she was younger and she, Ida Belle and Gertie enlisted and went to Vietnam, but she served the people of Sinful and all of Louisiana, too. After every hurricane, who came checking to see if you needed anything?”

  “Marge,” the crowd called out.

  “And who went and gave blood after every disaster, no matter how far she had to drive to go do it?”

  “Marge,” the crowd called out again.

  “And who would share the meat of any animal she hunted, sometimes ending up with none for herself?”

  “Marge,” the crowd said, nodding.

  I leaned in to Audrey. “My aunt sounds like someone really special. Did she ever check on your house after a hurricane?”

  Audrey nodded and said softly, “Yes, she did.”

  Scott just looked down at the ground. Audrey stood. “I’m going to go get some food. I’ll be back in a bit.” She edged her way down the aisle and hurried into the kitchen.

  I decided to let her stew in her thoughts for a few minutes.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Marge

  THE GHOST WATCHED CURIOUSLY as Audrey Hoover rushed into the kitchen. She followed her and found Audrey standing in front of the slow cooker filled with beef stew, just staring at it, visibly shaken. Maud Palmer, one of the Sinful Ladies, walked in from the living room and asked if Audrey needed help with anything. She took a deep breath and shook her head. “Just deciding what to eat,” she said, putting a smile on her face as Maud left through the back door.

  Audrey opened the freezer and pulled out a bag of frozen corn and held it up to her forehead for several seconds before putting it back and closing the door. She leaned against the refrigerator and took slow, calming breaths.

  “What the hell’s going on with you, Audrey?” Marge asked, knowing Audrey couldn’t hear her.

  The Amazing Andrew spoke into the microphone outside, drawing Marge’s attention away from the situation with Audrey. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” Marge said. “I have to make sure this guy doesn’t have a real gun at his disposal.”

  Marge stepped through the kitchen door and drifted over to the side of the magician’s stage as Andrew began his show. “And now ladies and gentlemen, you’re in for a treat.”

  Heads turned around to look at him. “The Comfort Shoes will be back in a bit, but in the meantime The Amazing Andrew and Terrific Teena are here to beguile you with their powers of magic. So turn your chairs around and enter the world of the unknown. The stupefying. The Amazing Androoooooo.” He said his name as if he were announcing a boxer.

  The guests stood and turned their chairs to face Andrew and Teena. Delphine and Cookie wheeled their motorized vehicles to the side of the first row and stopped next to one another. After the crowd was settled and quiet, Andrew began his act by pulling a bunny from an “empty” top hat sitting on a table in front of him.

  The crowd showered him with claps and cheers as Andrew bowed. He then handed the bunny to Teena, who placed it in a nearby cage.

  “That, my friends, is magic,” he said into the microphone before asking for some volunteers to come up to the stage.

  Barb sidled up to Marge and whispered to her, “Pulling a bunny from a hat is so lame.”

  “I thought you were through talking to ghosts,” Marge said.

  Barb shrugged. “Just thought I’d remind you how crappy your party is. Besides, you’re the only one who will talk to me here. Seems I rub the living the wrong way.”

  Marge stared at her. “You rub the dead the wrong way, too.” She turned her gaze back to the magician.

  “You have the hots for this guy or something?” Barb asked. “You’re sure looking at him like you do.”

  Marge kept her eyes on Andrew. “I’m on surveillance. I had a premonition that someone at this party is going to shoot Fortune later and he’s high on my list. And since you won’t help me by alerting her, I have to keep this guy in my sights until I’m sure I can eliminate him as a suspect.”

  “You’re messing with me, Marge Boudreaux. You only want to make me look foolish by getting me to tell that girl I talk to ghosts. Besides, that guy’s not a killer, he’s a pickpocket.”

  Marge whipped her head around to Barb. “What?”

  Barb nodded. “My brother was a pickpocket. He showed me some of his moves. That ring the magician just pulled from behind Ivy’s ear? He stole it from her earlier when he was showing her a card trick. And now it’s Buster’s turn. I bet he pulls a rabbit’s foot from behind Buster’s ear, because that’s what his assistant, Teena, took from Buster’s pocket when The Not So Amazing Andrew distracted him.”

  Marge turned and watched as Andrew pulled a rabbit’s foot from behind Buster’s ear. Buster appeared stunned and checked his pocket. “It was in my pocket. How’d you do that?”

  “Magic!” The Amazing Andrew declared triumphantly, bowing to the cheers from the audience.

  “Lame,” Barb called out.

  The audience looked her way. Some booed and shushed her. Andrew glowered at her.

  “You don’t know when to stop, do you?” Marge said.

  Barb pointed to her puppet and addressed the audience. “Don’t shush me, shush Cloris. She’s the one who said it. Though, if you ask me, a ventriloquist is far more entertaining than some two-bit, hacky magician.”

  The Amazing Andrew’s glower gave way to a smug smile. He gestured to Martha Germain, who sat in the third row. “Madame, are you missing a watch?”

  Martha looked down at her wrist and looked up in surprise. “Who stole my watch?”

  “Why, I believe this lovely lady here might be wearing it.” He gestured toward Cookie.

  Delphine looked down at her mother’s wrist. “Where’d you get that?”

  The magician came over and lifted Cookie’s hand. “Could it be...” he held the pause, then boomed into the microphone dramatically, “magic?”

  “Could it be she stole it from me?” Martha got up and pushed her way down the aisle, kneeing into legs and the occasional cane before stomping in the direction of C
ookie. “Give it back, you old bat!”

  Cookie looked up at her. “Who you callin’ fat?”

  “I called you an old bat!” Martha shouted.

  “Don’t talk to my mama like that!” Delphine powered up her scooter, drove a few inches forward, then switched into a fast reverse, running over Martha’s foot, before moving forward again.

  Martha screamed and knocked Delphine’s party hat off her head.

  Barb laughed. “Oh, now the party’s getting started.”

  “This is not good,” Marge muttered to herself. She joined Ida Belle, Gertie and Fortune as they rushed over to stop the upcoming battle. “I left a guest list for a reason,” Marge reminded them.

  “Ladies!” Ida Belle grabbed onto Martha’s shoulders.

  Martha pointed her finger at Delphine. “You’re paying my doctor’s bill!” Then pointed at Cookie. “And you stole my watch!”

  Fortune looked over at the Amazing Andrew. “Did you do this?”

  He shrugged. “It’s magic.”

  “He stole it from her, that’s how,” Marge said. Damn, why was crazy Barb the only one who could hear her?

  “It’s mine now,” Cookie said.

  “I’m calling the sheriff!” Martha yelled.

  It took a few minutes of struggling with Cookie, but Gertie managed to remove the watch and give it back to Martha, who was promised a six-pack of Sinful Ladies Cough Syrup if she’d just go back to her seat and forget the call to the sheriff’s office.

  Gertie turned toward The Amazing Andrew. “Any other ‘magical’ switcheroos we should know about?”

  “Well...” The Amazing Andrew said, sheepishly. “I do believe you’re hiding someone’s wallet behind your ear.”

  The magician pulled his hand away from Gertie’s ear and held up a wallet. “Ta-da!”

  Gertie grabbed it from his hand and looked inside. She held it up and called out, “John Skinner.”

  John, a former hunting buddy of Marge’s who had been in the process of getting a beer, rushed over and grabbed his wallet. “How’d this get over here?”

  “Magic!” the Amazing Andrew proclaimed.

  “You’re a damn pickpocket!” Ida Belle said. She looked at Gertie. “You hired a pickpocket for Marge’s party?”

  “I told you I had a funny feeling about him,” Gertie whispered. “But no, you wouldn’t let me call and cancel.”

  “She does have a point,” Marge said.

  Andrew smiled broadly. “I have talents few magicians have.” He reached into his top hat and pulled out a pair of granny panties. “Someone missing a pair of these?”

  Gasps and murmurs of surprise rang through the crowd. Several women stood to check inside their pants. Even Gertie felt her butt for panty line.

  “Just kidding, ladies,” The Amazing Andrew said, chuckling, tossing the panties to Teena.

  Swamp Team Two Plus One huddled close to him. “We’d like you to ‘magically’ give people their stuff back,” Fortune said.

  “Of course I will. It’s part of my act,” he said indignantly. “I’m not a thief!” His voice dropped to a whisper as he added, “At least not anymore.”

  Teena edged her way into the huddle. “We found the Lord in the Cameron Parish Jail. Decided to use our talents for good.” She cracked her gum for emphasis.

  Ida Belle shot a look at Gertie before turning her attention back to Andrew. “Give everyone their stuff back now.”

  “And we’re frisking you before you leave,” Gertie said. “You and Stickyfingers Teena.”

  “Fine!” Andrew huffed. “A man tries to contribute to society!” He and Teena fanned out into the crowd, making a big production of pulling watches, rings and other items out of his hat, behind ears and from inside Teena’s big hair.

  “This party’s a disaster,” Gertie said, her eyes reddening.

  “It’s not a disaster,” Fortune said. “This is just a little blip.”

  “Cake’s here!” one of the Sinful Ladies shouted.

  “See?” Fortune said. “The cake’s being delivered just as Fred said it would.”

  But Marge knew that wouldn’t be the case. She had told them yesterday she had a premonition the cake order was wrong, but they couldn’t hear her.

  “We’ll distract everyone with cake,” Ida Belle said. “After we sing happy birthday to Marge, the Comfort Shoes will come back for another set and everyone will forget about having their wallets and wedding rings stolen by a magician that SOMEONE should have checked out a little better.”

  Gertie got in Ida Belle’s face. “And who wouldn’t be here if SOMEONE had listened to that SOMEONE’S dreams and let her call the magician and cancel.”

  Marge patted Gertie on the shoulder, causing Gertie to shiver. “This disaster’s not over yet. Not only is it not the cake you ordered, but I still see Fortune slumped on the floor. You can’t let your guard down.”

  A young man, wearing a full-length chef’s apron over his T-shirt, appeared from the side yard, wheeling a cart atop which sat a three-tiered, brightly decorated birthday cake.

  “Oh thank heavens,” Gertie said. “The cake looks beautiful. At least one thing’s going right.”

  Marge looked over at Barb, who had a strange grin on her face. Marge drifted over to her. “You know something.”

  “I sure do,” Barb said. “That there is Didi’s grandson, Jason. I overheard Didi’s ghost of a mother complaining to the dead elder Sheriff Lee the other day that Jason was earning money by stripping at women’s birthday parties.”

  Marge groaned. This party had just turned into a category 4 shitstorm.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “HOLY CRAP.” I LOOKED over at Gertie and Ida Belle, but they were both frozen, their mouths agape. Our cake delivery man had just ripped off his apron, revealing a T-Shirt and nothing but a pair of skimpy, black leather undershorts covering the bottom half of his body. He then bent down and pulled a boom box from the bottom shelf of the cart, set it on the ground next to him and pressed a button. A bass-heavy, pulsating beat blared from it. Stepping away from the cart, he whipped off his T-shirt and threw it into a group of stunned Sinful Ladies and gyrated to the beat.

  Once the momentary shock wore off, several women began hooting. Bea ran up to him and stuck a bill in his shorts, then hooted and backed away. After accepting several more bills stuck down his shorts, the man bent down and lowered the volume, prompting whistles from several ladies standing with a view of his black-leather-clad butt.

  He straightened up and blew a kiss to the women. “Who’s the birthday girl? I have a special present for you.” He cast a look around at all the white- and gray-haired old ladies, his come-hither look withering under their gaze. He swept his eyes my way and his face lit up. “Would that be you? Please?”

  Cookie zoomed up to him in her wheelchair. “It’s me. I’m the birthday girl. Do I get a lap dance?”

  “Mama!” Delphine screamed, zooming up next to her mother. She whipped her head around to the man, her head in line with his crotch. “Oh. My.”

  “Get out of the way,” Cookie said, ramming her daughter’s scooter with her wheelchair. “You’re blocking my view.”

  “You’re Jennifer?” he asked, his face filled with dismay.

  “I’m the Queen of Sheba if you want me to be,” Cookie said.

  Gertie and Ida Belle came back to their bodies and shot me dirty looks.

  “I told you Fred would mess up the order,” Gertie said. “In case you haven’t guessed, Marge wasn’t into male strippers. But that’s not even the worst part. We have Jennifer’s cake, and they’re always gluten-free. That thing will taste like grainy cardboard.”

  Barb approached the man wearing her sock puppet, which held a dollar bill in its mouth. “If you dance dirty for me, I’ll make it a five.”

  “I’ll make it a ten,” one of the other ladies hooted. He shrugged, reached down and turned up the music and was quickly surrounded by old women snapping bills in his shorts. />
  I heard the kitchen door open behind me. Then a scream. “Jason!”

  Didi of the Comfort Shoes stormed over to the crowd of women, pulling them away from the man, who was now frozen as he stared at Didi.

  He finally spoke. “Grandma?”

  Didi turned off the music and began screaming at the women. “You perverts! He’s twenty-four years old!”

  One woman waved a bill in Didi’s face. “Get out of the way, Didi! Cinnamon Buns here was just gettin’ good.”

  I never had kids and was nowhere near the age of a grandmother, but even I knew you didn’t call a woman’s near-naked grandson, “Cinnamon Buns.” Marge’s party had now turned that corner from rowdy to riot as the rest of the Comfort Shoes rushed outside from the kitchen, saw what was happening to their leader and joined in, swinging their ukuleles at anyone who took a swing at Didi. Ida Belle tried her best to stop the fighting, but backed away when one of the Comfort Shoes swung a ukulele her way.

  “Too bad we can’t shoot ‘em all,” Ida Belle said.

  Gertie was on the verge of tears. I raced over to the magician’s prop gun case, took out one of the trick weapons and fired into the air. The bang was wimpy, but it was loud enough that women stopped fighting and went for their guns in waistbands and purses, pointing them my way.

  I picked up the microphone and handed it to Gertie. She took a moment to compose herself before speaking. “Shame on you all. This is Marge’s birthday party. Behave yourselves. Jason, please put your apron back on, dear.”

  One woman groaned, prompting Didi to grab a ukulele from one of her Comfort Shoes and slam it against the groaning woman’s butt. She pointed to her grandson. “You’re coming home with me.”

  “Aww, Grandma, I could make some serious change with this crowd.”