Gator Bait (2 page)

“Anyway,” Ida Belle said, “I have it on good authority from Beatrice that Celia is announcing her candidacy today at church.”

My last remaining hope faded away. I had momentarily clung to optimism that Ida Belle and Gertie were mistaken—that they’d gotten misinformation or garbled something and none of it was true. But information from Beatrice Paulson was as good as hearing it yourself. Beatrice had been a member of Celia’s group for decades, but when she was widowed some years prior, Ida Belle “turned her” and made her a secret member of the SLS. She remained in Celia’s group as a spy. And boy, had she missed her calling. Beatrice had a mind like a vise. She remembered everything she heard, word for word, and even the tone of voice. It was like having a walking tape recorder at your disposal.

“That only gives her a day to get anything done. Surely that’s not enough?”

“Most of the responsible people in Sinful will be in church,” Ida Belle said, “and those who aren’t will hear from those who were. In a place this small, it doesn’t take long to mount an offense.”

“Wow.” I slumped back in my chair. “Okay, so I can see where Celia is less than desirable as mayor, but do you really think she’ll come after the Sinful Ladies? I thought we all had sort of a truce.”

Ida Belle shook her head. “Moments of quiet never last long with Celia.”

“But I outed her daughter’s killer,” I said, “and saved her life. Has she forgotten all that?”

“No,” Ida Belle said, “but she’s conveniently pushed it to the ‘does not matter’ pile in her disturbed mind.”

Gertie nodded. “She’s just like that evil coach on
Glee
. No matter how much those kids do for her, she still reverts right back to the enemy. There’s absolutely no doubt in my mind that if elected, she’ll spend one hundred percent of her time in office figuring out how to stick it to the Sinful Ladies, especially me and Ida Belle.”

“Jane Lynch is hilarious on that show, though,” Ida Belle said.

“I’ll give you that,” Gertie allowed.

“Unfortunately, Gertie’s right about Celia, and she will definitely not be hilarious like Jane Lynch,” Ida Belle said. “But what concerns us even more is that she could set her sights on you.”

“What?” At first I didn’t get it, but then I wasn’t thinking like Celia. She’d always been at odds with Ida Belle and Gertie, and ever since I’d been in town, things had ramped up even more with the major crime wave. Even though Celia had no basis for her prejudice, I had no doubt she’d figure out some way to blame me for everything.
 

“And she’ll have charge of the sheriff’s department,” Ida Belle continued.

I felt a quiver of fear in my belly. “You don’t think she’d have them investigate me, do you?”

“If she thought she could find something about you that would make you leave town, yeah, it’s possible.”

“Crap.” My cover would withstand basic police inquiry, even a fingerprint check, but it also required Morrow’s tweaking things on his end to make sure nothing slipped through. With the director unable to keep his normal pace, I wasn’t sure Harrison had access to everything he needed to keep me hidden from the mole.
 

“Exactly what I thought,” Gertie said.
 

I looked at Ida Belle. “Then you have to ask Marie to step down and get back in the running again. You’re a stronger candidate than Marie, right?”

“I can’t,” Ida Belle said. “The election is tomorrow. Celia played her cards well this time. She got herself on the ballot before the cutoff, then waited to announce it until no one else could challenge her.”

“So we’re screwed.”

“I’m afraid we might be,” Ida Belle said.

I sighed. “So I guess that means I can forget the tennis shoes and banana pudding today. Why antagonize the beast?”

“Hell, no!” Gertie said. “Celia was born antagonized. I don’t see any reason to give up a perfectly good dessert when it’s not going to change anything.”

“I agree,” Ida Belle said. “If she’s elected, we’ll be punished enough going forward. No use sacrificing the best part of our lunch until we’re required to by law. And I imagine it will be one of the first things she rigs.”

I rose from the table. “Then I best go put on a sundress and pack my running shoes in a handbag.”

Ida Belle was right. I’d known plenty of people like Celia. If she intended to set her sights on me, she’d do it no matter what. If the end of my time in Sinful was drawing nigh, there was no sense in abandoning great dessert.

###

After a month in Sinful, I hadn’t thought it possible, but church was even more boring today than it ever had been. Pastor Don had clearly been watching too much television and went on a rant about drug use, white-collar crime, and motorcycle gangs. He threw in some Bible verses that didn’t exactly apply and indulged in lots of fist-banging on the pulpit. The latter, at least, served to keep me, and most everyone else, from nodding off.

The sermon went into even more of a lull, and my eyes were almost closed when I felt my phone vibrating in the pocket of my sundress. I pulled it out and smiled when I saw it was a text from Carter. After our great date last night, I was wondering when I’d hear from him.
 

I unlocked the phone and read the message.

Had a great time last night. Have to work today. Try not to get arrested after church.

I grinned. Some women liked sweet nothings whispered in their ear. I liked a man who encouraged me to avoid arrest.
 

I was just about to slip the phone back in my pocket when another text came through.
 

No sexting in church.

I looked over at Gertie, who was laid over in the pew, one hand over her mouth and her sides shaking. I didn’t even know what sexting was, but not only did it sound like something that should never happen in church, it didn’t sound like something I’d ever be involved in.

I looked up at the choir loft and saw Ida Belle shaking her head. It took Gertie a minute or so, but she finally sat back up, red-faced and digging in her purse for a cough drop. As if anyone was going to believe she was having a coughing attack.
 

The woman in the pew in front of us turned around and gave both of us a dirty look.
 
Gertie stuffed a tissue over her nose and blew it, glaring right back at her. The woman huffed and turned around. I tried not to laugh. Between Gertie’s childlike behavior and my propensity for the perverse, we probably needed to sit in different rows.

Finally, Pastor Don wrapped up his monotone monologue and the deacons began to make their way around with the offering plate. I couldn’t help but think it might be better if they passed the plates before the pastor bored everyone half to death, but then I guess religious donation wasn’t the same as tipping for good service.
 

I dug some cash out of my purse and dropped it into the plate, then passed it to Gertie. But instead of taking the plate, she began to dig around among the bills.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Making change.”

“Are you supposed to do that?”

“You are if the teller at the bank gives you hundred-dollar bills instead of twenties.”

The deacon waiting for the plate at the end of the pew leaned forward. “Get a move on. Drag racing starts at noon.”

I grabbed the plate from Gertie and tossed it with a Frisbee move to the guy sitting down from her. Unfortunately, I realized after the toss that he hadn’t gotten word that we’d moved on to the physical portion of church and was still snoring softly. The plate landed right in his lap and he jumped up as if he’d been shot, flinging bills and coins all over.

Gertie, who’d been looking glum—probably over the loss of the hundred—fell over in the pew, mumbling something about rain. My mind flashed back to a particularly unpleasant scene at my house when Gertie was throwing bills at half-naked men on television.
 

“You can’t make it rain in church,” I said and jabbed her in her right buttock.
 

The deacon scrambled for the plate and the money, managing to shoot us both dirty looks as he waved his arms at the floating bills. The previously sleeping man grabbed his hat and pushed past the deacon, apparently deciding he was done with church for the day. The song director, who was probably one of the original two disciples, squinted from the pulpit at the deacon. Apparently, he took the deacon’s arm-waving as his signal to start the last hymn, and directed the congregation to rise.

The choir jumped to join the congregation and everyone sang a couple of verses of “Amazing Grace.” The deacon managed to gather up all the money, then hurried back up front with his plate, barely depositing it on the table before Pastor Don launched into prayer.
 

As everyone bowed their heads and closed their eyes, I exchanged my sandals for tennis shoes and slid to the edge of the pew. As soon as Pastor Don uttered the “a” in “amen,” I bolted for the door, Gertie barreling behind me. As we burst out of the church, I spotted Celia, already halfway down the sidewalk to Francine’s, even though the church bell just started to ring.

“She cheated!” Gertie yelled.
 

Celia looked back and grinned and Gertie yelled a couple more things that probably weren’t appropriate on the doorstep of the church. I doubled my effort and sped across the street at an angle, trying to head her off at the pass. Celia had definitely broken the rule about leaving church before the allotted time, and I had a feeling if she was elected, the allotted time might become earlier for Catholics and not for Baptists. The Sinful Ladies would never see a serving of Francine’s banana pudding on their table again.

As I raced toward the sidewalk, two bloodhounds bounded down the street and locked in on me. They set off at a dead run, tails wagging and barking. I wasn’t afraid for my safety because it was clear they thought I was playing a game and wanted to join in, but their size and speed could cause problems. I didn’t have time to dodge playful hounds.
 

The hot dog vendor was setting up in front of the sidewalk for Monday’s election, and I snagged two wieners from his tray as I dashed by. I chucked the first one ahead of me and onto the sidewalk, hoping to cut the dogs off before they reached me. My plan worked. The hounds caught a whiff of the wiener and immediately changed course, darting off toward the sidewalk.
 

Gertie, who had stepped onto the sidewalk somewhere behind me, was still pounding away and yelling “Cheater!” with every other step. Given her physical conditioning, I questioned her choice of running and yelling as it used up her limited oxygen supply more quickly, but I didn’t have time to stop and throw out advice. Worst case, the sheriff’s department had an oxygen tank and was across the way from Francine’s.
 

I lifted my hand to throw the next wiener and stepped into a pothole. As I scrambled to stay upright, I involuntarily flung the wiener a little farther than I’d intended and it landed smack in Celia’s huge handbag.
 

Chapter Two

The dogs, who’d already swallowed the first wiener, spun around and set off after Celia at a dead run. The largest hound leaped up and grabbed the purse, pulling Celia down with him. Celia screamed at she sprawled onto the sidewalk, clutching her handbag as the dogs ripped it to shreds for the elusive wiener.
 

I looked back to assess the damage and saw Gertie, who had surprised me by keeping her pace that long, try to put on the brakes, but it was too late to stop her momentum. She hit the first dog and went flying over him, landing on top of the flailing Celia.
 

I hesitated for a second, figuring I should probably stop and help, but then I heard Gertie yelling behind me, “Keep going.”

I picked up pace and kept running for Francine’s, completely ignoring the ruckus behind me. I flung open the door to Francine’s and barely slowed as I dashed for the prime table at the front of the restaurant. Francine, who was standing in the kitchen doorway, raised one eyebrow but didn’t say a word. Ally hurried over with a pot of coffee.

“What’s all the commotion outside?” Ally asked as she poured me a cup.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Which means it probably involves Aunt Celia. Which means I definitely want to know.”

The door flew open and Celia stumbled in, clutching the remains of her handbag. Her hair stood out on end as if she’d stuck her hand in a light socket. The hem in her dress was completely torn out, leaving the bottom looking as if it had been chewed on, which made sense given that it sorta had. Unfortunately, it also exposed far too much of Celia’s thighs, and I mentally apologized to Gertie for accusing her of being out of shape. Celia’s thighs were pasty white jiggly masses of goo.

Gertie hobbled in the door after Celia, clutching her elbow and looking as though she’d been caught out in a windstorm. The rest of the two crews of women pushed their way inside. Dorothy, Celia’s cousin, shoved Gertie to the side and stomped across the café to glare at me.
 

“I ought to have you arrested for assault,” she said.

“Technically,” I said, “I never touched her.”

“You threw that wiener in her purse on purpose, knowing those dogs would attack her.”