Ida Belle sighed. “Then let’s hope these costumes covered enough to keep anyone from recognizing us. Did everyone keep their heads down?”
“I did,” I said. “I was practically staring at my chest the entire time, even when I was running. I think Gertie’s safe with that habit on, so we’re probably in the clear.”
I said it to reassure the two of them, but I couldn’t be certain, at least not about the being recognized part. My other assumption was confirmed a couple miles down the highway when a police cruiser sped by in the opposite direction, lights flashing.
“Maybe there’s something else going on,” Gertie said.
“I seriously doubt it,” Ida Belle said. “The hotel is the only thing out here for a good stretch except the bar, and he passed that. Let’s get this key back to Shirleen and get out of here before we’re spotted by someone we know.”
“First things first,” I said. “I’m getting out of this nonsense.”
I yanked off the wig, then lifted and raised and pulled and tugged until I got the hooker dress over my head. I pulled on my T-shirt and jeans, then slipped on my socks and tennis shoes and breathed a sigh of relief. “That wig was hot. My head’s all sweaty.”
“So is this flannel,” Ida Belle said. “As soon as we get to the bar, it and these boots are coming off.” The hat was already long gone and sitting on the floorboard in the back of the car.
Gertie pulled and tugged on the collar but didn’t seem to be making progress. “This is stuck,” she said.
“Lights please,” I said to Ida Belle, then leaned forward, trying to see what was keeping the collar in place. “How is it attached?” I asked.
“There’s a string that ties it,” Gertie said, “but I can’t get it undone.”
I flipped the rear of the habit over Gertie’s head and tugged at the knot. “It’s pulled too tight from when Winky was choking you. This isn’t coming off without a knife. I don’t suppose you have one in your Bible?”
“Crap,” Gertie said. “It’s probably the only thing I didn’t bring.”
“We’ll take it off when we get to Fortune’s house,” Ida Belle said.
“Easy for you to say,” Gertie complained. “You’re not being choked by your outfit.”
“I’m going to point out that you picked the outfit you’re in,” Ida Belle said.
Gertie gave her a dirty look, but there wasn’t much else she could do. Five minutes later, Ida Belle pulled into the bar parking lot. It was an old run-down building made of red brick with wooden eaves that were rotted on the corners. Country music blared from inside, and slivers of light streamed out of the narrow slits between the window coverings and the walls. We hopped out of the car and Ida Belle shrugged off the flannel shirt and work boots and pulled on her tennis shoes. Then we headed for the entrance.
The noise level on the inside was ten times worse than in the parking lot, but as soon as we stepped through the front door, all talking ceased, decreasing the sound level to an eerie sort of quiet. A big beefy guy behind the bar looked over at us and shook his head.
“We don’t want any weird stuff in here. Take that nonsense to New Orleans.”
Shirleen jumped off a barstool and hurried over. “I’ll give them directions to a club I know,” she said. The bartender frowned at her, then went back to pouring beer. We hurried outside and across the parking lot, where it was easier to hear.
“Why are you dressed like a nun?” Shirleen asked Gertie.
“It’s a disguise,” Gertie explained. “So if things got hairy, no one would recognize us. I was going to take it off, but the knot in the collar is too tight.”
Shirleen pulled a knife out of her pocket, grabbed the collar, and cut it in two. “There. Now you can talk without sounding like you’re choking. Did you get something?”
Gertie nodded and handed her the key. “You probably don’t want to put that back tonight. There was a bit of a, uh…fray. We’re pretty sure the police are there now.”
Shirleen’s eyes widened. “What the hell did you do?”
“What you asked us to do,” Gertie said. “We got a picture of Winky with another woman.”
Shirleen flushed. “That lying cheating bastard! But why are the cops there?”
“He chased us naked through the lobby,” I said, “and landed on Gertie, who fell flat on the lobby floor. Right in front of the desk clerk, I might add.”
Shirleen looked back and forth between us, clearly waiting for the punch line, but when none was forthcoming, she blew out a breath. “So Winky attacked a nun? Naked?”
I nodded. “All he was wearing was a frown.”
Shirleen still didn’t seem completely convinced, but she also couldn’t think of any reason we’d make up such a story. “Let me see the picture,” she said.