“No good deeds living next to Celia,” I said.
Ida Belle’s phone beeped and she checked it. “Myrtle says Carter is on his way to investigate a fire at Celia’s.”
“Awesome,” I said, and pulled out my phone to send a text to Little.
Your window is open.
“Okay,” I said, “let’s wrap this up and get out of here before Carter shows up.”
We figured given the proximity of the houses and the mayoral race, Marie would be first up on Celia’s blame list. We didn’t want any evidence around when he showed up for his obligatory check.
We hurried back downstairs and headed to the laundry room. I put on gloves and grabbed the buckets. The sprayer was Marie’s and would go back into the garage. Gertie’s poopy clothes got folded up in the tarp to take with us, and all evidence was ready to ride.
“Make sure you spray some deodorizer in here,” Ida Belle said as we hurried out. “And thanks again for letting us use your place.”
Marie grinned. “Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t have missed being a part of this for anything.”
“What about Gertie?” I asked. “She can’t go traipsing around half naked.”
“Gertie won’t fit in anything Marie’s skinny butt goes into,” Ida Belle said.
“Well, I’m not letting her get into my Jeep wearing half a blouse and neon orange underwear that say ‘Bad Ass’ on the rear.”
“Pretty sharp, huh?” Gertie grinned.
Ida Belle rolled her eyes. “Just grab the tablecloth and wrap up in it. You can launder it and bring it back tomorrow.”
Marie, whose nose was twitching from the smell, glanced at Gertie’s orange-clad butt and said, “You can keep it. I need a new one anyway.”
Ida Belle snagged the tablecloth and Gertie wrapped it around her body like a toga, then we headed into the garage, where we’d hidden my Jeep. Since Gertie was wound up like a burrito, Ida Belle climbed into the backseat and secured the bucket of poo on the floorboard next to her. I went over to the passenger side and half lifted, half shoved Gertie into the seat, then hopped into the driver’s seat and hauled it out of the garage and onto the street.
Our plan was to head the opposite direction of Celia’s house with no headlights so that she couldn’t see my vehicle. Plus, Carter would be approaching Celia’s from the shortest route, which was from the opposite direction. I floored it to the end of the street, checked for cars, then rounded the corner without stopping. A second later, red lights flashed behind me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I yelled. “Now they decide to have traffic patrol?”
“Is it Deputy Breaux?” Gertie asked.
“Can’t tell,” Ida Belle said. “The headlights are shining right at us.”
“Just play it cool,” I said.
“I’m wearing a tablecloth,” Gertie said. “If you’ve got any ideas on how to make this cool, then lay them on me quickly.”
I saw a flashlight bobbing in the side mirror and put my hands on the steering wheel, the way you’re supposed to when you’re stopped. I rolled down the window and said a silent prayer as the figure stepped up to the window. Automatic relief coursed through me when Deputy Breaux peered in the vehicle at us.
“Ladies,” he said. “Are you aware that you’re operating this vehicle without headlights and you ran a stop sign?”
“Yes,” I said, “but no one was coming and I’m in a hurry to get home.”
“Why are you in a hurry?” Deputy Breaux asked.
“Because I have a bathroom emergency,” I said.
Deputy Breaux looked confused and Gertie leaned over the console.
“She has to pee,” Gertie said. “And you’re not helping matters any holding us up.”
“I’m just doing my job,” Deputy Breaux said, looking slightly pained.
“This Jeep has cloth seats,” Gertie said. “That’s all I’m saying.”
Deputy Breaux leaned forward more and took a harder look at Gertie. “Why are you wearing a sheet?”
Gertie froze and I still hadn’t come up with anything reasonable. Thank God Ida Belle was thinking for all of us.
“Toga party,” Ida Belle said.
He frowned. “Why aren’t the rest of you wearing sheets?”
“Mine were in the laundry,” I said.
“And I don’t take part in such nonsense,” Ida Belle said. “I was just there for the free beer.”
He wrinkled his nose. “What’s that smell?”
“I stepped in dog crap,” Ida Belle said. “Happens every time I walk across the lawn. I should know better.”
Still confused, he looked back at me, and that’s when he noticed my hands on the steering wheel.
Crap! I was wearing the latex gloves.
“Ms. Morrow,” he said, “why are you wearing plastic gloves?”
“Wax treatment,” Gertie said. “Makes your skin really soft but it’s messy. She has to wear the gloves until the wax is hard, then we’ll peel it off.”
“You dipped your hands in wax?” He stared at me as if I’d lost my mind.
“It’s special wax,” Gertie said. “It doesn’t burn. I’ll be happy to come by the sheriff’s department and do your hands for you next week.”
The thought of having girlie treatment on his hands at the sheriff’s department must have scared Deputy Breaux more than whatever we were up to, because his eyes widened and he shook his head.
“That won’t be necessary,” he said. “My hands are just fine. You go ahead and get going and take care of that bathroom thing…and your hands.”
He was still standing there shaking his head when I pulled away.
“Nice thinking with the toga explanation,” Gertie said to Ida Belle.
“It worked on Deputy Breaux,” Ida Belle said, “but the gig’s up as soon as he tells all this to Carter.”
“So what,” I said. “He won’t have any proof and even if he did, do you really think Carter’s going to arrest us for lighting poo on fire in Celia’s yard after the trouble she caused with the ATF? As long as he thinks this was a juvenile prank and nothing more, we’re in the clear.”
“Who are you calling juvenile?” Gertie asked.
I looked over at her, wrapped in a yellow tablecloth, hair askew, and orange underwear lurking below, and grinned.
“Who indeed?”
At 10:30 p.m. came the knock on my front door that I’d been expecting. I jumped up from the couch and looked at Ida Belle and Gertie.
“Time for game face,” I said.
It was going to be hard. We’d been grinning ever since we’d walked into my house a half hour ago, and I wasn’t completely certain we could stop anytime soon. As I turned the dead bolt, I put on the best bored and sleepy look I could manage and swung the door open. Carter stared at me, eyebrows up.
“Miss Morrow,” he said, cluing me in that it was official sheriff’s department business. “There’s been a disturbance at Celia Arceneaux’s house tonight and she’s suggested I ask you some questions.”
“Of course she has,” I said, and waved him in.
He stepped into the living room and nodded at Ida Belle and Gertie. “Ladies.”
“So what kind of disturbance did Celia manage this time?” I asked.