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    Schooled: Miss Fortune World: Hair Extensions and Homicide, #3
    Schooled: Miss Fortune World: Hair Extensions and Homicide, #3
    Schooled: Miss Fortune World: Hair Extensions and Homicide, #3
    Ebook90 pages1 hour

    Schooled: Miss Fortune World: Hair Extensions and Homicide, #3

    By Frankie Bow

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    About this ebook

    "What's Celia complaining about this time? Did I wash my car on a Tuesday? Wear off-white before Labor Day?"
    Sheriff Lee fidgeted and cleared his throat. 
    "Celia Arceneaux is dead, Fortune."

    CIA operative Fortune Redding signs up for night classes, hoping to ease the boredom of her undercover assignment and update her computer skills. But an unfortunately-timed murder on the campus of Mudbug Technical College sends shock waves through the town of Sinful. And Fortune's life is turned upside down when she discovers who the prime suspect is. Now Fortune has to choose between lying low to avoid the ruthless arms dealer who's put a price on her head, and doing everything in her power to save someone she can't bear to lose.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJ&R Fan Fiction
    Release dateAug 17, 2018
    ISBN9781386169994
    Schooled: Miss Fortune World: Hair Extensions and Homicide, #3
    Author

    Frankie Bow

    Frankie Bow teaches at a public university and writes two mystery series: The Professor Molly Mysteries, and licensed works in the Miss Fortune World. Unlike Professor Molly, Frankie is blessed with delightful students, sane colleagues, and a perfectly nice office chair. She thinks if life can’t be fair, at least it can be entertaining. From the author: Thank you for taking the time to read this book. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends and posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated. Sign up for Island Confidential, Frankie's mystery newsletter, at subscribepage.com/ProfessorMolly

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      Book preview

      Schooled - Frankie Bow

      Chapter One

      IT WASN’T JUST THE Louisiana humidity that was making me sweat.

      I shifted on the seat of the metal folding chair in a useless attempt to find a comfortable position.  An ancient desk fan rattled away on the table, pushing the damp air around the tiny interrogation room.

      So, we’ve established that you were in Mudbug last night.

      Sheriff Robert E. Lee peered at me from under his bushy white eyebrows me as if I were a freak show exhibit. With my current cover identity, I sure felt like one. Sandy-Sue Fortune Morrow, children’s librarian and former beauty queen. Now pushing thirty and sporting the tackiest hair extensions this side of RuPaul’s Drag Race.

      That’s correct, Sheriff. I was at Mudbug Technical College.

      I didn’t know why Sheriff Lee had brought me in for questioning. But I did know that he—and much of the town— were wary of the new Yankee (that would be me). It didn’t help that since my arrival, the murder rate in Sinful, Louisiana (population 253, give or take) had skyrocketed to approximately that of Bogotá.

      What were you doing way over at Mudbug Tech, Miss Morrow? 

      I was enrolled—am enrolled—in a class there.

      Lee squinted skeptically. I shrugged.

      I’m thinking about a career change, I said truthfully.

      Don’t like working with children?

      I was surprised Lee remembered that detail of my cover story. 

      Getting a little tired of it.

      In fact, I worked for the CIA, doing the nasty and necessary jobs that you won’t find in any want ad or official position description. Director Morrow hates it when I call myself an assassin, so let’s just go with operative.  My real name is Fortune Redding, and my most recent assignment had earned me the undying enmity of a particularly nasty customer named Ahmad. Morrow had stuck me undercover deep in bayou country until things cooled down. So far so good, but if Sheriff Lee ran my prints, things could get complicated.

      Can you tell me what this is about, Sheriff?

      I could see why I might be brought in for questioning on some flimsy pretext. I was the newcomer in town. But what were Ida Belle and Gertie doing here? My two closest friends in Sinful were old enough to be my grandmothers. They were far from harmless, having been Vietnam-era spies and all, but Sheriff Lee didn’t know that. What on earth merited hauling in all three of us at once?

      And where was Deputy Sheriff Carter LeBlanc, who normally did most of the actual law enforcement in Sinful? Why wasn’t Carter the one interrogating me? My mind drifted back, once again, to that kiss at my front door...

      It’s about Celia Arceneaux. Sheriff Lee jolted me out of my pleasant reverie.

      Ah. Celia. I should have known.

      Celia Arceneaux had been on my case since the moment I set foot in Sinful, braying to anyone who would listen that I brought nothing but trouble with me. She wasn’t wrong about the timing, but none of it was actually my fault. In fact, I, along with Ida Belle and Gertie, had actually solved a few crimes together, dispatching some bad guys in the process.  I’d even saved Celia’s life at one point. But Celia had been feuding with Ida Belle and Gertie for the past fifty years or so, and she wasn’t about to stop now. Apparently, gratitude wasn’t in her vocabulary.

      Worse, Celia had recently won (or won) the Sinful mayor’s office in an election with a margin so thin that the town was now in the middle of a recount. In the meantime, Celia was allowed to stay on as mayor-elect. It turned out that the only thing worse than Celia Arceneaux was Celia Arceneaux with a little bit of power. She could now enforce Sinful’s arcane laws (or not) as she pleased, declare holidays on a whim, and drain the city coffers by hiring her idiot relatives and generally mismanaging everything. It wouldn’t have surprised me if she started printing money with her picture on it and renaming the months of the year after herself.

      So Celia filed another complaint about me? What is it this time? Washing my car on a Tuesday? Wearing off-white before Labor Day?

      Sheriff Lee fidgeted and cleared his throat. Come on, Sheriff, spit it out.  How bad could it be?

      Celia Arceneaux is dead, Fortune.

      I could almost feel my jaw hit the top of Lee’s desk.

      What?

      I said Celia Arceneaux is dead, he shouted.

      No, I heard you the first time. She’s dead? How? What happened?

      She was the victim of a hit-and-run last night.

      Oh. That’s terrible. But what does this have to do with—

      In the upper parking lot of Mudbug Technical College.

      I instinctively went on high alert. Someone had killed Celia Arceneaux and was trying to pin it on me. But who? This wasn’t Ahmad’s style; too subtle. Anyone else I could think of with a grudge against me would have the decency to refrain from murdering an innocent bystander.  Even Celia herself, rest her cranky soul, would never have done something so ruthless.

      Sheriff, I didn’t run Celia down. You can check my Jeep if you don’t believe me.

      Never said you did.

      Really? Okay.

      Now why don’t you tell me about the incident?

      The incident?

      "The altercation.

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