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    Once Upon a Murder: Miss Fortune World: Hair Extensions and Homicide, #1
    Once Upon a Murder: Miss Fortune World: Hair Extensions and Homicide, #1
    Once Upon a Murder: Miss Fortune World: Hair Extensions and Homicide, #1
    Ebook132 pages2 hours

    Once Upon a Murder: Miss Fortune World: Hair Extensions and Homicide, #1

    By Frankie Bow

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    "It's been crazy," the desk clerk said. "We just had another big group stay here right before you guys, and they completely trashed the place. Shot out the security cameras with BB guns, pitched a couch off a seventeenth-floor balcony, and one room tried to flush a pillow down the toilet."

    "What kind of group was that?" I asked.

    "Doll collectors' convention."

    Gertie drags her best friends Fortune and Ida Belle to a romance convention in New Orleans. Gertie wants to advance her budding new career as a romance author; Fortune needs a break from her complicated personal life; and Ida Belle doesn't think the other two should go out unsupervised. But when Ida Belle runs into someone from her past, it becomes clear that not everyone at the American Romance and Erotica Authors' Conference will live happily ever after.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJ&R Fan Fiction
    Release dateAug 17, 2018
    ISBN9781386805762
    Once Upon a Murder: Miss Fortune World: Hair Extensions and Homicide, #1
    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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    • 5/5
      Clever take on each character. I enjoyed the setting and mystery.

    Book preview

    Once Upon a Murder - Frankie Bow

    Chapter One

    YOU WOULDN’T KNOW WE were in the middle of the French Quarter, Ida Belle complained. Heck, you can barely tell we’re in Louisiana. Why didn’t they get someplace with some local color, like the Ponchartrain?

    Oh quit fussing, Gertie scolded. It’s very unbecoming for a woman your age. Anyway, we’re here for the conference, not ‘local color.’ You can go out and collect beads some other time.

    I didn’t know you collected beads, Ida Belle. Do you make jewelry?

    Gertie whooped with laughter, Ida Belle glared at me, and they went back to bickering without answering my question. (It was only later that I found out that collecting beads during Mardi Gras meant something I couldn't possibly have guessed.)

    I estimated how long it would be before we got to the front of the check-in line. Probably ten minutes, at least.  No one else seemed to mind the wait. Most of the people in line seemed to be staring, transfixed, at their hands. I wondered whether I was the last person in the country under the age of thirty who didn’t carry a smartphone. I sure wouldn’t mind being able to look up information and check my email, but it would be too much of a risk.

    The last conference I'd been to was in D.C. At a session called Intelligence and Technology: Emerging Threats I'd learned how easy it was to track someone using a smartphone or a laptop. Public networks, like the hotel Wi-Fi, made invading peoples' privacy even easier.

    I took in my surroundings. No obvious threats, not that I was expecting to find any here. A sign posted next to the check-in desk read,

    Welcome American Romance and Erotica Authors’ Convention attendees, and get ready to party with us New Orleans style! Here in the Big Easy we like to say Laissez Le Bon Temps Rouler, and we’re getting things rolling with an A.R.E.A favorite: Mimosas and bloody Marys, compliments of Saucy Minx Press, right around the corner from the registration tables! First-timers, don't miss the Virgin Orientation, designed to help you get the most out of this event. At only thirty minutes, this is a quickie seminar experience you'll never forget!

    On the other side of the lobby, a line of middle-aged ladies waited to get books signed by a man wearing painted-on jeans, a black cowboy hat, and a red neckerchief.

    Late twenties, five foot eleven, good strength and muscle tone. Moderately dehydrated from cutting water weight, a bodybuilder technique to enhance muscle definition.

    Gertie jabbed my hipbone, which kind of hurt. She was probably trying to nudge me in the ribs, but I’m five-ten, and Gertie is barely five foot two in heels.

    Caught you staring.

    I wasn't staring.

    He’s famous, she whispered, as if he might hear us talking about him clear across the lobby. He started out as a personal trainer. Now he’s one of the top cover models in the industry.

    If he’s such a big shot, how come he can’t afford a shirt?

    Now there you go again, Ida Belle, Gertie said. We’re here to have fun and relax. Not complain about everything in sight. Right, Fortune?

    Right. My mission is to enjoy myself and forget about my problems.

    Problems. I had a few of those. Here’s the short version. I’d been undercover in Sinful, (population 253, give or take a murder or two), posing as the niece of recently-deceased resident Marge Boudreaux. I was hiding out from an arms dealer who had put a bounty on my head, and my job—my one job, as my handler Harrison liked to remind me—was to maintain my cover and stay out of sight.

    Well, I hadn’t been a great success. I wasn’t very convincing as a retired beauty queen, and I was having a lot of trouble laying low. From the moment I’d set foot in Sinful, I’d been caught up in the affairs of the town.

    And speaking of affairs—let’s just say that this was a great time to get out of Dodge. This writers’ conference of Gertie's was the perfect opportunity to do that.

    Complimentary Mimosas and Bloody Marys? Ida Belle placed her hands on her knees and leaned in to peer at the sign. Heck, I know where I’m going first,

    It’s kind of early to start drinking, isn’t it? I asked.

    Ida Belle stood up. Don’t be a wet blanket, Fortune. We’re on vacation. Besides, it’s nine a.m. somewhere.

    "It’s nine a.m. here," I said.

    Well there you go then. Oh, it’s our turn. Gertie, you have the reservation for him?

    I started to size up the hotel clerk—five foot six, early thirties, advanced male pattern baldness, irritable manner characteristic of acute stress or sleep deprivation—then stopped myself. I wasn’t on a mission here. I was supposed to be on vacation.

    Are you with the A.R.E.A. conference? The clerk watched Gertie fumbling in her enormous bag for our room reservation information. I don’t need your reservation number if you don’t have it handy. Your name will do.

    Hebert. Gertie Hebert.

    He started typing on his terminal. You should know that we're currently finishing up some minor renovations. We sincerely apologize for any inconvenience. If there's anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, we hope you'll let us know right away.

    It was clear that he hoped nothing of the kind. He was obviously fatigued and must have given that little speech about the renovations about a hundred times this morning.

    This is our first A.R.E.A. Conference, Gertie said. We’re all so excited. But look at you, you must be exhausted! I could see the whole time we were standing in line you've not had a moment's rest. How are you holding up, dear?

    Oh, the clerk exhaled. It’s been crazy. We just had another big group stay here right before you guys, and they completely trashed the place. Shot out the security cameras with BB guns, pitched a couch off a seventeenth-floor balcony, and one room tried to flush a pillow down the toilet.

    What kind of group was that? I asked.

    Doll collectors’ convention. Check-in time isn’t till noon, but... the clerk tapped on his terminal keyboard, squinted at the screen, and tapped some more. ...as a courtesy we’re going to see if we can’t get you into your room right now. The registration tables are up on the second floor. You can’t miss them, top of the stairs. And make sure to check out the breakfast cocktails, compliments of Saucy Minx Press. And, here are your room keys. Do you need more than one apiece?

    Maybe, Gertie giggled.

    Absolutely not. Ida Belle glared at Gertie.

    Early check-in, huh? I held the elevator door open for Gertie and Ida Belle and then stepped in after them. Good job, Gertie.

    Well, as I always say, it's nice to be important... Gertie pressed the seventh-floor button and gave Ida Belle a hard look, "but it's more important to be nice."

    Chapter Two

    WE DEPOSITED OUR LUGGAGE in the room and then hurried back down to the main registration area. The woman manning the M table smiled sweetly and handed me a burgundy tote bag with American Romance and Erotica Authors’ Conference, New Orleans written in white cursive text, over a drawing of a Mardi Gras mask and a quill pen.

    Sandy Sue Morrow? Here you go, Sandy Sue, she said, calling me by the name I’d used to sign up for the conference. My, what a lovely name.

    Thank you. I hated the name Sandy Sue, but my undercover identity hadn’t exactly been my decision.

    The tote bag was surprisingly heavy. I peeked inside and saw that it was full of books.

    I didn’t order these, I said.

    Compliments of our sponsors. the woman beamed. Now you’ll find your badge, badge holder, and lunch tickets in the white envelope. Enjoy the conference.

    Fortune! Ida Belle’s voice reverberated through the meeting area. There you are. All set? Let’s go.

    I slung the bag over my shoulder and followed Ida Belle and Gertie around the corner to yet another long line, this time leading to a bar.

    Gertie seemed excited about

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