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    Three Ring Circus: (Miss Fortune World)
    Three Ring Circus: (Miss Fortune World)
    Three Ring Circus: (Miss Fortune World)
    Ebook123 pages1 hour

    Three Ring Circus: (Miss Fortune World)

    By Aunt Tillie

    ()

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    About this ebook

    When an obnoxious runaway circus clown is discovered face down in Carter's front yard, the evidence points to Deputy LeBlanc as the most likely suspect. The girls have their hands full trying to prove that Carter's not the killer. To do this, they must infiltrate the circus. Seriously, what could go wrong?

    Gertie's vision problem clears up, and clowns aren't always who they seem to be.

    Chronologically, this book should be read after reading Jana DeLeon's latest.

    This is Fan Fiction. Fan Fiction is not written by the original author, but by a fan who has special permission to create stories using the author's characters and locations.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJ&R Fan Fiction
    Release dateOct 27, 2018
    ISBN9781386008705
    Three Ring Circus: (Miss Fortune World)

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      Book preview

      Three Ring Circus - Aunt Tillie

      Chapter 1

      NEWS TRAVELS FAST IN a small town. The state of Louisiana had issued my Private Investigator’s license less than a week ago, and I hadn’t even hung out a shingle in front of the house when the telephone rang.

      Miss Redding. This is Father Michael from the Catholic Church. I believe that I might be in need of your investigative services and would like to meet with you to discuss my problem.

      Holy crap.

      Go ahead Father. Before I decide whether or not I can take your case, I’ll need to collect more information.

      Lately we’ve been missing some money from our collection plate. I’ve actually put marked bills in the collection plate, and when the money is counted on Sunday afternoon, those bills seem to have disappeared.

      I caught my breath. Anyone who would steal from the church was way beneath low. And as excited as I was about having a new case and catching the low-life who would stoop to stealing from a church, I wondered if the church might not be better served if Father Michael went to the Sheriff’s office. Have you talked to Carter about this?

      No. I thought it would be better if we could solve our monetary loss in-house. Whoever is taking the money obviously needs it, and having Carter toss their lost soul into jail would not solve this person’s problems. It might only serve to make them worse.

      I thought about what he’d said and decided maybe he was right. Perhaps this should be handled by a private team on the down-low. Okay Father, that sounds like something I might do. When should we meet to iron out the details?

      I’m at the church right now, and I’ll be here for the rest of the day.

      Father Michael, I’ll be there within the hour.

      I hung up the phone, checked my appearance in the mirror, then left walking toward the Catholic Church. I hadn’t been inside that particular church during daylight hours in a long while. Before I reached the church my cell-phone went off to let me know I had a text message. It was Ida Belle and she wanted me to meet her at Francine’s, pronto. I continued on past the front entrance to the church and waltzed into Francine’s to find out what was up and to share my good news.

      I just got a new case! I said as I sat down at our table.

      Yippee! shouted Gertie. She bounced up and down in her chair and clapped her hands. Tell us all about it!

      You’ve got to promise you won’t tell a soul, I said.

      We won’t. This is so exciting!

      I told them about Father Michael’s phone call, what his problem was, and how I intended to help him..

      You did what? You can’t be seen going into that church. You’re a Baptist, said Ida Belle.

      Goodness, no, said Gertie. Once you enter their lair, you’ll be transported to another universe where you’re a Catholic, and you won’t be able to escape back to Baptistic reality. I wouldn’t do it if I were you Fortune.

      Besides, everybody knows that if there’s money missing from the Catholic Church, Celia’s the one who took it, said Ida Belle.

      We don’t know that for a fact, I countered. My meeting with Father Michael is, in reality, a fact-finding mission. Once I have the facts, then I can decide whether or not to take the case.

      The table fell silent for a few seconds.

      How much are you going to charge? asked Gertie.

      Hmmm, I haven’t decided on a rate. What would you girls suggest?

      Jim Rockford charges two-hundred dollars a day plus expenses, said Gertie.

      Jim Rockford?

      He’s a private detective on television. We watch his reruns all the time.

      He was relevant back in the 1970s, said Ida Belle. He’d probably charge five hundred today.

      That sounds like a lot. Being as Sinful’s such a small town, I think I’ll shoot for a hundred a day. If I get more business than I can handle, I’ll raise my fee... and if I have no business at all, then I’ll lower it.

      That sounds like a good plan, Fortune. If you must serve the Catholic Church, beating them out of only a hundred dollars would seem fair.

      I still say Celia’s behind the missing money, said Ida Belle. But think about this before you enter that church or accuse her of theft: Do you really want her riled up right before the softball game? Do you want her to play rough? She might swing so hard she’ll knock that ball right out of the park. I hate to say this Fortune, but maybe you should take a pass on the whole Catholic Church thing.

      Ida Belle was right. I called Father Michael and informed him that due to a conflict, Swamp Team 3 Investigations would be unable to handle his case at this time. However, I did suggest he install video cameras in the church to help catch the culprit. He thanked me for the idea and told me goodbye.

      Good job, Fortune, said Ida Belle. We’re off the hook for that one.

      I nodded. Now Ida Belle, what’s your emergency?

      Francine’s has marked her French toast down to half price!

      Chapter 2

      CELIA KNOCKED A DRIBBLER down the first-base line and as she continued around with her swing, she clipped my catcher’s mask with her bat, knocking the mask off my face and into the dirt. I heard her haughty laughter as she took off running toward first base, her cleats slinging dirt back into my bare face. Celia didn’t need an accusation of theft to play rough; she was a natural. As the ball bounced toward first base, Carter put his toe on the bag and stretched out to field the ball. This one was going to be close, but when Celia arrived at the base she cleated him on the shin, missing the base entirely.

      You’re out! the umpire shouted, and the bleachers behind me erupted into cheers. Celia stuck her big fat nose in the umpire’s face and began cursing. It was then that the umpire tossed her from the game. More cheers came from the Baptists behind me as Celia left the field, and loud cursing emanated from the bleachers on the Catholic’s side. Carter rolled his sock down, rubbed his shin, then rolled his sock back up and placed his hands on his knees, facing home plate. He was ready to play ball.

      Hey Sherlock, came a voice from the Catholic’s dugout, see if you can locate the umpire’s brain. Apparently, he’s lost his mind.

      How clever, I thought as chuckles erupted from that side.

      Hey, Private Eye! sounded from the Catholic’s bleachers. I dropped my hotdog beneath the bleachers. What do you charge to find lost dogs?

      That one was pathetic. I ignored the PI comments, squatted down behind the next batter and pounded my mitt.

      The pitch came in high, but the batter took a swing and hit a fast hopper to shortstop. Walter scooped it up, flicked it high toward first, and Carter had to leap into the air to snatch it. When he came down, his heel landed on the base and the runner was out. Game over. Whew!

      As the bleachers behind our dugout erupted with cheers again, I tossed my catcher’s mask into the air and joined my teammates in a big group hug at the pitcher’s mound. I was pushed up hard against Carter as my teammates all piled in, and I must admit, I liked it. Carter looked down at me and smiled. For the first time in decades, the Sinful Nine had beaten The Chosen Apostles and would carry home the trophy.

      Pizza at my house! shouted Carter as the team parted and danced off the field. Half an hour!

      I had ridden to the field with Ida Belle and Gertie, but elected to ride back with Carter. His display of athletic ability on that last play deserved a special kind of reward, and I was going to see that he got it. As he pulled into his driveway, I unbuckled my seat belt, leaned over and kissed his dirty cheek. His face turned red as he switched off the ignition.

      How’s your shin? I asked.

      Carter swiped his leg with his hand and showed me the crusting blood stain.

      It’s good, he said. I’ll need to flush it with peroxide and I’ll be fine.

      Considering it was Celia, shouldn’t you look into getting a tetanus shot?

      Maybe you’re right, he smiled. I’ll give that some thought.

      Cars pulled into the

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