her husband?” I asked. “Did he put ketchup on his steak?”
“No. He changed the television channel,” Gertie said.
“And she killed him for that?” I asked.
“It was the last five minutes of the final episode of Justified and they didn’t have a DVR,” Gertie said.
“Well, that explains everything,” I said.
“That’s what I thought,” Gertie said.
“Word was her husband was a bad dude,” Ida Belle said. “The whole TV thing probably isn’t even true. Rumor has it he tuned Molly up on the regular. That’s probably how she learned to fight so well.”
“Why didn’t she just leave him?” I asked.
Ida Belle shrugged. “One of life’s mysteries. And since no one is willing to ask her, we’ll probably never know. We’re headed to her place after the Army-Navy store. You can give it a go if you’d like.”
“No!” Gertie said. “Not before the wedding. Fortune’s trying not to kill people and if Miss Molly gets her on the ground, then she’ll be sporting black eyes for your wedding.”
“Yeah, I’m good with not knowing,” I said. “It was just a basic curiosity, but not the kind I want to die over. Besides, if I get her too wound up, she could be sent back to jail and I’m really looking forward to the food now. Are we doing taste-testing, I hope?”
“Nope,” Ida Belle said. “Just dropping off money. Molly doesn’t do taste tests. You tell her about the event, what other food you’ll have, and what your budget is, and she picks the menu.”
“Well, it’s not very customer-friendly, but I suppose it’s better than being tackled,” I said.
“Trust me, you can’t lose,” Gertie said. “Everything that woman sends out of the kitchen is magic.”
Ida Belle pulled into the Army-Navy store parking lot and smiled. “You guys ready to find my wedding duds?”
Gertie sighed. “Might as well. Hey, they have camo in white and black.”
“Crawfish boil,” Ida Belle reminded her. “This is the one thing I’m going traditional on.”
“Of course it is,” Gertie grumbled as she climbed out of the truck.
Chapter Two
We headed inside the store and Ida Belle called out to Big Chappy, the owner. He looked up from the counter and gave us a wave and a smile. I didn’t know much about him, but I did know his real name wasn’t Chappy and he wasn’t big. But he’d served as a chief of chaplains in the Army, so I figured the nickname had stuck from his service days. And the smile. Leave it to an Army chaplain to be both deadly and optimistic.
He finished up checking out a customer and headed our way just as Gertie spotted a rack of camo miniskirts. She dashed over and yanked one off the racks.
“Oh my God!” she said. “Look at this skirt. It’s too cute.”
Ida Belle frowned. “You’re disappointing me, Chappy. Don’t tell me you’re selling that trendy crap in here now.”
Chappy shrugged. “The kids like ’em, and the parents are happy to spend a fortune for that strip of stretchy nonsense just to shut them up. Heck, I’ve had more new customers in here since I started stocking those skirts than I have in the past ten years. And once the kids get the parents in here, there’s usually something else I can convince them they need. Flashlights, knives, coolers…it’s been a real boon to the business.”
“Well, I can’t knock capitalism,” Ida Belle said and looked at Gertie. “Don’t even think about buying that. It’s a disgrace to people who wore the real thing.”
“Why?” Gertie asked. “You can run in it. It’s not long enough to trap your knees.”
“It’s not long enough to trap your important parts,” Ida Belle said. “You run in that, your heinie will be showing in about five steps.”
“Depends on your heinie,” Chappy said. “It’s that stretchy stuff. If you’ve got enough for it to tuck under, you’d probably be okay.”
I stared. “Exactly what kind of religious leader were you?”
“The kind that wasn’t blind,” Chappy said.
“You keep looking at young girls’ tuck-unders and that could change,” I said.
He grinned. “What can I help you ladies with today? Got some great .45 rounds in yesterday. And a couple new semis.”
“Actually, we’re here for Ida Belle’s wedding outfit and the bride has chosen camo,” I said.
“Great choice,” Chappy said. “I’ve got pants with zipper pockets and snaps. Do you have a preference?”
“Snaps,” Ida Belle said. “It’s easier to draw your gun.”
I shook my head. “You know, it’s a little disconcerting the amount of discussion that has gone into the need for self-defense