Free miss fortune mystery (ff) - targed by the tempest by j l johnson Page B

eight dollars, all general admission. They say they’re expecting around twenty thousand to attend,” Ida Belle read over her shoulder, clutching two cans of her precious White Rain hair spray against her chest.
    “Can you get the time off?” Gertie asked Walter.
    “Well, I always close for holidays, just like dad always did. He never opened the store just in case someone forgot to buy something,” Walter was on a rant and both women had heard this particular rant from him before.
    “This nonsense about staying open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week is ridiculous, people just need to plan better. Why should I miss out on a holiday because some idiot didn’t plan better? I think staying open all the time teaches people not to plan…”
    “Settle down Walter,” Gertie snorted, “you’re preachin to the choir. We still agree with you.”
    “Sorry,” Walter said sheepishly. “It just gets me all riled up. I’ll go with you, but only if we can stop for a few days of fishing. Dad already said he’d cover my shifts if I wanted to go fishing after Labor Day.”
    “Stay gone till Tuesday or Wednesday? We could manage that, right Ida Belle?” Gertie asked. “Where do you want to fish?”
    “I’m thinkin that new reservoir, Toledo Bend, right there on the border? They stocked it a couple of years back, right after they flooded it, and the whole thing is chock-full of trees so there should be some big fish hiding in there just waitin to be hooked. Plus, it’d be right on our way back. We wouldn’t have to go very far out of the way to get there.”
    “I heard it’s inaccessible by boat because of all those trees,” Gertie said.
    “Big motor boats have problems but I’m thinkin we could rent a small rowboat wherever we stay. There’s a bunch of brand new fishin lodges and cabins,” Walter scratched his chin.
    “New cabins sound good, but couldn’t we just take one of your rafts?” Ida Belle asked. “We could pump it up when we get there.”
    “Depends on what we drive,” Walter said, “the raft would fit in the back of my truck…”
    “I’m not sure your old wreck would make it all the way to Texas. Anyway, it’d fit in my trunk,” Gertie huffed. “I say we take my new car.”
    “New?” Walter seemed surprised. “Did you trade in your Caddy already?”
    “No, of course not,” Gertie snorted. “Okay, almost new. It’s only a year old.”
    “Your car would definitely be more comfortable,” Ida Belle said, “but, you really think your trunk could hold his raft?”
    “Marge once said my trunk was big enough to hold ten dead bodies,” Gertie claimed. “I never did understand where she came up with that particular number.”
    “That’s just Marge,” Ida Belle chuckled, shaking her head. “You know how she is. Some people measure spaces by imagining hay bales or sacks of flour. Marge imagines dead bodies. It’s just a quirk.”
    “Pretty twisted quirk, if you ask me,” Gertie reflected.
     
     
     
     

Chapter 2 - Early Saturday morning, August 30, 1974
     
    “Everything ready?” Ida Belle asked as she inspected the tightly-packed trunk of Gertie’s year-old Cadillac Coupe DeVille. “You sure you want to take her?”
    “All this wouldn’t fit in your Mustang, and I don’t think any of us want to take your old truck or even Walter’s old truck, for that matter. Anyway, she’s never been out of the parish, at least not since the day she was delivered,” Gertie ran her hand lovingly over the rear bumper of the car. The Regal Blue Firemist paint sparkled brilliantly in the morning sun. “It’s about time she got to stretch her legs.”
    “Speakin of stretching legs,” Walter peered in the front driver’s door, “I’ll plan on sittin in the back when you drive Gertie.” He chuckled as he measured the distance between the seat and the steering wheel. “Seein how close that seat is to the wheel, I’d be kissin my knees in the front seat.”
    “I know who