“Why the heck not?” Gertie asked. “Your existence mocks the best of the female species and we’re still tolerating you.”
“Keep talking,” Celia said. “Marie won’t be mayor forever.”
“Probably not, but you won’t be mayor either,” Ida Belle said. “Now, can you take your negativity somewhere else? This is a festival. You know, fun? I know the concept is somewhat foreign to you, but you can at least try to fake some normal human emotion from time to time.”
Celia flushed and I could tell she was gearing up for a tirade that no one had the time for, so I sliced a hunk off my candied apple with one of my razor fingers then held it out to her.
“Want a bite?” I asked.
Her jaw dropped as she stared at the apple dangling from my hand, then she whirled around and stalked off.
“I think you scared her,” Ida Belle said.
I nodded. “I might wear this thing everywhere.”
“It’s fine unless your butt itches and you scratch with the wrong hand,” Gertie said.
“I don’t think I’ve been in the South long enough to go around scratching my butt in public,” I said.
“Give it time,” Ida Belle said.
We all laughed and I couldn’t help but think how different my life was now than when I was working for the CIA. When I was living in DC I didn’t have friends. I didn’t go to events. I certainly didn’t dress up like horror movie villains to eat fattening food. Heck, I didn’t even eat fattening food. Sugar and carbs that used to be the enemy now curled up with me like a warm blanket on a cold night.
“You know what?” I said. “I really enjoy this stuff.”
“You say that like you’re just realizing it,” Gertie said.
“Maybe she is,” Ida Belle said. “She had a totally different kind of life for a long time.”
“I think I knew it, inherently, a while back,” I said. “But I guess I just figured it was a good time to say it out loud. All this town’s festivals, celebrations, quirky laws, church wars, banana pudding races, and people who should headline their own sitcom are a lot of fun. And they continue to surprise me, so that element of my life hasn’t disappeared.”
“Except most of them aren’t trying to kill you,” Gertie said.
“True, but I have seen a lot more naked body parts in Sinful than I ever did with the CIA,” I said.
“Uh-oh,” Gertie said. “Don’t look now but I think Celia is trying to get you arrested.”
She pointed to Celia, standing next to Deputy Breaux, waving her hands and pointing at me. Deputy Breaux glanced over at us and sighed. He came our way, Celia right on his heels.
“See!” Celia said, and pointed to my hand. “She has a weapon.”
“Ninety percent of the people in this park are carrying a weapon,” Ida Belle said. “And the other ten percent are in kindergarten.”
“I suppose it could be considered a knife,” I said. “But if you kick everyone out of the park who’s carrying a knife, your festival is going to be pretty grim.”
“Not to mention that Ida Belle has a sledgehammer,” Gertie said. “And I see at least three swords from where I stand, and I happen to know they’re all real. You really need to stop wasting law enforcement time.”
Deputy Breaux nodded. “There’s nothing illegal about having a knife in the park.”
Celia put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Well, if you won’t do your job, I’ll find someone who will.”
“I hear a horse coming,” Ida Belle said. “Maybe you can take it up with Sheriff Lee.”
We turned and looked across the park in the direction of the approaching horse, but it wasn’t Sheriff Lee’s old steed. This one was young, muscled, solid black, and running like a demon. The black-cloaked rider seemed to be holding on for dear life as he swayed in the saddle, but I had to give him props. The Headless Horseman costume was perfect—if he had been missing his head.
We watched as the horse approached, then realized that he was about to run into the crowd and hadn’t slowed. I glanced over at Ida Belle, whose eyes had widened. Okay, this wasn’t part of the show.
“Move!” I yelled, and the crowd began to scramble like the Israelites leaving Egypt as the horse ran through the middle of them.
Complete chaos ensued, with people scrambling and screaming as the horse ran straight for us. I was just about to shove the others and do a dive behind a tree when the horse slid to a stop about twenty feet in front of us.
And the head flew off the horseman.
Chapter Two
The speed and the height of the head when it launched resulted in a good amount of travel. It flew straight at Gertie, who involuntarily stuck her arms up and caught it, then immediately tossed it in the air, where it landed squarely in Celia’s arms. Celia screamed and started running, still clutching the head, then realized what she was doing and dropped it…right in her own path.
Her foot hit the head and she flew backward, legs over her body, and landed in a butt-flashing heap on the ground. I didn’t want to look but couldn’t help myself. Right in the middle of the big span of white cotton was the Virgin Mary.
“And she called me sacrilegious,” Gertie said.
“People in this town really lose their heads over Halloween,” I said.
Ida Belle sighed.
“Too soon?” I asked.
Carter came running and drew up short at the scene. I wasn’t sure if Celia’s Virgin Mary underwear or the severed head was causing him the most distress but I had a guess.
“I need everyone to clear the scene,” he yelled at the crowd. “Deputy Breaux, get these people out of the way. And call Sheriff Lee. We need to secure that horse as a crime scene.”
After his mad dash and sliding stop, the horse had meandered around and started munching on grass. He looked completely nonplussed about the entire thing even though the body that had been carefully strapped into the saddle was starting to lean off to one side. On the last grab of grass, he’d taken in some of his rider’s hair and now the head was dangling from his mouth.
You just couldn’t make this stuff up.
I pulled out my phone and snapped a couple pictures of the head and the horse, careful to avoid Celia’s butt, before Deputy Breaux waved us away. The paramedics hurried up and stopped short at the head before Carter directed them to attend to Celia. They stuck some smelling salts under her nose and she bolted upright, arms waving wildly.
“She needs a checkup,” Carter said.
The paramedics looked as if they’d just been issued a death sentence, but they hauled her toward the ambulance, probably wishing they hadn’t used the smelling salts, as her mouth was on full speed complaining.
We headed off after the crowd, and I pulled up the pictures and showed the head to Ida Belle and Gertie.
“Do you recognize him?” I asked.
They both took a turn at a close-up look. Ida Belle shook her head but Gertie pulled her glasses out of the nun costume and studied it a bit more.
“I think it might be Gilbert Forrest,” Gertie said.
“Really?” Ida Belle took the phone and enlarged the face a bit more. “Hmmm. You might be right. Well, that’s interesting.”