Chapter 18

There wereno Easter events scheduled for Saturday night—thank goodness—so I told Carter I’d throw one of Gertie’s casseroles in the oven and pull some of my stash of Ally’s cookies out of the freezer. We intended to sit on the couch, eat, watch TV, and do absolutely, positively nothing. The last couple days had been a lot, and both of us were ready to chill.

We polished off half a casserole and way too many cookies and made it through a couple episodes of Shetland before my phone rang.

Carter sighed. “I really hoped neither of us would get a call. Then I prayed that if one of us did, it was me. Your late-night calls are always worse than mine.”

It was only eleven, but I knew what he meant, and as I glanced at the display, I prepared myself for the worst. It was Gertie. And it was date night with Jeb.

“Fortune,” Jeb said when I answered, sounding a bit breathless. “We have a situation here and need your help. Is Carter with you? I’m not sure you have the height and the muscle we need. Might take two of you.”

“Is everyone dressed?” I asked.

“Of course. We’re in the backyard.”

“Okay. We’ll be right over.”

Carter sighed again. “Date night?”

I nodded. “At least they’re dressed.”

“But is it real clothes?”

“Hmmmm.”

We put on shoes and headed over to Gertie’s house, both of us silent and probably worried about what we might encounter. Carter was right that I’d missed the mark clarifying the whole clothes thing. Gertie’s opinion of suitable was a bit different from mine and the law’s. I just prayed that whatever they’d gotten themselves into in the backyard, they’d turned the porch light off first.

We headed for the gate when we got there, shining our flashlights to light the way. The porch light was indeed turned off and with the moon dipping behind storm clouds, there wasn’t much natural light.

“Hello,” I called out as we entered the backyard.

“Over here,” I heard Jeb reply somewhere behind the house and off to the right.

We headed around, shining our lights around as we went, trying to pin down the emergency. When we reached the porch, the moon popped out from behind the clouds and the situation became completely clear.

Gertie dangled by one leg from what looked like a swing that was attached to the limb of a big oak tree. But the swing appeared to have shredded, and her foot was trapped in the fabric a good six feet off the ground. She was wearing a pink bikini with a fluffy rabbit’s tail on the back, and I spotted pink bunny ears in the grass below her. Jeb stood in front of her, wearing a helpless look and not much else.

Good. God.

His thong appeared to be black leather but no way I was looking long enough to be certain. Carter made a noise that sounded a bit like a strangled cry and a frightened porpoise, and I knew he was one second away from leaving and calling the fire department to deal with whatever this was.

“Thank God,” Jeb said when he saw us. “I tried climbing up on a chair, but I can’t lift her enough to get her down.”

“Why didn’t you climb the tree and cut that strap to the swing?” Carter asked.

“I didn’t want her to fall on her head,” Jeb said. “She did her hair up special for me.”

“Listen to the man,” Gertie said, her voice weak, probably from all the dangling. “It took me two hours to get my hair this way.”

“Why is the swing up so high?” I asked, still trying to figure out what the heck was going on.

“That’s the longest cord it came with,” Jeb said.

I threw my arms in the air. “What the heck are you doing on a swing in the middle of the night?”

“We were testing it out,” Gertie said. “It’s a sexy time swing. I heard someone mention one when we were in NOLA the other day, so I bought one online and paid for a rush delivery. But it didn’t come with instructions. I think we got something wrong.”

Carter and I froze, and I think he stopped breathing altogether as I realized that the chair hadn’t broken when she sat in it. It was supposed to be in pieces, and that strap around her ankle was intentional if not utilized correctly.

“Good Lord Almighty,” I said, breaking the silence. “This belongs in your bedroom.”

Carter shook his head. “This belongs in a different parish. With other people. People I don’t know.”

“We know it belongs in the bedroom,” Gertie said, “but we figured we best test it outside before we hung it around breakables. It’s not like we’re out here naked. And we weren’t going to use it out here. Just figure out how to get in the darn thing.”

Carter closed his eyes and looked skyward, probably asking why he’d been abandoned on a religious weekend.

I elbowed him and pointed to the chair, ready to get the entire thing over with. “Get up there and prepare to catch her when I cut this thing down. And not a word from either of you about me ruining your swing.”

“Whatever you need to do,” Jeb said. “Just get her down before she passes out again.”

I shinnied up the tree and made my way out onto the limb, wondering how they’d managed to get the swing up here in the first place, but not about to ask any more questions.

“Ready?” I asked, and Carter wrapped his arms around Gertie’s waist.

“As ready as I’m getting,” he said.

“Here goes,” I said and cut the cord.

Carter was strong enough to hold Gertie, even standing on a chair, but he wasn’t a wizard. So when Gertie’s weight hit him and the chair leg snapped, they both went flying backward. Right into Jeb.

I swung out of the tree and landed, surveying the damage, which was considerable.

Jeb was laid flat out underneath Carter, and Gertie was splayed out on top of him. It was probably Carter’s worst nightmare.

“So help me God, if you take a picture of this, I will shoot you,” he said.

It had crossed my mind, but since I would have been just as upset to be in his position, I figured I better leave it to a verbal rendition with no visual aids. I extended my arm and pulled Gertie up and Carter sprang off Jeb like Merlin when he was startled. Jeb lay on the grass groaning, and I wondered if we should call 911, but since Carter was already halfway across the yard, I figured I’d leave Gertie to make that call.

“Thanks!” Gertie said as I took off after Carter. “I’ll let you know how it goes once we get it in the bedroom. You might want to get one yourself. You two are entirely too tense.”

* * *

Easter Sunday was somild in comparison to the other holiday events that I almost slept through church service. Unfortunately, it looked as though Pastor Don was sleeping through it too. His sermon was applicable, at least, but he seemed to doze off from time to time. I wondered exactly how much he’d drunk with Father Michael Friday night—and what—because he was still struggling for normal over thirty-six hours later.

There were no other Easter events after service. The afternoon was time for families to gather for meals and kids to hunt eggs. Then everyone turned on whatever sports were on that day and the adults took naps while the kids fought over candy. I didn’t have the kids thing to contend with, but I had a great meal with Carter and Emmaline at Carter’s house before he flipped on the television and promptly went to sleep. Emmaline intended to spend the afternoon painting, so I headed home to handle a couple of domestic chores and get in some exercise. I’d been eating like a pig all week and needed to work off some of the calories.

I tossed in a load of laundry, changed into running clothes, and set out. It was a beautiful, sunny day with a nice breeze, so I did a full circuit around Sinful, logging in five miles before heading for home. I slowed to a cooldown walk a block from my house and checked my phone. Ronald had sent me a text while I was running and asked if I could come over. I’d let him know I was out but would swing by on my way home. So here I was, headed up the walkway to his house. He’d also said the front door was unlocked and to come right in. Usually, Ronald came over to my house, so the cryptic request with no details already had me wondering what I was walking into.

I inched open the door and called out, not wanting to risk scaring the man. Like Gertie’s purse, I was never quite certain what he might have up his sleeve. Or his dress, or in his kitchen, or wherever the heck he was.

“Help.”

The feeble reply came from the hallway behind the living room. I hurried into the hallway and jolted to a stop. The stairwell to the second floor of Ronald’s house was one of those tucked away so that it couldn’t be seen from the main rooms. But I was pretty sure it did not come decorated the way it looked now.

A huge ball of lacy pink ruffles appeared to be stuck on the stairs between the wall and the spindles a couple feet before the first-floor landing. I would have assumed someone had shoved a giant pink tumbleweed down the stairwell, but it was moving. Since Ronald didn’t have any pets and wouldn’t tolerate vermin for half a second given his shoe collection, I decided he was probably wrapped up in the pink disaster.

“Ronald? Are you in there?”

“Of course I’m in here. Talking dresses aren’t a thing yet. Get me out.”

I stared at the wadded mess, unable to spot so much as a finger or toe or even a strand of hair. “Let me get a knife from the kitchen.”

“You can’t cut this! It’s couture. This lace is collectible.”

“It’s either cut it or hold your funeral right here. I would think dying in it would ruin the value of the lace more than cutting it.”

“There’s a zipper up the back. I just can’t reach it. If you could unzip me, I could get out.”

I shook my head as I climbed up the side of the stairs and over the banister. When I started poking at the dress, I finally realized what had happened. There were giant stiff hoops on the bottom. At some point, Ronald had tripped, pitched down the stairs, and now the hoops were wedged between the wall and the spindles, leaving him dangling.

“Why would you try to go down stairs this steep in something like this?” I asked.

“Because the party I’m attending is in one of those old hotels with no elevator, and you have to walk down steps into the ballroom. I had to test my entrance.”

“I think you failed. Maybe you should go for sweats and tennis shoes. You never see me face-first on a stairwell.”

He grunted and said something, but I couldn’t make out the words. It was probably better that way. I flipped the lace around, searching for a zipper, but I couldn’t even figure out whether I was looking at the front or the back. There were so many layers, and it’s not as if Ronald had boobs to tip me off.

“I can’t see a zipper,” I said. “Tell me where your head and feet are at least.”

“I’m not sure. I did a complete somersault and a bit of a tuck-and-roll. It all happened so quickly. I think my head is lower than my feet because it’s pounding from all the blood rushing to it. And I’m sure I’m facing down because I caught a mouthful of carpet runner before the hoops took over, so my backside should be up.”

I went to the top of the mass and started flipping ruffles. If I could just find a leg, then I had something to work with. I wasn’t even going to consider what undergarments I might be exposing. Given his outlandish choices in outerwear, I was afraid his unseens might be things Gertie would want to duplicate. And to be honest, I didn’t like anyone but Carter enough to be okay getting exclusive views of the underwear.

My hand hit something hard and I flicked another piece of lace back and saw a pink platform shoe. But it was a letdown—not because the heel was broken off it but because it was no longer attached to a foot. I grabbed the shoe and tossed it into the hallway.

“What was that?” Ronald asked.

“I’m going to guess it’s the reason you fell. The heel is broken off one of your shoes.”

“And you’re just tossing them any which way?”

“You want me to nail the heel back on and duct tape it? Because that’s the only way you’re walking in them again.”

He let out a strangled sigh, and I wasn’t sure if he was crying or if the dress was so constricting it had prevented a bigger dramatic moment. I kept flipping and finally, my hand brushed against metal. Jackpot! It was a zipper.

“Found it! I’m going to unzip you so you can crawl out of there.”

Except…gravity.

Ronald didn’t inform me that the dress was strapless, and in the pile of ruffles, I couldn’t tell what I was looking at. And since I wasn’t a dress connoisseur and had less than zero chance of becoming one, I didn’t realize the precariousness of the situation until it was too late.

Ronald had already Gertied. Now, he Celiaed.

I gripped the dress at the top seam and pulled the fabric tight as I worked the zipper down. It was hard to start but then I must have gotten past the breastplate and it slid all the way to the end with a single hard tug.

Ronald shot out of the dress as if he’d been launched—a bright purple missile. His body launched straight down the remainder of the stairs and into the hall, where he finally slid to a stop and remained there, a silent lump. I jumped up in horror, still clutching the dress, wondering what in the name of all that is holy I was looking at.

The best I could figure, it was a bright purple unitard with short legs and arms.

Ronald groaned and rolled over. I let out a strangled cry and clutched the dress even harder, as if the ruffles might protect me from the horror.

In the middle of the front of the unitard was a superhero-type medallion with a single shiny gold stiletto in the middle. The lettering above the medallion read “The Fashionista.”

I tossed the dress down on top of Ronald and he let out a shriek as though he’d just been attacked by moths. He jumped up, flailing around in the dress, and hit a table, sending the table, the dress, and himself tumbling farther down the hallway.

I felt a little guilty about causing a second round of terror, but not guilty enough to go help a man parading around in his underwear. I eased down the stairs as Ronald struggled with the dress, wondering if I could make it past his elbows and out the front door before he caught sight of me, but as I inched into the living room, I saw the front door was open a crack and I froze.

I was absolutely positive I’d closed it.