Nothing is as it seems in this case. And an unseen killer might have the last laugh.
Later that night, the women gathered in Fortune’s spacious living room. They were going to open the beat-up burgundy suitcase that had belonged to the late Michael Mosca.
Mary-Alice was secretly relieved that Gwendolyn would be staying with Fortune, rather than with her. As proud as Mary-Alice was of her bright new kitchen with its white appliances and its Italian sunflower wall tiles, she wasn’t eager to let the world see her yet-to-be-remodeled dining room. The windowless space was inadequately lit by a wrought-iron chandelier that hung from a low cottage-cheese ceiling. The ambiance was made even glummer by putty-colored walls and a depressing gold shag carpet.
Gertie handed Gwendolyn a pair of gloves from the box in her purse, put on a pair herself, then handed the box around.
Gwendolyn unzipped the suitcase and flopped it open. Tears filled her eyes as she gazed at the jumbled contents.
“It smells like him,” she whispered.
“He wasn’t exactly a neat freak, was he?” Ida Belle observed.
Shirts and boxer shorts were tangled up with shiny plastic beads, oversize sunglasses, and green, purple and gold knockoff Rubik’s Cubes sealed in plastic wrap printed with Chinese script.
“What’s this?” Fortune reached in and picked out a small, dark gray cylinder. “it looks kind of like a pepper shaker.”
Gwendolyn peered at it and shook her head. “It doesn’t look familiar to me, but Mike was always getting these weird new toys in.”
Mary-Alice, overwhelmed with curiosity, plucked the object out of Fortune’s hand.
“It does look like a pepper shaker. Only I can’t see where the pepper comes out– Ow! Goodness gracious, it bit me!”
Mary-Alice dropped the object and clutched her wrist.
“Nobody else touch it.” Fortune produced a plastic bag and gingerly dropped the offending object into it. “Mary-Alice, go wash your hands with soap and water. Make sure to irrigate the wound thoroughly.”
By the time Mary-Alice returned, someone had lifted the open suitcase onto the coffee table for easier access.
“Do you recognize this?” Fortune was asking Gwendolyn, holding up a receipt.
Gwendolyn took it from Fortune and smiled. “This is that hosiery shop out in Beaumont. He always buys me the mocha fishnets when he has a chance. They’re so impractical, but they really do make your legs look fabulous. I know it might be hard to imagine, but I do like to get dressed up now and then.”
From behind her big glasses, a tear rolled down Gwendolyn’s cheek.
“I’m sorry. Thank you for being here with me. I don’t think I could do this by myself.”
Gwendolyn started to dig through the suitcase.
“Careful,” Ida Belle said. “We already had that thing attack Mary-Alice.”
“Buying those stockings was the last thing Mike did for me before he passed,” Gwendolyn’s voice cracked. “They must be in here somewhere. I know he’d want me to have them. Where are they?”
Then Gwendolyn reached down and, in slow motion, pulled out a blue box. It was not a hosiery package.
The room became quiet.
“Maybe those were for the store,” Gertie suggested, sounding unconvinced.
“No,” Gwendolyn said, a hard edge to her voice. “This isn’t for Jape & Jest. The box is already open. And there’s nothing funny about it.”
The Two-Body Problem
Professor Gwendolyn Jackson's husband sends her a voice mail from the road, telling her he'll be home soon. Just one problem...by the time the message was sent, he was already dead.
When the police dismiss her concerns, Professor Jackson turns to her former student, Fortune Morrow, for help.
Naturally, Fortune, Mary-Alice, and the rest of the Sinful gang are eager to solve the mystery surrounding the death of Professor Jackson's husband, who owned the French Quarter's premier joke and novelty shop, Jape & Jest. But the ladies soon find that nothing is as it seems in this case, and an unseen killer might have the last laugh.
