Merry Wrath Mysteries Boxed Set Vol. VIII (Books 22-24)

By Leslie Langtry

From USA Today bestselling author Leslie Langtry comes a boxed set of fabulously funny Merry Wrath Mysteries! This boxed set includes three, full-length novels featuring the CIA assassin turned Girl Scout troop leader, including:

Mardi Gras Murder – book #22
When ex-CIA agent Merry Wrath takes her scout troop to Louisiana for Mardi Gras, nothing goes as planned. Stories of a local half-gator/half-man, a ritual at a voodoo queen’s grave, and a tea room filled with taxidermy are just the start. But Southern hospitality gives way to suspicion when two people turn up murdered! Now Merry has to find the killer quickly, before Fat Tuesday becomes Fatal Tuesday!

Munchies and Murder – book #23
When Merry Wrath finds the body of her cranky conspiracy-theorist neighbor, she's suddenly caught up in a murder case. One where an innocent man is accused, wild theories and cryptic cryptozoologists abound, and a thirty-year old cold case may hold the key to it all. Merry has to move fast to unravel this tangled web of lies to find the truth... before the truth itself becomes another victim.

Memories are Murder – book #24
When someone from ex-CIA agent Merry Wrath's past surfaces just as a dead body turns up in her garage, she can't chalk it up to mere coincidence. Is Teo the Tapir framing Merry for murder? And can Merry keep her taxidermist sisters-in-law, her troop of unruly Girl Scouts, and fifty-one frantic hamsters in check long enough to discover the truth? Or are some memories too deadly to hold onto?

"Leslie Langtry has outdone herself! I’m still laughing over some of the antics and can’t wait to see what trouble Merry and her Girl Scout Troop encounters next! If you love cozy mysteries with a huge slice of quirkiness, look no further."
~ Fresh Fiction

"Langtry gets the fun started from page one!"
~ Publisher's Weekly

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gemma Halliday Publishing
• Release date: Feb 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781005069889

Leslie Langtry

Leslie Langtry is the USA Today bestselling author of the Greatest Hits Mysteries, The Adulterer's Unofficial Guide to Family Vacations, and several books she hasn't finished yet, because she's very lazy. Leslie loves puppies and cake (but she will not share her cake with puppies) and lives with her family and assorted animals in the Midwest.

Book preview

a Merry Wrath Mystery

by

LESLIE LANGTRY

* * * * *

CHAPTER ONE

You're joking. Kelly's eyebrows went up. Please tell me you're joking and we aren't seriously considering taking a bunch of little girls to Louisiana for Mardi Gras.

What's wrong with that idea? I asked as we lay plastic tarps wall-to-wall on the floor. They're in fifth grade now. It would be educational for them to see a different part of the country…try some new food and culture…take a swamp tour to see alligators…

Kelly stopped taping the plastic sheets together. Alligators? How is it possible that you've made this trip even more dangerous?

I waved her off. Thousands of tourists do that every year and almost no one dies.

My best friend and co-leader gave me one of those looks. "Almost? You want those kinds of odds with our troop?"

Hmmm…now that I thought of it, I wondered if there was a hotline phone number I could call to warn Louisiana about Betty? Something like their hurricane warning system perhaps?

Look, I explained as she went back to sealing the plastic to cover the carpet, it's not my fault the school has spring break so early that it coincides with Mardi Gras.

It's the school district's fault? Kelly shook her head. "And I was just about to nominate you for Responsible Leader of the Year."

I almost dropped my roll of duct tape. "What? That's a thing? I want it!"

Kelly has been on me for years about my alleged lack of responsibility. Stop teaching kindergarteners how to throw knives…no, we can't train second graders in sniper camouflage techniques at day camp…of course we shouldn't teach third grade girls how to make plastique using everyday items…no, there isn't a badge for identifying all terrorist groups listed in the CIA World Factbook.

Seriously, Kelly was such a wet blanket sometimes.

I threw my arms in the air. The girls love stuff like that! What kind of leader would I be if I didn't prepare them for life in the real world?

You're preparing them for a life of black ops and wet work, Kelly said evenly.

What if they ever want to travel to Syria or Chechnya? I countered. Knowing how to fend off an attacker with a sparkly princess unicorn barrette is far more responsible in my opinion.

Maybe I could get Betty to hack into the Girl Scout Council's mainframe to make me a shoo-in for this Responsible Leader award.

This is a terrible idea. Kelly shook her head. I'm tempted not to go with you.

My stomach dropped. How could I possibly do this without my responsible, grown-up, former ER nurse co-leader? Who's going to be there for alligator bites?

Kelly continued, Of course, then you'd have to find someone else, which would serve you right.

There's Rex, I thought out loud. Or Riley, or Soo Jin, I guess. Maybe Ron and Ivan would go. Hmmm…my Chechen brothers-in-law might be a good option as far as protecting Louisiana from my troop. And while they could be a pain in the butt, they were fun…

Kelly read my mind. That would be more fun than you deserve.

How about Hilly? I pulled out my cell phone. You know what? You're right. Hilly would be great on this trip!

Hilly Vinton was a friend and colleague, who was also a CIA assassin. Of course she's not a CIA assassin—the CIA doesn't have assassins because that would be illegal.

Okay, now that I've gotten past the disclaimer…Hilly totally is an assassin. Kelly never really warmed to her because Hilly embraced my ideas and even taught the girls how to kill a man with one finger. Well, we practiced it on dummies, not real people, because that would be wrong.

I thought for sure I had her with this idea, but Kelly didn't budge. She looked nervous but seemed to be sticking to her refusal. Time to bring out the big guns.

Maybe Robert, could go with me? I asked innocently, knowing bringing her husband and daughter into the mix would change her mind. He'd probably love a break, and you and Finn would be alone together for a week for bonding.

Kelly blanched. Her little girl, my goddaughter, was in her terrible toddler phase with a capital TERRIBLE and was driving Kelly crazy with her Kim Jong-un-sized tantrums. Personally, I was impressed with the decibel range the tiny human could produce.

Most people don't know this, but the Soviets experimented with this kind of thing as a torture mechanism. They locked innocent people in a room with a screaming toddler for two hours. Every single one of them confessed to stuff they hadn't done, just to get out. Of course, then the Soviets sent them to gulags for the crimes they didn't really do.

I'll do it, Kelly said finally. But not because of my daughter, but because I would be worried sick about the girls.

I did an endzone dance in my head. Okay, so now we have to put plastic on the walls. I pointed to the beige carpet. Because if we aren't careful, it'll be impossible to get the red out and I'll have to repaint the walls.

Kelly sighed. We never should've agreed to paint valentine-themed bird houses.

I was inclined to agree. But we already told them yes. We even pinky swore.

The pinky swear was an absolutely unbreakable bond. It ranked right up there with CIA nondisclosure agreements and absolutely any promise made in Turkmenistan on Lifetime Promise with No Backsies Under Pain of Death Day. Yeah, it's as scary as it sounds, but they do have a nice festival with deep fried Ding Dongs, so it's worth going at least once.

My name is Merry Wrath, and I used to be a field agent for the CIA, until the Vice President accidentally outed me on CNN when I was embedded with the Chechens. After surviving a mad dash across several unfriendly countries and narrowly avoiding an armed chicken, I moved back to my small, Iowa hometown of Who's There, where my best friend decided we should start a Girl Scout troop.

In fact, we were getting ready for a troop meeting at my old house, which was across the street from the house I now shared with my husband, Rex. Currently, six elderly hermits we'd found at an old scout camp were staying here. But even if no one was in residence, I'd still keep the house because it was where I hid all of my CIA toys, like exploding tampon boxes and packs of gum where the sticks of gum were actually heat-seeking missiles.

Why aren't we setting this up tomorrow? Kelly wondered.

Because we can since the ladies are out of town, visiting Disney World, I explained. And tomorrow morning I have to take Philby to the vet. I pointed to the wall. You missed a spot.

I don't get it. Rex shook his head when I informed him of our plans. Why do you think it's a good idea to go to Mardi Gras with your troop?

You don't have to worry about them, I insisted, hoping it would be true.

I'm worried about New Orleans after Hurricane Betty, Rex said.

She's not that bad, I lied. Of course she was. The kid was terrifying.

Rex scratched behind Philby's ears. My obese cat who resembled Hitler was demanding attention, like she always did by smacking his arm whenever he stopped. What's the purpose of this trip? Mardi Gras is hardly appropriate for little girls.

After almost messing up with Kelly, I'd come up with a better argument. Ava wants to visit our sister city—Who Dat. It's in Louisiana, so I thought we'd hit Baton Rouge and NOLA. Have them experience Cajun and creole culture. We don't have anything like that here in Iowa.

It was true. Louisiana was an eclectic and diverse state with French, German, Spanish, Italian, Cajun, and Creole heritage, culture, celebrations, and food. In Iowa, mayo was our most exotic condiment. Instead of alligators and swamps, we had pigs and cornfields. The closest thing we had to voodoo was when the Methodist Altar Committee once tried to bring Mavis Winter's kitten back from the dead. They were actually doing chest compressions on the altar, and it turned out the cat was just sleeping. But the Lutheran Ladies for the Wholesome have referred to them as Those Methodist Voodoo Satanists ever since.

And, I continued, it's educational since Betty is obsessed with Huey Long—that extremely crooked Louisiana governor from almost one hundred years ago. We can visit the capitol building where he was assassinated.

Rex stifled a smile. Okay, okay. Just don't let her bring that kind of thinking back here. The last thing I need is to investigate the mayor's right-hand kid on corruption charges for taking bribes from the Pork Producers.

Yay! Now I just had to brief Ava on the plan she knew nothing about. Ava was our town's eleven-year old mayor. My troop's go-getter who dreamed of running a major international insurance company someday, she was beyond ambitious and as tough as they came.

The girl had been mayor for a few months now and was doing a pretty good job. She'd doubled Rex's budget and made three of the five councilpersons cry. Her rival, town councilman Jeff Dodd, threw everything he could at the girl in hopes of intimidating her, but nothing worked. That was mostly due to her unflappable nature, but also due to her chief of security and unofficial black ops leader, Betty.

Betty was the troop's troublemaker, and she was awesome. This kid was going to make one kickass CIA Director someday, probably before she was thirty. The problem was, you couldn't be that badass and just coast on it.

Her parents had been thinking of sending her to boarding school in Texas, but Ava had granted a charter to Carole Anne's pet project – Helpful Hands & Tentacles—a sort of Welcome Wagon for aliens. For years Carole Anne had insisted she'd been kidnapped by sentient beings from outer space, who, foregoing the usual probing, taught her instead to play the bassoon. She wasn't half bad and could pull off a mean Pink Panther Theme at parties.

Ava secured Betty's stay by hiring Betty's dad, Roderick, as the town's Director of Garbage Collection at twice what he was making as an appliance salesman. Some town council members questioned the move, considering that Roderick had no experience whatsoever. But Ava announced that anyone against the idea obviously hated puppies, and she won.

Huey Long, the most corrupt and popular Louisiana governor of all time, would be proud. And so was I.

I just didn't tell Kelly that, because as far as I was concerned, I was up for the possibly not real Responsible Leader of the Year now, and I wasn't taking any chances.

CHAPTER TWO

How did they get it on the ceiling? Kelly asked as she stood on a stepladder during the meeting the next day.

It's impressive, I admitted. Especially considering that the girls were short and my ceilings were fairly high.

Mrs. Wrath? Inez asked, holding her birdhouse with red paint covering both hands.

No matter what I've said to the girls over the past six years, they insisted on calling me Mrs. Wrath, despite the fact that I was now actually Mrs. Ferguson. And before that, I was really Ms. Wrath. But you have to pick your battles with kids, so I stopped correcting them years ago.

What is it? I grabbed a rag covered with so much paint that it looked like it had been used at a serial killer's barbeque cookout.

Ava says we're going on a trip. Is that true?

Eight pairs of eyes turned toward me. Until recently, I'd had ten girls in my troop. In the last month, Hannah and Caterina moved away. It was a huge blow, since those two girls were the sweetest kids on the planet and they really balanced the troop dynamic. Now I just had the four Kaitlyns, Betty, Ava, Inez, and Lauren—who could've started their own mafia branch.

That's right. I have four Kaitlyns. Actually, I have four Kaitlyns with the same last initial. To make matters more confusing, they all have moms named Ashley and the girls look exactly alike.

We're visiting our sister city, Ava announced what I'd told her last night on the phone. Who Dat.

What's a sister city? Lauren asked.

What does Who Dat mean? one of the Kaitlyns added.

I'll defend all of you from alligators. Betty turned to look at me. I might need a gun.

Kelly climbed down from the step ladder. A sister city is a town in the US, or in another country, that's similar to ours. And Who Dat is kind of how they say 'who's there' in Cajun, which is a culture you'll find in Louisiana.

The girls turned to me.

She's right, I said. Our spring break coincides with Mardi Gras this year, so I thought we could check out Louisiana.

The girls immediately pulled out their phones and began typing.

Mardi Gras is a party. Inez eyed me dubiously. "It looks like an adult party."

Pretty beads! two of the Kaitlyns cried out in unison. How do we get those?

Kelly narrowed her eyes at me. "We buy them for you, of course."

I guess I hadn't thought that all the way through.

Who Dat has a zoo! Lauren shouted. And they have an aviary!

My troop had recently been asked to participate in some brainstorming to add an aviary to the Obladi Zoo—our local zoo.

See? I pointed out to Kelly. It's even more educational than I thought.

What's the angle? Betty rubbed her chin.

Angle? Uh-oh.

Yeah, she said. There's lots of places we could go for spring break but you picked this place. Why?

I put on my most innocent expression. It has our sister city, and a zoo with an aviary, and we can go to Baton Rouge to see the state capitol building where Huey Long was gunned down.

I'm in, Betty said immediately.

They have a king vulture! Inez cried out. Maybe he's related to Mr. Fancy Pants!

The girls crowded around her phone.

Is something wrong with his eyes? Lauren asked. They look funny.

If you've never seen a king vulture, you are missing out. The raptor looks like it was doodled by an unhinged toddler on a sugar bender while under the influence of LSD. With a bald black and purple head, googly eyes that seem to go in two different directions, a bright orange beak, and a yellow wattle, they don't look real.

The eyes look weirder than normal? I asked as I joined them.

Sure enough, something was off about them. It was as if the vulture was looking at two different things and thinking two different thoughts at the same time.

Must just be a bad photo angle, I said finally.

I need to talk to the mayor of Who Dat, Ava announced, to set everything up properly.

Kelly gave the girls the dates and a permission slip to take home and get signed.

The next morning, Kelly called first thing.

You're not going to believe this, but every single girl has turned in her signed permission slip.

What? You're kidding! The process of getting a permission slip signed by a parent was a legendary hassle on par with photographing the Loch Ness Monster waterskiing with a yeti in drag. Parents of elementary school kids are notoriously busy (or lazy), and getting permission slips from them was the most exhausting part of my job as leader.

I guess they are all eager for the girls to go, Kelly reasoned.

Eager to get rid of them, more likely, I added.

Kelly sighed. As much as I hate thinking of it that way, you may be right. At least there's only eight girls going.

Yeah, our eight scariest girls. Louisiana had no idea what was about to hit them.

CHAPTER THREE

Welcome to Who Dat! A young blond man in a top hat wearing a sash that read MAYOR stood in the middle of the road, shouting at us as a marching band began to play When the Saints Go Marching In.

I stopped the large, ten-passenger van I'd rented at the airport. We were just outside of town limits when we encountered what appeared to be a cartoonish stereotype of the entire town turning out to meet us.

Everyone stay here, I warned before getting out of the van and walking over. I think there's been some sort of mistake, I called out to the MAYOR kid.

The band stopped playing except for an overly enthusiastic tuba player, who, once he realized he was the only one playing, launched into a vigorous version of The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, until what appeared to be a vampire wielding an accordion made him stop.

Most of the people were dressed in costumes from various periods in Louisiana's French and Spanish history, and a few were in full Carnivale regalia. Movement off to my left caught my eye, and I noticed an impossibly tall man, dressed as an old-timey undertaker, with a real live alligator on a leash.

The presumed mayor looked at me so earnestly, I was worried he would pass out. "You are dignitaries from our sister city? he asked before looking over my shoulder at the van. You have Mayor Ava of Who's There, Iowa, with you?"

Yes, I said warily as I glanced at the van. What had Ava done to stir the whole town into action like this?

Welcome to Who Dat! the kid said again. I'm Mayor Robby! We've been waiting for you! With one arm, he encouraged the band, and they started to play again with great enthusiasm. Everyone began dancing, including the alligator.

Kelly joined me, followed by the girls. Ava stepped in front of all of us.

Thank you for your warm welcome, Mayor Robby, she intoned. I'm Mayor Ava.

If the young man, who had to be in his twenties, was surprised to find out how young our mayor was, he didn't show it. Instead, he stepped forward, removed his hat, and gave the girl a deep bow.

It is an honor, Miss Ava, he said.

A group of horsewomen dressed in Spanish conquistador armor rode up, stopping just in front of us. My troop almost collapsed from excitement. They loved horses more than they loved unicorns, and the fact that the women were in full battle dress was the icing on the cake.

A large carriage with a spotless white canopy pulled around the crowd to where we were standing. It was open on the sides, and there were three rows of benches. It was driven by a heavyset man in a black body stocking with a skeleton silk-screened onto it. He tipped his top hat and turned to show us a face that was painted like a skull.

Ma'am? A woman stepped forward wearing a very high black lace Spanish mantilla and blood-red flamenco dress.

She held her hand out expectantly. Was I supposed to tip her? I probably should've done more research on the customs here.

Your keys, ma'am. Her voice dripped with Southern charm. You will ride in the Carriage d'Honneur, and I will drive your van.

Um, okay. I deposited the keys in her hand and led the girls over, helping them scramble up into the carriage. I sat in the second row of seats, next to Kelly and Inez. Betty and Lauren sat on either side of Ava in the front, with all four Kaitlyns in the back.

After a sharp jolt of movement, the carriage began to turn and head back into town. We were making slow progress, probably so the marching band could keep up. The townspeople were cheering and dancing as they followed. This was the best greeting I'd ever had. And I was once met at the gates of a small village in the Andes by fifteen festive llamas and a man with a sign that said WELCOME CHANCELLOR MERKEL! They may have been under the impression that I was German Chancellor Angela Merkel. I'd explain further, but Operation Bismarck Guinea Pig is still classified by the CIA.

Ava faced forward, head held high as if she were Cleopatra.

Ava, Kelly asked. What exactly did you tell them?

Betty responded instead. I just said that our mayor had certain requirements due to her position. She looked around. They were supposed to have offered us cake. Betty pulled a notepad and pencil from her pocket, scowling as she wrote something.

That's too bad. I really like cake, I mumbled.

This is too much. Kelly seemed worried. What happens if they think they've been tricked into this?

Betty gave my co-leader a long look. I suggest you don't correct them. And by the way, Ava is descended from French royalty and one of the dudes who was involved in the Louisiana Purchase…FYI.

You lied to them? Kelly hissed.

What? Betty shrugged. It could be true.

Kelly looked at me, and I shrugged. She has a point.

We slowly rolled into a very quaint, picturesque town with large trees dripping with Spanish moss. Each house was painted a bright color and looked like it belonged in a postcard or on a movie set.

We probably shouldn't invite them to Who's There anytime soon, I muttered. The plain Midwestern architecture would make these people weep with despair.

I've got a bad feeling about this, Kelly warned.

Let's just go with it, I suggested as I started dancing in my seat.

The party atmosphere really was infectious. Yet again, I realized these people would be disappointed with the welcome they'd get in Who's There. We might get two dozen people, tops, and they'd all look like that couple from that Grant Wood painting, American Gothic…right down to the pitchforks.

We were on Main Street and nearing the downtown when the carriage stopped in front of a large house with a wraparound porch, which looked like it was suspended eight feet off the ground. A sweeping white staircase led from the ground up to the front door. You could literally walk around underneath the house.

Bayou architecture. I nodded. To keep the houses above the water table. Do you know they don't have basements here?

Lauren looked underneath the house. Where do they put all their spiders?

We got out of the carriage and assembled in front of the house. A couple of dashing young men dressed like they'd just arrived from 1840 stepped forward and placed brightly colored strings of beads over our heads as if they were fresh flower leis. The girls squealed with delight.

Two young women in antebellum garb approached and placed a purple, green, and gold tiara on Ava's head. She nodded as if she expected this, and maybe she did. I needed to get ahold of Betty's notes to prepare for whatever else these two had told Mayor Robby.

The young man caught up with us and once again doffed his hat. The White House, Mademoiselle Mayor. As you requested.

The White House? This was getting ridiculous.

A middle-aged couple appeared, smiling broadly. The man wore a linen suit, raised his arms high in the air, and announced, Welcome to the White House Bed and Breakfast!

Ah, I mumbled. Because it's white.

Betty studied the façade. Huey Long stayed here, right?

The older man responded in a booming Southern accent, That's why it's called that. He liked to pretend he was the president. He held out his hand to me. Gustave Robicheaux, and this is my wife, Seraphine.

Seraphine was dressed in a flowing lilac-colored dress and a large, floppy straw hat. She gave us a little nod but said nothing.

I shook Gustave's hand as Ava replied. "I'm Mayor Ava. That's just Mrs. Wrath and Mrs. Albers."

Gustave smiled at her before turning to me. She's really something, I'll bet!

You have no idea, I agreed. But really, you can call me Merry.

He nodded. That's fine! Miss Merry and Mrs. Albers…

It's just Kelly, Kelly said.

Without missing a beat, he repeated, Miss Merry and Miss Kelly. I'll grab your bags from the van. Come on in!

We followed the couple up the stairs while everyone else stayed on the ground below and the music started up again.

This home was built in 1811, Gustave said. It was refurbished in the 1920s. All of our esteemed dignitaries stay here.

Like who? Lauren asked.

Oh. The man rubbed his chin. "We get all kinds. We don't get as many as we used to. Recently, there've been some off-Broadway actors, the assistant to the ambassador to Honduras, Brad Pitt's second cousin, and once we had two women who were rejected by The Bachelor!"

Seraphine opened the front door, and we went inside.

Upon entering the house, we were overwhelmed by a flowery scent emanating from large white flowers.

Can you smell the gardenias? Seraphine asked. Isn't it lovely?

I approve, Ava declared.

I wasn't so sure. It was heavy and overbearing. But since Ava approved, I didn't see any reason to say anything.

The house was perfect for a B&B. Wood paneling, comfy chairs, fireplaces in every room, and lots of southern charm and tchotchkes.

We were in a library when Ava and Betty ran over to two portraits hung on the wall. The first was a painting of Huey Long. The second featured a grand sort of older woman. By her dress I would say this was taken at the turn of the century. She was a pretty woman, but her expression was marred by a scowl.

We need to have one made of me, Ava said firmly. When we get back, of course.

That—Seraphine pointed at the woman—is my great-great-great-great-grandmother, Eulalie Landrieux. Isn't she lovely?

She looks like she's about to spank us, Inez observed.

No, child, the woman corrected gently. That's how she smiled.

The tour continued through a modern kitchen and a glorious dining room, with a twelve-seat table and heavy velvet curtains.

Well. Gustave clapped his hands together. Upstairs we have two rooms with four bunk beds each and one bedroom with two twin beds. He gave Kelly and me a nod.

Dibs on the room with two beds. Betty's hand shot up.

Nope. I cut her off. That's for Kelly and me. You guys get the rooms with the bunk beds.

We followed Gustave upstairs with Betty and Ava grumbling the whole way. Tough. I needed Betty in a room with others who might rat her out should she do anything unseemly. See how responsible I am?

Turned out the upstairs had four bedrooms, including the owners' room, which we didn't get to see. Each of the rooms were well-appointed. Kelly and I had our own bathroom, while the two rooms of four each shared one bathroom.

I pointed at the second staircase. What's up there?

Gustave shook his head. We never use the third floor. It's too hot in spring, summer, and fall to do so, and… He looked both ways before leaning toward us and whispering, It's haunted.

The eight girls looked at each other and were about to race up the stairs when I blocked them from doing so.

Forget it, I insisted. The third floor is off-limits. Got it?

Eight pair of eyes narrowed at me. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot. But they'd go through with the charade for now.

If you'll excuse me, Gustave said. I'll get the bags. You ladies head to your rooms. Luncheon will be on the patio in fifteen minutes. And with that, he was gone.

Huddle up, Kelly announced, and the girls did. There will be rules regarding our stay. Everything here is fragile and breakable, and some may be antiques. You are to touch nothing. Got it? You will display your best manners. Okay?

The girls mumbled their assent.

Pinky swear. Kelly held out a curled pinky.

There was a hesitation, but the girls, one by one, stepped up to Kelly and intertwined their pinky fingers with hers. Kelly looked at me and waited.

What? I asked. Surely you don't mean me.

Especially you, Kelly warned.

What if Gustave asks me to touch something? I held out.

Kelly said, Then you have his permission.

What if I don't have permission, I reasoned, but have to touch something to save your life?

Betty nodded. Seems legit.

Saving lives seems to be a good exception, Lauren agreed.

Kelly held up her hands to stop me. Let's just play it by ear.

I wasn't done. What if I have to touch something in order to defend us all from that vampire or alligator out there?

You are acting like one of the girls, Kelly said.

Fine! I stomped over to her and shook her pinky.

I didn't like having to be locked into such an agreement. You never knew when you'd have to break a vase to defend yourself. Now I'd need permission to do so.

Gustave brought up the bags, and we distributed them into the correct rooms. As usual, the Kaitlyns, who I was pretty sure shared one hive mind, had one room. Ava, Betty, Inez, and Lauren were in another.

Unpack your things into the dressers, I told the girls. Kelly and I will come get you in a few minutes to go down to lunch.

This room is gorgeous! Kelly gasped as we entered.

There were pale pink walls, blue carpet, and white wallpaper with little roses on them. There were stuffed sheep on the beds. It was as if a fairy tale had barfed.

It looks like Little Bo Peep's room, I admitted.

The bathroom is nice, Kelly said. There's a claw foot tub in there!

I walked around my bed, my eyes on the sheep. These are creepy. Their eyes are following me.

What do you think about Gustave saying the third floor is haunted? she asked.

He's probably just messing with us, I said, hoping it was true.

Once we all met up in the hall, we trooped down to the kitchen and Seraphine directed us to the backyard. The largest tree I'd ever seen took up the whole area, with long limbs reaching to the ground, where they bent outward and upward like a bark-covered octopus reaching out to grab us.

I've had nightmares about monsters who look like this, one of the Kaitlyns said.

That's when I noticed that all eight girls had changed into neon green T-shirts that read SISTER CITY VIPS in pink, glittery letters.

Hey! I complained. How come Mrs. Albers and I didn't get T-shirts?

Kelly looked at the girls with interest.

Betty shrugged. You didn't ask for one.

It's okay, really, Kelly said.

We didn't ask for one because we didn't know that you were making T-shirts, I pressed.

Then you should've thought that we might do something like that, Betty countered, and asked for one.

Kelly cut this line of argument off. It's okay, really it is. She turned to me with a look that said drop it.

But it would be better if we all had the same shirt, I argued.

Ava nodded. She's right. We should've had one for each of our elderly leaders.

Wait…what? I was about to correct them that we were only thirty, when the girls ran off to check out the food.

Beneath the octopus tree was a long table with a pale pink tablecloth, covered in platters of deli meat, cheeses, fruit, and bread and large pitchers of lemonade.

The girls swarmed. My troop had an appetite with a capital A, and they weren't afraid to use it. Kelly and I joined them as Seraphine brought out slices of key lime pie.

This is amazing, I said between mouthfuls. You do breakfast, lunch, and dinner?

Seraphine smiled sweetly. No. We usually skip lunch, and we will for days when you have other matters that need attended to. But today, we thought we'd put out a spread for our honored guests.

She walked away, and we dug in. As I poured myself a glass of lemonade, I realized I had no idea what kind of itinerary we had. I'd had some loose plans. But knowing Ava and Betty, they had a tight agenda. I could've kicked myself for not checking first.

Kelly stood and held up the quiet sign. The girls responded in kind. The quiet sign was actually my favorite Girl Scout thing. You raise your right hand, three fingers up with the thumb holding the pinky down, and everyone pipes down. And it always works. Always.

Okay. Kelly lowered her hand. We should start putting together a plan for the week. I… She frowned as Betty began distributing a professionally printed and laminated agenda, complete with graphics and photos.

Oh was all she said.

Ava and I thought we should plan ahead. Here's what we made up.

No way. I shook my head as I read it. We aren't going to wrestle alligators after lunch. I gave Kelly the thumbs-up to show how responsible I was.

You're no fun anymore, Betty groused.

CHAPTER FOUR

You've packed the schedule with dangerous things, I replied. "And by the way, I am too fun."

Kelly agreed. I love the idea of the swamp boat tour. And touring the town. We can keep those in.

Spoilsport, Betty grumped.

I looked at Kelly. See how that feels?

Lauren seemed to agree with us. Alligator wrestling is mean, the junior zookeeper said.

We already bought the tickets for alligator wrestling, Betty insisted.

How did you… I started. Then I narrowed my eyes. How could you use my credit card? I cancelled that card!

The girls had a bad habit of borrowing my credit card for things like deep sea diving equipment, a blunderbuss, and once a life-sized cardboard cutout of President Zachary Taylor. I kept that one.

Then for a while they hacked into my Amazon account, and no matter how many times I changed the password, they were always in it. My latest attempt had been to cancel my card, and I was at a loss as to how they could've used it.

We started an account in your name, Betty said. Relax. It's that one that gets you points and stuff.

That's credit card fraud, I warned.

Not if you don't press charges, Inez quipped.

How many of you are in on this? I asked.

The girls looked at each other.

We don't know what you're talking about, the Kaitlyns said in perfect unison. It was rather unsettling when they did that.

Kelly held her hand out. Give me the card. I'll cancel the tickets.

Oh good. I didn't want to have to do that. It might add to the idea that I'm no fun anymore.

I think the first thing we should do is tour the city, Ava said, ignoring Kelly. It's my duty.

Kelly and I agreed, and after we carried all the dishes inside, earning brownie points from Seraphine, we made our way to the front door. Upon opening it, we saw Mayor Robby and the carriage waiting.

You haven't been here this whole time, have you? I asked as we walked down to meet him.

Of course not. He laughed as if I was crazy. Miss Seraphine let me wait inside and gave me sweet tea.

I looked at Kelly as if to say see, we might be okay with this Ava as Mussolini thing. She didn't respond.

Okay ladies! Into the Carriage d'Honneur, Robby said as he adjusted his mayoral sash.

We can just take the van, I suggested.

This will be much better for the tour, Robby insisted.

We climbed up and took our seats, with Mayor Robby sitting next to the skeleton driver. The young mayor faced us.

Who Dat has a fascinating history and a checkered past, he said brightly as the carriage began to roll. I'll show you everything.

Don't you have better things to do? Kelly asked. Surely as mayor your schedule is pretty full.

Mayor Robby seemed confused. What do you mean?

You are probably very busy, she said. Running a town.

The young man shook his head. There isn't much to do, actually. We have a city administrator, and he handles most stuff. Our town council meetings are just for show.

So you're just the figurehead, I said.

He grinned. Yes ma'am. I'm the face of Who Dat.

The driver made a strange sound, and the horses reacted by walking. We were off. The town was very picturesque. The houses were colorful, and there was an abundance of Spanish moss and blooming magnolia trees.

Every man we passed tipped his hat toward us, and the women all looked like they'd just stepped out of a cotillion. Was this place for real? I ask because I've been in fake cities back when I was a spy. By the way, never go to cities you can't find on Wikipedia, and if you do find yourself in a fake town, don't lean against the lampposts…or fences…or buildings of any kind.

You have a lovely town here, Robby, Kelly said.

The boy pointed to his sash.

Oh, I mean, Mayor Robby, Kelly corrected.

Sorry, it's an official title and all that, the young man explained as he looked to his right. Oh! And there's our famous St. Leonie cemetery! He pointed to a large white wall that seemed to encase something that took up a whole block.

I can't see it! Lauren shouted.

Oh, well, that's because we keep it locked up. Lots of spooky stuff happened in there. I'll give you a tour sometime. Mayor Robby winked. Hey, is it true you Yanks bury your dead in the ground?

Yanks? Kelly asked.

Sorry. Robby blushed. Force of habit. Southerners call everyone from north of the Mason-Dixon line Yanks. I mean no offence.

It's okay, I said. And yes, we bury our dead in the ground.

Don't you do that? one of the Kaitlyns asked.

We can't, due to the fact that we are below sea level, Robby explained. Which means we have tombs on top of the ground.

When are you showing us that? Betty asked.

He thought about this for a moment. We can go tomorrow if you like.

The girls eagerly agreed, and we continued with the tour.

An old voodoo priestess is buried in there, the mayor intoned. Some say if you spit on her grave, she will give you whatever your heart desires.

Oh great. That was all I needed—eight little girls with unnaturally strong ambition defiling a voodoo queen's grave.

We want to do that! two of the Kaitlyns cried out. The others nodded. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

What's that? Ava pointed to a tumble-down shack that was out of place with the cute houses.

Oh. That. Robby's face darkened. That shack belonged to Gator Man. He shuddered. You don't want to be going there.

I looked at eight little girls who I knew most certainly would want to go there.

Why not? Inez asked.

Is he half man, half gator? Betty asked.

Robby crossed himself as we passed the building. That's one of the rumors. He was the first settler in these parts and made a deal with the devil to live forever. Unfortunately, he misunderstood the consequences, and his top half was turned into an alligator. The town won't tear it down because there's a curse on the place.

There's no such thing as a half man, half reptile, Lauren said. It's impossible.

People have seen it, Robby said quietly.

Tell us a little more about Who Dat, I interjected. Not because my troop was scared. Far from it. I did it because the young mayor looked a little green. How did it get its name?

Yeah! Lauren said. We got ours from a mid-nineteen hundreds game show!

Robby seemed interested. The story goes that a fella named Silly Silas yelled out 'Who dat' every time someone walked by. Silas was a bit odd and had Tourette's. After everyone heard it multiple times a day, every single day, the name kind of stuck.

We pulled up in front of a large yellow mansion, framed by two of those scary trees with the arms. A dark red flag hung from the door, and all the curtains were drawn shut, in spite of the sunny day.

I had to ask. What's this place?

Is it your house? Ava wondered. I don't have a house like that. Mrs. Wrath, we need to get me a house like that.

It's not mine, Robby said. This is the house of the vampire LeSot.

Vampires? Gator dudes and voodoo priestesses? Betty asked. This place is awesome!

One of the Kaitlyns disagreed. It's kind of scary here. Why do you live in a town like this?

Mayor Robby looked at us quizzically. Don't you have things like that in Iowa?

Not really, I ventured. We once had a donkey for mayor and a century-old axe murder, but the only scary thing back home is drought or root worm.

Huh, Robby said. I just assumed this was kind of normal.

Why do you have a vampire? Inez asked.

The young mayor took off his hat and scratched his head. Well, he's not really a vampire. He thinks he is because he drinks so much at night that he doesn't feel good in the morning. So he sleeps during the day. Someone told him he might as well be a vampire, and it kind of stuck. I've never really seen him myself, but I hear his name is Mark. Or maybe it's Marty. I'm not sure.

The girls seemed disappointed. To be a little honest, so was I.

What's with all the water? Lauren asked as we turned into a different neighborhood.

Oh, that's the Broken Bayou Swamp. It kind of encroached its way into town in the 1980s, but the town didn't want to move. Those are cypress trees. They survive well in water. We do have a swamp boat tour if you'd like. You'll get to see some real alligators.

Will you go with us on the tour? Ava asked.

Robby shook his head and waved his hands in front of him. Oh no! I'm afraid of what's in there!

Alligators are dangerous. Lauren nodded knowingly.

He looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. No, herons. I'm terrified of herons.

The big white bird with the long neck? Lauren asked.

They're absolutely horrifying! Robby squeaked.

You should be, Lauren said. Herons are meat eaters. She turned to me and winked.

I had a bad feeling about this. I made a mental note to never, ever leave the girls alone on this trip. The last thing we needed was to be run out of town for heron-pranking the mayor.

Next to the swamp was the zoo. The girls began cheering, and the carriage pulled to a stop.

We need to go there! Ava announced. When is it on the itinerary, Betty?

Betty pulled a notebook from her pocket. Tomorrow. And after that is the big cake party the town is throwing for us. She looked meaningfully at Mayor Robby.

So did I.

He seemed confused. I had the feeling he felt that way a lot. Cake party?

Yes. Betty's eyes drilled into his, and I worried that she was taking up hypnotism. I didn't care for hypnotism ever since last summer when I was hypnotized to shout out the word rutabaga when anyone snapped their fingers. It took months for me to stop doing that, and I find that I still have to dodge the produce section of the grocery store…just in case.

You were supposed to provide us with a cake party, Betty explained.

I was? He took off his top hat to scratch his head. Well, I guess I'd better get on that, then.

We'll need chocolate, white, and red velvet, Betty started to say.

And marble! I cut in. Kelly gave me a look. What? It's not a true cake party until you have marble. Lately, I was on a marble cake kick that stemmed from the fact that half the girls in the troop liked white cake and the other half liked chocolate. The compromise turned out to be marble cake, and it was quickly becoming my favorite.

Okay. I'll get on that. He motioned to the parking lot. You will love our zoo, Robby gushed. We have a new aviary and everything. He looked at the swamp next door. Of course, there were some concerns about building the zoo so close to an encroaching swamp. What with the trouble we've had with alligators eating the small monkeys and all.

The girls gasped collectively.

It's okay, Mayor Robby soothed. Just a few of them got eaten. The fence should hold… He looked at it hesitantly. For now, anyway.

The sign said Welcome to the Robert E. Lee-Jefferson Davis-Leonidas Polk Zoo. You can call us RELJDLP for short!

We're going to have to change the name. Mayor Robby squirmed as he noticed me staring.

Because of racism. Ava nodded.

Once again, the young man seemed confused. "What? No. Because it's too much of a mouthful. They're considering calling it Huey Long Zoological Park, but that seems pretty long too. Of course, we could then call it the Huey Zooey!"

The girls stared at him blankly.

Kelly pulled out her cell and pulled up the website. Looks like we can buy tickets online.

You don't have to do that, Betty said. Already done.

I really needed to talk to her about this credit card she allegedly took out in my name.

The carriage moved on.

What's the driver's name? I asked Robby.

Oh! I should've introduced you! He patted the skeleton on the arm. This is Obadiah Bouquet.

Obadiah turned his head and tipped his hat to us before turning back to his work. The carriage began to move again.

We're heading to city hall now, Mayor Robby said.

We came down Main Street in a different direction than before. It was nice that every shop was full. There was a café, a shoe repair business, a candy shop, an ice cream parlor, and a movie theater among other small businesses.

"They're showing The Manchurian Candidate, Betty said. We should go."

What's a manchurian? one of the Kaitlyns asked.

Ava was a candidate, Lauren mused. Is it about her?

Ava frowned. I'm not a candidate anymore. I'm the mayor!

Guys! Inez pointed at her phone. It's about bad guys brainwashing a guy to kill another guy!

The girls crowded around her phone.

"Funny story about The Manchurian Candidate, I told Kelly. The CIA was convinced that it was real and did all kinds of secret LSD experiments on foreign prisoners and American citizens to see if they could replicate it."

Kelly gave me a long look. And did they?

I shook my head. Nope. It was a failed experiment. They never mastered mind control.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Betty write master mind control.

Hey! Another Kaitlyn stood up and pointed. They've got taxidermy too!

Sure enough, there was a giant stuffed alligator next to a sign that said TARZAN'S TAXIDERMY AND TEA.

Taxidermy and tea? I asked out loud.

Oh sure. Mayor Robby nodded. It's a tea house filled with taxidermy. Those two things go together like grits and gravy. His chest puffed up. And it's the only Tarzan and taxidermy–themed tea house in Louisiana!

And probably the world, I whispered to Kelly.

What's a tea house? Inez made a face.

A place where they serve tea, cakes, scones, and that kind of thing, I answered, salivating as I did. We'd just eaten not too long ago, and I was already hungry.

Mayor Robby pointed to a building. There it is! That's where I work!

We stared at the gothic structure — a dark brown stucco building with sharp, pointed gables on two levels. It looked like it was straight out of a horror movie.

That's your city hall? Ava asked.

It was modelled on the Beauregard Parish Jail in DeRidder, Mayor Robby said as Bouquet pulled the carriage to a stop curbside.

It's terrifying, Kelly gasped under her breath.

Is that why there are bars on the windows and doors? Lauren squinted at the building.

Well, we couldn't very well base it on a jail and leave out an important architectural structure, Mayor Robby scoffed.

But this isn't a jail, I offered. Or do you have one inside?

No, our jail is on the outskirts of town. Mayor Robby seemed surprised by our questions. This is strictly an administrative building.

Wow! Inez held out her phone. The Beauregard Parish Jail is super haunted and called the Hanging Jail!

The girls crowded around her phone again. Mayor Robby had lost them to a hanging. He stepped down to the sidewalk with a dejected look on his face.

Why did you decide to model your city hall on a jail? Kelly asked as she climbed down.

I joined her, but the girls were too busy staring at Inez's phone.

Our original one was just a block building with no windows, Robby explained a little louder than normal in hopes of getting the girls' attention back. In 1915, the city decided it was time for something nicer. The mayor back then had kin in DeRidder, and so they went with that.

Girls! I shouted to get their attention. Time to go. You can research the hanging jail later.

Ava was the first to climb down. She's right. We have to remember that we are very important guests here.

It's okay, Betty said almost so quietly I almost missed it. We can check it out later when we you-know-what.

That's it. I wasn't letting these girls out of my sight.

The building was slightly less depressing up close. We followed the mayor inside and discovered it was your everyday office building. Dingy white walls, basic office furniture, cement floors. It was a lot like most Soviet-era buildings. I half expected to see a framed photo of Stalin on the walls.

This… Robby dramatically waved his arms around him. Is our entryway and front office.

A woman typing on a laptop looked up, scowled, then went back to work.

The tour was extremely uneventful. We'd had a better time parked in front of the zoo. Still, Ava was showing a lot of interest, so we sucked it up for her. Personally, I'd been craving scones with Devonshire cream ever since we passed the tearoom.

Nothing inside this building looked interesting at all. The chamber where the town council met had just a long table surrounded by folding chairs. The mayor's office seemed like a walk-in closet with a desk and phone.

Our city hall is much nicer, Lauren whispered to Betty. Maybe Who's There can send some plants or kittens or something to brighten things up.

Aside from the kittens, that's a good idea, Kelly said to me. It could be a service project.

I don't know, I responded. Mayor Robby seems pretty proud of this place. A gift like that might seem like we didn't like it.

I'd had experience with that through my world travels. For example, you never insult someone's home anywhere…especially in rural Chechnya, where that's a hanging offence akin to arson, murder, or naming a goat Albert. You also can't name a goat Ashley, Ulysses, or Madison. Don't ask me why—I don't make the rules.

We'd toured the ground floor of the city building when we finally came to the middle. A long, spiral staircase went up two stories, and you could see the top floor. That might've been interesting enough, if it weren't for the fact that a rope with a noose hung down through the center of the staircase, just close enough for anyone on any side to touch it.

Do you hang people here? Ava asked with interest.

Betty nodded. We should get one of these for back home.

Why do you have a noose? was all I could think to say.

Because it's modelled on the Beauregard Parish Jail. Mayor Robby rolled his eyes. And they have this, so we do too.

It doesn't put people off? Kelly wondered. We were thinking the same thing. I mean, a noose has a very negative connotation in the South.

Mayor Robby stared at the noose for a moment. Then his eyes grew wide, and he vanished.

You'd think he would've known that. Kelly looked at me.

Normally I'd say you're right. But not with this guy.

Robby ran up and tied four hot pink bows on the noose. Better?

No, I said. But my attention was elsewhere. A group of staff members walked toward us and, after looking at us curiously, turned into one of the offices and shut the door.

What is it? Kelly asked.

I just had the craziest feeling that I knew a couple of those people, I muttered.

Duh. Ava rolled her eyes. That's because they're our sister city, so the people are the same as the ones we have back home.

It doesn't work that way… I started.

Mayor Robby interrupted. I just made y'all reservations for afternoon tea at Tarzan's! This tour is over. Any questions?

All four Kaitlyns raised their hands. Only one of them asked, What do you have to do to get more of those beaded necklaces down here? My aunt back home said girls have to do stuff and then boys give them lots of shiny necklaces.

Right! I clapped my hands to interrupt. Time for tea!

Mayor Robby sighed with what I think was relief. Okay y'all! See you tomorrow for the cake party!

And with that, Kelly and I herded the girls out of the hanging jail wannabe city hall in the direction of tea and dead animals.

In a way, it felt like whatever we were about to encounter would be an improvement.

CHAPTER FIVE

Tarzan's Taxidermy and Tea had an ordinary storefront with a cheerful sign advertising the goodies within. Inside was a different story. The walls were covered in vines, like a fake jungle, with dead, stuffed animals appearing to lunge through the foliage as if to attack you.

Hey! A ridiculously handsome, half-naked man with long, wavy brown hair and leopard-skin loincloth lowered himself to the floor via a vine attached to the ceiling. How long had he been there?

Welcome to Tarzan's! He thumped his oiled and muscular bare chest. Me Tarzan!

Just then, a leopard leaped out of the trees, flying toward us with a loud growl. We flinched as the creature froze in mid-leap then withdrew backwards into the trees again via some sort of mechanism. It was surprisingly realistic for a dead animal.

Nice, huh? Tarzan wiggled his eyebrows.

Are you really Tarzan? One of the Kaitlyns looked skeptical.

Yes! Tarzan said quickly.

No, Kelly countered. He's playing the part of Tarzan.

That seemed to take some of the wind out of Tarzan's sails. My name really is Tarzan, he explained but added nothing more to that.

I wondered why Kelly had taken the fun out of the afternoon and Betty didn't say she was no fun anymore.

This way. Tarzan motioned for us to follow him through a jungle-like room with taxidermied toucans, monkeys, and flamingoes among other things.

My sisters-in-law would have a field day here, I muttered. This whole thing is one giant diorama!

Thanks! Tarzan perked up and indicated a large round table in the corner. I do all the work myself!

He pointed to the menus on the table, grabbed a vine, and attempted to swing out of the room. Instead, the vine moved a bit toward the door before swinging back toward us.

Jane! he shouted as he walked from the room. We really need mechanized vines!

This is really remarkable, I said as I stared into the mouth of a huge boa constrictor.

He's cute. A Kaitlyn grinned as the other three nodded.

My mom, Inez replied, says if guys have big muscles, they have tiny brains.

I like Inez's mom, I whispered to Kelly, who couldn't help smiling.

The menu was not in keeping with the jungle theme at all. It looked like it would be more at home at Winchester Castle. The girls were confused, but when Tarzan returned we simply ordered the afternoon tea. I really wanted the cream tea, but Kelly was right. This would offer more options because it also had finger sandwiches.

There aren't many people in here, Lauren said.

That's cuz it's hard to eat while looking at dead animals, Betty said.

I didn't have to tell her that nothing hindered my appetite. I could eat under the worst circumstances possible, and that includes Nudie Night at the Hot Gravy Tavern in Belarus. Those men were not fit at all, and some of the contortions they got into were enough to turn my whole table against our bacon flight appetizer. That was okay because there was more bacon for me.

To our surprise, a couple of eighteenth-century royal footmen in powdered wigs, white gloves, and scarlet jackets brought us two trays and two three-tiered serving plates full of sweet and savory items. Tarzan appeared with our pots of tea, a tea chest, and cups.

Kelly and I explained to the girls how to pour and steep their