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

Chapter 1 - Saturday afternoon, August 24, 1974
     
    “Since Marge is going to Seattle for Labor Day weekend,” Gertie announced as she waltzed into Ida Belle’s kitchen, “how about we take a road trip?”
    “A road trip?” Ida Belle asked before sticking the black, rat-tail comb back between her teeth. She pulled the last curler out of her hair with her now comb-free fingers and sprayed the strand with hair spray, shaking the can again and again. The curls had to last the rest of the night, and then overnight, right up until church the following morning. Walter had been out of her favorite brand, White Rain, and she’d had to settle on a new brand which she didn’t trust, so she kept spraying until the curls were drenched.
    “You’re gonna start a fire with that stuff one of these days,” Gertie coughed, blinking ferociously, and waving her hand to clear the air.
    “Oh please... Don’t be so dramatic,” Ida Belle shook the can again and scowled when the spray died out. “Damn Walter! He better’ve restocked,” she muttered, angrily throwing the comb on the table. She shook her head, closed her eyes and took a deep breath to compose herself.
    “Yes dear, you’re right, I guess I shouldn’t be so dramatic...” Gertie snickered.
    “Fine, you made your point. Now, what’s all this about a road trip?” Ida Belle asked after she exhaled and opened her eyes.
    “You should think about buying one of those new iron curling things. I hear they make curling your hair take minutes instead of hours.”
    “New?” Ida Belle scoffed. “There’s nothing new about them. My grandma had an old curling iron she put right in the wood burner and she burned the back of my neck something fierce one time when she was trying to curl my hair. I still have the scar. See?” Ida Belle moved the stiff mass of curls off her neck so Gertie could see the raised, oblong scar.
    “Ouch! I bet that hurt,” Gertie winced. “But these new ones plug right into the wall…”
    “Same idea but add electricity? No thanks, I can electrocute myself just fine by sticking a fork in a wall socket. Did that when I was a kid too,” she snorted, “and it did curl my hair, but I don’t want to repeat the experience on a regular basis.”
    “Oh dear…”
    “I promise I won’t be rushing out to buy one anytime soon,” Ida Belle said. “I hear they can also burn your hair right off your head. There’s absolutely no way to control the temperature on them.”
    “Okay, I guess I should’ve known the commercials were exaggerating. Maybe I won’t get one… Anyway, road trip,” Gertie unfurled her copy of that morning’s Times-Picayune. “I think it’s high time we went to another concert,” she pointed her finger at a full page ad.
    “Oh no… No more concerts... You remember the last one?” Ida Belle narrowed her eyes at Gertie and then snorted. “No, that’s right, you don’t. You had a tad too much cough syrup and slept through the last couple of hours of the concert. Walter had to carry you out, if I remember correctly. We’re getting way too old for such foolishness.”
    “I remember more about that concert than you think I do,” Gertie nodded slightly and then cocked her head to the side. “Yes, ma’am, I sure do...”
    “Then you should understand what I’m saying,” Ida Belle said, wondering what exactly Gertie thought she remembered. She and Walter had gotten a little too cozy while they’d thought Gertie was asleep.
    While she’d definitely enjoyed herself, it wasn’t something she was entirely proud of, and most of the time, she could forget it had even happened. “Anyway,” she shook the uncomfortable thoughts out of her tightly curled head. “No more concerts.”
    “Even if it’s Joe Cocker and Santana?” Gertie coyly smiled, sweeping her hand dramatically across the ad in the newspaper like a Hollywood starlet showing off a new car.
    “I know you’ve always regretted not getting to go to