Excerpt
Dragging tail wasn’t an option.

As soon as I spotted the floater, I tossed aside my binoculars, wiggled my toes into a double layer of warm fuzzy socks—compliments of my good friend Ally—and hurriedly grabbed a tacky pair of wading boots, recently purchased from Walter at the local general store.

After a minute’s worth of hobbles, boots were in place and I was raring to go. First stop, my kitchen table. Scooping up the barely-charged cell phone, I punched Gertie’s contact number and waited. Under normal circumstances, Ida Belle would’ve been the logical first call, but it wasn’t quite six yet. She probably hadn’t unrolled her hair curlers, much less made it out of bed.

“What and where?” Gertie asked. A simple “hello” wasn’t dramatic enough.

Fueling her enthusiasm for mysterious happenings, I said, “My house. Down by the bayou. Emergency meeting. Call it.”

Until the others arrived, I needed to figure out how to secure a body. It wouldn’t be an easy feat thanks to fast-moving rapids. After recent storms, the bayou swirled with the muddiest swamp waters I’d ever seen, not that I was a professional slough-watcher, but I paid close attention to my backyard.

Thanks to a dead body recently discovered there, my place was somewhat of a landmark. Jeanine from Sinful Sightings even pointed it out on her haunted ghost tours, which was disconcerting when I stopped to think about it. With a body count now standing at two and only a couple of months into my Sinful residency, I was beginning to think that the Louisiana Bayou wasn’t exactly the safest place to lay low and hide.