Delta Bayou and the Miss Dixieland Pageant (Delta Bayou Adult Mystery #1)

Chapter Ten: Miss Dixieland, USA

They ran back out into the dressing rooms mostly naked, leaving the stagehand behind them. Their lack of clothing didn't matter since all of the other girls were also changing into their formal wear. Delta shimmied into her royal blue gown. It didn't take long as it was more skin than dress--off the shoulder with a plunging neckline and a high slit up one leg. She realized that she had never taken off her thigh holster from the talent show. She decided to leave it on and quickly reloaded her gun, slipping it back into place under her skirt. Luckily, it was on the side without the slit. 

She caught a glance at Sasha, back in the bright red chiffon that Delta had already seen her in at the photoshoot. Sasha winked at her and they joined the line of girls walking back on stage. It was time to announce the winners. Delta's mind was blank, relaxed from the sex, although her hands were still trembling from the effects of the Red Cherry. 

Phil, in his tux, was speaking into the microphone. She barely listened as the titles were given. Best Hair, Best Gown, Best Sportswear, Most Talented, (that one actually went to Sasha, as did Best Personality). She hoped that Sasha won the entire contest. It came with $500 in prize money, which Sasha could put towards her next degree. Delta clapped loudly for her and politely while some of her other acquaintances were given awards. Then it was time to announce the top three. 

Delta waited, impatient. The effects of the stimulant were leaving her now and she realized that time was running out for her to figure out who was behind the drug scheme. Her mind, though still foggy, was getting back on track and she looked out into the audience again, wondering when the drug pickup was scheduled to happen. Maybe it already had, and Stanford had been the one to bust it, all while Delta was stuck on stage. Or when she had been having sex with Sasha instead of investigating. What had he said to her about not getting caught up with pageant life?

Her ears perked up when she heard that Tabitha was given third place and a prize for outstanding moral character. Delta supposed her memorized Bible verses had served her well. Second place went to a girl whose name Delta had never bothered to memorize. She was the picture-perfect image of a stereotypical beauty queen. Tall, with huge blonde hair, and too much makeup. Actually, she looked a little bit like Cassandra and Delta tried to remember if she had been one of the girls with Mike Dunn at the party.

No doubt Cassandra had stroked her own ego by awarding extra points to someone who resembled her. Delta almost rolled her eyes at the thought but then remembered she was supposed to have her pageant smile frozen in place. She tried to focus

"Delta Bayou!" Phil beamed at her. She looked around. Why was he calling out her name? She gave him a funny look.

"Go!" hissed someone behind her, and she felt a shove on her shoulder. 

Delta realized with a start that Phil was holding out flowers to her. Beside him, Cassandra stood, cradling the big silver and rhinestone crown in her hands. It shone white like a bleached skull. Had she won first place? She knelt uncertainly as Cassandra placed the crown on her head.

What the fuck? She almost laughed. Maybe it was the fucking that had helped her win. Then she really did frown. Damned corrupt system. She plastered her fake smile across her face and tried to look pleased as she joined Tabitha and Whatsherface on the winner's podium. The crowd was going wild. She heard a few people cheering her name. Members of the force, no doubt. She was definitely going to be teased about this later.

Phil handed the microphone over to Cassandra. "And now, that we have the winners of the pageant, it's time to find out who our winners in the audience are! Ladies and Gentlemen, check your raffle tickets! It's time for the drawing!" A fishbowl on the podium was full of the red paper tickets that had been sold at the carwash. Cassandra stuck her pointy fingers in the bowl and drew a card between her sharp nails. "397!" A man in a trucker hat and flannel stepped on stage and was handed a wrapped prize by Cassandra.