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off the hard remnants of burned hair. When it was clear down to the scalp, I let the straight hair fall back down in place.
    Gertie leaned over to scrutinize. “It doesn’t stick out anymore, but I can see her scalp through that piece.”
    “Maybe a curly style?”
    “It’s still too close to the scalp and too thin. The only way you’re covering that is with a hat.”
    I scanned the room, looking for the girl’s mother, and finally spotted her in a corner with several other moms, pouring cough syrup into coffee. No threat there.
    “Where’s Pansy?” I asked.
    “Over there.” Gertie pointed to a group of girls on the other side of the room. “Why is she teaching them to walk like strippers?”
    “At least they’ll have a job.” I didn’t have time to judge Pansy’s alternative profession choices. I was in full attack mode.
    I grabbed a big barrette off the table and clipped it to a wad of Gertie’s victim’s hair, making sure I selected a piece from the bottom of the back—at least, I think it was the bottom of the back. Who the hell could tell?
    Then I leaned over with my knife and cut the entire clump of hair off her head in one smooth move—like slitting someone’s throat. Gertie sucked in a breath and paled a bit.
    “Glue gun,” I said.
    She looked panicked for a minute, then reached for the glue gun on the table behind her and handed it to me. I ran a single strip of hot glue across the edge of the hair peeking out of the barrette, then stuck the whole mess to the bald spot. I had a couple of frightening seconds when I thought the hair was going to come back with my fingers, but I managed to peel them off with the hair firmly glued to her scalp.  
    I waited the ten seconds for the glue to dry, then flipped the good piece of hair back over and assessed my handiwork.
    “It’s not bad,” Gertie said, clearly impressed. “The color is a perfect match. The only problem is that top piece is untangled and straight and the other never will be.”
    “I’m going to can the straight hair idea. I’m going to make it big.”
    “Are you sure…I thought we were going for the royal look.”
    “I saw a ton of pictures on the Internet of this giant hairdo a royal was wearing. Don’t worry. I got this. What about her?” I pointed to Gertie’s victim. “Can you cover the damage?”
    Gertie rolled her eyes. “It was an improvement.”
    “Good, then get back to work before Pansy gets back. Maybe you can pull the whole wad back in a ponytail and hide it with bows?”
    “That’s a great idea and shouldn’t take very long.”
    “Good. My idea for this one will only take a couple of minutes, then I can get on makeup. Where the heck is Ida Belle?”
    “You called?” Ida Belle’s voice sounded behind me.  
    I turned around to see Ida Belle still clutching the shirt collar of a now completely soaked girl. “You were supposed to clean her face,” I said, “not hose her down like she’s going upstate for ten years.”
    “She wouldn’t stand still and I don’t have a lot of patience. That’s what happens when you ask a bunch of old maids to get involved with children. You get potluck.”
    She had a point. Most of the Sinful Ladies Society had never been married, therefore, did not have kids. In fact, the more I thought about it all, the more I realized just how far Celia had carried her plan to make them look bad at the festival. She knew they weren’t qualified to host a child’s beauty pageant. Celia probably thought the only misstep in her calculations was not taking me into account, but then, if she knew the truth about me, she’d probably be celebrating from now until Christmas.
    “Fine,” I said. “Then dry her and her hair and make it quick. Pansy has already done hair and makeup for all her girls.” I pointed to the other side of the room.
    “Why is she teaching them to walk like strippers?” Ida Belle asked.
    I sighed. Sometimes I swore she and Gertie shared a single train of