Mumbo Gumbo Murder Read online

  “Who’s calling?”

  Carmela gritted her teeth to stop herself from screaming. “Please, this is his fiancée, Carmela Bertrand, and it really, really is an emergency.”

  Radcliffe must have lowered the phone to his chest because his voice sounded muffled when Carmela heard him call out, “Any of you guys seen Babcock?” This was followed by a few mumbled voices and one “Not lately.”

  “You’re sure?” Radcliffe asked the group. “This chick says she’s his fiancée and that it’s an emergency.”

  “It sure is,” Carmela muttered to herself.

  Radcliffe lifted the phone to his mouth. “Sorry, ma’am. I’ve just been informed he’s in with Chief Montoya and can’t be disturbed. Can I help you?”

  Carmela was beside herself. Here she was, standing in a dark cemetery next to Sonny Boy’s corpse with Ava completely flipping out.

  What’s wrong with this picture?

  To top it off, Carmela had no idea where the killer might be (still!) lurking, and she couldn’t seem to get in touch with the one person she absolutely needed.

  What can I say to this officer so he’ll run and grab Babcock and perp-walk him to the phone?

  “Miss? Are you still . . . ? Oh, wait . . . I think he . . . Here he is now.”

  Carmela listened hard as Radcliffe informed Babcock of his emergency call. And she practically wept with relief when Babcock picked up the phone and said, “Detective Babcock.”

  In fact, she did start to cry. “Edgar, it’s me! Something awful happened. Please, you’ve got to come right away!”

  When Ava saw that Carmela was crying, tears started dribbling down her face, too.

  “Carmela? Calm down,” Babcock said. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Where to start?

  “There’s all this blood!” Carmela cried.

  “Are you injured?” Babcock’s voice was filled with alarm. “Was there an accident? Should I send an ambulance? Talk to me, Carmela, tell me what’s going on!”

  “No, it’s not me. I’m about to go nuts but I’m not hurt. It’s . . . it’s Sonny Boy Holmes.”

  “What!” Babcock screamed in her ear.

  “Ava and I were supposed to meet him in St. Louis Cemetery. He . . . he had some information he wanted me to pass along to you. But before we . . .”

  “Holy shit!” Babcock yelped. “You’re in the cemetery with Sonny Boy Holmes? And he’s injured? Let me talk to him!”

  “I can’t because he’s dead!”

  “Dead? So you’re there with his body?”

  “Yes, we . . .”

  “Stay on the line, Carmela. I’m going to pass the phone back to Officer Radcliffe, and I want you to remain on the line so we know you’re okay. I’m dispatching two squads right now, and I’m coming as fast as I can. Okay? You got that, sweetheart?”

  Carmela nodded into the phone. She knew Babcock couldn’t see her, but the lump in her throat was so large she wasn’t able to squeak out any more words.

  * * *

  * * *

  Carmela and Ava huddled together in the shadow of the obelisk, not saying much to each other, but keenly aware of every little creak and crack that sounded around them.

  “Were those footsteps?” Ava whispered.

  “I think it’s just branches scratching against a tomb,” Carmela said.

  “Do you realize how creepy that sounds? How Alfred Hitchcock?”

  “Ava, do you see where we are right now? It is like a scary movie.”

  “With zombies shuffling after us?”

  “I think we’d do better to think positively,” Carmela said. “Babcock’s on his way, after all. A couple of squad cars, too.”

  “And he didn’t even yell at you.”

  “Don’t hold your breath, I’m sure the yelling portion of the evening is still to come. And maybe we’d feel better if we moved away from the dead body?”

  They shuffled a few steps away and waited.

  “Hallelujah,” Ava said when they finally heard the thin, distant wail of a police siren. “Somebody’s coming.”

  “Probably an ambulance,” Carmela said.

  “A hearse would be more useful.”

  “I bet Babcock’s bringing half the NOPD with him. This is one creepy setup. Murder in a cemetery.”

  “Gives me a new case of shivers and the shakes just thinking about it,” Ava said. Then, “I wonder what Sonny Boy wanted to tell you.”

  “Now we’ll never know.”

  Ava glanced around quickly, sneaking a look at Sonny Boy’s body, and said, “Unless there’s some sort of clue.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know, like in the movies when the killer drops a pop can with his DNA on it.”

  Carmela thought for a few moments. “Hmm, you make a good point.” Suddenly she wasn’t quite as scared anymore.

  And even as a rising cacophony of sirens drew closer and closer, their curiosity jumped into overdrive.

  Ava was the first one to tiptoe up to Sonny Boy’s body and take a really good look.

  “Just look at him,” Ava said. “If you can overlook the bloody trachea and glazed eyeballs, Sonny wasn’t a bad-looking dude. Kinda scrawny, but better-looking than Tank was, that’s for sure. Probably more polite, too.”

  “Sonny Boy was polite on the phone,” Carmela allowed. “Even though he sounded scared to death.”

  “And see,” Ava said, pointing to a brown paper bag that was sitting on the ground next to Sonny Boy. “He looks like a planner. It would appear Sonny Boy brought along a snack. Maybe he suffered from low blood sugar or something.”

  Carmela gazed at the crumpled brown bag. “A snack? No, I don’t think so.”

  “Then what?”

  The sirens were almost on top of them now as Carmela crept forward to inspect the bag.

  “You’re gonna look inside?” Ava asked in hushed tones.

  Carmela snatched up the bag and held it for a moment. Then she stepped over to a flat tomb and turned the bag upside down. They both stepped back as if expecting a copperhead to come slithering out to attack them.

  What slithered out was a piece of black cloth, a diamond bracelet, and a small blue velvet pouch with a half dozen loose diamonds inside.

  “Crackers!” Ava cried. “What is all this stuff?”

  “I think it’s the stuff that was stolen from Devon’s safe!”

  “Do you think Sonny Boy brought this stuff along so he could give it to us?” Ava asked. She cocked her head to one side and sighed. “Maybe Sonny Boy was trying to turn over a new leaf and never got a chance. That’s so sad.” She shook her head. “Poor Sonny Boy, he was trying to reform, to be a good citizen.”

  “I don’t know, Ava. Sonny Boy said he wanted to tell me something, not give me something. It’s possible we weren’t the only meeting he had scheduled for tonight.”

  “But what . . . ?”

  Ava’s words were interrupted by loud shouts. Then footsteps crunched on gravel and flashlight beams bobbed in and around the darkened rows of mausoleums and tombs. Suddenly, a bright circle of light flashed directly in Carmela’s face. She squinted and raised a hand to shield her eyes from the glare.

  “They’re over here!” the man aiming the flashlight shouted.

  More footsteps pounded toward them from all directions, then blue-clad bodies emerged from the darkness. The first one Carmela recognized was Bobby Gallant, Babcock’s right-hand man.

  “Bobby,” Ava said. There was a distinct purr in her voice. She’d always had a thing for Bobby. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

  Gallant was cool and laid-back. “Carmela, Ava, we need you to wait over here.” Without being pushy, Bobby walked them to a mausoleum and had them stand with their backs against it. “Just wait right here, please.
” He turned away and said to the nearest uniform, “What’s the ETA on Babcock?”

  “Central said he just got out of his car,” the uniformed officer said. “Figure a minute or so. Crime Scene just rolled in.” He gave a nod. “They’ll set up a perimeter and flood the area with lights. We’ll have one hundred percent scene control in under three minutes.”

  Carmela bounced on the balls of her feet. She couldn’t wait for Babcock and his reassuring hug.

  THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Three light stanchions went up in quick succession, and within seconds, 100,000 lumens of light flooded the area, making it look like high noon on a summer day.

  “Eeew,” Ava said, squinting. “Sonny Boy doesn’t look so good now under those killer lights.”

  “Like a bad autopsy,” Carmela agreed as her eyes searched the first responders who continued to pour in. She was looking for Babcock. When she finally spotted him, Carmela gave a little finger wave and said, “Edgar, over here!”

  Babcock ignored her. Instead, he made a beeline for Bobby Gallant and Charlie Preston, the Crime Scene tech.

  “Whaaat?” Carmela said, taken aback.

  “Maybe Babcock didn’t see you,” Ava said.

  “He saw me.”

  Babcock was kneeling down now, taking a cursory look at the body. Then he walked over to the flat tomb where Carmela had laid out Sonny Boy’s bag of goodies.

  “Is that the so-called scrap of coat?” he asked.

  “Don’t know,” Charlie Preston said. “But I can’t wait to get it into the lab and analyze it.”

  Babcock shook his head, walked back to confer with Bobby Gallant again, and then came over to Carmela.

  “Did you see . . . ?” Carmela began.

  Babcock steamrollered right over her.

  “Have you completely lost your mind?” he shouted. “What are you doing in a cemetery, after dark?”

  “I told you,” Carmela said. “I was supposed to . . .”

  “Meet Sonny Boy Holmes,” Babcock finished. “Are you looking for trouble? Agreeing to meet up with a known criminal? A criminal who’s on our short list for murder?”

  “Sonny Boy was on your short list?” Ava asked.

  Babcock ignored her. “This has to be the most absurd, nonsensical, harebrained scheme you two have ever cooked up. Have you taken leave of your senses? Do you know that it could be one or both of you lying in the pool of blood over there?”

  Babcock’s voice grew louder and more forceful with every word. Many of the officers and Crime Scene techs glanced up from what they were doing to watch the commotion.

  “Edgar, I can explain,” Carmela said.

  “Don’t ‘Edgar’ me. I am a detective in the NOPD investigating a homicide. You have no role here whatsoever.”

  “Edgar, just listen . . .”

  “Excuse me, what’s my name?”

  “Detective Babcock.” Carmela had never seen him this angry before.

  “Excuse me,” Ava said. “If I might . . .”

  “Might what? Stick up for your coconspirator when she is absolutely in the wrong on all counts?”

  Ava shook her dark curls and took a deep breath. “Carmela was only trying to help. She loves you even more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Well, maybe except for Coco, my favorite teddy bear, but I tragically lost him during a camping trip in Buzzard Roost Park. Anyway, you are the love of Carmela’s life. If you can’t see that . . . well.” Ava shrugged. “There’s just no hope at all.”

  Babcock was silent for a moment as he fought to draw a few calming breaths. “Just tell me, what possessed you ladies to come here tonight?”

  “Sonny Boy called me out of the blue and asked me to meet him,” Carmela said. “He wanted me . . . begged me . . . to deliver a message to you. He was willing to admit to the robbery of Devon’s safe, but he said he didn’t want to get tagged for the murder. He wanted you to know that he isn’t . . .” She glanced over at the body. “That he wasn’t the killer.”

  Babcock shook his head. He wasn’t buying Carmela’s story.

  “Maybe Sonny Boy wanted to get you out of the way,” Babcock said to Carmela. “Did you ever look at it that way? Maybe he figured out that you were running your own shadow investigation.”

  “You think he wanted to kill me?” Carmela cried. The notion stunned her.

  “And me?” Ava asked.

  “It’s certainly possible,” Babcock said.

  Carmela put a hand on either side of her head as if she was trying to remember something.

  “No,” she said. “There’s more to it.”

  “What?” Ava and Babcock said together.

  “Jekyl paid me a visit earlier today. He said that someone was bumbling around inside Devon’s apartment last night,” Carmela said.

  “Bumbling around how?” Babcock asked.

  “Like . . . looking for something,” Carmela said. “Breaking and entering.”

  “Could it have been Sonny Boy?” Babcock asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. But I have a funny feeling it was someone else,” Carmela said.

  “Maybe the person who slit Sonny Boy’s throat tonight?” Ava said.

  Babcock squinted at Ava. “Hmm.”

  “There’s something else,” Carmela said.

  “There’s always something else,” Babcock said.

  “This is important. When I talked to Sonny Boy on the phone, he made the comment that he wasn’t going to be anybody’s puppet anymore.”

  “Do you think he was referring to Richard Drake? Because of his association with the Beastmaster Puppet Theater?” Babcock asked.

  “Maybe,” Carmela said. “That was my first thought.”

  “The only good thing about tonight is that losing Sonny Boy narrows down my list,” Babcock said.

  Carmela held up a finger. “Remember Colonel Otis?”

  “The rich guy who was unhappy with Dowling’s appraisal,” Babcock said.

  “He lives, like, two blocks from here.”

  “Holy smokes, Carmela, Colonel Otis could be the killer,” Ava said.

  “The man has a fairly sterling reputation,” Babcock said.

  “So what?” Ava said.

  “You’re telling me Colonel Otis might have killed Devon Dowling and Sonny Boy Holmes?” Babcock said. “Sounds awfully far-fetched.”

  “Sounds possible to me,” Ava said.

  “You have no say in this,” Babcock said to Ava. “You’re the wacky sidekick who followed my crazy fiancée here on the pretext of exchanging information.”

  “We were going to exchange information,” Carmela said.

  Babcock just gazed at her. “I’ve got to get back to the scene. But you two . . . I’m ordering you to head straight home.”

  “Be truthful,” Carmela said. “Haven’t I been just a teeny bit helpful?”

  “Not one bit. Not even a minuscule amount.” Babcock lifted an arm and waved over a uniformed officer. “Please escort these two ladies out of the cemetery immediately. And for God’s sake, don’t listen to any of their crazy theories, answer any questions, or, under penalty of death, allow them back in.” He spun on his heels and walked away.

  “He’s scary when he’s mad,” Ava said.

  “Tell me about it,” Carmela said.

  “Ladies?” the officer said. “Shall we move it along?”

  He led Carmela and Ava to the front gate of the cemetery, glanced around, and said, “Is that your car over there?” He indicated Carmela’s little red Mercedes, a long-ago gift from Shamus.

  “Yes.”

  “Better hop in and drive home like the man said.”

  “Will do,” Carmela said.

  But she’d just spotted an aqua blue sign kitty-corner from where they were standing. A sign that glowed like a beacon in the night an
d said COMMANDER’S PALACE.

  Carmela smiled at Ava. “Could you use a drink?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Ava said.

  Once inside the venerable restaurant, with its warm glow, tinkle of glasses, and gentle hum of conversation, Carmela said, “It’s amazing, but I kind of feel better already.”

  “Wait until you glug down a nice relaxing glass of wine.”

  As they turned into the bar, a man came barreling out and nearly crashed into them.

  “Watch it!” Ava cried.

  “You!” Carmela yelped as she took a step back.

  It was Peter Jarreau, NOPD’s media liaison. He looked positively frantic as he stared at them, then immediately checked his phone.

  “I think you might have another PR disaster on your hands,” Carmela said to him. “Sonny Boy Holmes was just murdered across the street.”

  “I know, I know, I just got the call!” Jarreau looked shaken by this newest crisis. “I’m headed over there right now. Doggone, I sure don’t need this!”

  As Carmela watched Jarreau fly out the door, she said, “New Orleans doesn’t need this.”

  Chapter 21

  GABBY was standing behind the front counter, scanning the front page of the Times-Picayune newspaper and looking a little bug-eyed.

  “I can’t believe you were actually, physically, there last night at the murder scene,” Gabby said. “I mean, once again, Carmela, you were right there at ground zero. And this time in a cemetery!”

  “That’s me, the town jinx. I show up . . . you know some poor soul has been murdered.”

  “And this guy Sonny Boy Holmes really had his throat slit from ear to ear?”

  “Gabby.” Carmela put her hands on her hips. “Do you really want to know all the gruesome details? The stuff they didn’t dare put in the newspaper because everyone would lose their breakfast?”

  “I suppose not. But do you think this Sonny Boy Holmes was the one who murdered Devon Dowling?”

  Carmela shook her head. “My very strong hunch is that it was someone else.”

  “Then how does Sonny Boy fit in?”