Parchment and Old Lace Read online

  But when Carmela sat down at her desk, ready to sink her teeth into the golden, crusty roll that was stuffed with all that rich oyster goodness, the phone suddenly shrilled.

  What? Oh no. Jeez, I hope it’s for Gabby.

  Of course, it wasn’t. Not only that, it was her BFF Ava Gruiex calling. And the poor dear was howling like a wounded banshee.

  “Carmelayagottacome, Idunnowhatado!”

  “Ava, calm down.” Carmela gazed longingly at her sandwich. “Just slow down, try to enunciate, and tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Cher,” Ava cried, “I need you to come over to Juju Voodoo right away. I can’t do a thing. I can’t seem to help her!”

  “Help who?”

  “Ellie,” Ava said. “She’s here. Now.”

  “What? Your Ellie, Isabelle’s sister? She shouldn’t be at work today.”

  “Crying hysterically?”

  “Oh dear . . .”

  “I didn’t know who else to call. You’re always so . . . competent . . . when it comes to this emotional stuff.”

  Carmela began wrapping up her po-boy. “Okay, okay, I’ll be there in a jiffy.” She took a quick hit of Diet Coke, hoping the caffeine would see her through.

  * * *

  Carmela practically sprinted the few blocks through the French Quarter to Ava’s shop. Down Governor Nicholls Street, over Royal Street, and hanging a right on Toulouse. The day was chilly with a scud of gray clouds hanging overhead and maybe a hint of rain in the air. So she felt a genuine tug of relief when the glossy red front door of Juju Voodoo suddenly came into sight. As she drew closer, she could see the red and blue neon sign—an open palm with head, heart, and life lines glowing in the multipaned window. The neon lights reflected eerily on the black-and-white painted Day of the Dead figures and purple bottles of assorted potions that lined the inside window ledge. The wooden shake roof dipped down in front, giving Ava’s shop the impression of a cute Hansel and Gretel cottage. Still, it was the home of spells, fortune telling, and gris-gris.

  Carmela pushed the door open and stepped inside. As always, the interior was cool and dark, lit by dozens of votive candles that glowed mysteriously. The odor of mystery and magic hung redolent in the air—opulent patchouli oil, lavender, and white sage. Overhead, wooden skeletons clacked softly in the breeze.

  “Hello?” Carmela called out. At first glance the place looked deserted. Then her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness and she noticed Ava standing behind the counter, fussing with a display of white muslin voodoo dolls. She was dressed in her trademark skintight black leather pants and spiked-heel shoes.

  When Ava heard the door creak open, she turned and placed both hands daintily on her chest, nearly covering the ample cleavage exposed by her slinky leopard print top. Her mass of dark, heavy hair was pulled back behind one ear and held in place by a tortoiseshell comb studded with pearls. Like they say, a little bit country, a little bit rock and roll.

  “Thank goodness, you’re here,” Ava breathed. Her fine-boned face was highly expressive, and she moved with catlike grace. A former beauty queen and self-professed glamour puss, she still considered herself the cutest thing since sliced bread.

  Carmela looked around. “Where’s Ellie? Is she still here?”

  Her question was answered by a piteous wail that drifted out from the octagon-shaped reading room at the back of the shop.

  “Okay,” Carmela said. “I think I just got my answer.”

  “C’mon,” Ava said, waggling her fingers. “She’s really in a bad way. Nothing I say seems to help at all. Maybe you can calm her down.”

  They walked through the shop, past rows of saint candles, racks of evil eye necklaces, and elegantly decorated sugar skulls, and into the small reading room. The walls were swathed in heavy dark green velvet draperies and contained two stained glass windows that were lit from behind. Scrounged from an old orphanage, the windows depicted two angels each cradling a small white lamb. It was a soothing and gentle environment, yet Ellie was sobbing like it was the end of the world.

  “Oh, honey,” Ava said. She moved over to where Ellie was hunched across her tarot table and stroked her hair gently. “You see, I brought Carmela. You remember Carmela?”

  Ellie lifted her head and nodded. “Yes,” she snuffled. “Thank you for coming.”

  Carmela shuffled forward and took a seat next to Ellie. “Why are you even here?” she asked. Ellie Black, known as Madame Blavatsky to her tarot and psychic customers, was wearing a purple skirt, deep red blouse, and paisley shawl. She was dressed like she was ready to tell someone’s fortune. Though, clearly, with a recently murdered sister, she was not in that frame of mind at all.

  Ellie wiped away a few tears. “I didn’t know where else to go. Isabelle was my only family. I thought if I came here . . . well, no, that’s not it.” She let loose a harsh laugh. “I obviously didn’t think this through.”

  Carmela bit her lip. She hadn’t realized that there were only the two of them. “What about Isabelle’s fiancé?” she asked softly.

  “I tried to get hold of Edward,” Ellie said. “But he’s not answering his phone. Maybe he’s . . . I don’t know . . . at his mother’s house?”

  “Probably in a blue funk,” Ava said. “I mean, who could blame the poor guy?”

  “Can you call his mother?” Carmela asked. She thought that Ellie should rightly be with people who were also missing Isabelle.

  “No,” Ellie said. “That just wouldn’t be . . . proper.”

  “Why not, honey?” Ava asked.

  “His mother’s not exactly the warmest person in the world,” Ellie said.

  Ava glanced at Carmela. She was clearly at a loss, but so was Carmela.

  Then Ellie bowed her head forward and knocked it against the table so hard she practically left a permanent dent. “It’s all my fault,” she muttered. “Isabelle is dead and it’s all my fault.”

  Startled by the woman’s words, Carmela put an arm around Ellie’s shoulders and tried to pull her upright. “No,” Carmela soothed. “Sweetie, no. How could this possibly be your fault?”

  Ellie lifted her head and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Because I . . . I should have been there. I should have been there with Isabelle.”

  “At the cake tasting?” Carmela asked.

  Ellie nodded. “She kept asking me to come, but I’d already committed to work a private party at the Hotel Bonaparte. It was a big deal, I’d been booked for months, and . . . I needed the money.” She dipped her head, embarrassed. “You know, because of the economy.”

  “We understand,” Ava said as Ellie broke into defeated-sounding sobs.

  Carmela tried to comfort her. “Ellie, none of this is your fault. There’s no way you could have . . .”

  But Ellie cut her off. “But it is my fault. If I’d been with Isabelle, she would still be alive.”

  “You don’t know that,” Carmela said.

  Ellie was suddenly frantic. “Yes, I do. I know that I wouldn’t have let her go tromping through that creepy cemetery all by herself!”

  Carmela couldn’t argue with that.

  As Ellie gazed at Carmela, her eyes seemed to glow with intensity. “But you were there,” she said. “Ava told me how you ran into the cemetery to help.”

  “Yes,” Carmela said. “And I couldn’t save her, either. So you see?”

  Ellie grasped Carmela’s hand. “But maybe you could still help!”

  Carmela frowned and shook her head. “I’m not sure I’m following you. What exactly are you . . . ?”

  “Ava told me all about how smart you are,” Ellie said. “How good you are when it comes to solving crimes and things.”

  “Oh, not really,” Carmela said. She knew Babcock would kill her if she got involved.

  “I told her about that thing with the Ghost Train,” Ava piped up. �
��How you figured everything out. Who the killer was and all.”

  “I’d say it was pretty clear to both of us,” Carmela stammered. “I mean . . . there at the end.” She was trying desperately to downplay her role. “It’s really best to leave the investigating to Detective Babcock. That’s his business. And he’s very good at it.”

  “Please, Carmela,” Ellie said. “I really need an ally here, some sort of advocate.”

  Now Ava crept forward. “Pretty please? You really are good at this.”

  Carmela felt torn. “Oh dear.” She really did want to help Ellie. But what could she do?

  Chapter 5

  “MAYBE you could just sort of ask around,” Ellie said. “Unofficially, of course.”

  “Unofficially,” Carmela said. That sounded to her like a shadow investigation. On the other hand, there was a part of her that thought a shadow investigation sounded rather intriguing.

  “Come on, cher,” Ava cajoled. “You’re the Nancy Drew of the French Quarter. You’ve got a big, bad rep to uphold.”

  That made Carmela chuckle. “You guys put up quite a convincing argument, but I don’t . . .” When she saw their faces fall, she said, “Okay, maybe I . . . well, how about this? I’ll try to look into things, but I dare not step on any official toes.”

  Ellie threw up her hands with a sigh of relief. “Agreed. No toes will be stepped on or harmed in any way.” Then she focused on Carmela again, anxiously searching her face. “You really meant what you said? You’ll help?”

  “I’ll snoop around,” Carmela said. “Best I can. But you’re going to have to give me a little background information.”

  “Ask me anything,” Ellie said. “Anything you want.”

  “Okay,” Carmela said. “When was the last time you saw Isabelle?”

  “Yesterday afternoon,” Ellie said. “I was just heading out for my job and Isabelle was getting ready for the cake tasting.” She sniffled. “She was trying to decide between her purple suit or her black slip dress.”

  “And that was it? After that she didn’t call you or text you or anything?”

  “Not that I know of,” Ellie said. “Then again, I was pretty busy.”

  “Was there anything going on in Isabelle’s life that seemed to be upsetting her? That had knocked her off her stride? Work? Friends? Anything you can think of?”

  Ellie sniffled into a tissue. “Just the wedding, really. There were tons of pesky details to take care of, and I know Edward’s mother kept butting in like crazy.” She hesitated. “Actually, it was more like butting heads.”

  “Edward’s mother is . . . ?” Carmela prompted.

  “Vesper Baudette,” Ellie said.

  “Oh.” Carmela sat back in her chair.

  “You know her?”

  “Only by reputation,” Carmela said. Vesper came from old money and was one of the more notorious doyennes of the Garden District.

  “What reputation is that?” Ava asked.

  “She has money,” Carmela said. “More money than many small countries.”

  “And I understand Vesper sits on a number of boards of directors,” Ellie said.

  Which means she has powerful friends, Carmela thought to herself. “Okay, so Isabelle and Vesper were not seeing eye to eye about the wedding?”

  Ellie sighed. “Whenever a problem came up, Edward would just say, ‘Whatever you two decide, darlin’, is fine with me.’ He left Isabelle to battle the old witch all by herself.”

  “Because he couldn’t?” Carmela asked. “Or wouldn’t?”

  “I don’t know,” Ellie whispered.

  “Now I need to ask you a couple of really tough questions,” Carmela said.

  Ellie swiped at her eyes. “Like what?”

  “I want you to think about everyone who was involved with Isabelle, everyone she knew or had a passing acquaintance with.”

  “Okay,” Ellie said.

  “Does anyone jump out at you? Was there someone who might have caused a little trouble in her life? An old enemy, a business rival, someone she might have had legal dealings with? A person in the court system, perhaps?”

  Ellie’s face took on a pensive look. Finally, she shook her head. “I can’t think of anyone.”

  Ava leaned in. “Think hard, honey. If you were doing a tarot reading for a client who wanted to solve a problem, what information would you be seeking from the spirits? Look deep within your soul and see if you can find an answer.”

  Carmela and Ava waited a few expectant heartbeats, and then Ellie slouched down. “It’s no use.” She put a hand to her heart. “I’m so sad, it’s difficult to even think. Or feel.”

  Carmela decided to ask about the one person from the cake tasting that she’d met in the cemetery. “What do you know about Julian Drake?”

  Ellie shrugged. “I only met him a couple of times, but he seemed like a nice enough guy. I know he and Edward had been friends for a long time. They were roommates at Tulane.”

  “What exactly does Drake do?”

  “He’s the vice president in charge of development at that new casino they’re building over in the Gentilly neighborhood. They’re planning to rip down the old amusement park that was blown all hurly-burly during Hurricane Katrina and has been an eyesore ever since.

  “Mmn,” Ava said. “The one with the tunnel of love.”

  “It’s probably a tunnel of horrors now,” Carmela said. “That old place is in shambles.” She took a deep breath and tried to focus. “Think hard. Is there anyone who doesn’t feel right to you?”

  Ellie cocked her head, lost in thought. Then she frowned distractedly and shook her head no.

  Carmela decided to switch topics. “Okay, let me ask you about the lace that was, uh, discovered at the scene. Do you know anyone who collects lace or might have a piece of antique lace in a fabric collection?”

  “In a collection? No.”

  “Collecting lace sounds kind of quaint and outdated,” Ava said.

  But Carmela was watching Ellie’s face. The girl had started to twitch and bounce her foot. It looked as if she did want to say something, but was afraid.

  “I get the impression,” Carmela said, “that there might be something you want to tell me.”

  Ellie gave a half nod. “I really hate to say this,” she said in a low voice, “but going back to Edward’s mother, Vesper . . . well, the woman pretty much despised Isabelle.”

  “Oh no,” Ava said. “I can’t believe that.”

  “Believe it,” Ellie said. “Vesper thought Isabelle was too low class for her precious son.” She swallowed hard. “She even kept a list of ‘unmarried young ladies from good, moneyed families’ who she thought would make a more suitable bride for Edward.”

  “How do you know she had a list?” Carmela was incredulous.

  “Vesper mentioned it the day she hosted an engagement tea to introduce Isabelle to her friends,” Ellie said. “I guess she was still holding out hope.”

  “That’s awful!” Ava said.

  “Isn’t it?” Ellie said.

  “Still,” Carmela said, “disliking someone is one thing, but killing them is completely over the top. Are you saying that Vesper is deranged?”

  Ellie bit her lip. “She’s pretty crazy.”

  “And you think Vesper could have actually strangled Isabelle to make sure the wedding never happened?” Ava asked.

  Ellie sighed. “I don’t know. But if anybody could do it, Vesper could.”

  Carmela peered at Ellie. “Does Vesper collect lace? Or antique fabrics?”

  “Not that I know of,” Ellie said. “Then again, I hardly know anything about the woman. I’ve only been to her house maybe twice.”

  “Even if Vesper was guilty,” Ava said, “that lace would probably be untraceable. It’s like . . . the perfect murder weapon.”


  The thought of old lace wound tightly around her sister’s throat brought Ellie to tears once again.

  “Shh,” Ava said, trying to comfort her. “Don’t worry. Carmela’s brain will start percolating all this information and something will pop out.”

  “I’ll give it a try anyway,” Carmela said.

  Ava gazed at Carmela. “You do that, honey. Meanwhile, I’m gonna go to the funeral home tonight and help Ellie make the arrangements.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Carmela said.

  Ava pulled a tiny juju guardian doll from her pocket and handed it to Ellie. “Keep this close to your heart. It’ll help protect you.”

  Ellie clutched the little blue and black feathered doll like it was a lifeline. “Thank you.”

  “Okay,” Carmela said, ready to finish up. “Is there anything else?”

  Ellie fidgeted with the doll, looking nervous.

  “What?” Carmela asked. Was there more?

  Ellie nibbled at her lower lip. “I really hate to say this, because it’s completely awful and total conjecture on my part.”

  “Spit it out anyway,” Ava urged.

  Ellie swallowed hard and stared at Carmela. “I think . . . mind you, I don’t know . . . that Edward Baudette might have been trying to postpone or even weasel out of his own wedding.”

  “Whoa,” Carmela said. She felt like Ellie’s words had just sucked the air out of the room.

  “You’re telling us the groom had cold feet?” Ava gasped. “But I thought they were the perfect couple.” She clasped her hands together. “I thought they were blissfully happy.”

  “I really believed they were at first, too,” Ellie said. “In fact, they were both terribly besotted with each other.” Her words were tumbling out now. “But these last few weeks . . . well, I think Isabelle had this weird feeling in the pit of her stomach that if she called off the wedding, Edward wouldn’t exactly shed a tear. That he’d breathe a lot easier.”