by Laura Childs
“Okay.” Carmela was waiting for the big reveal.
“Seems he took a more careful look at Isabelle’s cell phone log and discovered a whole batch of calls that came directly from Oliver Slade.”
“Wow. Seriously? So Slade really was harassing her?”
“It looks like . . . possibly. But it’s all pending the verdict of our tech people. They have to thoroughly check out the phone records.”
“Still, does that mean, well . . . do you think Slade could be the killer?”
Babcock made a growly sound. “I didn’t say that. You realize this is an ongoing investigation so . . .”
“So what?”
“Stay tuned.”
“That’s it?” Carmela felt like she’d been shortchanged. “Are you gonna let me know what happens after you bring Slade in and sweat him?”
“Probably not.”
“But if you find enough evidence to charge him . . . ?”
“Then, my dear, you could be among the first to know.”
Chapter 22
CARMELA was so jazzed by Babcock’s call that she decided to run over to Juju Voodoo and tell Ava and Ellie the big news. But first she had to tell Gabby. She smiled at Gail, who was artfully tearing pink and purple tissue paper like crazy, then tiptoed to the front counter where Gabby was testing some new metallic inks.
“Babcock just called with some extraordinary news,” Carmela said. “He’s bringing in a suspect for questioning.”
With eyes growing as round as charger plates at a fancy dinner, Gabby leaned in to hear more.
“It’s Chef Oliver Slade, Isabelle’s old boyfriend.”
Gabby’s hand flew to her cheek. “The stalker guy? We should have known.”
“Well, he was one of our guesses.”
“Now what happens?”
“We have to wait and see how this all shakes out, whether he’s formally charged or not, but I think this news is too juicy to keep to ourselves.”
Gabby nodded eagerly. “I guess.”
“Can you hold down the fort while I run over to Juju Voodoo and tell Ava and Ellie?”
“Absolutely. Do you think there’s enough evidence to charge this guy Slade? Wait a minute, is there evidence?”
“Apparently, he left a ton of threatening phone calls on Isabelle’s cell phone.”
“Wow. Threatening . . . really?”
“I assume that’s what they are,” Carmela said.
“Run over and tell them,” Gabby said. “This is the best news we’ve heard in days.”
* * *
When Carmela pushed through the glossy red door of Juju Voodoo, she was delighted to find that she’d popped in between customers. There was the usual array of voodoo dolls, magic spells, saint candles, and scented oils—and Ava bent over the counter arranging some magic poultices in a basket. The sign on the basket said SALE—20% OFF and Carmela wondered how good luck could be sold at a discount, but decided not to ask.
“Cher,” Ava said, straightening up and pushing her hair off her face. “You’re all huffy and puffy and look like you’re bursting with news.” She grinned. “Oh my, I bet this is about you and Babcock.”
Carmela struggled to catch her breath. “Is Ellie here? I have something to tell you both.”
Ava grabbed a pink velvet pouch filled with mystical herbs and flew around the counter. “He finally did it, didn’t he? Babcock finally proposed.” She thrust the velvet pouch into Carmela’s hands. “This is only temporary, until I whip up a stronger charm, but I guarantee it will bring you oodles of joy.” Her arms closed around Carmela. “And a long and happy marriage.”
“Hold everything,” Carmela said. “Babcock did not propose.”
Ava’s face fell. “Oh, cher. He didn’t?”
“No, and I don’t want him to right now.”
Now Ava just looked confused. “Oh. Then . . . what is it?”
“I’ve got major case news. But I want to tell you and Ellie together.”
“She’s in the back room,” Ava said. “Doing a tarot card reading for one of our special clients.”
“But she’ll be out soon?”
Ava consulted her watch. It was a fake Rolex she’d bought from a vendor who hung around outside St. Louis Cathedral. “Any minute now.”
As Ava spoke, the door in back opened and a woman dressed all in black came speed-balling out. She wore large dark sunglasses and a felt hat with a brim that dipped down to obscure her face. Carmela figured she must be a local socialite who was sublimely nervous about being recognized.
As the woman scooted out the side door, Ellie emerged from the back room. Dressed in shades of purple and red, her typical fortune telling garb, she had three strings of clacking gold beads strung around her neck.
“Ellie,” Ava said. “Our dear Carmela just turned up on our doorstep. And she’s brought us some news.”
Ellie gazed at Carmela. “Is it good news?”
“It could be,” Carmela said.
Ava held up her hands in a flutter. “Wait, wait. Let me fix us a quick pot of tea. I have a new elderberry and chamomile blend that I got from that darling little tea shop in Charleston. The one you recommended, Carmela.”
“Okay,” Carmela said. “Let’s get things brewing.”
Ava bustled about for a few minutes, and then carried a steaming pot of tea back to the reading room. Carmela set out cups and saucers and Ava poured.
“This tea is wonderful,” Ellie said, taking a sip. “But my heart is in my throat over your news, Carmela.”
“Yes, tell us,” Ava urged.
“Babcock called me, maybe twenty minutes ago,” Carmela said. “Chef Oliver Slade has been brought in for questioning.”
Ava dropped her cup into its saucer with a loud clink. “Doggone. Now there’s a waste of a fine-looking man.”
But Ellie had gone so quiet that Carmela feared she might faint. Then she noticed one solitary tear slip down Ellie’s face. Within a minute, there was a torrent.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” Ava said. She fanned a clutch of paper napkins at Ellie, then peeled one off and handed it to her.
Ellie wiped at her eyes and said, “How did the police decide Oliver Slade was the one? That he killed Isabelle?”
Carmela shook her head. “No, I’m afraid it’s not quite that cut-and-dried. They didn’t decide anything. What happened is . . . Edward Baudette finally took a look at the telephone log on Isabelle’s cell phone. And discovered that Slade had called her a dozen times a day—for weeks on end.”
“So he’s really just there for questioning?” Ellie asked. “He’s not under arrest?”
“That’s my understanding,” Carmela said. This wasn’t going the way she thought it would. Ava seemed disappointed and Ellie was suddenly shaking her head.
“Why are you shaking your head, honey?” Carmela asked.
“I’m confused,” Ellie said. “When Isabelle was dating Oliver Slade it wasn’t such a big deal.”
Ava frowned. “How so?”
“When the two of them were dating it was fairly casual,” Ellie said. “They weren’t even exclusive.”
“Maybe that’s why Slade called her so much,” Ava said. “Because he wanted their relationship to be exclusive.”
“Maybe,” Carmela said. Suddenly, what felt like a piece of the puzzle clicking into place didn’t seem to be clicking at all.
“I hope Detective Babcock and the other investigating officers aren’t pinning all their hopes on Oliver Slade,” Ellie said. “He’s got a massive ego, but . . .”
“There are other things cooking, too,” Carmela said.
Ava waggled her fingers. “Explain, please.”
“First off,” Carmela said, “the forensic people are taking a good hard look at that antique lace veil that Naomi Rattler gave
to Isabelle.”
“Okay,” Ava said.
“And I’m still trying to track down leads on that piece of parchment we picked up in the cemetery,” Carmela said.
Ellie sniffled. “How are you going to do that?”
“I took a guess on who the local printer might be and found some posters and invitations that had been printed on the same paper stock.”
“Smart,” Ava said.
“In fact, I’ll probably turn that stuff over to Babcock, too.”
“What’s going to happen to the veil once the police are done with it?” Ellie asked.
Carmela smiled at her. “Babcock said they’d return it to you.”
For the first time Ellie seemed happy at the thought of having a tangible memory of her sister.
“You know,” Carmela said to Ellie, “I’m a little shocked that you’re not arguing for Oliver Slade as the number one suspect.”
“I know,” Ellie said, “but somehow he doesn’t feel right.”
“You gotta go with your gut,” Ava said.
Carmela thought for a few moments. “All along Bobby Prejean has been urging us to take a good hard look at Julian Drake.”
“I hate to think he’s the killer,” Ellie said. “He’s been such a good friend. And he was even going to be in Isabelle’s wedding!”
Carmela took a sip of tea and pursed her lips. “And then there’s Vesper. Her donation of antique fabrics to the museum puts her clearly in the running.”
“I told Ellie all about the costume show last night,” Ava said. “About how Vesper’s stuff was on display.” She made a face. “Plus, she’s a crank. Cranks are capable of almost anything.”
“I just think it’s odd that Vesper never came forward about her love of antique lace and fabrics,” Carmela said. “If she’d cleared the air right away, admitted she had an entire collection, she probably wouldn’t be a suspect.”
“Is she a suspect?” Ava asked. “In Babcock’s eyes?”
“I think she’s probably on the B list, but, yes, she’s on his watch list.”
“It’s all very confusing,” Ava said.
Ellie’s brows knit together. “It is confusing, but I think progress is definitely being made.” She reached over and touched Carmela’s hand. “Thanks to you.”
“I wish I could do more,” Carmela said.
“You’ve been great,” Ellie said. “So I hope you do keep on investigating.”
“I think I’m running out of leads,” Carmela said.
“Oh no, you’ve got to keep going,” Ellie cried. “I feel like you’re my only hope!” She looked like she was going to start crying again.
Carmela stood up and swept Ellie into her arms. “I don’t know how much more I can do, but I’ll try. I promise I will.”
“You know what we should do?” Ava asked.
Carmela and Ellie both snuffled, then stared at her.
“What?” they asked in unison.
“I think we should ask the Ouija board for answers.”
“I’m not sure I want to fool around with that,” Ellie said. “It’s not technically a divination tool. It’s more like a parlor game.”
“Come on,” Ava pushed. “You never know. If the spirits are willing we could definitely find something out.”
Carmela and Ellie exchanged nervous looks while Ava knelt down and pulled a Ouija board out from a hidden cupboard in the wall. She moved the teapot away and set the board in the middle of the table. The brown wooden board was frayed around the edges from years of use, but the ancient-looking letters, numbers, sun and moon, and the words YES, NO, HELLO, and GOOD BYE were still legible.
How many people had tried to contact the spirit world using this board? Carmela wondered. How many had actually gotten through?
Ava reached in and placed a small white planchette right in the middle of the board.
“We’re really gonna do this?” Carmela asked.
In answer, Ava dimmed the lights. Then she sat down and gave them whispered instructions: “Just rest your fingertips gently on the planchette. Don’t push it; just allow the spirits to guide it. If we try to force an answer, we’ll go off in the wrong direction and anger the spirits.”
“We wouldn’t want that,” Carmela said.
“Sshh,” Ava said.
They sat there, fingers poised, waiting patiently for something to happen. The planchette just sat there in the middle of the board. Not moving an inch.
Ava said, “Perhaps we need a spirit guide.”
“A friendly one,” Ellie said.
Ava closed her eyes and, in a slightly theatrical voice, called out, “We poor mortals have important questions to ask the universe, and we need a friendly spirit to part the veil between earth and the great beyond to help us find the answers.”
As if it was on metal rails, the planchette began to move. Slowly at first, then it picked up speed.
“You’re doing that,” Carmela said to Ava.
“Me? No way. I tell you, we got something going here! Let me ask . . . are there spirits present?”
The planchette shot to YES.
Ellie started to tremble. “I don’t like this. It feels spooky and unfamiliar. This isn’t how my readings normally go.”
“Spirits,” Ava continued. “We implore your help. You have a newly arrived soul in your midst. Our dear, dear Isabelle Black.”
Ellie choked out a sob.
“We are trying to find out who murdered her. We are asking those of you on a higher plane if you can give us a name.”
The planchette began to move again, slowly cruising along the letters, as if trying to find a place to start.
“Look,” Ava said. “I think it’s trying to spell something out.”
“Dear Lord,” Carmela said
The planchette continued to move until it got to the letter C.
“C,” Ava said. “It stopped at C. You all see this, right?”
“I guess,” Ellie said.
“Please continue,” Ava said.
Amazingly, the planchette did. It bobbed along the arc of letters, finally stopping at the letter L.
“Is there more?” Ava asked.
Turns out there was. The planchette continued along to the letter O and then on to the letter W.
“Is it cloud?” an excited Ava cried out. “Is it trying to spell out cloud?”
“I think it stopped on W and not U,” Carmela said.
“Are you sure?” Ava said. “So it spelled CLOW?”
“I think so.”
“What if the spirits are trying to spell out clove?” Ava said. “You know, like the spice. They could be pointing us toward Chef Oliver Slade!”
“I don’t like this,” Ellie said. She was jumpy and clearly unhappy.
“But we’re making good progress,” Ava said. “Okay, let’s get this thing fired up again and keep going.”
But the planchette refused to move.
“Huh?” Ava said. “What happened?” She glanced around the room. “Spirits? Oh spirits?”
“This is too weird,” Ellie said. “I don’t like it at all.” She lifted her fingers off the planchette and crossed her arms in front of herself, protectively. “In fact, I’d rather not do it anymore.”
“Come on, honey,” Ava pleaded. “Just give it one more try. I think the spirits work better with you on the board. After all, Isabelle was your sister.”
But Ellie was firm. She put her lips together tightly and shook her head.
If pressed, Carmela could easily admit to being just as spooked. But she said nothing.
“Come on, honey, just one more time?” Ava said. “Anybody?” With her friends not in the mood to continue, Ava sighed. “Then I’ll just give it a shot myself.” She rested her fingertips on the planchette and it
immediately began to move, slowly at first, and then it skittered across the board. “Whoa! Look at this.”
The planchette circled the sun image, hovered for a moment, and then slowly moved toward the bottom of the board.
But Ava’s hopes of any meaningful message were dashed when the planchette stopped for the last time—on the word GOOD BYE.
Chapter 23
GABBY looked up from the front counter and said, “Oh, you’re back.”
“Back to the light,” Carmela said. “Run toward the light.”
“Pardon?”
Carmela waved a hand. “Nothing. Don’t mind me. I’ve just been communing with the spirit world, such as it is.” She cast another glance at Gabby, who suddenly seemed all atwitter and burning with nervous energy. “But what’s going on with you? You look like a cross between a cat on a hot tin roof and one that just swallowed the canary.”
“Carmela,” Gabby said, her words suddenly tumbling out. “I hope you don’t mind. But I got curious about those parchment samples, so I made a couple of calls.”
“You did?” Carmela thought this was interesting. Gabby was usually incredibly reticent when it came to investigating, while she was the one who generally blazed a trail where angels feared to tread. “Who did you call?”
“One of my calls, the one that really paid off, was to a good friend of mind, Cynthia Mouton, who sits on the board of directors of the Old Town Repertory Theatre.”
“The theatre on the poster.” Carmela was beginning to get a warm, tingly feeling.
“That’s right.”
“So . . . ?” Carmela waggled her fingers. She wanted to hear more.
“Anyway,” Gabby said, “guess who the event planner was for this particular concert? The concert that’s advertised on the poster?”
Carmela stared at Gabby for a few moments until a thought began to fizz inside her brain. “OMG. Was it Naomi Rattler?”
“Bingo.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Yes, I am,” Gabby said. “So maybe Naomi’s your connection.”
“Oh my gosh,” Carmela cried. “You are so brave. You are so smart.”