by Laura Childs
“We meet again,” said Carmela.
Duval glanced at her. “Hello.” He couldn’t have been more bored.
“At Mumbo Gumbo last night?” Carmela prompted. “And you spoke at the service this morning.”
That brought a ghost of a smile to his face. “Of course. Hello.”
Carmela decided to dive right in. “There’s something I’d like to ask you.”
Duval looked suddenly wary. “What’s that?”
“Did you have a meeting with Marcus Joubert the night the death mask was stolen from that Dallas collector?”
Duval blinked. “Excuse me. Who are you again?”
“Carmela Bertrand. I . . .”
“Never mind,” said Duval. “I’m actually not that interested. And I’m certainly not interested in answering any of your questions.” And with that he picked up his drink and walked away.
* * *
“No way was he going to answer my questions,” Carmela told Ava.
“Then he’s a jerk. A rude jerk.”
Carmela shrugged. “He either doesn’t want to get involved or he’s extremely involved.”
“Huh,” said Ava. She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Didn’t you tell me Duval lived right here in the Garden District?”
Carmela nodded. “You know that enormous home two blocks from here, the one with the mansard roof and pair of stone lions out front?”
“That’s where he lives?” said Ava. “That place is big-time, like one of those old dinosaur mansions in Beverly Hills or Bel Air. Pickfair or something like that, places where the stars lived.”
“Stands to reason he’d have a big place, since Duval’s got big money.”
Ava narrowed her eyes. “My overactive brain has just hatched the most intriguing plan.”
Carmela took one look at Ava and said, “Uh-oh, you’ve got that sneaky, snarky look on your face. What are you thinking?”
“I think we should go creepy-crawl Duval’s house and see if that Napoleon mask is there.”
Carmela was horrified. “You mean break in? We can’t do that!”
“But you’d like to.”
“Well . . . sure. I mean, I suppose I would.”
Ava set her glass down with a loud clink. “Then let’s do it. Let’s throw caution to the wind and live every week like it’s Shark Week.”
“Oh dear Lord,” Carmela muttered. But she followed Ava outside just the same.
* * *
The night was still as death, the almost-full moon hiding behind a wall of dark clouds. Most of the jack-o’-lanterns had sputtered out by now, the melted candle wax dribbling down the curbs and sidewalk. The sidewalks were practically devoid of people.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Carmela said as they hurried along. She was having second and even third thoughts about their breaking and entering. What if they got caught? What was the penalty? And what if they went to all the trouble of sneaking inside Duval’s home and found absolutely nothing? If something really went awry, she’d have only herself to blame. Sure, Ava may have hatched this crazy scheme, but she was a willing participant. Unless, of course, she called a halt to the plan this very minute. She opened her mouth just as Ava said . . .
“Isn’t this exciting? We’re just like Cagney and Lacey.”
“I was thinking Lucy and Ethel,” said Carmela. Go? No go?
“Here we are,” said Ava, as they crept up on Duval’s monster-sized mansion. It was Second Empire style, a look that was derived from many of Paris’s monumental buildings. The home featured a mansard roof pierced with multiple dormers. Narrow arched windows seemed to gaze down at them with haughty disapproval.
Carmela trailed a hand along the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the entire property. “Are we sure about this?”
But Ava only put a finger to her mouth. “Shhhh,” she whispered. “This way.”
They snuck past the stone lions, stepped onto a cobblestone path, and followed it through almost total darkness. Hanging tendrils of Spanish moss brushed their shoulders like so many spidery fingers. A few more steps brought them into the backyard.
“I figure we’ve got a better chance back here,” said Ava.
“Better chance of getting caught?”
“Silly girl. Of prying open a window and slipping in.”
“How are we going to manage that?” said Carmela. “Do you think Duval has one of those plastic key holders that looks like a rock?” She gazed around the lush backyard. Between the sweep of arborvitae and clumps of banana palms, it was like being in a jungle. A kidney-shaped pool, lights glowing to reveal azure blue water, added to the tropical feel. Carmela saw something shimmer at the bottom of the pool and wondered if it was a snake.
“We just have to find some little nook or cranny,” said Ava. “Something opportune.” She slipped through the shrubbery and up to a pair of French doors. Unfortunately, when she rattled the handle gently, the doors were clearly locked.
“What’d I tell you?” said Carmela.
But Ava was not to be deterred. She snuck along the side of the house, one hip pressed against the damp stone foundation, her fingers crawling along, searching out every nook, cranny, and window ledge.
“Here,” said Ava.
“Where?” said Carmela. Ava had practically disappeared into the darkness. The only clue was the faint rustling of leaves.
Ava let loose a low whistle and said, “Here.”
Carmela took a deep breath, stepped into a flowerbed, brushed past a palm tree, and found herself in the secluded alcove where her friend was hiding.
“This window is open,” Ava whispered. “I think we can ease it up a notch and then shimmy in.”
Carmela’s heart hammered inside her chest. Should she? Shouldn’t she? The “good girl” inside her said no, but it was too late. She heard a creak as the window slid up. Then, quick and stealthy as a ninja, Ava climbed through.
“Come on!” said Ava. She held out a hand.
Carmela grabbed on to her, stepped up onto some kind of mechanical watering apparatus that was hidden among the plants, and suddenly found herself tumbling through the proverbial rabbit hole and into Titus Duval’s darkened house. She blinked, smoothed her dress, and glanced around nervously. “Where are we?”
“Some kind of sunroom,” said Ava. “Come on, let’s go.”
Together, they tiptoed across a tiled floor, bumping toes into overstuffed chairs and knocking a lampshade askew. When they reached a dimly lit hallway, they were able to see a little better. Small brass sconces, set just above eye level, lit the way.
Clutching each other, they headed into what had to be the interior of Duval’s house. They passed two closed doors, heading for the main living area.
“Wait a minute,” said Carmela.
Ava stopped.
“Back here,” said Carmela. She took two steps backward and gently pushed open one of the doors they’d just passed. The door creaked open slowly, revealing a small brass lamp set on a massive oak desk. But it was enough to illuminate most of the room. “I think,” she said, “that this is Duval’s study.”
The room smelled of incense and gun grease. One wall held a mahogany bookcase packed with expensive-looking leather-bound books. Another wall was covered with a jumble of interesting art pieces—African masks, curved pieces of carved jade, several small oil paintings.
“C’mon,” said Carmela. “We need to take a closer look.”
Carefully, quietly, they shuffled in.
“He likes guns,” said Ava, pointing to an antique derringer that was encased in a glass shadow box. “And look at this . . . some kind of framed document.”
Carmela moved closer. “It’s a letter signed by Jean Laffite. Wow. This piece has got some history on it.”
“And must have cost him a pretty penny,�
�� said Ava.
When they moved to the next case, their breath came faster and their mouths literally dropped open.
Staring out at them was a face. But not really a face—because it was a marble death mask. Eyes closed, lips pursed delicately, cheekbones smooth and rounded, it appeared to be a woman’s face.
“Jackpot,” whispered Carmela.
“This is sooo creepy,” said Ava. “Imagine having that thing staring at you while you’re perusing the evening paper? Or during a storm, when the lights are flickering and . . .”
“Keep looking,” said Carmela. “There’s supposed to be a second mask.”
Ava’s footsteps whispered across the silk carpet. “Maybe over . . . oh yeah, Carm. Here it is.”
Carmela was at her side in an instant. “Who is it? Is it Napoleon?” She stared fixedly at the second death mask. It was an image of what had once been a rather large man with a heavy nose and pronounced, bony cheekbones.
“I don’t know,” said Ava, sounding flustered.
Carmela studied the mask. “It’s not him.” She’d Googled Napoleon’s death mask and studied several different images. This mask didn’t resemble any of the masks she’d seen. “The Napoleon mask isn’t here.” She didn’t know if she felt relief or disappointment.
Unfortunately, Carmela didn’t have time to savor either emotion, because a sudden creaking noise sounded at the front of the house. A door opening. Then the sound of heavy footsteps shuffling into the portico.
“Crap on a cracker!” said Ava. “The dude left Baby’s party early.”
“We have to get out of here,” Carmela whispered.
“How?”
“Same way we came in. All quiet and sneaky.”
“Where do you think he is now?” asked Ava.
Carmela tensed as footsteps started down the hallway.
Please no, Carmela prayed.
The footsteps hesitated, then another door creaked open and a faint light spilled into the hallway. There was a noise that sounded like ice cubes tumbling into a glass.
Wasting no time, Carmela grabbed Ava and pulled her into the hallway. Soundlessly, they snuck through the darkness and into the relative safety of the sunroom.
When they got to their entry point, they jumped into overdrive. Ava stuck a long leg over the windowsill, pulled the other leg across, and hopped down, landing soundlessly in the foliage below. Carmela gave a quick look back over her shoulder and hoisted herself up. She was sitting on the window ledge, poised to scramble out, when she felt a hard jerk.
What the . . . ?
She was stuck, unable to move, unable to escape! Panic fizzed in her brain as she looked back and saw that her doggone skirt had hooked on part of the window fixture!
“I’m stuck,” Carmela whispered to Ava.
Ava reached a hand up and waggled her fingers. “Hurry up.”
“I’m trying,” said Carmela. She managed to slide forward maybe an inch or two before she was hung up again.
“It’s your skirt,” said Ava.
“I know it’s my skirt, but I can’t exactly take it off.”
“Just give yourself a good hard push and let ’er rip,” said Ava.
Carmela slithered forward as her skirt slid up above her knees.
“That’s it,” Ava coaxed. “Give me your hands and I’ll give you a good tug.”
“Okay.”
Ava, who had both height and heft on Carmela, grasped her friend. “You ready?”
Carmela nodded as Ava gave such a heroic jerk she thought her arms would be yanked from their sockets.
Riiiiiip!
Carmela popped through the window like a champagne cork exploding from a bottle. She toppled onto Ava with such force they both tumbled to the damp ground.
“Eeyuh,” said Ava, wiggling nervously, “I hope there aren’t worms.”
“Forget the stupid worms. We’ve got to get out of here!”
Helping each other up, they dashed around the side of the house and headed for the street. Gasping for air, nervously looking back over their shoulders, they beat feet down the dark, deserted street. It wasn’t until Carmela’s car was in plain sight that they finally felt safe.
GABBY spun out a length of cream-colored velvet ribbon and gazed at Carmela. “Where did you and Ava disappear to last night?”
“You don’t want to know,” said Carmela. It was Thursday morning at Memory Mine and Carmela was regretting her sneaky little foray into Titus Duval’s home. They’d barely escaped discovery and she’d had fitful, nightmarish dreams about death masks all night long.
“You two ducked out with a couple of guys?” she asked.
“Nooo,” said Carmela.
“Went home early?”
But Carmela had made up her mind to remain mum on the subject. It wouldn’t do any good to give Gabby a blow-by-blow account of their little creepy-crawl. She’d just fret about it. Or somehow manage to spill the beans to Babcock. And Carmela really didn’t need that right now. Babcock was already on her case about freelance investigating.
“Okay, so you’re not going to tell me. Then how about explaining those weird wedding gowns that are hanging in your office. Is there some secret ceremony I don’t know about?”
Carmela smiled. “Those are our ghost dresses. For when Ava and I ride the Ghost Train tomorrow night.”
“I do remember you mentioning that. So you guys bought tickets?”
“We’re actually characters on the Ghost Train,” said Carmela.
“Yeah?”
“Jekyl asked us to help out. He’s been hired to do all the spooky, moody decorations and Ava and I were recruited to be part of that décor.”
“That sounds pretty cool. I wish I could get Stuart to attend an event like that.”
“It would do him good,” Carmela agreed. “Loosen him up.”
“He’s always so focused on business.”
“Unlike us?”
“Oh, we’re focused on business, too,” Gabby smiled. “It’s just that our business happens to be lots more fun.”
“You got that right,” Carmela agreed.
* * *
Carmela helped two women pick out paper for trick-or-treat bags, then showed them how to fashion the paper into tubes, add pieces of candy, and then secure the ends so the whole thing looked like a big, gorgeous Tootsie Roll. Then, when she had a few moments, she ducked into her office to work on her ghost dresses.
Since the dresses were already nicely tattered, Carmela set about adding some extra pieces of gossamer, using pieces of fabric to lengthen sleeves, drape the skirts, and add shroud-like details about the waist.
Then came the really fun part—painting the gowns. First Carmela brushed on long zigzags of white tempera paint. Then she mixed together equal amounts of gray and green powdered paint. She spattered the dry paint onto the still-wet paint, creating a subtle hint of mold.
Perfect.
Sewing on a few carefully placed sequins gave the dresses some sparkle, and then she dabbed on spatters of silver.
Carmela remained caught up in her ghostly couture project until there was a soft knock at her door.
She glanced over. “Yes?”
It was Mavis, looking as tentative and apologetic as ever.
“I don’t want to interrupt,” said Mavis.
“You’re not,” said Carmela. “I’m practically finished here.” She dipped her brush in a puddle of gray paint and spattered on a little more paint, freestyle.
“I wanted to thank you for the invitation last night,” said Mavis.
“You should really be thanking Baby, since she was the gracious hostess.”
“I know that and I already did. But you’re her good friend. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have been invited to the party at all.”
&n
bsp; Carmela smiled. “I take it you enjoyed yourself?”
“I had a blast!” said Mavis. “Really, the whole event was amazing. The food, the guests . . . everything.” She stood there in a brown dress, looking a little like Cinderella after the ball. Back in her ratty old clothes.
“Have you got everything at Oddities all packed up?”
“I’m just working on the last few bits,” said Mavis. Then she brightened. “But I received an interesting call some twenty minutes ago. From a friend of yours—Jekyl Hardy. I met him at the party last night.”
“Jekyl? What on earth did he want?”
Mavis grinned. “He wanted to borrow a few pieces from Oddities to decorate his Ghost Train.”
“I thought everything from Oddities was packed and ready to go into storage.”
“It is,” said Mavis. “Or was. But then he offered me money to rent a few items, so I decided to pull out a few choice pieces for him. Apparently, he wants to decorate one of his train cars in a kind of Victorian Sherlock Holmes theme.”
“That actually sounds pretty neat,” said Carmela.
“That’s what I thought, too,” said Mavis. “Anyway, I dug out a Sherlock Holmes–style cap, an old-fashioned pipe rack, leather steamer trunk, a watch, a few old books, and some more cool stuff.”
“So Jekyl asked you to come and set it all up, too?”
“Oh no, Mr. Hardy said he’d personally take care of arranging things. In fact, he seemed very intent on that. But he did invite me to come aboard the Ghost Train and kind of keep watch over things. So I’m thinking I might do just that.”
“That’s a great idea. You know”—Carmela pointed at her handiwork—“that’s what these gowns are for. Ava and I are going to be wearing them—posing as ghosts.”
“Ghosts?” Mavis giggled and Carmela was pleased to see her suddenly light up with enthusiasm. “That’s wonderful! It’ll all be one big happy family.”
“Carmela.” Gabby was suddenly at the door. “Telephone.”
“I’ve got to take this,” said Carmela.
Mavis gave a quick wave and ducked out. “And I’ve got to get going.”