Mumbo Gumbo Murder

by Laura Childs

  But Jekyl was looking serious, not his usual devil-may-care self.

  “I’ve got something for you,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  He arched a single eyebrow. “Information.”

  “Maybe you better come in and sit down,” Carmela said. Jekyl was suddenly looking super serious. When they’d both plunked down in facing chairs, she said, “What’s up?”

  “You know that Devon lives—well, lived—in the same building that I do.”

  “Napoleon Gardens,” Carmela said. It was a red brick, rehabbed warehouse.

  “And that my friend Misty Haworth has the apartment next to him.”

  Carmela suddenly felt nervous. Like the room was about to tilt on its axis.

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Misty thinks somebody broke into Devon’s apartment last night.”

  “What!”

  “She thinks she heard them moving around inside.”

  “She thinks she did or she really did?”

  “She did,” Jekyl said.

  Carmela touched a hand to her forehead. “Holy shit.”

  “Keep in mind that Misty is also a big believer in ghosts and spooky haunts, so she also thought it could have been Devon’s spirit, come back to set things right.”

  “It wasn’t Devon’s spirit,” Carmela said.

  “No,” Jekyl said. “I doubt it was.” He steepled his fingers together and stared at her. “The thing is . . . why would someone break in?”

  “Because they’re looking for something,” Carmela said immediately. “Something they didn’t find at Devon’s shop.”

  “Such as?” Jekyl said.

  Carmela exhaled slowly. “I have no idea.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Carmela knew she should call Babcock immediately and tell him about the possible break-in, but she resisted. Instead, she bid good-bye to Jekyl, said good night to Gabby, and headed out for Juju Voodoo. As she walked along, dodging revelers as well as street vendors, she wondered again what a burglar might be looking for in Devon’s apartment. Was it the snippet of Lincoln’s coat? Was it a piece of jewelry? Or something else? And could the night visitor have been Sonny Boy Holmes, the burglar that Babcock had told her about?

  Everything surrounding this case seemed to be getting mysteriouser and mysteriouser.

  Catching sight of Juju Voodoo lifted Carmela’s spirits somewhat. The quaint little shop with its wooden shake roof, shiny red door, and window displays never failed to make her smile. From a distance, Ava’s shop looked like a charming curiosity shop, but inside . . . Carmela grinned as she pushed open the door . . . that was another story.

  Flickering candles in the dim interior were the first thing that intrigued visitors. Along with the click-clack of skeletons hanging overhead was the heady scent of incense and lemon balm with an undertone of Poison by Christian Dior, Ava’s favorite perfume. Antique glass cases were filled with talismans, jewelry, bottles of potion, voodoo dolls, and saint candles.

  Ava looked up from a display of evil eye pendants, pushed back a hank of dark, curly hair, and smiled.

  “You made it!”

  “Barely,” Carmela said.

  “I got a match,” Ava said almost shyly. “Can you believe it? That Miss Penelope is a true wonder, a love Svengali. In less than twenty-four hours, she came up with my dream date. This matchup . . . tonight . . . could change my life!”

  “Um, possibly.” But probably not. “So who is this guy? You say you talked to him?”

  “He called me early this afternoon and was very polite, a real gentleman.”

  “And you have a date for tonight. This guy moves fast.”

  “True love waits for no one,” Ava said. “Plus, he told me we’ll be attending a concert.”

  “I’m impressed. Your date sounds cultured.”

  “Classy.”

  “I hope you have a terrific time,” Carmela said.

  Ava spun around on her heels. “I think I’m already breathless in love.”

  “Save a little of that excitement for tomorrow night, will you?”

  Ava stopped spinning. “Why, what’s up?”

  “I’m supposed to help judge the Jazz Fest’s Gumbo Cook-Off, and I was hoping you’d come with me.”

  “I’d love to as long as I’m not out enjoying a second fabulous date with Mr. Wonderful.”

  “Okay then,” Carmela said. “Have a wonderful time tonight. While I’m teaching tipsy women how to paint plates, I hope you’re listening to a concerto by Bach or Beethoven.”

  “Oh my God,” Ava said. “It really does sound classy, doesn’t it? Maybe I should get all primped up and wear an evening gown. I’d better go home early and do a wardrobe check! And thank goodness my bod’s in good shape from doing my twerkout workout.”

  Chapter 18

  BLUSH and Brush looked even more elegant than it had yesterday. The lights were turned low, rows of wine bottles sparkled on the bar, ficus trees and wicker baskets filled with ferns had been tucked into every nook and cranny.

  Behind the counter, Dewey and Ardice from St. Tammany Vineyards busied about, heating up gumbo and assembling mini sandwiches.

  Maybe this evening would be a piece of cake, Carmela decided. Then, just as she started to let herself relax, Quigg snuck up behind her and poked a finger in her ribs.

  “Surprise!”

  “Hey!” Carmela yelped, her shoulders rising to her ears as she whirled around to face him. “Don’t do that.”

  “Chill out, babe. No need to go all squirrelly.”

  “Then keep your mitts off me.”

  Quigg took a step backward in mock surprise. “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll . . .”

  Before Carmela could come up with a really haughty retort, the front door swung open and a television camera pushed its way through. She caught the call letters on the side of the camera. KBEZ-TV.

  “Oh man, you called a TV station?” Carmela said.

  “Gotta pump up the publicity,” Quigg said. “Besides, it’s cool. You know these guys.”

  Quigg was right. Carmela did know them. In fact, she was fairly friendly with Zoe Carmichael, an on-camera reporter, and her cameraman, Raleigh. Best of all, they were good at their job. And not too pushy. Maybe this would be okay after all.

  “A little bird told me you got roped into working part-time at this cute little wine bar,” Zoe said. She was young, stylish in a black leather jacket and slim-cut khaki slacks, with a mass of reddish-brown hair. Raleigh was Raleigh. Jean jacket, saggy jeans, worn tennis shoes.

  “And I see you guys got roped into covering Quigg’s grand opening,” Carmela said.

  Zoe shrugged. “What can you do? Quigg is all buddy-buddy with our station manager. Lets him eat for free at Bon Tiempe.”

  “Don’t you just love old-boy cronyism and graft?” Carmela said.

  “Hey,” Quigg called out. “Watch it.”

  Raleigh moved closer and aimed his lens at them. “Let’s get started, huh, Zoe? Time’s a-wasting. There are two other events we gotta cover tonight.”

  Zoe clicked on her battery pack and switched to professional mode. “Gotcha. So I’ll do a quick fifteen-second intro and then you cut to Carmela and Quigg. Maybe do a two-shot of them standing in front of the bar.”

  So Carmela and Quigg squished in together while Zoe did her opening piece, flashed a smile at the camera, and then turned to ask them a few questions.

  Quigg was over-the-top nervous, jumbling his answers like a chattering monkey. Carmela felt jittery but was outwardly calm and fairly articulate. Zoe saved the day by calling Blush and Brush “a dazzling new wine bar” and “the newest fun spot in the French Quarter.”

  The only really bad part was when Quigg, gripped by a paroxysm of enthusia
sm, slung an arm around Carmela’s shoulders and called her the best partner anyone could ask for.

  At which point Carmela fought to disentangle herself as her head filled with visions of Babcock catching the news footage, gasping when he saw that hug, and getting so incensed his brains blew out his ears.

  Five minutes later, the scene changed dramatically. The TV crew packed up and left, and Quigg’s invited guests began to pour in.

  Carmela noticed that most of Quigg’s guests were women. Good-looking, poufy-haired, dieted-down, well-maintained women. And that Quigg was in his element as he exchanged air-kisses, sprinkled compliments like fairy dust, then led them to the various tables and pulled out chairs for them. Carmela also noticed that amidst all the kissing and shameless flirting, Quigg hadn’t bothered to introduce her.

  I’m the hired help tonight. The lady with the painted plate. That’s why he wanted me? Well . . . jeez.

  Then the front door opened again and Carmela couldn’t believe her rotten luck.

  Oh no!

  Glory Meechum, Shamus’s horrible big sister, came clumping in. She looked haggard and puffy faced, and wore her trademark brown skirt suit and lacquered gray helmet hair. Tagging along behind Glory was her mousy cousin Millicent.

  Glory was the one woman Carmela knew would be a sullen holdout to Quigg’s charms. She and Millicent brushed past Quigg with barely civil greetings and settled at the table nearest the door. Then Glory’s head swiveled like a periscope and her hard eyes landed on Carmela.

  Carmela lifted a hand in greeting. “Hi,” she said in a small voice. Then, reluctantly, she went over to say hello to Glory.

  “You,” Glory said by way of greeting.

  “Nice to see you again,” Carmela said from between gritted teeth. Glory had never, ever been cordial to her.

  “What are you doing here?” Glory demanded.

  “Would you believe I’m the brush in Blush and Brush?”

  “You’re going to lead the plate painting class?” Glory asked.

  “You catch on fast,” Carmela said. She was determined not to let Glory get under her skin.

  “I remember you,” Millicent said. “From the wedding.” With her frizzled hair and dowdy purple-gray dress she looked like a cross between Miss Havisham and the Piper Laurie character in the movie Carrie.

  Glory pounded the table with her fist. “A year,” she said. “I predicted that Shamus and Carmela’s marriage would only last a year. And then it blew up after only six months. You see how right I was? How clever I am?”

  “Do you really want to beat a dead horse?” Carmela asked. Damn. I should have grabbed one of Ava’s voodoo dolls when I had the chance.

  “I gave you and Shamus silver salt and pepper shakers for a wedding gift,” Millicent said.

  “Do you want them back?” Carmela asked.

  Millicent thought for a few seconds. “No, that’s okay. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

  “So, Carmela, what are you doing here?” Glory asked.

  “Knock, knock,” Carmela said. “Painting? You drink some wine and I show you how to paint a plate. Couldn’t be simpler.”

  “You’re a mean little trollop,” Glory snarled.

  “The pot calling the kettle black,” Carmela said. “I’d love to hang around and catch up on old times, maybe paint our nails and braid each other’s hair, but I’ve got work to do.”

  Quigg had just started gesturing to her like mad.

  “What?” Carmela hissed at him.

  “We’re a hit!” he crowed. “A goldarned hit!”

  Carmela glanced around the wine bar. Everyone was happily sipping wine while Ardice served small bowls of crab gumbo along with pork pop biscuits. The pork pops were tasty little mini biscuits stuffed with cheese, bacon, and andouille sausage. The stuff of dreams in New Orleans.

  “They do look happy,” Carmela allowed. “Let’s give them a few more minutes to feed their little faces and then we’ll pass out the plates and paint.”

  “Good thinking,” Quigg said. “Glad you’re on top of this.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Painting plates turned out to be an even bigger hit than the wine and food. The women dabbled, daubed, spattered paint, and howled with delight. Once Carmela had explained the setup and showed her sample plate, there was no stopping them.

  Plates were soon adorned with free-form swoops of color, floral motifs, hearts, birds, cats, and more. A few would-be painters tried to mimic Carmela’s butterfly, and one creative genius even painted a mermaid on a half shell.

  Carmela admired each plate as it was finished and instructed the women about letting their plate dry and coating it with sealant. Several asked for her business card, which was a terrific sign that the event—and the plate painting—had been extremely well received.

  “Next week we’ll be painting miniature canvases,” Quigg told his audience as he slipped from table to table. “And I’m taking reservations now.”

  Carmela tiptoed over to Glory and Millicent’s table and was surprised at Millicent’s plate. It was a bunch of yellow and orange flowers that looked surprisingly elegant. Glory’s plate, on the other hand, was just dibs and dabs. She’d obviously concentrated on the wine drinking portion of the evening rather than the plate painting. Oh well.

  Then Quigg made the colossal mistake of joining them.

  “What lovely plates,” he enthused.

  Which caused Glory to glare at him and mutter, “Whatever.”

  Quigg pointed at Glory’s plate. “What is that you painted there? A Rorschach blob?”

  “You don’t know a sunset when you see it?” Glory asked.

  “Would you care for another glass of wine?” Quigg asked, still trying to ingratiate himself with Glory. He knew darned well who sat on the board of directors at New Orleans’s largest bank.

  Glory ignored Quigg and focused on Carmela. “Does that poor cop you’ve been dating know what’s going on between the two of you?” She moved a finger back and forth, from Quigg to Carmela.

  “Nothing’s going on, our relationship is strictly business,” Carmela said.

  “Business,” Quigg echoed.

  “Hmph.” Glory wasn’t buying it.

  “Really, have some more wine,” Quigg offered.

  “Only if you decide to trot out the good stuff,” Glory snarled.

  * * *

  * * *

  Just when Glory couldn’t get any more annoying, Shamus showed up to drive his sister and cousin home.

  “Everybody having fun?” Shamus asked, favoring Glory with a huge smile.

  “Hmph,” Glory said again.

  “Good. Great,” Shamus said, bobbing his head and winking at Carmela. He looked like the kind of goofy bobblehead doll they passed out at ballparks.

  “Can you please get her out of here?” Carmela asked under her breath.

  “What? Problema?”

  “Kind of.”

  And there’ll be an even bigger problema if Babcock decides to stop by on a whim and sees me here with both Quigg and Shamus. Whatever will he think then?

  “Hey, have you heard the crazy news?” Shamus said. “I’ve been asked to take part in the Most Eligible Bachelor Auction tomorrow night!”

  Carmela gave a delicate snort. “You’re still considered an eligible bachelor? Even after being married to me?”

  “Technically, I’m a bachelor, yes. When they asked, I couldn’t turn them down. It’s a fund-raiser for a really good cause.”

  “What’s the cause? The indolent rich guys club?”

  “Naw, it’s something to do with children’s literacy.”

  “Even so, this has to be a major ego trip for you,” Carmela said.

  “Oh yeah, for sure. I’m counting on some really big bucks being spent on little old me.” />
  “If you receive the winning bid for Most Eligible Bachelor, what is it you have to do?”

  Shamus shrugged. “Go on a date with some chick, I guess. Somebody who’ll pay buckets of cash for the pleasure of my company.” He winked again. “Win-win.”

  Glory drained her wineglass, tried to stand up, and then dropped back into her seat. Both Shamus and Millicent quickly pulled Glory to her feet, and then the threesome toddled out of the wine bar.

  Good riddance, Carmela thought. Time to go home.

  * * *

  * * *

  Carmela staggered into her apartment, tired, happy with her presentation, unhappy about the scene with Glory and Shamus.

  The Meechums had a nasty habit of popping up in her life when they were least expected. Tonight was one of those nights.

  Oh well.

  Carmela roused Boo, Poobah, and Mimi and clipped leashes to their collars. Then they were outside and rushing across the courtyard, Carmela grasping the three leads like a Roman charioteer.

  The night was cool and refreshing with a breeze (slightly pungent with dead fish) off the Mississippi River. Their pace was brisk, but the dogs kept dancing around one another and repeatedly tangling their leashes. Carmela had no sooner untangled Poobah and Mimi, when Boo would dart in front of little Mimi and the tangling would begin anew.

  After a while, Carmela gave up and let the dogs have their cat’s cradle of leashes. They wandered down Baronne Street, went around the block, and then came down the back alley.

  Halfway down, Carmela started to get a funny feeling, a tickle in her stomach, that she was being followed. She listened carefully and, yes, there were definitely footsteps crunching in the gravel behind her.

  Really?

  She kept moving but listened carefully again. Yes, someone seemed to be shadowing her.

  What to do!

  With just the brick wall of an apartment building on her right and a row of garages on her left, there was no place to duck into, no place to get help. So Carmela urged her pups to walk faster. Tangled leashes or not, her only hope was to get home fast.