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Authors: Laura Childs

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BOOK: Keepsake Crimes
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“But not forgotten,” added Gabby, who suddenly looked a trifle nervous at the turn the conversation had taken.
“Shamus had such a promising career,” continued Stuart. “I was so sorry to hear he’d left his position at the bank.”
“And so was his family,” said Ava, joining the conversation as she slipped in next to Carmela. “They probably haven’t had a Meechum go rogue on them in the entire history of the family. Honey,” Ava said, focusing her big, brown eyes directly on Carmela. “You have
got
to pay a visit to the buffet table. The food those caterers laid out is simply out of this world.”
“Thanks for the save,” Carmela whispered to Ava as they pushed their way through the crowd and headed for the buffet table in Baby’s enormous dining room. “Stuart and Gabby are
so
hung up on my separation, it’s beginning to get out of hand. I was afraid Stuart was going to start reciting pithy little quotes about Mars versus Venus.”
“Oh, honey,” said Ava as she fluffed back her hair and reached for a bone china buffet plate, “don’t you know that touchy-feely caring-sharing thing is just a clever ruse with Stuart? The man owns car dealerships, for goodness sakes. He was just trying to soften you up so he could move in for the kill and sell you a nice big Toyota.”
“You think Stuart knows what I drive?” grinned Carmela as she grabbed a gleaming white plate bordered by pink roses.
“
Everybody
knows what you drive,” quipped Ava.
Baby’s description of the menu a few days earlier had been vastly underplayed. For here was a buffet that was truly sumptuous. Enormous silver chafing dishes offered up their bounty of Oysters Bienville, crawfish cakes with red bean relish, and cunning little eggplant pirouges, tiny little eggplants that had been hollowed out and stuffed with crabmeat and melted cheese.
The overhead lights in the dining room had been purposely dimmed and giant candelabras with sputtering pink candles placed strategically on the table to lend a warm, mellow glow.
Truly, Baby’s new caterers, Signature & Saffron, had come through like troopers. And they were even handling food for three other major parties taking place in the Garden District this evening.
Carmela dug an enormous silver serving spoon into an ocean of okra gumbo and transferred a helping to her plate. At the next chafing dish she reached for the fried plantains and succeeded in covering up part of the pink rose border on her plate. She cast an appraising eye down the table at the dishes she
hadn’t
tried yet, and decided she could probably cantilever a tiny sliver of duck au jus on top of her pork roulade.
“You’re going for the double-decker,” said Ava, impressed. She never knew Carmela could eat so much.
“Tonight I am,” said Carmela as they moved down the line.
“If I eat too much, I’m for sure going to bust the seams of this dress,” declared Ava. But Carmela noticed that didn’t stop her from helping herself to a little of everything.
Carmela was munching a crawfish cake and balancing a ramos fizz when Jekyl Hardy came rushing up to her some ten minutes later.
“Car-
mel
-a!” he exclaimed, planting a giant kiss on her cheek.
“Jekyl, hi,” she said. “Have you tried the food yet?”
Jekyl rolled his eyes. “Let’s not go into that right now. Suffice it to say I
stormed
the table with Tandy.” He grabbed her arm. “But right now, my dear, you are going to have your fortune told!”
“What are you talking about?” asked Carmela as Jekyl pulled her along with him and she practically had to toss her empty plate, Frisbee-style, to one of the tuxedo-clad waiters who was clearing away dishes and wineglasses.
“I’m referring to Madame Roux or Lou or whatever her name is,” said Jekyl. “Baby hired a fortune-teller for the evening. Isn’t that an absolute kick?”
Ensconced in Baby’s solarium on a Chinese-style settee, Madame Roux wasn’t so much a fortune-teller as she was a reader of tarot cards.
“See,” said Jekyl proudly as he prodded Carmela into the solarium ahead of himself, “you’ve just got to have a go at it.”
“Come in,” Madame Roux beckoned to Carmela. “Open your heart and mind, and let Madame Roux see what the tarot has divined for you.” Clad in a flowing hot-pink robe, armloads of bangle bracelets, and a Dolly Par-ton wig with a slightly pinkish cast, Madame Roux looked not so much like a fortune-teller as a flamboyant senior citizen dressed for a hot date at the bingo parlor.
“I’m not a big believer in fortune-telling,” Carmela confided to Madame Roux as she sat down on the low stool that faced her. “I think people create their own destinies.”
Madame Roux shuffled the cards like a practiced blackjack dealer, then fanned them out on the table between them. “I do, too,
chèrie,
” she said with a slight French accent. “The cards only point out choices;
you
make the final determination.”
“So what do I do?” asked Carmela, feeling kind of silly.
“Choose three cards,” Madame Roux instructed. “The first card will reveal your past situation, the second card your present situation, and the third card your future. But . . .” She held up her hand with theatrical flair. “Choose carefully.”
Carmela grinned.
Past, present, and future, huh? Okay, this should be interesting.
She indicated her first card. Past. Madame Roux plucked it from the line of fanned-out cards and turned it over. It was the queen of wands.
Madame Roux crinkled her eyes in a smile. Or as much as one could crinkle when wearing double sets of false eyelashes. “You have always been very sympathetic and friendly,” said Madame Roux. “You were brought up to have a kind nature and also to be a good hostess.”
Carmela returned Madame Roux’s smile politely. “Not as good as Baby Fontaine is,” she quipped.
“Now you must select the card that indicates your
present
situation,” continued Madame Roux, unfazed.
Carmela chose a card from the middle.
Madame Roux turned it over, revealing the six of swords. A tiny frown crossed her face. “Difficulties. Anxieties.”
Carmela shrugged. “A few, yes.”
Well, that was a strange choice of cards. Probably won’t come up again in a zillion years, right?
“And now your future card,” urged Madame Roux.
Carmela pointed to the last card on the far right. “That one.”
Madame Roux flipped it over. It was the hierophant card. The ancient Greek priest who was the interpreter of mysteries and arcane knowledge.
“What does it mean?” asked Carmela as she studied the card. Her final choice of cards
looked
fairly benign. An ancient priest sitting between two Greek columns with a gold key at his feet. Still, it could probably be interpreted any number of ways.
“The meanings are varied,” said Madame Roux. “Mercy, kindness, forgiveness.”
“All good things,” said Carmela. “And what does the key mean?”
Madame Roux studied the card. “Not completely clear,” she said, “but it
should
be revealed soon enough.”
Carmela continued to take this experience with a grain of salt. “So this is a short-term reading?” she asked, her bemusement apparent. This was like one of those psychic hot lines on TV, she decided. Got to flash a disclaimer that said, “For entertainment purposes only.”
Madame Roux’s eyes sparkled darkly as they met hers. But even as her eyes were filled with kindness, they also projected a certain seriousness. “You will know about the key in a matter of days,
madame
,” said Madame Roux.
“Well, thank you,” said Carmela, standing up. She dug in her evening bag for a tip, but Madame Roux held up her hand.
“Not necessary,” Madame Roux told her. “Everything has been taken care of.”
There were loud giggles and a shuffle of feet behind Carmela. Obviously other guests were waiting their turn to commune with Madame Roux.
Carmela turned around to leave and almost ran smack-dab into Ruby Dumaine.
“Carmela!” exclaimed Ruby loudly. Her round face was pink and flushed, her manner bordering on boisterous. A glass of champagne was clutched tightly in one hand. It was obviously not her first.
“Hello, Ruby,” said Carmela. She noted that Ruby was dressed not unlike Madame Roux. Lots of flashy jewelry, a hot-pink dress that swirled around her.
Ruby leaned unsteadily in toward Carmela. “A little bird told me someone was
very
mad at you!”
Carmela favored Ruby with a wry smile. Ruby Dumaine was notorious for hinting at little bits of gossip and then dropping nasty clues.
“Let me guess,” said Carmela, playing along with Ruby the best she could. “The garden club booted me off their roster for failing to produce a single Provence rose.” Carmela moved a few steps away from Ruby, noting that the woman was a notorious space invader.
Ruby Dumaine rolled her eyes in an exaggerated gesture.
“Noooo,”
she said.
“On the other hand, I’m not even
in
the garden club anymore,” laughed Carmela.
Have I exchanged enough polite banter with Ruby to pass as being sociable?
she wondered.
Can I please exit stage left now?
But Ruby was in an ebullient mood. “If I recall, Carmela, when you resided in this rather hoity-toity neighborhood not so very long ago, you managed to coax a fair amount of flowers into bloom.”
Carmela heard familiar voices and glanced sideways. Tandy Bliss and Jekyl Hardy were bearing down on her. Bless them. Rescue was in sight.
“Ah, you’ll have to take that up with Glory Meechum, matriarch of the Meechum clam,” said Carmela to Ruby. “For, alas, I am no longer a resident of this glorified zip code.”
“Matriarch,” shrieked Jekyl, moving in next to Carmela. “Doesn’t that word conjure up images of incredibly stolid-looking women wearing togas and metal helmets?”
“I think you’re confusing matriarchal images with opera icons,” said Tandy. She smiled perfunctorily at Ruby. “Hello there,” she said.
“Oh, but I
adore
opera,” protested Jekyl. “It’s just those enormous opera singers that put me off. Stampeding across the stage as they do. Opera is so refined, so genteel. The art should reflect that, should it not?”
“But then the singers wouldn’t be able to
project
,” argued Tandy. She flashed Carmela a look that said,
We’ll get you out of here in a minute.
Jekyl favored Tandy with a sly smile. “But
you
do. You can talk louder than a foghorn in a hurricane when you want to. And you’re only . . . what . . . a hundred pounds?”
“Please,” said Tandy. “I tip the scales at ninety-eight pounds.” In her short black dress with its teeny, tiny spaghetti straps, Tandy looked even skinnier.
Jekyl Hardy gave an elaborate shrug, as though he’d proven his point. “See.”
Carmela was pleased to see that her friends were now on either side of her, ready to spirit her away from Ruby.
But Ruby Dumaine wasn’t so easily put off. “Carmela,” she began again, “you
are
being whispered about. People are saying
terrible
things.”
Jekyl Hardy peered at Ruby peevishly. “Who’s got their undies in a twist over some insignificant slight on Carmela’s part?”
“Wrong,” interrupted Tandy. “When Carmela slights someone,
if
she slights someone, it’s significant. They
stay
slighted.”
“Good girl,” laughed Jekyl. “No sense pussyfooting around.”
“It’s Rhonda Lee,” Ruby blurted out loudly. “Rhonda Lee Clayton thinks Shamus is responsible for her husband’s death.” Ruby’s eyes blazed wildly as she stared directly at Carmela. “And she’s positive that
you’re
covering up for him!”
Carmela was suddenly dumbfounded. “She thinks
I’m
covering up for him?” she said to Ruby. “Does Rhonda Lee know that Shamus and I are separated? That we have been for almost six months now?” Carmela almost reeled from the impact of this nastiness. “Aside from the fact that Shamus had nothing to do with Jimmy Earl’s death,” she added.
I hope,
said a little voice inside her.
Ruby Dumaine nodded slowly, obviously pleased at the impact her words had on Carmela. “Rhonda Lee has been telling
everyone
that it’s all part of your master plan.” Ruby smiled, looking decidedly like the cat that just swallowed the canary.
“
My
master plan?” Now Carmela’s voice carried real outrage. “The woman is insane.”
Tandy rolled her eyes. “Why do I feel like I’m standing in Pee-wee’s Playhouse where things are getting crazier by the minute?”
“You’re right,” said Jekyl. “Time to take our leave.”
“Bye-bye, Ruby,” said Tandy as they propelled Carmela down the hallway and away from Ruby Dumaine.
“Whew,” said Jekyl when they were out of earshot. “What was
that
all about?”
“I think the old bat’s been drinking absinthe,” said Tandy.
“Actually,” said Jekyl, “Ruby was drinking a French fizz. Pernod and champagne.”
“A hooker’s drink,” sniffed Tandy.
“This is such craziness!” said Carmela, still smarting from the nasty gossip Ruby had been so happy to spread. Her angst and frustration were obvious. What started out as a lovely evening had suddenly taken a nasty twist.
“Do you know what?” said Tandy in a low voice. “The insidious thing is that people
do
listen to Rhonda Lee.”
Jekyl’s face was suddenly lined with concern as he stared at Carmela. “They do,” he said. “Carmela, do you know if Shamus has a lawyer? A good one?”
“I don’t know. Probably,” said Carmela, recalling Shamus’s many phone conversations with the attorneys who were kept on retainer by his family’s Crescent City Bank.
Tandy gave a quick look around to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation. “Do you even
know
where Shamus is, Carmela?”
BOOK: Keepsake Crimes
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