Crepe Factor (29 page)

“You can't do that,” Jenny squealed.

“I can and I will,” Babcock said. “Unless you start talking.”

Jenny Jewel snapped her mouth shut and shook her head.

“Then I have no other recourse but to take you downtown in the back of a squad car . . .”

“No!” she screeched.

“And have you booked, photographed, and strip-searched.”

It was the strip search that did it, of course. Jenny Jewel began to weep copiously and moan like a banshee, but Babcock stood firm. Finally when she realized there was no way out, she said, “I want a deal.”

“You want a deal,” Babcock repeated. She'd finally stopped blubbering and managed to choke out four consecutive words.

“You see,” Carmela said. “She's morally flexible.

Jenny Jewel stared at them with hate-filled eyes. “I can't go to jail, I'd never survive.”

Babcock nodded. “Go ahead then.”

Jenny Jewel took a deep breath and said, “Martin Lash was the one who discovered the Gulf sturgeon. You know, from all his forays into the bayous. Harvesting the fish for caviar was his idea. But Lash needed money to, you know, to set up the pens and handle the extraction.”

“You mean destroy the fish,” Carmela said.

Jenny pulled her mouth into a hard line. “Whatever.”

“Keep talking,” Babcock urged.

“Anyway,” Jenny said, “Lash pulled Harvey and me into his scheme.” She threw pleading eyes at Babcock. “But Harvey was just the money man, the investor. We didn't
do
anything.”

Ava darted in and shook a finger at Jenny. “The money man is always the guilty one,” she cried. “Just look at Bernie Madoff.”

“Wait a minute,” Carmela said. “So Lash wasn't really an environmentalist?”

“Oh, he was,” Jenny said. “But he loved making money more than the bayou.”

“So Martin Lash was your partner,” Babcock said, “in the Jewel Caviar Company.”

Jenny looked wary. “He was at first . . . yes.”

Carmela swept in like an avenging angel. “But then you killed him,” she cried. She felt vindicated, being able to hurl those accusing words at Jenny.

Jenny's face turned dark and her mouth pulled into a feral snarl. “You don't understand. We had to do
something.
Lash started making impossible demands!”

“I do understand,” Babcock said. “He wanted a bigger piece of the pie. He wanted an additional cut of money.”

“He . . . he wanted it
all
,” Jenny hissed. “Martin Lash claimed that
he
was the mastermind, the brains behind the whole operation.”

“What about Trent Trueblood?” Carmela asked. “How did he figure into all of this? Did you kill him, too?”

Jenny gave a furtive look and then sought out Babcock's eyes. “Will you give me the same kind of deal? I cooperate in exchange for my testimony?”

“I'll do my best,” Babcock said.

“That whole incident was very unfortunate,” Jenny said. “But Harvey convinced me that Trueblood had to go, too.” She ducked her head nervously. “You see, Trueblood was building town houses down near the Gulf sturgeon pens and he was funding this huge water study. Somehow, he found out about the fish pens! He called Harvey and threatened to turn us in, to expose everything!”

“He threatened to turn you in? Just like that?”

Jenny's scrawny shoulders crept up to her ears. “Well, he wanted money.” She spat the word out like she was talking about camel dung. “He wanted a cut. A
huge
cut.” She shook her head. “I guess home sales haven't been so good lately.”

“You killed two men for money,” Carmela said.

“Well,” Jenny said. “It was a
lot
of money.”

A hand suddenly descended on Carmela's shoulder. She whirled around, only to find Quigg smiling at her, his warm hazel eyes dancing with excitement.

“You did it!” Quigg cried out joyously. “You solved Lash's murder!”

“How . . . how on earth did you find out?” Carmela stammered.

“Yeah,” Babcock said, his jaw barely moving. “Who let you in?”

“I've been here all along,” Quigg said. “Showcasing my wine.”

“I ran over and grabbed him,” Ava said, giving a mischievous smile. “I figured he deserved to share in the good news. He should know that his good name has been cleared.”

“Is that true?” Quigg focused on Babcock. “Am I really cleared?”

Babcock stood there stolidly. Looking like he'd rather hawk a rat, rather have his fingernails pulled out one by one.

Carmela nudged Babcock. “Tell him,” she said. “He deserves to know.”

Babcock grimaced. “As much as it pains me to say this, Mr. Brevard, you are officially off the hook for the murder of Martin Lash.”

“Thank you!” Quigg cried.

“The thanks should go to Carmela and her . . . ahem . . . rather unorthodox compadres here. They managed to locate the fish pens that were the source of all this mayhem.”

“We exposed the entire operation,” Ava said.

Babcock continued, “In the face of such overwhelming evidence, Mrs. Harvey Jewel has also given us what we believe is the beginning of a full confession. Of course, we need to take this to the district attorney and . . .”

But nobody was listening, they were cheering so loudly.

Quigg put his hands on Carmela's shoulders and gazed at her lovingly. “Babe . . . I could kiss you for this!”

Babcock hastily broke off his speech and said, “Oh no you don't, she's mine!”

Carmela gazed at him expectantly. “I am?”

“Was there ever a doubt?” he asked.

“Well . . . yeah.”

“Not in my mind,” Babcock said.

“Me neither,” Ava added.

“A toast,” Squirrel said. He grabbed a bottle of Perrier-Jouët champagne and began pouring flutes for everyone. “To true love.”

Quigg stared at Squirrel. “Who are you guys again?”

Ava jumped in to explain. “Squirrel and Moony are the
guys who helped us find the fish ponds.” She wrapped her arm around Squirrel and said, “This is Squirrel, and that handsome fella over there is Moony.”

“Looks like I'm much obliged to you boys,” Quigg said. “I owe you a ton of thanks.”

Squirrel actually blushed through his sunburn, but it was hard to tell which embarrassed him more—Quigg's compliment or Ava's semi–choke hold. As if he wanted in on the good vibrations, too, Cooter sauntered over and plopped down at his master's feet.

“Hey, whose dog?” Quigg asked. He glanced at Babcock. “Police dog? Drug sniffer?”

“Oh, hell no,” Babcock said.

“He's mine,” Squirrel said. “One of my bayou pooches.” He eyed Quigg carefully. “Say now, Ava tells me you own a restaurant right here in the French Quarter.”

“That's right,” Quigg said. “Mumbo Gumbo, one of the finest places you'd ever want to dine at. And if you ever want to enjoy dinner there, rest assured you'd be my special guests. Anything you want to eat, any wine you request.”

“We was wondering,” Moony said. “Do you know the fella who owns that place called Scarlett's Cabaret?”

“Well . . . sure,” Quigg said. “That's Raymie Savoy's place. But that bar is kind of a . . .”

“Have you got any juice there?” Squirrel asked.

“I do,” Quigg said. “But, you know, it's kind of a rough joint.”

“No problem,” Squirrel said, scratching his belly. “We'll fit right in.”

“In that case, I'd be happy to arrange for you to sit in the VIP section,” Quigg said. “Just let me know when you'd like to go.”

“Now?” Moony said.

Quigg grinned. “Well, why not?” He chuckled. “You know, boys, I just might come along with you.”

*   *   *

Babcock grabbed Carmela's elbow and steered her away from the crowd. “Carmela, we need to talk.”

“I know,” she said, a sinking feeling suddenly making her stomach ache. “We've had a pretty tough week, you and I.”

“What I've been thinking is . . .”

Carmela held up a hand. “I know. You want to break up with me.” Her voice was shaking now and she fought hard to control it. “I know I deserve this. I know I've been driving you crazy.” She blinked away tears as she gazed up at him. He was so good-looking, so dear to her, and now she'd let him slip away. “But if sometime . . . you could find it in your heart . . .”

Babcock shook his head. “That's not what I was going to say.”

“Oh.” Carmela stared at him, befuddled. “Then what . . . ?” Did he want to yell at her some more? Tell her what a fool she'd been? Well, fine, she'd go ahead and let him have at it. She knew she probably deserved it.

“I was going to say that maybe we should get married.”

Carmela's mouth literally dropped open. “What?” It came out more as a mouse squeak.

“What I was going to say was . . .”

Carmela waved a hand impatiently. “I got that already. Skip to the last part.”

“Maybe we should get married?” Babcock said.

“Edgar, you're scaring me. This isn't some kind of joke, is it?”

“No joke. You want me to get down on bended knee?”

Carmela thought about it. “No. That would be too weird.”

“What's weird is that we're arguing about this,” Babcock said.

“Are we?”

“Of course. Then again, we argue about everything.”

“So why would you want to marry me then?” Carmela asked.

Babcock squinted at her. “Because I love you?”

“I can't quite tell if that's a heartfelt declaration or a quasi-question.”

“A little of both, I guess.”

Carmela thought for a few moments. “If we did get married, nothing would change . . . right?”

“I never thought it would.”

“I wouldn't have to . . . oh, I don't know . . .” Carmela tried to think of some odious task, something Shamus would have expected her to do. “Do wifely things like cook stewed okra or clean the lint trap in the clothes dryer, would I?”

“I'm sure I can handle those particular things myself.”

“Then . . . okay. Yes, I will marry you.” Carmela's heart was thump-thump-thumping out of her chest with joy as she held up a finger. “But not this very moment in time. I really, really love you, but you have to give me, like . . . oh my gosh . . . maybe six months. Okay?”

Babcock grinned from ear to ear. “That's great, Carmela! Fantastic!” Then he hesitated. “Wait a minute. What's going to happen in six months?”

Carmela reached up, twined a hand in his hair, and pulled his face down to meet hers. She kissed him lightly on the lips and then gazed at him, a crooked smile lighting her face. “You never know,” she whispered. “You just never
know.”

Road Trip!

When creating a scrapbook page to showcase your most recent vacation, consider using a road map as your background. Tear a page from an old atlas or grab a car map and glue it on your page. Arrange your photos in a fun collage style and be sure to include ticket stubs, programs, hotel postcards, luggage tags, and other memorabilia you picked up on your trip.

Lollipop Flowers

Paper lollipop flowers are easy to make. Create a template for your flower petals and then cut out a dozen or so petals using tissue paper or crepe paper. Using a lollipop or Tootsie Pop as the center of your flower, tape the bottom of your petals to the
lollipop stick and then pull the petals into shape, fashioning a lovely rose or daisy. The lollipop sticks can then be attached to a stiff pipe cleaner if you want a longer stem. These make great favors for kids!

Journal Your Page

A scrapbook page doesn't necessarily have to have photos. You can also journal your scrapbook page. With colored pens and a few freehand doodles, tell a story about a visit with a special friend, a trip to the museum, or a solitary walk through the woods. You can use free verse, rhymes, or even create a kind of rebus, where drawings illustrate some of your words. Whatever you do, tell your story straight from the heart.

Collage with Paper Napkins

These days paper napkins come in the most elegant designs and patterns, making them perfect for creating a collage. Napkin designs feature Renaissance angels, Parisian street scenes, autumn motifs, bridal-inspired designs, and so much more. Even background motifs like an elegant paisley or floral design will work well in a collage. And a pack of paper napkins is often more affordable than fancy paper.

Wrap the Map

For fun and inspired gift wrap, tear out pages from an old road atlas or use a map. Imagine an art history book wrapped in a map depicting the streets of Rome. Or a wedding gift wrapped in a map of Jamaica, the honeymooners' destination. Use the map as you would wrapping paper and then tie an elegant gossamer bow around it!

Punch It Up

Sharpen your favorite paper punches that have gone dull by punching them through a piece of tinfoil a few times. Your punch will soon be crisp and sharp again.

Wedding Scrapbook

For a perfect wedding scrapbook, start with a theme. Hearts and flowers, elegant lace, your wedding venue, etc. Organize your photo of the big event and add short stories as well as captions. A photo of you walking down the aisle (or watching your daughter walk down the aisle) will be more memorable if you share your inner feelings (yes, goose bumps, heart thumping, and all the good
stuff!).