Gossamer Ghost (25 page)

“What . . . what do you want to know?” Charlie stammered.

Carmela came at him like a snapping turtle. “Anything you can tell us!”

“Well,” said Charlie. “It appears there might have been more of a struggle than we initially thought.”

“How so?” asked Carmela.

“The vic's clothing was extremely ripped and disheveled.”

“Interesting,” said Carmela. So Joubert had struggled mightily to fight off his assassin. “What else?”

“Trading secrets?” a familiar male voice teased.

Carmela jumped like a scalded cat. Then she whirled around as Babcock's arm encircled her waist.

“We wouldn't do that,” Carmela told him.

Babcock flashed her an easy grin. “Sure you would.”

Ava came to Carmela's rescue. She poked an index finger into Babcock's starched white shirt. “You. Are late.”

He gave her a wink. “But I'm here now. All dressed up with no . . . wait, I
do
have someplace to go.” He took Carmela gently by the arm. “Namely the dance floor.” He spun her out into a crowd of slow-dancing partiers.

Carmela nestled close to him as they danced. “I was afraid you weren't going to show up.”

He smiled down at her. “Really? Even after I sent a big-time limo to pick you up?”

“That was nice,” Carmela admitted. She relaxed in his arms, enjoying the music, the closeness, the background chatter and party atmosphere. There were plenty of fancy balls held in New Orleans all year round. But this one, the Pumpkins and Bumpkins Ball, was one of her favorites. It was dressy but not as seriously dressy or high society as some of the Mardi Gras balls or major charity balls. In other words, the pressure was off.

When the music ended, Babcock kissed the tip of her nose, then his lips traveled downward.

So nice
, Carmela thought as he kissed her full on the lips.
So lovely.

And then, out of nowhere, “I've got someone I need to talk to,” Babcock told her.

“Here? Now?” She couldn't quite believe it.

Babcock smiled his crooked grin.

“You're serious?” said Carmela. “You're still on the job?”

“I'm always on the job.” He was leading her to one of the hors d'oeuvres stations where fancy cheeses and smoked oysters beckoned.

“No,” said Carmela.

“Ten minutes,” said Babcock. He hesitated, his blue eyes staring at her with great intensity.

“Okay,” Carmela relented. She had just spotted Jekyl scooping up an inordinately huge amount of shrimp dip onto his cracker. “I'll go talk to Jekyl over there. Maybe lure him out onto the dance floor, too.”

“Ten minutes,” Babcock said as he slipped away.

J
EKYL
was dressed in a purple velvet jacket with shiny black lapels that may or may not have been genuine stingray. His slacks were a pale gray and his shoes high-gloss Gucci loafers.

“You're like Babcock,” Carmela told him, pointing to his shoes. “Always with the spendy footwear.”

“That's because I have terrible feet,” said Jekyl. “So I'm forced to buy expensive Italian or British shoes.” As if to explain, he lifted one foot off the floor. “I have extraordinarily high arches. Do you know how difficult it is to walk around with high arches?”

Carmela smiled tolerantly. She knew Jekyl enjoyed his upper-crust tastes. “Do you know how difficult it is to walk around in four-inch-high stilettos?”

Jekyl just smiled and popped another cracker into his mouth. “So what's up? You look fab as always, sweetums. Is that gown new?”

“Old. But thanks anyway. Did you have a chance to check on that necklace?”

Jekyl dusted his hands together. “I did. And I didn't find a goldarned thing that would indicate your precious borrowed necklace was stolen goods.”

“So that's good.”
Good goods.

Jekyl held up a finger. “That doesn't necessarily mean that it's not stolen.”

“Then it's not good news. So where does that leave us?”

“First thing tomorrow I'm going to check a couple of other resources.”

“Thank you,” said Carmela. She touched his shoulder just as her cell phone chimed. “And Jekyl, please don't breathe a word of this to anyone, okay? This is just a silly little hunch that I'm following up. It'll probably turn out to be a wild-goose chase.”

Jekyl just smiled benignly at her.

She pulled out her phone. “Jekyl . . . are you listening? I don't want the countess to know a thing about this.”

“Mum's the word,” he finally said.

Carmela turned away from him and said, “Yes?” The screen on her phone had indicated
Unidentified Caller
and she wondered briefly if there had been some sort of trouble at her shop. Or something else?

“Hello?” said a soft voice.

“Yes?” Carmela said again.

“Miss Bertrand?” Now the voice was so low it could barely be heard above a loud crackling noise.

Bad connection.

Carmela was only steps from a doorway, so she stepped out into a dimly lit hallway, hoping to find a quieter spot.

“Hello?” she said as she walked down the long, carpeted hallway. It was practically deserted here. And quite a bit cooler, too. “Hello?” she said again. Now she stepped through a puddle of light into a dim area that led to an outdoor patio. When she passed a door marked
Utility Closet
,
she said, “I can hear you a little better now. Are you still there?”

“This is very important,” said the voice. Whoever it was sounded nervous and very upset. “Can you hear me?” Unfortunately, there was still a loud crackling on the line.

“I'm trying,” said Carmela. “Just give me a minute.” She walked farther down the hallway and stood next to a large linen cart. “Hello? Do we have a connection now?”

She heard nothing but dead air.

Carmela sighed heavily.
Just my luck.

Just as she was about to hang up, a shadow seemed to materialize from the doorway across from her.

“Oh!” she said, surprised that someone was even there. Then she had a fleeting impression of something scary and green lunging at her, and then a dimly lit figure put a hand at the base of her throat and shoved her up against the wall. Hard enough to shake her up and make her teeth rattle.

Stunned beyond belief, feeling like a terrified butterfly held in place with a stick pin, Carmela stared wide-eyed at her attacker.

Green bug eyes glared back at her!

A mask? Has to be a mask. A costume!

“Who are you?” Carmela cried out. “What do you want?” But the bug-eyed man wearing a scaly-looking green alien suit just shook his head.

“Quiet,” he growled. “Shut up and listen.”

She fought hard to push his hand away, her fingertips flailing against his rubber suit. “Get away from me, you jerk, before I scream my head off! Do you know who my . . . ?”

This time her attacker clamped his rubber-clad hand directly over her mouth, cutting off her words.

Carmela fought back with renewed fervor, chewing at his hand, clawing at him desperately, trying to bang him in the head with the phone that was still clutched in her hand. But the green alien was too strong for her; he towered above her and outweighed her by easily seventy pounds.

Not a fair match
, Carmela thought as she seethed inwardly.

The horrible green mask and bug-like body leaned even closer, smashing against her, practically choking off her breathing.

“Leave it alone,” the green alien hissed.

Carmela could see the edges of his rubber mask vibrating as he spewed out his threat. His breath was a lethal combination of beer, cheeseburgers, and garlic.

“What are you talking about?” Carmela managed to stammer. Her mind was an angry blur. “Leave
what
alone?”

“All your investigating. Stop being so nosy. Otherwise you and your cop friend are going to get hurt!”

“What?” she cried. “What are you . . . ?” But he'd pressed his hand tight against her lips once again.

“Listen to me,” he snarled. “Now you are going to stand here like a good little girl and slowly count to one hundred. You are not going to scream or run. You are not going to
move
.”
With that, the green alien gave her a final shove and dashed down the hallway.

Carmela, shaking with anger, quivering from too much adrenaline juicing through her veins, was too stunned to do anything at all.

Except use her phone. In a split second, she aimed it, one-handedly, toward the green alien's back as he streaked down the corridor. And snapped his picture.

Now what? Gotta think.

Carmela knew she was experiencing a mild form of shock, but realized she had to do something to jump-start her brain. She had to think hard and take something away from this hideous encounter. Something she could use later. Something she could use to catch this horrible person!

Who had he been? Carmela wondered. And what exactly had he said to her?

Back off. He told me to back off.

Had the green alien been warning her to back off on the Oddities investigation? Or did his words have something to do with the countess and her jewelry?

Carmela touched a hand to her throat where the horrible green alien had touched her. Inches below she could feel her heart beating frantically like the wings of a dove.

Could the green alien have been one of Titus Duval's minions? Had he figured out that she and Ava had snuck into his home last night?

Or was he one of Johnny Sparks's henchmen? Had her visit to the pawn shop the other day set off some kind of trip wire?

Carmela's first instinct was to run screaming to Babcock. Rush into the safety of his arms and plead and beg him to put out an all-points bulletin on this crazy person who had just accosted her.

No, I can't do that.

Once again, she knew that if Babcock had any inkling that she was in physical danger, he'd put her in lockdown. Station armed guards all around her shop and apartment.

No, she had to tough this out by herself. She had to go back into the ballroom, find Babcock, and try to pretend this never happened. For now.

Later she would try to figure this out.

Because in one part of her mind—the part Carmela kept secret, the part where she harbored her talent for investigating and for exacting revenge—she knew she had just gazed upon a huge, hulking clue.

An actual physical threat, like the one she'd just experienced, surely meant that someone—probably Joubert's killer—was worried and very, very desperate!

Carmela walked slowly down the corridor, struggling to mentally and physically pull herself back together. The music was coming to her loud and clear now, and she could hear the jubilant voices of hundreds of revelers.

Then she drew a deep breath, as everything snapped back into focus for her, and she walked into the ballroom.

*   *   *

It was after 1:00
A.M.
when Carmela finally tumbled into her apartment. Babcock had taken her to Antoine's for a late dinner of grilled pompano, and then they'd hooked up with some friends and gone to Bombay Club to listen to music. She'd kept up a good front, laughing and joking with the group. But, all the while, her mind had darkly ruminated over her various suspects and the possible meaning of her earlier encounter.

Now she was tired and dragging, ready to hit the sack.

Carmela tossed her beaded bag onto the counter, kicked off her shoes, and let the dogs out into the courtyard.

Just as she pulled a bottle of spring water from the refrigerator, the dogs started barking wildly and the phone shrilled.

Now what?

Carmela grabbed up the phone even as she rushed to the door to try and shush the dogs. “Hello?”

It was Ava and she was hysterical.

“
Cher
, I've been trying to call you! I need you to get over here right away!”

The dogs came thundering in past Carmela, practically clipping her knees. “Ava, what's wrong?”

There was a loud hiccup and a half sob, and then Ava said, “Somebody broke into my shop!”

Carmela felt the breath being sucked out of her. “Is it bad?”
What am I thinking? Of course it's bad.
“Has the place been trashed?”

“Better you should come and see.” Ava's voice sounded thready and choked. “Can you? Come, I mean?”

“On my way.”

Thirty seconds later, Carmela dove through the back door into Ava's shop.

It wasn't good. In fact, Juju Voodoo was a mess. Broken candles were strewn across the floor, skeletons had been pulled down from their perches, shattered bottles lay everywhere.

“Look at this,” Ava cried. “My skull candles are smashed to smithereens, all my jewelry has been knocked down, and there are perfumed oils and incense spilled all over the place! My sandalwood, my patchouli, even my sage clusters.”

Carmela took a tentative sniff and sneezed loudly. “You're right, this place smells like a cross between a requiem mass and a hippie colony.”

Ava almost laughed, but instead let out a sob. “The thing is . . .”

Carmela interrupted. “Who would do this? What's the motive? Was it a robbery? Was all your cash stolen?” She machine-gunned questions at Ava.

“Maybe around thirty bucks from the register,” said Ava. “The rest is still locked in the safe. But the mess and the money aren't the worst of it!” She pointed to a scrawl of red paint on top of the wooden counter. “Look at that!”

Carmela tiptoed forward and cocked her head to one side. Someone had dipped their finger in red paint and printed out the words
Back off
.

The words chilled her. It was exactly what the green alien had said to her a few hours ago. Doggone it.

“Back off from what?” Carmela muttered to herself.
Could it be the same person? Had the green alien put in an unwelcome appearance here, too?

Ava stared at her with dark, tear-filled eyes. “
Cher
, I think this warning was meant for you.”

Carmela's thoughts were definitely focused on the green alien. And on Johnny Sparks, who'd been here just this afternoon. As her thoughts congealed, her eyes turned to ice chips and her jaw hardened.

Ava continued to stare at her. “Because you're the one who's been, like, investigating.” She paused and frowned. “Carmela, is something wrong?”

Carmela gazed at Ava, who looked beyond traumatized. She gripped her hand and said, “Honey, I think you might be right about this.”

“Really?”

Carmela quickly told Ava about the big green alien who'd cornered her in the hallway at the Pumpkins and Bumpkins Ball. And about his harsh, no-holds-barred warning.

“Dear Lord,” said Ava, quickly making the sign of the cross. “So somebody really
is
serious about stopping this investigation. Did you tell Babcock?”

“No, because then he'd up and have a coronary.”

“Did you get an inkling as to who this green alien might be?”

“I don't have a clue.” Actually Carmela
did
have a tiny clue. She'd remembered that Boyd Bellamy had been dressed in green slacks this evening. Could he have been the green alien? It was possible. Then again, anything was possible.

A few more tears spilled down Ava's cheeks as she gazed about her shop. “And I was supposed to be open tomorrow morning. And stay open until at least one o'clock. Oh man, now I won't be able to go to the Zombie Chase with you. And I was really looking forward to that!”

“Please, don't worry,” Carmela assured her. “I'll help you clean up this mess. We'll get Juju Voodoo shipshape in no time at all.”