Parchment and Old Lace

by Laura Childs

  Carmela introduced Ava to Drake, and then said, “I haven’t seen you since that awful night. I hope the police weren’t too rough on you.”

  Drake looked thoughtful for a moment. “I was understandably upset at first, but now I can see where they were coming from. They were chasing all over the place looking for some kind of deranged killer. And then they stumbled onto me.”

  “You actually don’t look that deranged,” Ava said.

  Drake fixed her with a goofy, menacing look, and then broke into a smile. “I don’t? Well, shucks.”

  Ellie gave Drake a grateful look. “Mr. Drake has been so kind. He called yesterday to see how I was doing and has been my shoulder to cry on tonight.”

  “Oh, sweetie,” Drake said to her.

  “No, really,” Ellie said. “You’ve been just wonderful. Running interference for me with Edward and Vesper.”

  “I just wish I could have been here last night,” Drake said. “I heard it was pretty awful.”

  “Oh well.” Ellie waved a hand. She seemed to be coping much better now. Carmela figured she was processing through the different stages of grief . . . denial, anger, bargaining, acceptance . . .

  “Edward’s a good guy,” Drake was telling them. “It’s his mother that’s completely animal crackers. But he knows it, so he takes all her antics with a grain of salt.”

  Really? Carmela wondered. Does he really?

  “I understand you’re in the casino business,” Carmela said to Drake.

  “I am,” Drake said.

  “He’s being way too modest,” Ellie said. “He’s the VP in charge of development for Consolidated Gaming.”

  “Is that right?” Ava said. “What exactly does that entail?”

  Drake smiled. “Right now I’m spearheading the effort to tear down the old Enchantment Amusement Park and build a sleek, new casino on that acreage.”

  “Wow,” Ava said.

  “The new Elysian Fields Casino will feature slots, table games, a bingo parlor, and a state-of-the-art thousand-seat dinner theatre,” Drake said, clearly eager to talk about his pet project.

  “That’s going to be a real boon to the local economy,” Carmela said. She’d just noticed Naomi Rattler ghosting past.

  “Good for state revenue, too,” Drake said. “By the time we’re up and running we’ll be adding millions of dollars to Louisiana’s coffers.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Ava said.

  “You know,” Drake said to Carmela, “we’re having an Elysian Fields Casino gala this coming Saturday. To celebrate the groundbreaking and all that. I tried to get Ellie to come, but she said no. But if you’d like to come as my guest. You . . .” His eyes traveled to Ava. “You and your friend would be most welcome.”

  “We’d love to come,” Ava said, jumping at the invite. “Wouldn’t we, Carmela?”

  “It sounds like fun,” Carmela said. She decided it might be a good way to keep an eye on Julian Drake. He was being supportive and sweet to Ellie, and he certainly acted like he had a pure and innocent heart. But . . . you never know. He had been near the cemetery that night.

  “Then it’s all settled,” Drake said.

  Carmela glanced around, looking for Naomi, but the girl had seemingly disappeared. Then her eyes settled on Edward Baudette. He was making his way through the crowded room, shaking hands, looking appropriately sad, and . . . headed her way.

  “Excuse me,” Carmela said, pulling herself away from the group and making a beeline for Edward. When she reached him, she grasped him by the upper arm and said, “Edward, how are you doing?”

  He gazed at her, that same strange, almost absent expression on his face, and said, “It’s Carmen, right?”

  Chapter 12

  CARMELA smiled tolerantly. “It’s Carmela. Carmela Bertrand. You remember, Ellie works at my friend Ava’s shop?”

  “Oh, that’s right.”

  “I talked to you a few minutes ago? I was here last night?” What an idiot.

  Edward nodded. “The coffin thing. Sure.”

  “How are you holding up?” Carmela asked.

  “Okay, I guess.” Edward glanced around. “This is all so horrible. So nightmarishly different from the way it should have been.”

  “Well . . . yes,” Carmela said.

  Edward’s eyes sought out Isabelle lying in her casket. “But she does look beautiful, doesn’t she? So beatific and peaceful.”

  “I suppose so.”

  A tear rolled down Edward’s cheek. “Still, this is just so wrong. Isabelle should be walking down the aisle in that dress holding a bouquet, not lying in a crappy coffin with a rosary entwined through her fingers.”

  “I’m so sorry for you,” Carmela said. “Though I must say she does look exquisite.”

  “I’ll always remember her just like this.”

  Really?

  “I take it Isabelle was a traditional bride?” Carmela asked. It was a quasi question-statement.

  “Yes, she was,” Edward said. “Naomi—you know her dear friend Naomi Rattler—she was always trying to convince Isabelle to wear a white lace jumpsuit or something super trendy. Or carry some kind of crazy bouquet made up of herbs and moss. But Isabelle wanted to wear a ball gown–style dress and a long veil and carry a bouquet of tea roses.”

  “So I’m guessing Isabelle was a girl who subscribed to the notion of ‘something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue’?” Now Carmela was fishing, feeling things out.

  “I suppose you could say that,” Edward said.

  “Do you recall what her ‘something old’ was?”

  Edward shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Isabelle never said anything to you about this?”

  “Not that I recall. Anyway, it’s almost too painful to think about with her lying here in a coffin.”

  “I know it is,” Carmela said. “And I feel horrible asking about this. But, please, see if you can remember anything. Anything at all.”

  Edward looked at her sideways. “It’s important?”

  “It could be,” Carmela said.

  A few moments went by, and then something seemed to click in Edward’s brain. “You’re trying to solve her murder, aren’t you?” He sounded guarded, maybe even a little nervous.

  “No,” Carmela said, backpedaling like crazy and trying to put a different spin on her words. “I’m just trying to be proactive. If I come up with anything, and I do mean anything, I intend to turn it over to the police.”

  “That so?” He looked like he wanted to believe her. Or not.

  “So, please, just try to think about this a little bit.”

  Edward squeezed his eyes shut and sighed deeply. He was quiet for such a long time that Carmela thought maybe he had fallen asleep. Then his eyes popped open.

  “I guess there was one thing,” he said. “Funny, I thought of it just now, because you were kind of pushing me.”

  Carmela leaned in close to him. “What’s that?”

  “When you bring up the ‘something old, something new’ bit, I remember now that Naomi had offered to help Isabelle with that.”

  “Naomi told you this?”

  “No,” Edward said. His eyes closed again. “Isabelle did.”

  “What exactly did Isabelle say?”

  “It was just, like, a throwaway remark,” Edward said. “We were talking about her diamond ring, how we’d finally gotten it sized correctly.”

  “Okay,” Carmela said.

  “Then Isabelle said something to the effect of ‘That’s the new.’ And when I said, ‘What do you mean?’ she said, ‘Oh, you know, like that old wedding adage.’ Only I don’t think she used the word adage, more like wedding poem or something.”

  “Sure,” Carmela said. Edward seemed to be remembering more and more.<
br />
  “Then Isabelle said that Naomi was going to take care of the old.” Edward stopped and his brows bunched together. “At the time, I thought she was talking about old friends, but it could have been something else, because now that I really think about it, now that you’re pressing me about this, Isabelle also said something about Naomi buying something at Dulcimer Antiques.” He blew out a glut of air and said, “That’s all I can think of. At the moment, anyway.”

  “That was good,” Carmela said. “You did real good.”

  * * *

  As Edward tottered off to rejoin his mother, Carmela glanced around for Ava. But instead of finding her friend, her eyes landed on a good-looking dark-haired man with steel blue eyes who had just entered the room as quietly and surreptitiously as possible. He wore a black leather jacket and faded blue jeans, and he sported longish hair that was pulled back in a low ponytail. He glanced about with guarded eyes and then crept slowly toward the bier that held Isabelle’s casket. He gazed at her for a moment, and then he bent solemnly and eased himself down onto the kneeler that was directly in front of the casket. Head bowed and hands clasped, he seemed lost in deep reflection.

  Ava came up alongside Carmela and prodded her with an elbow. “Who’s the hottie-patottie who just came skulking in?”

  “No idea.”

  “Well, somebody’s going to have to introduce us.” She raised an eyebrow at Carmela. When Carmela didn’t respond, Ava said, “Shoot, looks like I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.”

  Ava whisked across the room and knelt down next to the new mourner. Within five seconds Ava was chatting amiably with him.

  Carmela was amazed. The girl had set a new land speed record for flirting. And in a funeral home at that. Just inches from an open casket.

  But Ava wasn’t the only one who had an eye on the newcomer. As Ava laid a gentle flirt on him, Edward Baudette came storming up.

  “What are you doing here? How dare you!” Edward cried.

  The crowd hushed, with all attention suddenly focused on Edward and the new arrival.

  Ava was stunned, but the dark-haired man wasn’t. He stood up and faced Edward toe-to-toe. “This is a public venue,” the man declared, a slight menace coloring his voice. “I can certainly come in and mourn my old love.”

  The word love rippled through the room.

  “You’re not welcome here,” Edward seethed.

  As if in answer, the man turned and gazed at Isabelle. “Look at what you did,” he said to Edward in a low, accusing tone.

  “What I did?” Edward screamed. His eyes bulged and his face turned bright red. “Security! We need security here!”

  Carmela eased closer to see what the fuss was about. A mysterious stranger, perhaps even an old lover? She wanted to know more.

  For some reason, Edward suddenly turned his attention on Ava. “You know who this is?” he cried.

  “My date for tomorrow night?” Ava said. She adored being cutesy.

  “This is Oliver Slade, Isabelle’s old boyfriend,” Edward raged. “The one she dumped for me. The one who felt so betrayed by Isabelle that he stalked her incessantly.”

  “You’re a liar,” Slade cried. “I never stalked her.”

  “You most certainly did!” Edward shouted back.

  “Edward!” Now Vesper’s voice joined in the fray. “Edward, what’s going on?”

  “Nothing, Mother. Stay out of this.”

  “Mmn,” Ava murmured. “The plot thickens.”

  “Wait a minute,” Carmela said, suddenly cutting in. “Roll that tape backward for a moment. You said stalked?”

  “Yes, he did,” Edward insisted loudly. “As in calling Isabelle at all hours, sending her notes, and following her home at night.”

  “You’re a filthy liar!” Slade screamed.

  Carmela reached out and grabbed Ava by the arm, trying to pull her away. “Ava, come on, you don’t want to get involved with this guy.”

  But Ava wasn’t so sure. “I don’t?”

  Ellie was at their side in an instant. “You really don’t, Ava. Come on, listen to Edward, listen to Carmela.”

  “Unrequited love,” Ava murmured. But she let Carmela and Ellie pull her away all the same.

  Edward put his hands on Slade’s chest and gave a shove. “Listen, you creep. You better get out of here before I throw you out.”

  Slade’s response was loud and filled with anger. “You can’t make me leave.”

  Billy Bothell and another funeral home employee suddenly arrived at the scene of the squabble and tried to muscle their way between Edward and Slade. Billy was quiet, but firm. “That’s enough, gentlemen. Please, do not make us eject you from the premises.”

  That seemed to get through to the two men. Edward took a deep breath and stepped back. Slade seemed to dial his anger down a notch.

  “Sir,” Billy Bothell continued, addressing Oliver Slade, “this might be an opportune time for you to leave.”

  Slade hesitated a moment. He turned, took one last, lingering gaze at Isabelle, and then stalked out of the room. Carmela almost expected him to stop in the doorway and say, “I’ll be back,” à la The Terminator.

  The incident was over, but Ellie was shaking. “Why did he have to come here tonight?” she whimpered.

  Carmela and Ava led Ellie over to a sofa in the corner and handed her a packet of tissues.

  “After Isabelle and that Slade character broke up, I figured I’d never see him again,” Ellie cried. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Now Isabelle is dead and he still comes around.”

  “Who is he anyway?” Carmela asked.

  “He’s Chef Oliver Slade, the Chef Oliver Slade who is head chef at Le Fougasse, that hot new restaurant over on Magazine Street. The same chef who was written up in Food & Wine and cited by Food Lovers Magazine as one of the ten hottest chefs in the country.”

  “Wow,” Ava said. “Good-looking, famous, and he can cook. That’s a trifecta any woman would love.”

  “Maybe,” Ellie said. “But he had too much ego for my sister to handle. Plus he had a hard time letting her go.” She started to cry softly.

  “It sounds like he didn’t let her go,” Carmela said.

  “Yeah, it sounds like he still loved Isabelle,” Ava said as she eased herself down on the sofa. She slid a hand behind her back and said, “Ouch.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Carmela asked.

  “Ah, I think I threw my back out while I was trying to hold my stomach in,” Ava said.

  That made Ellie laugh a little.

  “See,” Ava said, “you’re feeling better already.”

  Ellie nodded. “I guess. Thanks to you two.” She wiped her nose and managed a half smile. “Thanks for coming tonight. It means a lot to me.”

  “And this has given me lots to think about,” Carmela said. She took Ellie’s hand and said, “I hate to ask this, but I have to. Was Isabelle ever involved in drugs?”

  Ellie looked shocked. “No. Why?”

  “Someone she worked with dropped some not-so-subtle innuendos,” Carmela said.

  “Isabelle didn’t. She wouldn’t.”

  “You word is good enough for me,” Carmela said. She stood up and smoothed her skirt.

  Ava leaned in and gave Ellie a hug, then stood up, too. “We’ll see you at the funeral tomorrow. You want us to stop by and pick you up?”

  “No, it’s okay,” Ellie said. “Edward promised to give me a ride.”

  “Okay then,” Carmela said. “You take care.”

  “What a crazy evening,” Ava said, as they headed for the exit. “Here I thought it would be all calm and sedate and it was like an episode of Jerry Springer.”

  “At least nobody threw a folding chair,” Carmela said. She held up a hand as they stepped into the lobby. “Whoa, wa
it a minute. There’s Naomi. I gotta talk to her.” She waved a hand. “Naomi. Hold up a minute.”

  Naomi Rattler, who was just about ready to step outside, turned to see who was calling her name. When she saw Carmela, she pursed her lips in an unhappy grimace.

  I’m not happy to see you, either, Carmela thought to herself.

  “What’s up?” Naomi asked. Then, “This has been a difficult night for me. Whatever you want, please make it quick.”

  “I think it’s been a difficult night for everyone,” Carmela said. “But I need to ask you a quick question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Edward told me that you were helping Isabelle put together the ‘something old, something new’ part of her wedding trousseau.”

  Naomi waved a hand dismissively. “Oh that. It was nothing.”

  “It had to be something,” Carmela said.

  “Not really. I mean, it’s not going to happen now, so . . .” She shrugged.

  “Edward told me you were quite involved.”

  Naomi looked upset. “He did? Edward told you that?”

  Carmela nodded. “He said you bought something or were going to buy something at Dulcimer Antiques?”

  Naomi pulled a petulant face. “If you must know, it was an antique veil. I bought it for Isabelle because she asked me to. That’s what she wanted for her ‘something old.’”

  Carmela’s eyes opened wide. “A lace veil?”

  Now Naomi was just plain snippy. “Last time I looked most veils were made of lace.”

  “I suppose you’re right. Where is it now? I’d love to take a look at it. Antique lace is always so beautiful.”

  “I have no idea,” Naomi said. “Besides, what does it matter? And why are you bothering me?” And with that, Naomi turned and darted out the door.

  Ava sidled up next to her. “Friendly sort, isn’t she?”

  “Naomi is like fingernails on chalkboard.”

  “You know what?” Ava said. “We should go have ourselves a nice refreshing cocktail.”

  Carmela sighed. “We’ve got a funeral to attend tomorrow.”

  Ava nodded. “Which is exactly why we need a cocktail.”