Gossamer Ghost (15 page)

“Old etchings are always interesting. Particularly if they depict scenes around New Orleans. And I'm partial to—”

Carmela's phone shrilled loudly, interrupting their conversation. Sparks glanced at her phone, a look of sheer annoyance on his face, then his eyes suddenly widened in surprise.

“Excuse me a min—” Carmela started to say.

Quick as a whip, Sparks's hand shot out and swooped the phone up off the counter.

But not before Carmela saw the caller ID light up. It said
NOPD
Babcock.

Sparks's eyes narrowed and his mouth pulled into a wolfish snarl. “Say now,” he hissed. “Just what the heck is going on here?”

Carmela reached out and grabbed her phone away from him. “What are you talking about?”

“You can't fool me, girlie,” said Sparks. “I saw the caller ID on your phone.”

“So what?” said Carmela.

“You with the cops?” said Sparks. “Are you guys trying to run a sting on me? If you are, you better believe I'm gonna phone my lawyer!”

His loud voice had roused Tarantula Lady from her magazine. “What's wrong, Johnny?” she called out. “Want me to call the cops?”

“Go ahead and call the cops,” said Carmela.

“Johnny?” Tarantula Lady sang out again. “Everything okay?”

“Johnny's just fine,” said Carmela as she eased herself away from the counter. “I was just leaving.”

“You got that right,” said Sparks. “And don't come back!”

G
ABBY
fussed about at the back table, laying out plaster bandages, a box of plastic straws, and several small plastic spray bottles filled with water.

“Where did you run off to?” she asked Carmela.

“Um . . . Sparks Pawn Shop.”

“Sounds awful.”

“It was,” said Carmela. She was trying to shake the queasy feeling that lingered from her encounter with Johnny Sparks. He was scummy all right. The question was, could the man also be a killer?

“I'm still kind of spooked about this whole thing,” Gabby said as she unwrapped a second box of plaster bandages.

“You mean about our Death Mask class?” Carmela measured out a piece of pink gossamer ribbon she was going to add to a cylindrical gift box she'd made using purple cardstock and some tricky origami techniques.

“Well . . . yes. Somehow it seems in poor taste.”

“Probably because it is,” Carmela chuckled. She thought for a moment, then said, “You know what, Gabby? It's really just good fun. We're coming up on Halloween, for gosh sakes. We've endured Zom Proms and vampire cams, and Ava's Haunted Cemetery Walk is coming up in a couple of days. Heck, I'm even going to ride the Ghost Train on Friday night.”

“I suppose,” said Gabby. Her nose twitched as she considered Carmela's words. “The Ghost Train actually sounds like the
least
bizarre of all this week's activities.”

“Let's hope it is.”

Carmela finished her gift box, carried it to the front window, and did a little rearranging of her display. She decided to group the memory boxes together, put the tags up front and, oh, she had two velvet clutch bags that she'd decorated with gold rubber-stamped images. So they should enjoy a prominent place, too.

Just as she was moving a miniature Halloween triptych, her would-be mask makers came tripping through the front door. Baby, Tandy, and Tandy's daughter-in-law.

“Car-
mel
-a!” Tandy called out. “You remember Julie Bergeron, don't you? My dear, sweet daughter-in-law.”

“Don't be fooled, that's what Tandy says about all her daughters-in-law,” said Julie, grinning at Carmela. She was tall, blond, and athletic, with ice blue eyes. She looked, Carmela decided, like she should be competing in the Winter Olympics, riding a luge downhill at breakneck speed, instead of being a stay-at-home mom who homeschooled her three little ones.

Then Gabby came rushing up to greet everyone and there was a brief flurry of children's photos being passed around and a cacophony of “ooh”s and “isn't she sweet.”

When the niceties had been taken care of, Carmela led her group back to the craft table.

“How's the party coming along?” Carmela asked Baby. Her blowout of a Halloween party was happening tomorrow night.

“Everything's pretty much ready,” said Baby. “Catering, décor, and music.” She eyed the table where all the supplies were laid out. “Except we could still use a couple of masks.”

“Then let's get to it,” said Carmela. “Who wants to be our first guinea pig?”

Tandy immediately raised a hand. “Me.”

“Okay, sweetie,” said Carmela. She pulled out a chair for her. “Sit down right here and we'll get started. “I hope you're not wearing too much makeup.”

“Why?” said Tandy, as Carmela slipped a shower cap over her red hair.

“Because I'm going to smear your face with Vaseline, that's why,” said Carmela. She dipped a finger into the jar and smoothed a gob of the clear jelly across Tandy's forehead. Then she smeared Tandy's nose, cheeks, and jaw.

“That's not so bad,” said Tandy. “Just feels a little gooey.”

“Close your eyes,” said Carmela.

“Uh-oh,” said Julie, as Tandy obliged. “Here comes the tough stuff.”

“I gotta
keep
'em closed?” asked Tandy.

‘That's right,” said Carmela. She took a plastic straw, snipped off a couple of two-inch lengths, and carefully inserted them into Tandy's nose.

“Arggh!” said Tandy, giving a snort. “That feels weird. Tickles.”

Carmela patted her shoulder. “Try not to talk.”

“Or move,” said Baby, who was enjoying this spectacle immensely.

Carmela took her plaster bandages, dipped them into a bowl of water, squeezed them out gently, and started in earnest. “I'm going to make an
X
across Tandy's nose,” she said, laying two smaller bandages down, “and then build from there.” She proceeded to add layer after layer of plaster bandages, then spritz them with water. “Notice, you have to pay special attention to all the facial features. The nose and eyebrows especially, gently pinching them into ridges as you go along.”

There was another muffled exhalation from Tandy and the heels of her loafers drummed against the wooden floor.

“Easy now,” said Carmela. She smoothed the bandages around the sides of Tandy's face, adding another layer here and there, wherever it was needed.

“This is fascinating,” said Baby, picking up one of the spray bottles and giving Tandy's face a spritz. “And once you're done . . . well, how long does the plaster have to set?”

“About fifteen minutes,” said Carmela.

“You hear that?” Baby asked Tandy.

There was a muffled reply that was either “Yes” or “Help.”

When fifteen minutes had passed, Carmela tapped the mask with a fingertip. It felt good. Maybe a trifle damp still, but it wouldn't take more than a few minutes longer for the mask to be completely set. “Tandy, what I need you to do now is wiggle your face a little. Smile, frown, even twitch your nose if you can.”

Tandy nodded and, five seconds later, with some gentle guidance from Carmela, the mask popped free.

“I'm never doing
that
again,” Tandy declared. She was wild-eyed and pink-faced.

“Yes, you are,” said Julie. “Because I want to do one of you, too.”

Tandy wiped a hand across her forehead. “Whew. That was downright claustrophobic. I'm shaking like crazy, I think my nerve and my blood sugar plummeted at the exact same moment.”

“How about an ice cream sandwich?” Gabby offered. “To help make things better.”

“Really?” said Tandy, her good humor flooding back. “What kind?”

“The best kind,” said Gabby. “Homemade. Carmela made 'em. She layered butterscotch ice cream between pieces of fresh-baked shortbread.”

“Sounds delish,” said Tandy, brushing at her cheek to dislodge a remnant of plaster.

Gabby dug into their tiny freezer and distributed the ice cream sandwiches. As the women munched happily, Baby said, “Now what? I mean, what do you do with the mask now that it's practically dry?”

“That's the fun part,” Carmela told her. “The creative part. First you refine your mask by rubbing it with fine-grain sandpaper, getting rid of any extraneous lumps or bumps. Then you decorate it, paint it, or do a kind of decoupage by adding strips of colored paper or even gold tissue paper.”

“Neat,” said Baby.

“Ooh,” said Tandy. Her eyes went wide as she suddenly put a hand to her forehead.

“What's going on?” asked Baby. “You trying to read our minds?”

“No,” said Tandy. “This ice cream is so cold I think I'm having a brain seizure.”

“A Mr. Misty headache,” said Carmela.

Gabby handed Tandy a bottle of water. “Here, drink this. A sip of water makes it all go away.”

Tandy took a glug. Then she stopped, burped, and smiled. “You're right.”

Baby was still nibbling daintily at the last of her ice cream sandwich. “You know all the brouhaha that's been going on over that missing death mask?”

“Yeeees?” said Carmela.

“Guess which one of my neighbors has a couple of death masks hanging in his home?” said Baby.

All eyes were suddenly focused on her, especially Carmela's.

“Who?” Gabby asked.

“Titus Duval,” said Baby. She looked pleased with her announcement.

“Seriously?” said Carmela. It felt like her world had just tilted on its axis. Titus Duval was the wealthy collector that Marcus Joubert had been meeting with that same fateful night the Napoleon death mask had been stolen from the Dallas collector. And if Duval was also a collector of masks, could he have been part of that robbery? Obviously, she had lots more probing and digging to do.

“The masks are hung in his house?” asked Carmela.

“They're part of his so-called art collection,” said Baby.

“What kind of death masks are they?” Gabby asked. She glanced nervously at Carmela. “Or should I say who are they?”

“I've never seen them firsthand,” said Baby, “but I understand that one is a former U.S. president.”

“Now there's a definite creep factor,” said Gabby.

“And I heard another mask was of a famous Hollywood director,” put in Tandy. She tried to grin but her face was still so stiff her expression was more of a grimace.

Which was exactly how Carmela suddenly felt.

*   *   *

“Carmela?” A small voice suddenly broke their stunned silence.

Carmela turned in her chair to find Mavis Sweet standing a few feet away and smiling tentatively at her.

“Mavis,” Carmela said. “How are you?” She hadn't heard Mavis creep in. On the other hand, she'd just been knocked for a loop by the revelation of Duval's death masks.

Mavis gave a halfhearted shrug. “I'm okay.” She gestured with her thumb. “I was just next door, packing up the last of the boxes. I thought I'd pop in and say hello.”

Carmela stood up from her chair. “Mavis, you know everyone here, don't you? Gabby and Tandy and Baby. Oh, and this is Julie, Tandy's daughter-in-law.”

Mavis gave a nervous wave. “Hi, everybody.”

“I'm so sorry about all your troubles,” said Baby. “The death of your employer . . . the closing of your shop.”

“Thank you.” Mavis reached up and twisted a hank of her hair. She looked nervous, as if she wished the earth would open up and swallow her for good. “Carmela, I just wanted to remind you about the memorial service tomorrow?” It came out as a question. Obviously she was still hoping that Carmela would attend.

“What time is it going to be?” Carmela asked. She had every intention of showing up. How could she not? This poor girl was beside herself.

“Ten o'clock,” said Mavis. She started to back away from the group.

“Mavis,” said Baby, “if there's anything I can do to help . . .” Baby wasn't just a New Orleans socialite, she was kindhearted and charitable, too. And not just the check-writing kind of charity.

“That's very kind of you,” Mavis murmured.

“In fact,” Baby continued, “I'd love it if you came to my Halloween party tomorrow night.” She smiled kindly. “It might help take your mind off things and do you a world of good to get out for a while.” Baby fully subscribed to the good-to-get-out-of-the-house school of thinking.

Carmela imagined Mavis sitting all alone in that awful, tacky house of hers and her heart swelled at Baby's kindness.

At the same time, Mavis's eyes lit up and her demeanor shifted to one of interest and happiness. “Oh, my goodness. I'd
love
to come. That's so kind of you.”

Carmela put an arm around Mavis's shoulders and led her back through the shop.

“She's so nice,” Mavis whispered. “Did she really mean it?”

Carmela smiled. “Of course she did. And it's a costume party, a masquerade, so we'll all expect you to wear a grand costume and be front and center tomorrow night.”

“Wow.” Mavis seemed suddenly energized.

“So the packing's almost done?” Carmela asked.

“Almost.”

“Is Boyd Bellamy still pressuring you?”

Mavis made a face. “He dropped by a while ago. I think he enjoys making me cry.”

“He enjoys making grown men cry,” said Carmela. She stopped and faced Mavis. “Listen, have you found any paperwork yet that relates to that death mask?”

Mavis shook her head. “No.”

“And you looked through all of Joubert's records?”

“I've been through everything,” said Mavis. She hesitated. “Why do you think it's so important?”

“Because it's still critical to work out the provenance of that death mask,” said Carmela. “I don't know what the ramifications are if it turns out the mask
was
stolen from that Dallas collector . . .”

“I'm sure it wasn't,” said Mavis.

Carmela held up a finger. “Hear me out, please. If it was, that collector could launch a claim against Oddities. Against what remains of the estate.”

Mavis worked her upper front teeth against her lower lip. “That doesn't sound good.”

“It's not good. Especially if you still have faint hopes of opening a shop of your own. Depending, of course, on whatever agreement you work out with the sister.”