true feelings for him, Carmela felt a painful stab.
Chapter 5
G ABBY, Iâm so sorry about Saturday night,â Carmela apologized for about the twentieth time. âI should never have let you go out back by yourself.â
âCarmela, itâs okay, really,â said Gabby. âIâll get over it. I am over it.â
It was Monday morning. Gabby had shown up on time at nine oâclock, looking slightly subdued, but certainly no less enthusiastic about her job as Carmelaâs assistant.
âI was afraid Stuart wouldnât let you come back to work,â said Carmela. Gabbyâs husband of barely two years was a combination worrywart and hard-ass. Stuart was also, as Tandy whispered when Gabby was absent from the shop, a male chauvinist pig. Only Tandy never actually said the word, she just spelled it out: p-i-g.
âMy coming back to work here was an issue,â Gabby admitted. âBut I promised Stuart Iâd never venture into the back alley again, even during daytime hours.â Gabby grimaced. âStuartâs not particularly happy making that concession, but I wasnât about to give up a job I love.â Gabby adjusted her black velvet headband and nervously picked at a mythical speck of lint on her camel-colored sweater. âBesides, itâs not as though murder was a rare occurrence around here.â
Gabby was right. New Orleans was infamous for its nasty murder rate, and the French Quarter had always been a hotbed of trouble. Hot music, hot women, hot tempers.
Gabby smiled broadly. For her the issue was closed. âOkay to put the OPEN sign on the front door?â she asked Carmela as the phone on the front counter shrilled.
âPlease,â said Carmela.
Gabby flipped over the sign, then swiped at the telephone. âHello.â She listened for a few seconds, then held it out to Carmela. âItâs Tandy and sheâs super upset!â
âTandy,â said Carmela, taking the phone.
âThe police kept him until five in the morning and now theyâve called him in again,â said the tearful voice on the other end of the phone.
âYou mean Billy?â Carmela gasped. Of course Billy. Who else?
âItâs downright crazy,â shrilled Tandy. âInsane. Billy had absolutely nothing to do with Bartholomew Haywardâs death! You know that and so do I!â
âOf course he didnât,â said Carmela. âThe police are probably just trying to put together a possible timeline or something. Or theyâre quizzing Billy about acquaintances of Bartyâs, fishing around for possible suspects.â
âNo, theyâre not,â blubbered Tandy. âThey keep asking Billy about the latex gloves.â
âWhat about latex gloves?â asked Carmela.
âThe police found a box of them in Bartyâs workroom.â Tandy paused and there was a loud honk as she blew her nose. âCarmela, this is awful!â she cried. âThe police think that, just because they couldnât find any fingerprints, Billy might be involved!â
Billy Cobb involved? No way. Billy was a good kid. Bright, polite, upstanding. Right?
âHas Billy got an attorney?â asked Carmela. She knew that even if you were totally innocent, it was always smart to be represented by a crackerjack attorney. A lot of people learn that one the hard way.
âI already called Baby,â sniffled Tandy. âAnd Delâs agreed to represent Billy.â Babyâs husband, Del Fontaine, was a high-powered attorney and senior partner with the law firm Jackson, Fontaine & DeWitt.
âOkay, honey,â said Carmela. âLet us know if you hear anything.â
âI might be coming in later,â said Tandy.
âReally?â said Carmela, surprised by Tandyâs remark.
âThereâs nothing else to do right now,â said Tandy, her voice quavering wildly.
Twenty minutes later, Baby Fontaine and
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