Chapter 10

GRAND Folly Costume Shop glowed like a theater marquee as overhead pinpoint spotlights bounced and reflected off racks of glitzy, glamorous costumes. Sequins, spangles, and gold lame seemed to be the watchword. On shelves overhead, plastic, faceless heads showcased hats, wigs, tiaras, and crowns of every style and color. Amid all this faux splendor, the smell of mothballs, cigarettes, and cleaning fluid hung redolent in the air.

“You think this is a good idea?” asked Carmela. She wasn't sure they would be able to waltz right in and locate Remy.

“It's worth a try, cher,” replied Ava. “Besides, we need costumes for Baby's party tomorrow night.”

“I thought you were going to wear your Cleopatra costume,” said Carmela. “The one with the little rubber asp sewn right into the bodice. And I had my Spider-Woman thing all planned out.”

Ava shrugged. “As far as I'm concerned, old Cleo's been there, done that. I say it's time for something new. And after trying on all those couture dresses at Moda Chadron, I'm definitely in the mood for something super sexy.”

Carmela took in the hodgepodge of inventory. “If we can possibly find it,” she said.

A young man stood at the counter, sorting through a pile of costumes. His black hair was pulled back into a ponytail that fell below his shoulders, and his nails were painted black to match. Ripped jeans, a sleeveless black AC/DC

T-shirt, and a wide belt studded with silver completed his outfit. He looked up as Ava and Carmela moved toward him, looking around, fingering various costumes.

“Comment ga va?” he asked in a Cajun French accent. How's it going?

“We're here to find a costume,” said Ava, flashing one of her dazzling, high-voltage smiles.

Unswayed, the man behind the counter just stared back at her.

Ava approached the counter and leaned forward. “So, how exactly does your system work?”

The man scratched his head and yawned. “You look around, find what you want.”

Ava was going to say more, but Carmela cut in. “Do you have any Venetian-style costumes? You know, Italian gilt robes and masks?”

“Beth!” the man yelled suddenly, startling Carmela and Ava.

A soft voice floated back, muffled, obviously coming from the rear of the store. “Remy, what do you want? I'm helping someone.” Anger and frustration seemed to taint the girl's words.

“Costumes are all over the place, dressing rooms are in back,” Remy told them. “You got questions, go back and ask Beth. She'll help.” He reached over toward the cash register and picked up a pack of Marlboros. “I'll be back. Excuse mon.” And he left.

Carmela and Ava exchanged conspiratorial glances.

“That was him!” hissed Ava. “Can you believe Amber actually went out with him?”

“I can't believe anyone would go out with him,” said Carmela. “He seems rude, crude, and . . .”

“Probably lewd,” finished Ava. “So now what?”

“Look around, I guess,” said Carmela. “Try to talk to him when he comes back.”

“Maybe we should ask this Beth about him?” said Ava.

“Excellent idea,” said Carmela. Glancing around, she noticed that the costumes seemed to be arranged by category. Movie star, showgirl, monster, historical, and so on. Elbowing her way down one narrow aisle, she saw that Las Vegas showgirl outfits filled almost two full racks. Curious, she pulled out one of the outfits for a better look, then decided she could probably read her watch through the flimsy flesh-colored body suit. Yikes, who wears this stuff? she wondered.

The next section contained hangers with G-strings, sequined thongs, and some unusual fringed items that Carmela couldn't figure out how to put on. Maybe a puzzle master or a contortionist could solve the mystery, but her perceptual skills were starting to ache, just looking at them.

Carmela glanced up to see Ava racing toward her carrying a full-length gown. A feather boa fluttered over one shoulder.

“Look at the great costume I found!” Ava plucked at Carmela's sleeve, urging her toward the back of the store. “I just gotta try this on!” she whispered excitedly.

Beth, a tired-looking young woman with pale skin and bright pink hair, was stacking boxes at the back of the store.”You want to try that on,” she said to Ava, more a statement than a question.

“Love to,” said Ava. She turned to Carmela. “And Carmela, I expect you to try something as well.”

“Carmela?” came a sudden, screeching voice from behind a dressing room door. “Carmela?”

Carmela and Ava stared at each other in horror.

“Is there a parrot in here?” Ava asked Beth.

Her pink hair moved back and forth imperceptibly. “Nope.”

“An escaped banshee, perhaps?” persisted Ava.

Beth squinted at her. “You mean like a ghostly presence?”

“I was thinking more in terms of ghastly,” replied Ava.

There was a loud rustle, then a flimsy, slatted wooden door crashed open to reveal an enormous woman encased in a tight, spangled dress. Glowering at them with hard, dark eyes, the woman's hysterical voice shrieked, “Carmela? Carmela? What are you doing here?”

“Glory?” said Carmela, not quite believing her eyes. Glory Meechum was Shamus's older sister and the matriarch of the Meechum family. She was overprotective, overbearing, and, tonight, quite bizarrely overdressed. Usually clad in splotchy print dresses or boxy suits, this strange apparition of Glory in a Halloween costume seemed to throw Carmela for a loop.

Glory's hard eyes flitted across Carmela, openly conveying hostility and scorn. Glory had never liked Carmela, had never approved of her marriage to Shamus. A couple years ago, when Shamus had abandoned his bank job as well as his wife, Glory had taken it upon herself to personally toss Carmela out of Shamus's Garden District home. And she'd been gleeful in the process. The moment of shocked silence was broken as Ava let loose a derisive hoot.

Quick as a cobra, Glory's eyes latched on to Ava. And then the costume she had in her arms. Glory wore, or was attempting to wear, the same Mae West costume.

“You said mine was a one-of-a-kind original,” Glory snapped to Beth as the costume she wore bulged and strained at the seams.

Caught in what appeared to be rather soft middle ground, Beth gave an indifferent shrug. “It is.” Beth's radar told her something was amiss; she just didn't quite comprehend the exact details.

“Then what's that costume in her arms?” demanded Glory.

Beth gazed at the dress Ava was clutching. “Ma'am, that dress is in an entirely different size. Yours is the only one we have in your size.”

Glory's face flamed red. “And what exactly do you mean to imply with that comment?”

“We only have a few costumes in your size,” said Beth. “There just isn't much call for them.”

Carmela figured the girl must have a death wish. Glory looked like she was working up to an incredible head of steam. And when she exploded . . . watch out!

Glory pointed a trembling finger at Ava. “I forbid you to try on that costume!” she thundered.

That was all Ava needed. “I'll try on anything I darn well please,” she responded. Glory's hand tried to bat at Ava, but Ava was far too agile and promptly ducked into one of the fitting rooms.

Glory pounded on the door. “Get out here, missy! You hear me?”

Carmela watched this bizarre drama unfold around her. She wasn't sure what to do next. Support Ava? Ava seemed to be doing just fine on her own. Calm Glory? As if that would ever happen.

Like a willful five-year-old, Glory stomped her foot and retreated to her own dressing room.

Good, thought Carmela. Problem solved.

But of course it wasn't. Because not more than two minutes later, Glory came flying out, clutching her precious Mae West costume. She grabbed Beth, spun her around, and breathlessly asked, “How much for the gown if I buy it outright? And the other one, too?”

“Ma'am,” said Beth, snapping her gum. “We only rent here. We don't sell.”

Glory's eyes narrowed. “What if items are lost or damaged? Then what do you do?”

“We deal with that as it happens,” Beth said slowly. Then she glared at Glory. “But you'd better not have any funny ideas about stealing. Or malicious destruction of property.”

The front door opened, letting in a gush of fresh, cool air.

“Remy,” said Beth. “Talk to this woman, will you? She wants to buy the Mae West costumes.”

Remy slipped behind the counter, and Glory hustled toward him. “Are you the manager?” she asked, her voice rising to the point of belligerence.

Curious now, Carmela eased her way between a row of Peking opera costumes and a clutch of cowboy costumes to see what was going on. As she pushed aside costumes to peek at Glory, her hand brushed against a leather vest trimmed in fur.

Fur, thought Carmela, suddenly. She wondered if this could be the source of the strands of hair found at the murder scene. Should she pluck a few hairs and turn them over to Edgar Babcock? Or just send him over here?

Carmela glanced around, suddenly noting that lots of costumes contained fur trim. There were Henry VIII costumes, Viking costumes, and even Wookie costumes. Better just send him over here, she finally decided, then crept toward the front desk to see what was going on with Glory.

In the end, Glory got her way. Sort of. She bought her costume at what Carmela hoped was a greatly inflated price and paced nervously while Remy hung the fabric on a padded hanger, then zipped a plastic bag around it.

As Glory flung the bag over one arm, she caught sight of Carmela watching her. “Carmela,” she said a nasal quality to her voice. “I'm only going to say this once. I don't want Shamus's name or our dear family's name mentioned on the news again. Do you hear me? I don't want your silly exploits to reflect on the Crescent City Bank.”

“Then you must have loved last night's news, Glory,” said Carmela. “That little segment of Shamus kicking my front door . . . shattering the glass. How's his poor toe by the way? Broken, I hope?”

Glory ignored Carmela's words as she continued her tirade. “Our family has honor as well as pride in this city, and I don't want you bringing shame to our family. The social circle my family belongs to understands how marrying the wrong sort can cause problems. But I'm sick of their pity when it comes to the likes of you.”

As Glory slammed out the front door, she was aware of Remy staring at her.

“Who dat?” he asked. Curiosity flickered in his dark eyes. “She sure make the misere.”

Carmela shrugged. “Sister-in-law. And, yes, she can cause trouble.”

“Look like she got it in for you.”

“Glory's got it in for a lot of people,” said Ava as she came up behind Carmela. Then she squirted past her friend and spun around to show off her costume. Looking very much like a Hollywood goddess from the twenties, she purred, “Well, come up and see me sometime.” Hips swaying provocatively, she allowed one curvaceous leg to escape the slit that ran up the side of the dress.

“Marvelous,” said Carmela. “You'll be the hit of the party.”

“When I'm good, I'm good, but when I'm bad, I'm better,” said Ava in a perfect Mae West imitation. She strode toward the counter, whipped her feather boa at Remy. “Hey, big boy, didn't I see you at my place the other night?”

He stared at her, a silly smile creeping across his face. “Huh?”

Ava dropped the accent. “Weren't you at Juju Voodoo the other night, Remy? Didn't you stop by my open house?”

“Not me,” said Remy. His eyes continued to rove up and down Ava's exquisite form. “Sorry I missed it.”

“We were positive we saw you walk in with the pierced and tattooed crowd,” said Carmela.

Remy carefully arranged his face into a blank stare again. “Non,” he said.

“ 'Cause your friend Amber was there,” said Carmela. “Remember poor Amber?”

Remy's face darkened, his hands twitched nervously, and he suddenly focused on the twisted pile of clothes that sat on the counter. “My eye!” he spat out.

“WHAT'S THIS MY EYE BUSINESS?” ASKED AVA, once they were outside the costume shop. “What the heck does that mean?”

“It's slang for no way,” said Carmela. “But I'm definitely thinking way. Remy for sure knew Amber. We just have to figure out how well.”

“And when he saw her last!” added Ava.