Crepe Factor by Laura Childs Read Free Book Online Page B

to? What does he call her now?”
    â€œNow that Glory’s in complete control of Crescent CityBank and all the Meechums’ investments and real estate holdings, he calls her his sweet adorable big sis.”
    Gabby poked a finger at her mouth. “Gag me.”
    â€œYou got that right.”
    *   *   *
    Midafternoon, Carmela and Gabby called it a day and hung a
CLOSED
sign on Memory Mine’s front door. They were both attending the Hotel Montague’s Reveillon dinner tonight, along with half of New Orleans, and really looking forward to it. The dinner was a very big deal—the first of many Reveillon dinners that would be held in the weeks leading up to Christmas and New Year’s. Fancy and formal, with multiple courses, Reveillon dinners were a revived holiday tradition that hearkened back to the elegant dinners served after midnight Mass a century ago.
    â€œI’m going home now to go get pretty,” Gabby sang out. “I’ll lock the front door.”
    â€œSee you tonight,” Carmela called back. She folded her computer printouts and stuck them in her purse, rolled the phone over to her answering service, and then slipped on her black leather bomber jacket.
    Two minutes later, Carmela was out the door and bouncing down Royal Street. As she passed dozens of upscale art and antique galleries, all gathered shoulder to shoulder on this fanciful street, she decided to make a quick stop at Juju Voodoo. After all, her curiosity-killed-the-cat BFF just might be interested in the information she’d dug up on Martin Lash. And how it might help in what she’d decided to call her “shadow” investigation.

Chapter 5
    T HE façade of Juju Voodoo was in full holiday dress. A string of purple twinkle lights dangled along the edge of the uneven shake roof, purple wreaths decorated with tiny potion bottles hung in the window, and Day of the Dead figures sported fuzzy red scarves and Santa hats. Ava’s trademark red and blue neon sign—an open palm with head, heart, and life lines—glowed from a curiously shaped window that looked almost like a sleepy eye.
    Carmela pushed open the door and stepped inside.
    â€œAva?”
    It took her eyes a few moments to adjust to the dim lighting that Ava insisted was part of Juju Voodoo’s charming atmosphere. Votive candles flickered, a pair of red bat eyes glowed from up in the rafters, the flames of tall saint candlesswayed in the slight breeze. The air was warm and perfumed with the scents of frangipani, jasmine, and passionflower.
    Like a burlesque performer popping out of an enormous cake to thrill her onlookers, Ava suddenly burst through the purple velvet curtains at the back of the shop.
    â€œ
Cher
,” she purred, heading for Carmela like a languorous jungle cat. “I thought that might be you.”
    Ava was dressed to kill in a V-neck leopard top, skintight black leather pants, and spike heels that were so high she was forced to take baby steps. Her masses of dark hair were pulled into a messy topknot, and long, dangly gold earrings brushed her delicately chiseled face.
    â€œHow are you faring after the unspeakable horror of last night?” Ava asked. “Me”—she touched a hand to her generous display of décolleté—“I didn’t sleep a wink.”
    â€œEven after drinking six glasses of wine?” Carmela asked. “Or was it seven?”
    Ava thought for a moment. “Perhaps I did catch a few z’s after all.” She fluttered both hands dramatically. “But the dreams I had would curl your hair!” She glanced sharply at Carmela’s short bob. “Well, maybe not
your
hair.”
    â€œThanks a lot.”
    â€œStill, I had terrible visions of Martin Lash lurching out of the darkness with that horrible huge fork quivering in his neck.” Ava staggered across the floor, stiff-legged, perfectly pantomiming Lash’s