Gilt Trip by Laura Childs Page B

he was in prison.”
    Beetsie bought into Carmela’s explanation immediately. “Prisoners do that, you know. Take ink pens and gouge all sorts of crazy designs into their skin.” She nodded emphatically. “Crosses, eagles, even skulls.”
    Beetsie seemed so knowledgeable, Carmela figured she must be a closet fan of
Miami Ink.
    â€œDo you think a gang of prisoners tattooed Jerry Earl against his will?” asked a horrified Margo. “I hate to think that they held him down and forced him!”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Carmela. She could think of worse things. “I suppose it depends on where the tattoos are.”
    Margo reached over with her right hand and absently touched her left shoulder. “The medical examiner said one was here. On his shoulder.”
    â€œDid they say what kind of tattoos they were?” Carmela asked.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œHe must have joined a gang,” said Beetsie. “A prison gang.”
    Margo shook her head. “Jerry Earl wasn’t a big joiner. Just the Springhill Country Club. And the Republican Party, of course.”
    â€œMaybe he joined some sort of gang for preservation reasons,” said Carmela. “If he
was
part of a gang, maybe it meant the other members would offer protection.” Carmela hesitated. “When you spoke to Detective Gallant, was he able to tell you any more about the murder weapon?”
    Margo’s hands fluttered to her chest and she covered her heart, clearly in distress. “No, he didn’t mention it. Should I have asked him?”
    â€œProbably not,” Carmela said. Knowing the grisly details of her husband’s murder wasn’t going to help Margo sleep any. There was no reason to distress the woman more than she already was.
    Beetsie leaned close to Margo and patted her hand. “You’re being so brave and strong about this when anyone else would have fallen to pieces.”
    Carmela nodded in agreement.
    Beetsie directed her gaze at Carmela. “Do you know, Margo’s even going ahead with her donation to the Cakewalk Ball on Saturday night.”
    â€œI have to,” said Margo. “Everyone’s counting on me big-time. I’m co-chair of the event.”
    The Cakewalk Ball was an annual charity event held at the New Orleans Museum of Art. Individual big-buck donors as well as major corporations commissioned lavish cakes from the finest bakeries in town. Then each cake was decorated with an expensive piece of jewelry. After the dining and dancing and schmoozing were done, all the cakes and jewels were grandly auctioned off, with the proceeds going to charity.
    â€œStill,” said Beetsie, “it’s amazing how you manage to carry on in the face of adversity.”
    â€œI just couldn’t let Angela down,” said Margo.
    â€œYou’re talking about Angela Boynton, the curator?” said Carmela. “She’s honchoing this event?”
    â€œYes,” said Margo. “Do you know her?”
    â€œShe’s a good friend of mine,” said Carmela. “And I’ve worked with Angela on the Children’s Art Association, too.”
    â€œThen you simply
must
come to the ball,” Margo urged. “In fact, I’ll send over a couple of tickets for you and Eva.”
    Carmela would have preferred to spend Saturday night at home, awaiting the arrival of Detective Edgar Babcock, who was due back that evening. But Margo looked so miserable and forlorn that Carmela couldn’t refuse. “That would be nice, I’ve always wanted to attend the Cakewalk Ball. I think Ava has, too.”
    â€œCarmela?” Margo was casually studying one of her ginormous diamond rings. “There’s something else I want to ask you.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” said Carmela.
    â€œCould you possibly arrange a private tarot reading for me? At your friend Eva’s shop?”
    â€œAva’s shop,” said