Skeleton Letters by Laura Childs Page A

Thursday,” said Carmela.
    â€œWell, do let me know, will you?”
    â€œOf course,” said Carmela. She cleared her throat. “What I really called about is a little home-decorating advice.”
    â€œYou’re not serious,” said Jekyl. “Don’t tell me you’re finally going to put that white elephant of a house up for sale? Be still my heart.”
    â€œIt’ll go on the market eventually, yes,” said Carmela. “But not until after the holidays. You see, Baby twisted my arm and now the Garden District house is officially part of the Holidazzle Tour.”
    â€œEwwww,” said Jekyl. “Wherein all the have-nots get to amble through the rich folks’ homes and turn pea green with envy?”
    â€œWhen you put it that way,” said Carmela, “it doesn’t sound very . . . democratic. Besides, judging from my apartment, which is furnished with the nonpareil of local scratch-and-dent rooms, you know I’m not exactly one of the rich folks.”
    â€œNo, you just married well and divorced even better,” said Jekyl. “Which is what I’d better do one of these days if I want to maintain my luxurious Rolex-Lexus lifestyle.”
    Carmela chuckled. Jekyl drove a vintage 1978 Jaguar XKE, British racing green. It pretty much coughed and belched its way around town, trailing noxious exhaust fumes. Of course, it wouldn’t hurt if Jekyl deigned to change the oil once in a while and didn’t have his exhaust pipes bound up with duct tape.
    â€œOkay,” said Jekyl, “so I don’t drive a Lexus. But my left wrist is adorned with a classic Rolex, thanks to the generosity of my dear departed uncle Aloysius. Classic meaning ‘old,’ of course.”
    â€œBack to the house,” said Carmela. Sometimes trying to keep Jekyl on task was like herding cats. “Some serious holiday decorating is going to be needed.” She paused. “Will you help? Can you help?”
    â€œOf course, I can, lovey,” said Jekyl. “In fact, I’m dying to get my hands on that mausoleum of yours. Unless, of course, you have your pitty-patty little heart set on . . . oh, horrors! . . . mundane red felt doorknob covers and bilious green Christmas tree skirts. In which case I’m afraid I’d have to take a pass.”
    â€œNothing that conventional,” said Carmela. “Fact is, I’d hang twinkle lights from the rafters if you thought it would glam up the old place.”
    â€œStill too tacky,” purred Jekyl.
    â€œThen how about this,” said Carmela. “I’ll give you carte blanche. You can bring in live reindeer, ice sculptures, or whatever you want.” She paused. “Of course, we’ll still need to create some sort of master plan to float past Baby.”
    â€œChild’s play,” said Jekyl. “What say we get together at your white elephant and put our heads together for a groupthink. If you’re not going to be out clubbing later, maybe we could even get together tonight.”
    â€œI can do tonight,” said Carmela. “Maybe sevenish?” She glanced up, saw Gabby gesturing. She had another call waiting. “Thanks, Jekyl, I really appreciate it.”
    â€œToodles,” said Jekyl.
    Carmela immediately punched the second button. “This is Carmela, how can I help you?” She fully expected the caller to be one of her scrapbook regulars, asking if she could order some rice paper or inquiring about stencil classes. But it wasn’t. Not even close.
    â€œCarmela?” said the voice. “Mrs. Bertrand?”
    â€œYou were right the first time. Carmela is just fine. And you are ... ?”
    â€œThis is Louise Applegate from the State Archaeology Board.”
    â€œOkay,” said Carmela.
    â€œI understand you were present at St. Tristan’s yesterday when Père Etienne’s crucifix was stolen?”
    Carmela felt her jaw tighten so