Gina and Paulie, with the kids in tow, arrived a short time later and Carlita fixed sandwiches while she listened to them talk about their morning sightseeing activities.
According to Gina, the children loved the trolley tour, begged for a horse and carriage ride and settled for a trip to the children’s museum instead.
Carlita finished making the sandwiches and Paulie helped his mother carry the food to the table. “Gina and I was thinkin’ about taking the riverboat dinner cruise if you wouldn’t mind watchin’ the kids.”
“Of course not,” Carlita said. “We can pop popcorn and watch movies.”
“Can we spend the night?” Gracie asked.
“Sure, why not?” Carlita wasn’t sure how Tony would feel about camping out with his nieces and nephews, but it was only for one night and if it helped Paulie and Gina move a step closer to repairing their relationship, it would be well worth the minor inconvenience.
“A sleepover it is,” Carlita said. “After you finish your lunch, you better run down to the pawnshop and warn Uncle Tony.”
The children hurriedly finished their food and Paulie took them downstairs while Gina and Carlita cleared the table and washed dishes.
“I’m gonna run to the bathroom to freshen up,” Carlita said, as she hung the dishrag on the edge of the sink.
“I’m gonna step outside for a sec.” Gina made her way out onto the balcony where she reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
Carlita’s heart sank as she watched her daughter-in-law light a cigarette. The last time she’d seen Gina smoke was years ago, before the children were born.
She wandered into the bathroom and returned to the living room a short time later where she spotted Gina peering through the glass. When she caught a glimpse of Carlita, she began waving her arms.
Carlita walked over to the door and twisted the knob. The door was locked. “That’s weird.” She flipped the deadbolt and pulled the door open.
“I got locked out.”
“I wonder how that happened.” Carlita studied the deadbolt, flipping it back and forth. “It’s a new door. We useta have a slider, but switched to French doors so I could add a doggie door for Rambo. We’ll have to keep an eye on it, I guess.”
“I’m gonna grab the kids and head to the apartment to put them down for a nap before tonight,” Gina said. “I don’t want them to be cranky when they get here later.”
Carlita followed Gina into the hall. “I appreciate that, Gina.”
“Thanks for offering to watch them.”
Whack. Whack. The hall floor shook as the whacking noise, which was coming from Elvira’s apartment, grew louder.
“What in the world is she doing in her apartment?” Carlita asked.
“You got your hands full with that one.” Gina rolled her eyes and descended the stairs while Carlita strode to her tenant’s door. She rapped loudly and when she didn’t answer, she jabbed the doorbell. “Elvira! It’s me. I know you’re in there.”
She tilted her head as she listened for footsteps, but there was nothing. “Elvira!”
There was still no answer and Carlita stomped back to her apartment.
“What was all that racket?” Mercedes hurried into the living room. “It sounded like a wrecking ball hitting the side of the building.”
“Elvira.”
“She’s at it again. Did you knock on her door?”
“Yes. I rang the bell, too, and she didn’t answer,” Carlita said. “She’s up to something. The fact she refused to open the door worries me.”
“She’s a trip,” Mercedes said. “I hope she tones it down. I’m trying to write.”
“I’m taking Rambo for a walk.” Carlita slipped the leash off the hook and reached for Rambo’s collar. “I bet you’re gonna love having the kids over later, huh?” She clipped the leash to Rambo’s collar and they headed outside. “Let’s go to Walton Square.”
As they walked, Carlita mulled over Luis’ death and the comments Detectives Wilson and Zachary Jackson had made. Was Mercedes playing with fire? Perhaps someone out there was desperate to keep the Madison Square murder buried.
Or maybe Jon Luis had other enemies. She made a mental note to talk with Mercedes, before she met with the other authors.
Rambo and Carlita circled the square and then strolled the center sidewalk, stopping to investigate several of the large oak trees before returning home.
When they reached the apartment, she hung Rambo’s leash on the hook and headed to Mercedes’ bedroom. The door was locked, so she rapped lightly.
The door flew open and Carlita jumped back, clutching her chest. “I will never, ever get used to you doing that.”
“Sorry Ma.” Mercedes leaned her hip against the doorframe. “What’s up?”
“I wanted to talk to you about your author meeting and Jon Luis. What’s the deal on this old mystery? Obviously, you’ve done your research, you and your author group. I want you to tell me everything you know.”
“I’m learning more by the minute. Follow me.” Mercedes waved her mother inside her bedroom. “I’ve been doin’ a little more digging around. Have a seat.”
Carlita perched on the edge of Mercedes’ office chair while Mercedes reached for the mouse. “Here’s a picture of the house at the time of the party and Mr. Honeycutt’s death. Mr. Honeycutt was an architect. He also owned a wrought iron factory.”
Mercedes straightened her back. “Have you ever noticed all of the ornate wrought iron on these historic downtown homes? Chances are Mr. Honeycutt’s company, Honeycutt Ornamental Designs, sold them the ironwork.”
Mercedes went on to tell her mother that, at the time the Honeycutt Manor was constructed, it was the largest, costliest home ever built in Savannah. “The Honeycutts lived the charmed life. Teresa was involved in a bunch of different social circles
