Photo Finished

“Nothing,” Carmela told her, a little ashamed of her flight of fancy over Stuart’s messiness. Carmela gazed toward the back of the store where Tandy and Byrle sat huddled at the big craft table. It didn’t look like much scrapbooking was going on, but they were certainly deep in conversation.

“What’s the story back there?” Carmela asked.

Gabby rolled her eyes. “Tandy’s pretty hysterical about Billy skipping town like he did. And she’s waiting to talk to you. She says you’re always such a calming influence.”

“Me?” Carmela snorted. “First time I’ve ever heard that. Usually I’m the one who gets accused of upsetting the proverbial apple cart.”

“Hey,” Gabby grinned, “accept the compliment.”

“I will,” said Carmela as she strode to the back of the store, Boo scurrying after her.

“Carmela,” said Tandy, her hypothyroidal eyes fixing on her. “We have to talk.”

Carmela slid into a chair across from Tandy and Byrle. Tandy reached across the table and grasped for Carmela’s hands. “Things are so bad,” she whispered harshly, her lower lip beginning to quiver. “Donny and Lenore are just beside themselves with worry. And I didn’t sleep a wink all night myself. I kept turning this whole thing over and over in my mind. Does Billy know something? Is Billy somehow involved?” Tandy’s thin hands suddenly slipped out of Carmela’s and she swiped at the tears streaming down her thin, pale cheeks. “Sorry,” she said. “This is very embarrassing.”

Byrle patted Tandy’s shoulder. “There, there,” she said, sympathy in her voice. “What’s a few tears in front of friends?”

“We’re pretty positive Billy has left the state,” said Tandy, snuffling harder. “He’s got cousins over in Biloxi, so he could be headed that way.” Tandy fumbled in her purse, pulled out a large white hanky, and blew her nose loudly.

Carmela stared at Tandy. Her dear friend was obviously in a world of hurt and she so wanted to help. But will telling Tandy that I spoke to Billy last night make things any better? I don’t know. I really don’t know.

“The thing of it is,” continued Tandy, “the police are really on Billy’s case now. His little disappearing act has them convinced of his guilt.”

“Oh, honey,” said Byrle, “that’s not necessarily true.”

“It is true,” said Tandy. “Now there’s a warrant out for Billy’s arrest!”

Carmela grimaced. Tell Tandy? Not tell her? She held her thumb to her lips, nibbled nervously at a fingernail.

“Tandy…,” began Carmela, “someone came…” She hesitated. “That is… I saw Billy last night.” This last part came out in a rush. There, thought Carmela. I finally spit it out. For what it’s worth.

Carmela’s words had a profound effect on Tandy. Her eyes went wide as saucers, a tiny hand flew to her birdlike chest. “You what?” Tandy was truly shocked. Dumbfounded, in fact.

“Billy knocked on my back door last night,” explained Carmela.

Now Tandy put a hand to her mouth. “You actually talked to him? Really and truly?”

“Honey,” said Carmela, “I wouldn’t characterize it as a heart-to-heart talk, but, yes, we spoke. Truth be known, it was a fairly one-sided conversation. I asked Billy a few probing questions, Billy shifted from one foot to the other, pretty much unwilling to answer any of them.”

“But he’s okay,” said Tandy. Her eyes gleamed; a healthy color had suddenly returned to her face.

“Physically, Billy seemed fine,” said Carmela. “But something has definitely got him running scared. And I get the feeling it’s not necessarily the police.”

“Oh my lord!” exclaimed Tandy. “I’ve got to call Donny and Lenore immediately.”

“No!” protested Carmela, knowing this could turn into a major problem for her.

Tandy stared at Carmela. “Why in heaven’s name not?” she asked. “Billy’s their only son, they’re worried sick about him. And they want him to come home!”

“Listen,” said Carmela, “I got the distinct feeling Billy’s not about to saunter into Donny and Lenore’s house, hang up his baseball cap, and sit down to a nice dish of jambalaya. Billy’s definitely on the run and I’m pretty sure he’s going to stay on the run.”

“Dear God,” said Tandy in a small, tight voice. “You mean… Billy’s never coming home?”

“Probably not until Bartholomew Hayward’s murder is solved anyway,” said Carmela. “Until this whole thing gets sorted out.”

“But the police aren’t doing anything,” wailed Tandy.

“They do seem incredibly myopic,” admitted Carmela. She was miffed that Lieutenant Babcock still hadn’t gotten back to her about the list she’d given him.

“Then it’s up to us,” declared Byrle in her typical gung ho style. But as she delivered her words, she stared pointedly at Carmela.

“Darned right, it’s up to us,” said Tandy, struggling to get a rein on her emotions. She, too, was staring directly at Carmela.

Why do I get the feeling that ‘us’ suddenly means me? wondered Carmela. When did I get appointed Sherlock Holmes? But even as the words free-floated through her brain, she knew the answer. Because Barty Hayward was killed in back of my store. Because he was probably staggering toward my back door for help.

“Listen,” said Carmela finally, “I’m not making any promises, but there are a couple things I could look into. Okay?”

Both women exhaled in unison as they leaned forward expectantly.

“Okay,” whispered Tandy.

“But you’ve got to keep quiet,” warned Carmela.

Byrle made a zipping motion across her mouth.

“Mum’s the word,” promised Tandy.

“And you have to promise you won’t breathe a word of this to Donny and Lenore,” said Carmela, directing a firm gaze at Tandy.

“I won’t,” said Tandy.

“Because the last thing I want is a bunch of police swarming around here asking questions,” said Carmela. Would they, really? Oh yeah, they would. And then I’d really be in a pickle. Aiding and abetting a felon and/or fugitive. Withholding evidence. Yipes.

Tandy’s eyes shone brightly. “I knew we could count on you, Carmela.”

“What did I tell you?” said Byrle. “Carmela’s got more sleuthing ability in her little finger than all of us put together.”

“Shhhh,” warned Carmela. Three customers had just entered her store and were clustered around a display of foil papers up front. Even though Gabby had rushed to help them, you never knew what might be overheard and passed on.

“We’ll make like church mice,” said Tandy, suddenly happy.

“We’ll work on our scrapbooks,” said Byrle as she plunked her craft bag on top of the table and began pulling out a jumble of photos, albums, and scissors.

“Okay,” said Carmela. “I’m going to see if Gabby needs any help.” She hesitated, waggled a finger at Boo. “And you, my dear girl, had better remain back here for the time being.” Boo, who was lying at Tandy’s feet, gazed up at Carmela solemnly as if to say, Pardon me, but I am too well mannered a canine to be receiving such a stern lecture on protocol.

THE WEEKS BEFORE AND AFTER A HOLIDAY, ANY holiday, were always frantically busy at Memory Mine. And this pre-Halloween week was no exception. In fact, these three customers, just like all the others, had come in search of stickers, rubber stamps, decorative papers, and ribbon. As Carmela well knew, they’d use some of the craft items for Halloween scrapbooking, others for decorating trick-or-treat bags, rubber-stamping invitations, and making window decorations.

Carmela had laid in a good supply of special Halloween papers and rubber stamps. She knew most of her regulars would be making Halloween scrapbook pages to celebrate the exploits of their own little monsters or, like Tandy and Baby, their grandchildren’s Halloween capers. Carmela’s stock of rubber stamps now included ghosts, skeletons, and classic movie monsters, while her supply of Halloween paper boasted bats, pumpkins, haunted houses, creeping vines, and star and moon motifs.

Carmela was just sliding sheets of beige kraft paper with large orange pumpkins emblazoned across them into an oversized envelope, when Tyrell Burton came trooping into the shop. And, lo and behold, Sweetmomma Pam was with him.

“Hey, Tyrell,” called Gabby from behind the front counter, where she was ringing up a customer. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” She smiled at Ava’s wizened little grandmother. “Hi there, Sweetmomma Pam.”

“I’ve got another customer for you,” said Tyrell. He put his hands on Sweetmomma Pam’s narrow shoulders and gently pushed her forward, presenting her to Carmela. A tiny woman with curly white hair dressed in an innocuous navy blue pantsuit, Sweetmomma Pam was definitely dwarfed by Tyrell’s imposing form.

“Hey there, dawlin’,” she said, waving to Carmela as a smile lit her lined face.

“Tyrell?” said Carmela. “Is there something going on I should know about?”

“I realize you’re extremely busy, Carmela,” began Tyrell, “but there are two of you”-his glance quickly flashed to Gabby-“and only one of me. Things are in a tizzy at the voodoo shop, on account of Halloween. And Sweetmomma Pam requires a tad more chaperoning than I am able to provide.” This explanation was delivered with such tact and delicacy that Carmela had to smile in spite of herself.

“And,” continued Tyrell, “Miss Ava assured me that you and your friends would extend every courtesy to Sweetmomma Pam.”

Carmela reached out, gently put a hand on the old woman’s shoulder. “Of course we will. In fact, we’re delighted to have Sweetmomma Pam join us.” Ava had been such a good sport about taking Boo out for walks when Carmela couldn’t make it home at noon, that Carmela was glad she could finally reciprocate.

Tyrell was visibly relieved. “Ava promised she’d be back by four o’clock at the latest.” Spinning on his heels, Tyrell was about to make a hasty exit, when he suddenly paused and turned around. “Thank you, ladies,” he said. “And God bless.”

Leading Sweetmomma Pam back to the craft table, Carmela made hasty introductions. And, as she got Sweetmomma Pam settled in, she began to formulate a plan. Sweetmomma Pam was the perfect candidate to help her finish up the menu cards. It was an easy project that would keep her guest busy and hopefully amused. If all went well, she’d then be able to zip over to the Art Institute after lunch and deliver said cards to Natalie.

“You got a boyfriend, honey?” Sweetmomma Pam asked Carmela as they sat side by side, Carmela stamping images on her menu cards and Sweetmomma Pam adhering them to the larger card using Carmela’s faux finished photo corners.

“No,” Carmela told her. “I’m still married.”

Sweetmomma Pam squinted in disbelief. “You’re married? So how come y’all are livin’ alone? In that little apartment in back of Ava’s?”