do.
Durrell let loose a throaty chuckle. “Relationships . . .”
Which gave Carmela the conversational entrée she’d been hoping for.
“How long had you and Kimber been dating?” she asked.
Durrell leaned back in his chair, as if he had to think about that. “Oh, maybe six months.”
“I take it you were planning to get married?”
Durrell gave a far-off smile. “We talked around it. So, yes, I suppose our relationship would have eventually progressed to that point.”
To Carmela his answer sounded more like lawyer-speak than the words of a lover. On the other hand, neither of them seemed like till-death-do-us-part commitment types, but how did she know what true feelings were hidden deep within someone’s heart?
“Do you know how the police investigation is going?” asked Carmela.
“Progressing, I’m told.”
“But such strange circumstances,” said Carmela. She decided it was time to lob a hardball question at Durrell. “Can you think of any reason why someone would have targeted Kimber?”
“No idea,” said Durrell. “Although my own theory is that someone had her in their sights because she was such a big deal here.”
“You think?”
“Absolutely,” said Durrell. “She had men swooning over her and women wanting to look like her. As you know, Kimber was extremely high profile. She was constantly being invited to walk in fashion shows, judge talent contests, and offer her personal opinion on just about everything.”
“She was a big fish in a small pond,” said Carmela. She wondered if that was the reason Durrell had dated Kimber. Had it given him access to people with money? Or had the two of them enjoyed a genuine relationship?
“She is greatly missed,” said Durrell. He composed his face into a sad expression, though Carmela thought he looked slightly more watchful than sad.
“What about the investigative reporting Kimber was doing for the station?” asked Carmela. “Do you think she could have uncovered something that led to her being targeted?” In other words, had she poked her nose into a hornet’s nest and gotten stung?
A flicker of surprise showed on Durrell’s face. As if Carmela had caught him off guard. “Kimber liked to throw herself into every project one hundred and fifty percent.”
“But as far as this investigative reporting,” Carmela continued, “do you know what she was working on?”
Durrell reached out, touched his index finger to a fat Montblanc pen that sat on his desk, and carefully aligned it with a red leather notebook. “No idea.”
Chapter 10
J UJU Voodoo boasted a high-gloss red front door where fat, bouncy black letters spelled out Juju Voodoo. A multipaned front window held a neon sign that glowed bright red and cool blue, illustrating an open palm with its basic head, heart, and life lines. A wooden shake roof, slightly reminiscent of a Hansel and Gretel cottage, dipped down in front.
“Ava?” Carmela called, as she pushed her way into the dark interior and was immediately greeted by flickering red votive candles and the fragrant aromas of sandalwood and patchouli oil.
Juju Voodoo was, of course, the premier voodoo shop in New Orleans. If you had your heart set on a life-size (death-size?) jangling skeleton, Ava could hook you up. Same went for voodoo dolls, evil eye necklaces, love charms wrapped in netting and lace, saint candles, incense, shrunken heads, and necklaces hung with carved teeth and bones. Inventory was key here, and Ava prided herself on having the perfect juju magic for whatever ailed you. Of course, most of the love charms were really herbs and spices, and the rest were fun tourist souvenirs.
But Ava did a land-office business and even offered a reading room in back, where, should you wish to commune with spirits from the great beyond, you could enjoy a tarot card reading, the I Ching , an astrology chart, or any other popular form of divination.
“ Cher ,” said Ava, popping out from behind a colorful
Durrell let loose a throaty chuckle. “Relationships . . .”
Which gave Carmela the conversational entrée she’d been hoping for.
“How long had you and Kimber been dating?” she asked.
Durrell leaned back in his chair, as if he had to think about that. “Oh, maybe six months.”
“I take it you were planning to get married?”
Durrell gave a far-off smile. “We talked around it. So, yes, I suppose our relationship would have eventually progressed to that point.”
To Carmela his answer sounded more like lawyer-speak than the words of a lover. On the other hand, neither of them seemed like till-death-do-us-part commitment types, but how did she know what true feelings were hidden deep within someone’s heart?
“Do you know how the police investigation is going?” asked Carmela.
“Progressing, I’m told.”
“But such strange circumstances,” said Carmela. She decided it was time to lob a hardball question at Durrell. “Can you think of any reason why someone would have targeted Kimber?”
“No idea,” said Durrell. “Although my own theory is that someone had her in their sights because she was such a big deal here.”
“You think?”
“Absolutely,” said Durrell. “She had men swooning over her and women wanting to look like her. As you know, Kimber was extremely high profile. She was constantly being invited to walk in fashion shows, judge talent contests, and offer her personal opinion on just about everything.”
“She was a big fish in a small pond,” said Carmela. She wondered if that was the reason Durrell had dated Kimber. Had it given him access to people with money? Or had the two of them enjoyed a genuine relationship?
“She is greatly missed,” said Durrell. He composed his face into a sad expression, though Carmela thought he looked slightly more watchful than sad.
“What about the investigative reporting Kimber was doing for the station?” asked Carmela. “Do you think she could have uncovered something that led to her being targeted?” In other words, had she poked her nose into a hornet’s nest and gotten stung?
A flicker of surprise showed on Durrell’s face. As if Carmela had caught him off guard. “Kimber liked to throw herself into every project one hundred and fifty percent.”
“But as far as this investigative reporting,” Carmela continued, “do you know what she was working on?”
Durrell reached out, touched his index finger to a fat Montblanc pen that sat on his desk, and carefully aligned it with a red leather notebook. “No idea.”
Chapter 10
J UJU Voodoo boasted a high-gloss red front door where fat, bouncy black letters spelled out Juju Voodoo. A multipaned front window held a neon sign that glowed bright red and cool blue, illustrating an open palm with its basic head, heart, and life lines. A wooden shake roof, slightly reminiscent of a Hansel and Gretel cottage, dipped down in front.
“Ava?” Carmela called, as she pushed her way into the dark interior and was immediately greeted by flickering red votive candles and the fragrant aromas of sandalwood and patchouli oil.
Juju Voodoo was, of course, the premier voodoo shop in New Orleans. If you had your heart set on a life-size (death-size?) jangling skeleton, Ava could hook you up. Same went for voodoo dolls, evil eye necklaces, love charms wrapped in netting and lace, saint candles, incense, shrunken heads, and necklaces hung with carved teeth and bones. Inventory was key here, and Ava prided herself on having the perfect juju magic for whatever ailed you. Of course, most of the love charms were really herbs and spices, and the rest were fun tourist souvenirs.
But Ava did a land-office business and even offered a reading room in back, where, should you wish to commune with spirits from the great beyond, you could enjoy a tarot card reading, the I Ching , an astrology chart, or any other popular form of divination.
“ Cher ,” said Ava, popping out from behind a colorful
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