Tragic Magic by Laura Childs Page B

the thick of things.”
    “He’s right,” said Gabby, as the bell over the front door dinged and two customers pushed their way in. “So what have you got to lose?” She stood, gave Carmela a pleading look, then headed for the front counter.
    Carmela drummed her fingers on the battered wooden table. “I’m not sure where I’d start,” she told Garth.
    He gazed back at her with a hopeful, encouraging smile.
    “Okay,” said Carmela, gesturing with her fingers. “Talk to me. Tell me what Melody had been up to lately.”
    “Mostly Medusa Manor,” said Garth.
    “Any problems with that business?”
    “None that I know of,” said Garth.
    “Let’s start from the beginning, then,” said Carmela. “Melody was the one who located the property?”
    “Oh sure,” said Garth. “The place had been in foreclosure. When Melody heard about it and took a quick tour, she thought it’d work perfectly for her haunted-house concept.”
    “And then Melody talked Olivia Wainwright into putting up the money?”
    “Something like that,” said Garth. “I know there were a couple of other groups interested in the building, but in the end it came down to sealed bids. Melody and Olivia emerged as high bidders.”
    “Do you know who the other bidders were?” asked Carmela.
    Garth started to shake his head, then said, “Wait a minute.
Melody did mention something about Sawyer Barnes trying to get his hands on the property.”
    “And he is . . . ?” asked Carmela. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t attach it to anything concrete.
    “Sawyer Barnes is a developer,” said Garth. “A guy that Melody was pretty scornful of. Apparently he buys historic old homes, cuts them up, and turns them into overpriced, overdesigned condos.”
    “Just what New Orleans needs right now,” said Carmela. “Another real estate developer bent on eradicating history.”
    “I hear you,” said Garth.
    “Do you think there might have been bad blood between Melody and this Sawyer Barnes?”
    Garth’s front teeth nibbled his bottom lip. “Don’t know. But from what I hear, he’s a carpetbagger type. From not here.” From not here was how folks in New Orleans described people who hadn’t been born and bred in the area.
    “Just a minute,” said Carmela. She slipped into her office, grabbed a spiral notebook and a squishy black pen, then returned to the table. Flipping open to a fresh page, she jotted down the name Sawyer Barnes .
    “Are you going to check him out?” asked Garth.
    “Maybe,” said Carmela. “We’ll see.” She tapped her pen against the notebook. “How close was Melody to Sidney St. Cyr?”
    Garth peered at her sharply. “Why do you ask?”
    “Just wondering,” said Carmela. “My friend and I ran into him last night outside Medusa Manor.”
    “Well,” said Garth, “they were friends, certainly.”
    “Melody never mentioned any professional rivalry between the two of them?”
    Garth shook his head. “Not that I can recall. Why? You think Sidney had something to do with her death?” He looked fairly stunned.
    “Doubtful,” said Carmela. “I’m just trying to look at all the angles.”

    Garth put a hand over his heart. “You scared me there.” “Sorry,” said Carmela.
    “No,” said Garth, “now I see what Jekyl was talking about. And Gabby, too. You have a real knack for this stuff.”
    “I haven’t done anything yet,” said Carmela. She tapped her pen again. “Do you have a claim on Medusa Manor? Are you part owner now?”
    “Not really,” said Garth. “Olivia was bankrolling it, so she’s the real owner. Melody did quite a bit of antiques scouting, so reimbursements will have to be made. But I doubt it’ll amount to all that much.”
    “How much did Melody buy?” asked Carmela, even though she pretty much knew the answer to that question.
    Garth cocked his head, thinking. “I know she picked up a pine highboy to house the sound system, some gigantic brass candlesticks from a