Free Gilt Trip by Laura Childs Page A

described as severe. She wore slim black slacks and a black turtleneck.
    â€œYou’re right on time,” said the woman. She extended a bony hand to Carmela. “I’m afraid we haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Beetsie Bischof, Margo’s dearest friend.”
    Carmela shook her hand. “Carmela Bertrand.” She offered a faint smile. “You were the one comforting Margo Sunday night.” Actually, Beetsie had been wailing piteously right alongside Margo.
    â€œThat’s right,” said Beetsie. She had the low, throaty voice of a lifelong smoker. And probably the metabolism of one, too, Carmela decided, since Beetsie appeared to be just skin and bones as she led her through the parlor and down a long hallway. Carmela noted that the home’s interior was significantly more somber than it had been Sunday night.
    Beetsie threw open the door to Jerry Earl’s office and announced in a deadpan voice, “She’s here.”
    Margo was seated at Jerry Earl’s desk. Next to her was Duncan Merriweather. Their heads were bent close together, nearly touching, as they sifted through a number of important-looking documents.
    Startled by Beetsie’s introduction, Margo looked up expectantly. Then a smile bloomed on her pink face. “Carmela! You came!” She sprang to her feet and lurched toward Carmela, grabbing her and embracing her so tightly that Carmela couldn’t draw breath for a moment. “Thank goodness!”
    Carmela gently disengaged herself from Margo, noting that this morning she was decked out in a flouncy pink skirt suit with a dozen gold bangles once again encircling her chubby wrists.
    â€œDuncan?” said Margo, practically batting her eyes. “Could you make those calls now?”
    â€œOf course,” said Duncan. He surreptitiously slipped the papers he and Margo had been discussing into a folder and quietly gathered it up. Nodded solemnly to Carmela as he exited the room. Held the folder protectively to his side.
    â€œObviously you’ve met Beetsie,” said Margo, shifting gears. “She happens to be my oldest and dearest friend. You might say I trust her implicitly.”
    Carmela just smiled.
    Margo flapped a hand, motioning for Carmela to sit in the chair that Merriweather had just vacated. “Sadly, we were just planning Jerry Earl’s funeral. It’s going to be Thursday at St. Louis Cathedral. Internment will be in our family tomb at Lafayette Cemetery Number 1.” She paused, her face downcast. “You’ll come, won’t you?”
    Carmela nodded as she sat down next to Margo. “If you wish.” She thought about how Margo and Merriweather had been whispering so conspiratorially. How he’d carefully removed the folder.
    What else could Margo and Merriweather have planned together? Possibly a murder?
    â€œSo,” said Carmela, eager to start things off, anxious to ask a few questions. “Have you put together that list for me?”
    With an erratic change in mood, Margo cocked her head playfully. “What list?”
    Carmela leveled her gaze at Margo. “The list of Jerry Earl’s potential enemies.”
    Margo shook her head. “Everybody loved Jerry Earl,” she said emphatically.
    â€œClearly not everyone,” said Carmela. After all, the man had been murdered.
    Margo’s hands flew to her face and she suddenly seemed distressed. “I never in my wildest dreams imagined that . . .” She paused and sucked in a great gulp of air.
    Carmela decided that Margo was good at turning on her emotions at will. And stonewalling, too.
    â€œYes,” Margo said finally. “I suppose there were a few people—mostly workers—that Jerry Earl had cause to fire over the years.”
    â€œWere any of them present Sunday night?” asked Carmela.
    From across the room Beetsie gave a delicate snort.
    â€œNo workers were guests at our