Gilt Trip Read Online Free Page B

determination will have to be made by the medical examiner.”
    â€œMurdering someone with a serrated knife is grisly enough,” said Carmela. “So why the
coup de grâce?
If Jerry Earl was already dead, why stuff his body in a clothes dryer?”
    Gallant thought for a moment. “Dumped in postmortem, yes. Maybe because the killer wanted to throw us off on time of death?”
    â€œThat would do it,” agreed Charlie. “That would alter the lividity factor big time.”
    Carmela’s eyes wandered back to the metal gurney that was parked in the hallway. Jerry Earl’s body was lying in that black plastic bag, stiffening and getting cooler. “That doesn’t seem . . .” she mumbled to herself.
    â€œWhat?” said Gallant. “Why do you think he was stuffed in the clothes dryer?”
    Carmela hesitated for a moment, then gazed directly at Gallant and said with great earnestness: “I think it was done out of hatred. Pure, unabashed hatred.”

Chapter 3
    â€œW HEW,” said Ava. “What a night.” They were crossing the flagstone courtyard that separated Carmela’s garden apartment from Ava’s Juju Voodoo shop and her tiny, funky upstairs apartment.
    Carmela paused next to a large pot of candy pink bougainvilleas. “Come on over,” she said. “I’ll make us a cup of tea.”
    Ava nodded. “I need something to warm me up. I feel out of sorts and chilled to the bone by all of this.”
    â€œAnd you didn’t even get to see the grisly part!” Carmela said. She inserted her key into the lock and let them both into her French Quarter apartment.
    â€œI didn’t need to,” said Ava. “Or want to. Your description alone scared the bejeebers out of me.” She was about to say something else when two furry bodies came hurtling toward her.
    â€œBoo, Poobah,” Carmela warned. “Be careful of your Aunt Ava.”
    But Carmela’s words fell on deaf doggy ears. Boo, Carmela’s wrinkly, fawn-colored Shar-Pei, basically rushed in and knocked Ava for a loop. And Poobah, a spotted mongrel that Carmela’s ex-husband had rescued from the streets, had also closed in for the kill. Or in this case, killer kisses.
    â€œUncle! Uncle!” Ava cried while the dogs pranced, danced, and swirled about her as she tried to hobble her way to the leather chaise. Finally, she flopped down, but not before she was overwhelmed with more kisses and coerced into stroking Boo’s tiny triangle ears.
    â€œAre they bothering you?” Carmela called. She was standing in her small galley kitchen, filling a red tea kettle with fresh water.
    â€œI’m okay,” said Ava. “I’m just enduring a little canine lovefest.”
    â€œAre you hungry?” Carmela asked. “Because if you are, I’ve got banana nut bars and peanut butter cookies.”
    â€œHome baked? By you?”
    â€œYes, of course,” said Carmela. She was pretty good in the cooking department; now she was trying to fine-tune her baking skills.
    â€œThen let’s have at ’em. You know I’ve got a serious sweet tooth issue.” Ava picked up the remote control, aimed it at the TV, and snapped it on. “Think there’ll be anything on about the murder?”
    â€œI sincerely doubt it,” said Carmela. “Jerry Earl’s body isn’t even cold yet.”
    â€œThat’s never stopped the relentless 24/7 news cycle before,” commented Ava.
    The tea kettle let loose a piercing shriek, and Carmela measured out tea, then poured hot water into a floral bisque teapot she’d found in one of the scratch-and-dent rooms of the French Quarter antique shops that she liked to haunt. Placing the teapot onto a wicker tray with cups, saucers, and a small plate of cookies and bars, she squeezed past her dining room table and over to Ava. She settled the tray onto her marble coffee table and