Skeleton Letters (14 page)

“Very close to it,” said Carmela. “These letters appear fairly simple and pretty much are. They're the basic forms you need to master for calligraphy. Then, once you feel comfortable rendering rudimentary skeleton letters, we'll move on to more complex forms of calligraphy. Depending on how it goes, we might try copperplate, rustica, or even Carolingian.”

One of the women raised a tentative hand. “So how do we begin? Just practice our
ABC
s?”

“You can do that,” said Carmela, as she walked around the table passing out mini versions of her alphabet template to everyone, “or you can get creative and start thinking about some of the ways you might actually use calligraphy.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Baby.

“Once you master the basic skeleton letters,” said Carmela, “and are able to enhance them with a few swirls and flourishes, you can incorporate calligraphy into all sorts of things. Think about lettering on a scrapbook page or making your own greeting cards, maps, or place cards. When your lettering gets good enough, you can move on to certificates and awards, or even make your own gift wrap.”

Gabby grabbed a sample of Carmela's work and popped it down in the center of the table. “This is a little placard that Carmela created last week. It's a verse from a Shakespeare sonnet, hand-lettered onto bamboo paper, then mounted on chipboard. You can see she deckled the edges, then smoothed on a little gold leaf.”

The sample was met with murmurs of “Fantastic” and “Beautiful.”

“
Oof
,” said Tandy, scowling down at her paper, “I think I already made a mess.”

“Don't worry,” said Carmela. “Your first couple of attempts are going to be a little shaky, but keep practicing. Keep your letters within the grid lines on the paper and try to master the basic skeleton formation. Then you can move on and enhance it.”

“My pen's not doing what I want it to,” complained one woman.

“Okay,” said Carmela, “here's an important trick. For thick strokes, apply pressure to the tip of your pen. For thin strokes, simply ease up and go lightly.”

“Good advice,” said Baby, as she rendered a lovely letter
B
.

“Also,” said Carmela, “it's better to draw thick strokes with a downward motion of your pen and thin strokes by moving your pen upward.”

“Now I get it,” said Tandy, looking pleased.

“And don't expect to make a letter all in one single stroke,” said Carmela. “In fact, it's better to go slowly and even lift your pen a couple of times.”

Carmela and Gabby went around the table, giving pointers here, encouragement there. When all her crafters were working away diligently, Carmela slipped into her back office. She had a small project she wanted to finish up, an example of one of the projects she was going to have her crafters work on.

Last week she'd decoupaged a few images of roses, ballerinas, and a piece of opera music onto a small, round cardboard box. When the glue had dried, she'd shellacked the sides and top and glued a string of pearls around the top edge. Now she was hard at work, lettering the phrase
You are the wind beneath my wings
onto parchment paper. This would be artfully torn out, then decoupaged onto the cover of the box. And she'd probably line it with a crumpled piece of silk. Hopefully, the little jewel box would serve as inspiration for her class today.

“Carmela,” said Gabby. She was standing in the doorway, looking pleased.

Carmela finished the final letter on her verse and lifted her head. “Yes?”

“They're all doing rather brilliantly.”

“You think they're ready to tackle a project?”

Gabby gave an emphatic nod. “I think they are.”

Carmela grabbed her decoupaged box and lettered phrase and headed back out to the table, eager to see how the class had done.

“Look what we've been busy doing!” boasted Tandy, holding up a sheet of beautifully rendered letters.

“Perfect,” said Carmela. She circled the table, checking everyone's progress.

“Did we do good?” asked one of the women.

“Better than good,” Carmela told her. “You're ready to integrate your calligraphy into a real live project.”

“Oh goody,” said Tandy. “What do you have in mind?”

“Let's start with something fairly simple,” suggested Carmela. “Maybe a hand-lettered quote or poem, some lettering on a picture frame, or a sentiment lettered and decoupaged onto a small wooden box.” She set her little box on the table, showed them what she'd done so far, and explained exactly how she'd finish it up.

“That's what I want to make,” declared Tandy.

“Me, too,” came a chorus of enthusiastic voices.

“It just so happens,” said Gabby, stepping in, “that we have a baker's dozen of small boxes.” She scattered them on the table—square boxes, round boxes, even a couple of hexshaped boxes—and let each woman choose her favorite.

“If you want to wander through the shop and select paper, charms, beads, fibers, or whatever,” said Carmela, “please help yourself. And whatever items you choose today for your jewel box project, remember, it's all included in the price of today's seminar.”

That brought another round of smiles, and a gaggle of women suddenly leaped to their feet and began combing through the shop like they were on a treasure hunt, searching for the perfect paper, ribbon, charms, and adornments.

“What are you two going to do?” Carmela asked Baby and Tandy. They'd remained seated at the table.

“We were thinking of making a shadow box in memory of Byrle,” said Tandy. She squinted at Carmela. “What do you think of that?”

“I think it's a lovely sentiment,” said Carmela. She reached up and grabbed a twelve-by-fourteen-inch shadow box from a top shelf. “Will this one work?”

“Perfect,” said Baby, accepting it gingerly. “Oh, and it's even got a glass front.”

“Have you thought about what you'd put in it?” asked Carmela.

Tandy nodded. “Baby's going to select an appropriate poem and do the calligraphy and I'm going to gather up some dried flowers, a bit of lace, velvet paper for a backdrop, and a crucifix.”

“We thought we might put in a string of pearls, too,” said Baby. “Byrle always loved her pearls.”

“If you want,” said Carmela, “I could help you ghost some sort of image onto a piece of vellum.”

“I like that,” said Baby.

“Were you going to, um, display it tomorrow at the funeral?” asked Carmela. Byrle's funeral was scheduled for ten o'clock tomorrow at St. Tristan's.

“I don't know,” said Baby. “Maybe. If we get it done today.”

“Know what I think?” said Tandy. “I think it's kind of creepy that Byrle's funeral is being held in the same place she was murdered.”

“It's where she went to church,” Baby said in a quiet voice. “Where her family still attends church.”

“Still,” said Tandy, pushing her red half-glasses up onto her nose and giving a shudder, “I think it's weird.”

“Think of it as being appropriate,” said Baby, “in a dust-to-dust sort of way.”

“Maybe,” said a still skeptical Tandy.

“I understand you're going to do a reading at the funeral tomorrow?” Carmela asked Baby.

Baby bit her lip and nodded, as tears sprang to her eyes. “A poem by Emily Dickinson.”

“And there'll be others, too?” asked Carmela. “People who'll do testimonials or readings?”

“That's right,” said Baby, “two other folks are lined up to give tributes. One is her sister, Stella Marie Deveroux from Baton Rouge, and the other is a cousin, I think.”

“I could design a program if you'd like,” Carmela offered.

Baby looked sad but thrilled. “Would you really do that?”

“Of course,” said Carmela. “You know I'd be happy to. Well, not
happy
, because she's . . .”

Baby reached for Carmela's hand and gripped it. “I know, dear,” she said, in a mournful voice. “I know.”

 

 

Carmela cruised her shop then, helping customers select paper and various items to decorate their jewel boxes. One woman, Sylvie Webber, seemed to be stuck.

“Do you think I could use this Japanese wrapping paper?” Sylvie asked. She held a rolled sheet of burnished brown paper covered with cream-colored Japanese kanji in her hand.

“I think it would make a lovely background,” Carmela told her.

But Sylvie was still undecided. “But then what? How do I carry out the Asian theme?”

“How about adding stickers or stamps with cranes on them?” Carmela suggested. “Cranes being an auspicious symbol in Japan.”

“Perfect,” said Sylvie. “And maybe some beads?”

“I have some gold lantern beads,” said Carmela, “as well as some lovely silk tassels.”

“Do you think I could try doing some Japanese calligraphy?” asked Sylvie.

“I don't see why not,” said Carmela. “You might find out you're very good at it!”

Carmela moved to the front counter, where she sifted through a basket filled with beads and charms, looking for something else Sylvie could use. When she glanced up, Baby was staring at her, an inquisitive look on her face.

“Do you know?” Baby asked in hushed tones, “is there anything new on the investigation?”

“Not really,” said Carmela. She felt guilty about holding back information about Johnny Otis's arrest from Baby, but she didn't want to betray any confidences with Babcock, either.

“I've been asking around,” said Baby. “Talking to people I know on various boards and committees . . . people associated with St. Tristan's. And there's one name that keeps coming up.”

“Who?” asked Carmela, pretty much expecting Baby to spit out the name Johnny Otis.

“Paul Lupori,” said Baby. “Brother Paul, to be exact.”

“Oh my gosh,” Carmela exclaimed, putting a hand to her head and pushing back a tangle of hair, “I met him! He was the guy creeping around the basement of St. Tristan's yesterday when Ava and I went back to check things out.”

Baby gazed at her in surprise. “There you go! I heard that Brother Paul had recently begun an affiliation with St. Tristan's. Running some sort of program, though I'm not sure what it is exactly.”

“So . . . why does his name keep coming up?” asked Carmela. “Among the people you talked to.”

“Here's the thing,” said Baby, lowering her voice. “Apparently Brother Paul had been working over at St. Cecilia's and some money went missing. A lot of money.”

“Okay,” said Carmela.

“And now,” said Baby, “just as Brother Paul begins an affiliation with St. Tristan's, a valuable crucifix is stolen and poor Byrle ends up dead. Does that sound a little fishy to you?”

“Maybe,” said Carmela. Brother Paul had
seemed
harmless enough. But since Baby had information concerning stolen money, it did cast him in a different light.

“So what I'm wondering,” continued Baby, “is if you could dream up some sort of excuse to talk to him. See what you can find out.”

“Are you serious?” Carmela's voice rose in a squawk. “Talk to Brother Paul? What would I say to him? What on earth would be my excuse?”

Baby shook her head. “I have no idea. But I'm positive you'll come up with something.” A smile crept onto her face. “After all, investigating is pretty much your area of expertise.”

After checking on the rest of her crafters, Carmela ducked back into her office to fix a cup of Darjeeling tea. She took a couple of fortifying sips and decided, then and there, to call Babcock. Go right to the horse's mouth, so to speak, concerning the mysterious Brother Paul.

“What do you know about Brother Paul?” Carmela asked Babcock, once she had him on the line.

“What!” Babcock screeched. “Why would you bring
that
name up?

Carmela moved the receiver away from her ear and said, “I didn't.”

“Yes, you did,” fumed Babcock. He sounded harried, and Carmela could hear horns honking in the background. Probably Babcock was out driving around, trying to talk, trying to listen, trying to maneuver around potholes and juggle a cup of black coffee at the same time.

“Technically, it was Baby who mentioned Brother Paul's name to me,” said Carmela. “It seems he got into some sort of trouble when he was working over at, um . . .”

“Over at St. Cecilia's,” said Babcock. “Yes, yes, I've heard the whole sad tale.”