Arsenic and Old Cake (11 page)

“Everything’s fine,” Gabriel assured her, but he spoke too soon.

Primrose pointed one shaky finger at Cleveland. “Ask him.”

Cleveland snorted again. “I didn’t say anything the others aren’t thinking.”

“He’s going on about Monroe again,” Primrose snapped. She sounded more like a petulant three-year-old than a woman in her seventies. “I’d like to know when
he
became a saint.”

Hyacinth’s eyes grew wide and round, and she folded her thick arms across her chest. “Did the two of you forget that we have guests?”

“It’s okay,” Gabriel said. “No harm, no foul.”

But Cleveland shoved his finger in Primrose’s face. “I’m no saint. Never claimed to be. But at least I ain’t a snake.”

“That’s
enough
!” Hyacinth’s warning was so harsh and loud, Primrose flinched and Cleveland backed up a step. Hyacinth took a deep breath and gave a grimace that was probably intended to be a smile but missed its mark by a mile. “We. Have.
Guests
. Whatever the two of you are going on about can wait.” She turned to Gabriel and me and sweetened her tone. “I apologize for my sister and my friend. You two run along now and enjoy yourselves. Put our childish squabbling right out of your minds.”

I was burning up with curiosity, but I couldn’t think of a good excuse for sticking around when Hyacinth was so eager to see us go. Reluctantly, I let her escort me toward the foyer. It wasn’t until I was alone with Gabriel and trying to wrap my mind around what had just happened that I realized I owed Primrose and Cleveland a debt of gratitude.

Thanks to their argument, Pastor Rod had forgotten all about praying for our fake marriage.

Eleven

“I
knew
it!” I kept my voice low to prevent being overheard, and tugged Gabriel toward the stairs. “This Monroe guy has some connection to the people here.”

“Yeah. But for the record, I’m convinced they’re all loony tunes.”

I laughed and started up the staircase. “Can we see the garage from our window? I want to watch for Monroe to start working on the van. Maybe we can catch him alone.”

“Maybe
I
can catch him alone,” Gabriel said. “I don’t know what’s going on with these people, but I don’t want you in the middle of it.”

I stopped walking and whipped around to face him. “You’re kidding, right? They’re not going to hurt anyone. They’re . . .
old
! And besides, I wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t gotten me involved. You don’t get to come riding in on your white horse to save me.”

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure we were still alone. “That was before I met these people. Be a sport. Go on up to the room. I’ll go outside and wait for Monroe.”

“Not on your life.” For the third time in an hour my cell phone buzzed, and this time I welcomed the interruption. I fished it out of my pocket just as the first notes of “Rhapsody in Blue” played, signaling a call from one of Zydeco’s staff. I checked the screen, saw that the call was from Estelle Jergens, one of my decorators, and waved the phone in front of me. “Sorry. Business. Very important. You go on up. I’ll join you when I’m through.” I dashed past him and out the front door before he could stop me.

Getting a call from Estelle didn’t really surprise me. She’s the oldest staff member at Zydeco and the one I’d vote Most Likely to Panic in a Crisis. I’d have an easier time dealing with whatever was bothering her without Gabriel to distract me. But that was only part of the reason I’d bolted for the door. If Gabriel thought I was going to sit upstairs reading a book while he had all the fun, he was crazier than the residents of the Love Nest.

As soon as I stepped outside, the sounds and smells of the neighborhood hit me and reminded me where I was. A group of young people strolled past the inn, laughing and joking with each other. A couple of young men with loose-hipped walks went by, each with an arm slung around the shoulders of a foul-mouthed girlfriend. Lights and music spilled into the night from the tattoo parlor down the street, and rap music thumped rhythmically from passing cars.

In spite of my tough-girl talk earlier, I felt slightly uneasy in this neighborhood. I slipped into the shadows of the porch so I wouldn’t be visible from the street and answered the call. “Estelle? What’s up?”

“Rita? Oh thank God. I was starting to worry. I’ve been calling and calling, but it kept going straight to voice mail.”

I was a little out of breath, but I think I managed to sound normal. “That’s because I’m taking some time off,” I said patiently. “If you have a problem at work while I’m away, you might get a quicker response if you call Ox.”

Estelle laughed nervously. “Yeah. I know.” She took a couple of raspy breaths and then said, “Look, Rita, I really hate to bother you, but I thought you needed to know about what happened this afternoon.”

I didn’t say anything for a moment. If there was trouble at Zydeco, she was right that I should know about it. Then again, I wanted the staff to understand that I trusted Ox and they didn’t need to run to me with every little thing. “I left Ox in charge while I’m away,” I said. “Is this something you can talk about with him?”

Estelle laughed, but she didn’t sound amused. “Um . . . no. He’s part of the problem.”

A warning bell sounded in the back of my mind. “What problem?”

“I don’t know the whole story, but Ox and Edie got into it this afternoon over some phone call. They’re not talking to each other, or to any of us. And Edie was so upset she went home early.”

“You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re making this up just to freak me out.”

“I’m sorry, Rita. I wish I was. Sparkle and I thought you should know.”

Sparkle, another one of my decorators (and all Goth despite the frilly name), doesn’t make a habit of getting involved in drama. If she was worried, maybe I should be, too. Before I could process what Estelle had said, the front door opened and Monroe stepped out onto the porch. He acknowledged me with a dip of his head and whistled as if he hadn’t a care in the world as he gingerly walked down the front steps.

This would have been a great chance to talk with him alone, but I couldn’t hang up on Estelle after what she’d just told me. “What time did Edie leave?”

“A few minutes after three.”

Roughly three hours ago, and she was just calling me now? “And who handled the front desk after she left?” It was difficult to follow the conversation. My attention was riveted on Monroe, who followed the walk around the side of the building and disappeared from view.

“Isabeau answered the phones until we closed at five,” Estelle said. “We didn’t have a lot of work, so it didn’t mess things up too badly. But she didn’t have Edie’s password, so she wasn’t able to get into the bakery’s e-mail account.”

I descended the stairs and moseyed after Monroe, hoping he wouldn’t notice that I was following him. “I have the password,” I said. “I’ll check the e-mail account tonight. Are you still at the bakery now?”

“No. We left right after we closed. Sparkle and I had a drink at the Duke, and that’s when we decided I should call you. We didn’t want to disturb you, but nobody knows if Edie’s coming back tomorrow. She was
really
upset.”

Edie had been acting strangely for the past couple of days, and now she’d walked off the job? I couldn’t just let that slide. I had to find out what was going on with her, especially if it was spilling over into the workplace. “I’m sure she’ll be back,” I told Estelle. “I’ll talk with both of them tomorrow and make sure we get everything smoothed out.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “I sure hope you can get those two to talk to you. I did my best to get some information from Ox, but he blew me off. I’m sure Isabeau knows what happened, but she’s not saying a word.”

I’d reached the corner of the building. Trying to look like someone out for a casual stroll, I checked to see if Monroe was still in sight. He’d stopped in front of a two-car detached garage where he was now fiddling with a heavy padlock. “I’ll take care of it,” I promised again. “Try not to worry.” I managed to end the conversation a few minutes later, and stood in the shadows, enjoying the cool evening breeze while I tried to shift my mental gears and decide on the best way to strike up a conversation with Monroe.

Turned out, I didn’t have to worry. Monroe unlocked the padlock and worked it out of the clasp that held the garage doors shut. Setting the lock aside, he swung open one of the wooden doors and propped it open with a piece of cinder block. As he dragged open the second door, he spotted me and straightened up sharply. “Hey there. What are you doing out here?”

“Phone call,” I said, wagging my cell phone in front of me.

He put a second cinder block in place and wiped his hands on the back of his pants. “Don’t tell me you’re sneaking around on your husband already?”

“It’s not like that, cross my heart.” I sketched an X across my chest. “You’re working on the van?”

“I’m fixin’ to take a look. Don’t know what I’ll find, though.” He ran a skeptical look over a maroon van that had seen better days. “Looks pretty sorry, don’t it?”

I agreed that it did and slipped my phone in my pocket as I stepped toward the garage. “I’m surprised Hyacinth agreed to let you work on it,” I said. “I mean, you
are
a guest here. She was upset by the thought of me gathering a few glasses.”

He laughed and reached inside the van to start the engine. It didn’t click or grind. In fact, it started smoothly and purred like a contented old cat. Surprise, surprise.

After he listened for a moment, Monroe shut it off again. “I guess technically I am a guest,” he said as he unlatched the hood, “but it feels more like family. Me and the Hoyt sisters go way back.”

I
knew
it! I just didn’t know if that was good or bad news for Old Dog Leg. “So you’re in town to visit old friends?”

Monroe glanced around the garage, spotted a toolbox, and carried it toward the van. “In a manner of speaking. I lived in New Orleans when I was younger, but I’ve been away a long time. Came back to see friends and to find my brother.”

He certainly seemed sincere. I hitched myself onto a packing box that looked sturdy enough to hold me and settled in to watch him work. “How long have you been away?”

“Longer than you’ve been alive, I expect.”

“And how long since you saw your brother?”

Monroe spent some time wiggling wires and checking hoses. Had he found something wrong with the van or was he just ignoring my question? Eventually he pulled a rag from his pocket and slowly wiped grease from his fingers. “It’s been forty years since I saw anyone from these parts.”

I did my best to look surprised. “Why so long?”

He looked at me from the corner of his eye. “Long story.”

“I have time,” I said. “If you want to talk about it, that is.” I tried to sound friendly and compassionate, but his expression grew guarded and withdrawn.

“Not really. But thanks.”

Wrong answer. I tried again. “Have you seen your brother yet?”

Monroe ducked back under the hood. “Not yet. Sent him a letter the other day. I’m just waitin’ to hear back.” He wiggled another wire or two and then looked over at me. “I’ll bet that husband of yours is wondering where you got off to. Mebbe it would be best if you was to go back inside.”

He wasn’t going to get rid of me that easily. I smiled, still trying to give off a friendly vibe. “I’m sure he’s not worried.”

Monroe put both hands on the van and gave me a steady look. “Mebbe not, but I’ve been down that road before. I don’t want trouble. Not that kind. Or any other, for that matter. I just got my life back. I ain’t losing it again.”

I wondered what he meant by that, but he made it hard to argue or stretch out the conversation. Was he genuinely worried, or just trying to dodge my questions? I didn’t want to leave until I knew for sure, but I didn’t want to push and make him completely shut down either.

Reluctantly deciding it might be best to back off for now, I hopped from the box and started toward the open garage doors, then stopped and looked back, intending to apologize for interrupting him. But the words froze in my throat.

Monroe had turned his back on me, and I watched as he unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off, revealing a white tank undershirt. There, clearly visible on his right shoulder, was a birthmark in the shape of a crescent moon.

Twelve

Monroe really was Old Dog Leg’s brother!

I rushed back up to the room, eager to tell Gabriel about my discovery. He wasn’t in the Honeymooner suite, so I scoured the inn for him and finally found him in the garden, talking about fishing with Dontae and Cleveland. He was regaling them with a story about catching a small shark while fishing in the Gulf of Mexico—a story that might even have been true. Then again, knowing Gabriel, it could have been a complete fabrication.

“Give you much of a fight?” Cleveland asked, sounding almost breathless with anticipation.

“Just about tore my arm off,” Gabriel said. “But it was worth the effort. That thing tasted damn good hot off the grill.”

Dontae barked an appreciative laugh and then spotted me. “Uh-oh. Looks like the missus tracked you down.” He lumbered to his feet, groaning loudly from the effort. “You tell a mighty good fish story, boy. Mighty good.”

Cleveland ran a suspicious gaze over me. “It’s bad juju to leave your man alone on your honeymoon.” He turned his back on me and spoke to Gabriel in a stage whisper that carried across the space between us. “You want your marriage to work out, set the tone now. You’re the man of the house. She ain’t.” When Gabriel only smiled, Cleveland glanced back at me and added, “I ain’t jokin’. You mark my words.”

Gabriel put a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Thanks, Cleveland. I appreciate the advice, but I’ve got this.” He winked at me and formed a fist. “Iron fist rules.”

“Oh please,” I said. “Just try that iron-fist crap with me, Broussard. I guarantee you’ll be sorry. Are you ready for dinner? I’m starving.”

Gabriel left his new best friends and put his arm around my shoulder. “See, fellas? I’ve got her right where she wants me.”