Arsenic and Old Cake (16 page)

Antwon and Tamarra wandered in as Gabriel and I sat down, and we all exchanged awkward good mornings. Tamarra greeted Lula Belle with another peck on the cheek and waved away Antwon’s offer to bring her a plate.

Like everyone else, Antwon looked tired, but he brought his wife coffee and then helped himself to generous portions of everything. He went back for extra biscuits and butter and spoke to the rest of us as he carried his second plate to the table. “How is everyone this morning?”

Lula Belle dabbed a napkin to the corners of her eyes and let out a shaky sigh. “I’m not doing well at all, baby. I can’t believe he’s gone. Dontae! Of all people.”

Tamarra put an arm around the old woman’s frail shoulders and squeezed gently. “Did you manage to sleep?”

“Not a wink.” Lula Belle sighed again, and her hand shook a little as she worked the napkin again. “I couldn’t close my eyes all night.”

Despite how mean she’d been during cocktail hour, I actually felt a little sorry for her.

Grey tore open a biscuit and slathered it with butter. “I didn’t sleep either, but Cleveland sure did. He was still sawing logs when I left my room. I heard him all the way out in the hall. Lord, but that man can snore.”

Gabriel laughed softly. “I’m not surprised. He sure was wound up last night.”

“He gets that way,” Antwon said around a mouthful of eggs. “Half the time you have to just let what he says roll off your back.” He salted everything on his plate heavily and tried another bite. “I heard the Manwarings say they’re checking out this morning. I sure hope the two of you aren’t planning to leave.”

I shook my head and put my hand on Gabriel’s in what I hoped looked like a wifely gesture. “No, we talked it over and decided to stay.” I glanced around and tried to turn the attention away from the two of us. “How are Hyacinth and Primrose? Has anyone seen them this morning?”

Lula Belle pretended not to hear me, but Grey glanced toward the kitchen. “Not yet, but they’ve obviously been busy.” He drained his coffee cup and looked around again. “How’s the coffee? Any left?”

Gabriel hopped up to get the carafe and refilled the partially empty cups. I hoped his friendly gesture would convince the others to talk to us.

“It must be hard to lose someone you’ve known for so long,” I said. “Almost like losing a member of the family.”

Grey nodded and heaped sugar into his cup. “That’s exactly what it’s like. Hell, I’ve known Dontae since I was twenty-something. Six? Seven? Maybe even younger. He could be a pain in the neck, but there was nobody I’d trust more. The man always had my back.”

Lula Belle blew her nose and nodded. “That’s the truth, Grey. The God’s honest truth.” She hiccupped softly and covered her mouth with her handkerchief, closing her eyes and making a visible effort to pull herself together.

Tamarra made some soothing noises, and then sat back with a weary look on her face. “He was like an uncle to me,” she said, turning a sad smile on Grey in the process. “Y’all are just like family. Why would anyone want to hurt him?”

“When did they do it?” Lula Belle asked. “We were together most of the evening.”

“We don’t know for sure that anyone did anything,” I reminded them. And then, hoping I could narrow down their movements during the times Sullivan had mentioned, I asked, “What time did he go to his room? Did anyone notice?”

Grey added a dollop of cream to his cup. “I saw him around ten. He and Cleveland were watching some fool show on the TV set. He was fine then—at least, he seemed to be.”

“I wonder if anyone saw him after that,” I mused aloud.

Lula Belle waved her napkin around in front of her and leaned her head against Tamarra’s shoulder. “I don’t think so, but let’s not talk about Dontae. It’s too awful.”

I couldn’t tell if she was genuinely distraught or trying to avoid the subject for some other reason, but I didn’t want to push too hard and make her stop talking completely. I offered my most sympathetic smile. “I can’t even imagine how difficult this must be.”

Gabriel wolfed down half a cinnamon roll. “Let’s hope the police figure out what happened soon. Do you think Cleveland’s right about Monroe?”

Lula Belle lifted her chin and swiped at her eyes. “How would any of us know?”

“You all knew Dontae,” I pointed out. “And you also seemed to know Monroe pretty well. And Cleveland seemed so certain . . .”

A look passed between Grey and Lula Belle. It was gone in a flash, but Grey looked sullen when he planted his elbows on the table and said, “Antwon just told you, you can’t take Cleveland serious.”

They really were circling the wagons, but why? If they hated Monroe so much, why were they protecting him now? “But you have some kind of history,” I insisted. “You all kept talking about the past last night.”

Antwon looked up sharply. “We don’t even know how Dontae was killed. Even if he was poisoned, there’s nothing to say it happened here or even that it was done on purpose.”

Looking thoughtful, Gabriel ate a slice of bacon and followed it with a sausage link. “Good point. Does anyone know where he went for dinner?”

“He ate where he always ate,” Lula Belle said. “Right here.”

That surprised me. “I didn’t know Hyacinth and Primrose offered dinner service.”

“It’s for the long-term residents only,” Antwon said. “They get breakfast and dinner included in their monthly rent.”

“So you all had dinner together?” Gabriel asked.

Grey nodded. “Just like every night. We told the police that, too. At least, I did. And the rest of us are fine, so don’t go getting any big ideas.”

Lula Belle sniffed loudly. “Why did Monroe disappear? That’s what I want to know. Sure looks suspicious.”

Grey let out an angry snort and pulled a small packet of jam from a wire basket on the table. “Why does that sonofabitch do anything? I guess we know now that all his talk was just that.”

Gabriel anticipated Grey’s next request and passed him the silver butter dish without being asked. “What talk is that?”

Grey shrugged and helped himself to a thick pat of butter. “Some ridiculous story about wanting to make up for the past. Dontae
said
there was more to the story. I guess he was right.”

Antwon shook his head gently. “We don’t know that Monroe did anything.” Grey sputtered a protest, but Antwon held up both hands to stop him. “I know, I know, it looks bad. But until we know exactly what happened, I think we should be careful about throwing accusations around.”

Grey pointed the butter knife at Antwon and snarled, “You climb down off that high horse you’re on, boy. You don’t know Monroe like the rest of us do and I’m not going to pussyfoot around like the rest of you and pretend like he’s an old friend.”

Tamarra jumped in to defend her husband. “But Pastor Rod says—”

Grey snorted. “Pastor Rod. Really. Go back and talk to him again—and this time tell him you want the
truth
, not that watered-down version he’s been telling himself since he found God.”

Tamarra looked wounded. “That’s not fair. Just because Pastor Rod has managed to forgive . . .”

“Forgive what?” I asked, but they ignored me.

Lula Belle made a rude noise and cut the younger woman off. “That’s enough! Grey, you need to quit running your big mouth. And Rod’s not perfect, young lady,” she said to Tamarra. “He’s got a past like anybody else. You and Antwon would both do well to remember that.”

Antwon stiffened. He looked angry, but his voice remained calm. “He’s never tried to deny that. But
he
left
his
past behind. That’s the difference.”

Grey put his knife to work again. “Watch yourself young man. Don’t disrespect your elders.”

“I didn’t mean any disrespect,” Antwon assured him. “I’m just saying that I don’t think the pastor would lie.”

I thought Lula Belle was going to say something more, but just then the door to the kitchen swung open and Hyacinth backed into the room carrying a fresh pot of coffee. As if someone had flipped a switch, everybody in the room fell silent, just as they had last night when the police came.

Hyacinth paused and ran a look over everyone at the table. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Grey muttered, suddenly fascinated by the jam.

Antwon sawed at a piece of sausage. “Just making small talk, ma’am. How are you this morning?”

Gabriel and I exchanged a glance. Clearly, the others were intimidated by Hyacinth. But was it because she could kick them out of their rooms if they crossed her, or because they suspected her? Could she have poisoned Dontae? Maybe I’d been wrong to tell Sullivan I didn’t think she was guilty. She
did
have unfettered access to the food supply, after all.

Grey stuffed the last bit of sausage into his mouth and pushed away from the table. “You ready to head back to your room, Lula Belle? I’ll walk with you.”

She stood and slipped two muffins into the pocket of her sweater, then pulled her walker around in front of her. “I think that’s a good idea. I don’t have much of an appetite anyway.”

Under Hyacinth’s watchful eye even Antwon abandoned his breakfast. Tamarra picked up her cup and followed her husband out the door.

I could only watch helplessly as all four of them left the room. No matter how much I wanted to chase after them and demand answers, I’d have a better chance of finding out what was happening at the Love Nest if I could talk to each of them alone.

But that wasn’t going to be easy. I had a feeling that Hyacinth would be watching her little world like a hawk from now on.

Seventeen

Gabriel and I finished breakfast in relative silence. We had plenty to talk about, but I had the uneasy feeling that someone was hovering nearby, waiting to hear what we’d say. Whether it was true or just my imagination, I wasn’t about to discuss the case where we could be overheard, and I had too much on my mind to play phony honeymoon. That left work and the weather, both of which we touched on briefly as we ate.

I’d have given anything for a chance to take a good look at the garden, the garage, or Monroe’s room, but yellow crime scene tape barred access to everyone but authorized personnel. Even with Sullivan’s blessing on our stay here, we couldn’t be considered “authorized” by any stretch of the imagination.

It wasn’t that I thought I might find evidence the police had missed, but I was curious about what they’d found and where they’d found it. Sullivan might have asked us to keep an ear to the ground and tell him what we learned, but I could hardly expect him to reciprocate by sharing what the police knew. Which seemed a little shortsighted, really. How was I supposed to determine if something I heard or saw was important?

Gabriel and I drove away from the inn around ten. He had switched shifts for the weekend with one of the Dizzy Duke’s part-time bartenders, so he was working the Saturday day shift from noon until four. That would give me the same amount of time at Zydeco before I joined him at the Duke so we could talk with Old Dog Leg together. I was all for speaking to him before either of us went to work, but Gabriel had pointed out that Dog Leg was basically nocturnal—he stayed up until the wee hours jamming with the band, then typically slept in until the afternoon. It would be kinder to let him sleep now and talk to him when he showed up at the Duke that evening.

Gabriel let me out in front of Zydeco, and I stood there for a minute, shifting from pretend-bride mode to baker-boss lady. Four hours should give me plenty of time to smooth Ox’s and Edie’s ruffled feathers, whatever that was about, and it might even leave me time to get Ox together with Miss Frankie so he could pitch his ideas. It sounded good in theory, but in reality I knew it meant that I had three difficult conversations lined up in a row, and I wasn’t looking forward to any of them.

“Rita?”

At the sound of my name, I turned to find Dwight Sonntag loping along the sidewalk toward me. Dwight is another old friend from pastry school and one of the most gifted cake artists I know, but anyone meeting him for the first time might wonder about his professionalism. He’s tall and thin and . . . well . . . scraggly. Some might even say he’s hygiene challenged, but that would be patently untrue. He’s very clean. He just doesn’t look like he is.

That morning he wore a wrinkled white T-shirt and a pair of jeans so faded they’d long ago stopped looking like denim. Dark stubble left to fend for itself curled randomly across his cheeks and chin, and a pair of flip-flops so old the soles had all but disappeared slapped the pavement as he walked. He held a white bag in one hand, and in the other carried a ginormous paper cup that probably held a gallon of whatever he’d ordered to go with his lunch.

That day’s forecast called for a high temperature in the low seventies, which should have been almost pleasant, but New Orleans’s fierce sun and heavy humidity made it feel more like the high eighties. Perspiration trickled down my back, and the fabric under my arms had grown damp by the time Dwight reached me.

He slurped noisily and gave me a chin-jerk greeting. “What are you doing here? I thought you were taking some time off.”

“I was,” I said. “But I have a few hours on my hands, so I decided to stop by.”

“Yeah?” He squinted into the sunlight and ran a glance over me. His eyebrows beetled together, forming an unattractive unibrow. “Any special reason, or just because you miss us so much?”

I laughed and started walking toward Zydeco’s broad front stairs. “That depends,” I told him. “Which one are you more likely to believe?”

Dwight slurped again and matched my stride, but he was still watching me from the corner of his eye. “Somebody told you, didn’t they?”

“Told me what?”

“About Ox and Edie. Who was it? Estelle?”

His guess wasn’t all that impressive. Neither Ox nor Edie would have called me, and Isabeau would have protected Ox. Sparkle’s not the type to squeal, and Abe, our baker, only works during the wee hours when nobody else is around. He usually leaves about the time the rest of the crew shows up, which left Estelle as the most likely candidate.

I grinned and said, “Maybe,” as we reached the foot of the stairs. I stopped there, partly because I wasn’t ready to go inside yet, and partly because it was about twenty degrees cooler in the shade. “What happened, anyway? I’d like your take on it before I go in there.”