Arsenic and Old Cake (17 page)

Dwight glanced up at the front door and shook his head slowly. “I wish I knew. One minute they were going over the details for one of next week’s orders, and the next Edie was shouting at Ox like a crazy woman. Before I could figure out what was happening, she walked out.”

His story matched Estelle’s, but it didn’t help me. “You have no idea what set her off?”

The unibrow returned. “Not really, although she did call Ox an insensitive ass. Several times.”

I laughed. At least
that
sounded like Edie. “Okay,” I said. “Well, she’s right. He can be insensitive at times. But it’s not as if that’s a big surprise. And it’s never bothered her like that before.”

Dwight shrugged. “Maybe not, but it sure bothered her yesterday.”

“Yeah, so I gathered. What did Ox say?”

“What could he say? She freaked out on him and left. He was pissed, but it’s not as if he could fire her or anything.”

Thank the Lord for small favors. Ox might be insensitive, but Edie could also be a pain in the neck. Yet I needed his talent, and her organizational skills had saved my butt more than once in the past few months. “She’s inside now, though, right?”

“She was when I left for lunch.” He climbed a couple of steps, then stopped and looked back at me. “Sorry I’m not more help.”

I waved away his apology and started up the steps behind him. “Don’t worry about it. If she’s at work and everything’s back to normal, I don’t want to stir the pot.”

“Oh, she’s here,” Dwight said with a cryptic grin, “but I never said that things were back to normal.” And with that, he bolted up the stairs.

“Dwight! Wait! What did you mean by that?” I raced after him, but he made it inside before I could catch up. By the time I burst through the door into Zydeco’s foyer, I was gasping for air and sweating like a long-distance runner. I really needed to visit the gym. Later. When I had some free time.

Edie was sitting at her desk, her usually sleek hair pulled back in an untidy ponytail, her round face drawn and pale. But there was nothing diminished about her attitude. She rolled a glance filled with disapproval over me. “What are you doing here, Rita?”

“It’s good to see you, too.” I bent at the waist and grabbed my knees, trying to breathe normally. “Where did Dwight go?”

Edie jerked her head toward the employee break room. “He went that way. Want me to call him?”

I shook my head quickly. “No, that’s okay. I’ll catch him later.” I crossed the foyer, with its high white walls and framed pictures of some of Zydeco’s most exquisite cakes, and sat across from Edie, hoping I looked casual. “So what’s going on this morning? Are you feeling okay?”

Her gaze shot to mine. “I’m fine. Why would you ask that?”

I crossed my legs and reached for a stack of mail tagged for my office. “You look a little pale,” I said, tactfully leaving her hair out of the discussion. “Rough night?”

She seemed to relax a little. She even let out a thin laugh. “You could say that.”

“If you’re not feeling well—” I began.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, cutting me off. “If there was something wrong, I’d tell you,
okay
?”

O-kay then. I hesitated over what to say next. I didn’t want to poke an angry bear, but the fact that Edie was so clearly on edge meant I couldn’t just pretend that nothing had happened. “Why don’t you tell me what happened with you and Ox yesterday?”

What little remained of her smile disappeared in a flash. “Who told you about that? Did Ox call you?”

“It wasn’t Ox,” I assured her. “So tell me, why did you walk out?”

Scowling, Edie swept a stray lock of hair from her cheek. “I can’t believe someone called you. You’re supposed to be on vacation.”

“Yeah. Well. It’s not really a vacation. And that’s not the point. What got you so angry with Ox?”

Edie chewed her lower lip for a moment and then sighed heavily. “It wasn’t a big deal, okay? I was exhausted and worried about the money thing we talked about the other day, and I just blew up. Ox and I have talked it over. We’re cool with each other. Let’s just drop it.” She turned toward her computer as if that put an end to the discussion.

And maybe it did. I just wasn’t sure. I freely admit that personnel issues are not my forte. I’m much better at the stuff that doesn’t require me to deal with hurt feelings and other emotions. So while I didn’t want to overlook something important, neither did I want to turn a minor skirmish into something major.

As I debated my next move, Miss Frankie’s ring tone began to play on my cell phone, and I jumped at the excuse to end my conversation with Edie. I worked up an expression that I hoped would pass for regret and held up the phone. “Sorry. I have to take this.”

“Fine,” Edie said without looking up. “Not a problem.”

Sure, I was disappointed in myself for not getting to the bottom of the trouble between Ox and Edie, but not so disappointed that I’d prolong the uncomfortable. I trotted into my office, carrying the stack of mail with me.

“Well, sugar?” my mother-in-law said when I answered. “I haven’t heard from you, and I’ve been wondering how your weekend is going.”

I hadn’t been planning to check in with her. Apparently, she’d thought that I would. I tossed the mail into my in-basket and sank into the chair that Philippe and I had shared when we worked together. I didn’t want to tell Miss Frankie about Dontae’s murder, but if she hadn’t heard about it on the news already, she would soon enough. Either way, there’d be hell to pay if I lied to her now.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” I quipped.

A heartbeat of silence passed before she said, “I guess you’d better give me both.”

Which made me suspect that she hadn’t seen the news yet. I opted for the good news first and told her about spotting the scar on Monroe’s shoulder.

“So he
is
Old Dog Leg’s brother,” she said when I wound down.

“Yeah. He is.”

“Well, imagine that.” I heard the click of her heels and the scrape of a chair on the floor, and I pictured her sitting at her kitchen table to digest the news. “How did Dog Leg react when you told him?”

“We haven’t told him yet,” I said. “We’re planning to fill him in this evening.”

“You and Gabriel?”

“Yes.”

“But, sugar, why wait? You found out what he wanted to know, didn’t you? Why keep the good news from him?”

“Well, there’s been a complication. The bed-and-breakfast caters to honeymoon couples, but there are also a group of senior citizens living there on a long-term basis. One of them was killed last night.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, but I heard her getting up from the chair and walking across the kitchen. The refrigerator door opened and closed, and I heard the
clink
of ice followed by the
splash
of liquid into a glass. “Killed? How?”

I told her about Dontae’s apparent poisoning and Monroe’s disappearance. “We haven’t told Old Dog Leg yet because we don’t know where Monroe is, and right now I think he’s the primary suspect.”

“Good Lord!” she breathed. “I knew you were making a mistake to get involved in this mess. Didn’t I say it would be a mistake?”

She had, but not for those reasons. “Nobody could have foreseen the murder,” I pointed out. “But I know that’s not why you called.” I assumed she was calling about the meeting with Ox, but she surprised me.

“No, it’s not. After you left the other night, I realized there was something I forgot to talk with you about,” she said. “I know this is late notice, but Bernice has decided to have a barbecue for a few close friends and family on Monday. You can make it, can’t you, sugar? I told Bernice you’d bring a cake.”

I scrambled to follow the unexpected turn she’d taken. Miss Frankie has a habit of volunteering me for things without asking, but with so much going on I barely even noticed that she was doing it again. “Monday? Is it a special occasion?”

Miss Frankie ticked her tongue. “Is that a serious question? Have you forgotten the holiday?”

I pawed through the piles of paper on my desk, searching for my calendar. “Holiday?”

“Memorial Day! Sugar, are you even listening to me?”

“Of course I’m listening.” It was partially true, anyway. “Memorial Day. Picnic at Bernice’s. I’m not sure of my schedule, but I’ll be there if I can.”

“But, sugar, you have to be there. You’re bringing the cake.”

“The cake?”

“The cake for the barbecue. I just told you about it. Honestly, Rita!”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “There’s a lot going on and I’m a bit distracted. I’ll do my best to be there, but even if I can’t make it I’ll send a cake. Okay?”

“Oh? You have other plans?” It sounded like a simple question, but it was loaded with hidden meaning. Since Philippe died, I’m Miss Frankie’s only family. She relies on me more than I ever would have believed possible. I could almost hear her asking why I hadn’t told her what I was doing for the holiday and why I hadn’t invited her to join me.

Gabriel and I had reservations at the Love Nest for only two more nights. We were scheduled to check out on Monday morning, but what if Sullivan asked us to stick around for another day or two? Helping Old Dog Leg factored higher on my priority list than a picnic, but I wasn’t sure Miss Frankie would agree. Tradition is very important to her.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I can,” I promised, and changed the subject again. “What does your schedule look like this afternoon? I’m at Zydeco now. If you can stop by, we can meet with Ox about his ideas for the bakery.”

She refused to follow my lead. “Why don’t you check with that policeman of yours? Bernice thinks we should invite him to join us.”

Was it really Bernice’s idea? Or was it Miss Frankie’s way of making sure I wasn’t getting too serious with Gabriel? Either way, I wasn’t ready for another complication in my love life right now. “It’s sweet of Bernice to offer,” I said, “but I’m not sure inviting him is a good idea.”

“Oh? Why not?” Miss Frankie managed to sound innocently surprised by my response, and maybe even a little disappointed. But again, I wasn’t sure why. All I knew was that she’d rather expire in a fiery ball than give anyone the impression that she was less than gracious.

“I’m sure Sullivan will be busy,” I said. “He’s working the homicide at the Love Nest, and it’s a holiday. There’ll be crowds. Alcohol. You know how it is.”

“Of course.” This time, I thought she sounded relieved. Maybe the invitation had been Bernice’s idea after all. “You’re right. I didn’t think of that. Well, that’s too bad. I’ll let Bernice know that you’ll be coming alone.”

“If my schedule is clear,” I said again.

“Of course. Just let me know.”

“And you’ll let me know about meeting with Ox?”

“Absolutely. I’ll just juggle a few things and head over that way. You check your schedule and let me know about the picnic when I get there.”

I might have argued that I needed more time, but she’d already disconnected and I knew that she was probably already calling Bernice to let her know that the cake and I were a lock for Monday’s barbecue.

Eighteen

While I waited for Miss Frankie to arrive, I made a few phone calls and dealt with some paperwork. I texted Ox to let him know that Miss Frankie was coming and thought about talking to him about his argument with Edie, but it seemed unfair to confront him about that right before he had to pitch his ideas to Miss Frankie and me. I’d just have to talk with him about that later.

Miss Frankie arrived a little before two. I watched her carefully as we hugged hello and climbed the stairs to the second floor. If she was still angry with me for spending the weekend with Gabriel she hid it well. Her eyes seemed clear and bright, her hair was teased and sprayed, and her greeting was as warm as ever. So maybe there was nothing to worry about.

I’d chosen the conference room for our meeting instead of my office so that all three of us would be on neutral turf. I asked Edie to let Ox know we were ready for him, which she did without incident. While Miss Frankie and I waited, Edie delivered coffee and slices of the blueberry sour cream coffee cake Abe had made that morning for the staff. I guess she thought we needed something to sweeten the discussion. It was a good choice. The cake is moist and sweet with a slight tang from the sour cream, and it pairs perfectly with a smooth cup of coffee.

After Ox joined us, we spent a few minutes making small talk until I finally got the meeting started. “So, Ox, you wanted to propose an idea for the bakery?”

Ox nodded and addressed Miss Frankie. “I mentioned this to Rita the other day,” he said, and proceeded to lay out his idea to introduce a line of moderately priced cakes at Zydeco. “Money’s tight. We all know that. Luxury items are the first to go when peoples’ budgets are compromised, and those of us who work with luxury items have to compromise if we want to stay in business.”

He handed each of us a glossy black folder. “I’ve mocked up a price list so you can see what I’m proposing. I think you’ll see that I’m not suggesting anything too drastic.”

Miss Frankie and I opened our respective folders. We spent a few minutes flipping through pages of photographs and sketches, Ox’s proposed pricing, and printouts from the websites of rival bakeries to prove that, just like the website and blog we’d set up a few months ago, we were one of the last to jump on this particular bandwagon.

“We’d set a cap on the size, of course. Nothing over two tiers, for example. These cakes would serve between fifty and a hundred. Nothing larger. Nothing difficult to deliver or to set up. A minimum of decoration—no gum paste, no sculpture, no carved shapes, and no base larger than sixteen inches.”

Miss Frankie had been studying the contents of the folder, but now she looked up at Ox. “I don’t see any price here over a hundred dollars.”

For the first time, Ox seemed a little nervous. “That’s right. The whole point is to appeal to a different demographic. As you can see, the prices I’m proposing are right in line with the competition.”

Miss Frankie looked at me for my reaction. “It’s an idea worth considering,” I said. “Let’s hear Ox out.”