The Cakes of Wrath (19 page)

Three hours later, I rounded the corner onto my street for the third time and began the search for a parking space. I'd circled the block twice, on the lookout for Detective Winslow. I wouldn't have put it past him to camp out and wait for me on my home turf, and I was way too tired and frustrated to want another encounter with him. For the first time in days, luck was on my side. I didn't see him anywhere.

The restaurant next door was doing a brisk business, so I parked at the far end of the block and walked back. It took me a while to get out of the car and walk home, but that gave me plenty of time to think about dinner at Miss Frankie's. We'd indulged in a lot of polite small talk while we ate, all pretending not to notice the big old elephant sitting in the middle of the table. I'd bided my time, waiting for a chance to talk to Pearl Lee, but just as we were finishing the meal, she developed a debilitating headache and escaped.

Maybe she was telling the truth; maybe all that Botox had finally caught up with her. Whether Pearl Lee was actually in pain or not, she'd dodged another bullet. All I could do was help Miss Frankie wash up and then head home. Not only had I failed to solve a single problem on my list, but Miss Frankie's talk about venues and catering for the baby shower had added a couple. She'd pushed a folder into my hands as I left and asked me to get back to her with my thoughts. I'd given them to her right then and there: No special venue. No caterer. She was to plan a nice, little shower for Edie and a few friends. But I knew that wasn't the end of it. The folder still in my hands was proof of that.

What little positive energy I had left drained away when I realized that my house was completely dark. I hadn't expected to be out so late, so I hadn't left the porch light on. It wasn't a huge thing, but right that minute it felt almost overwhelming. I tripped over an uneven piece of sidewalk on my way across the lawn and battled tears of frustration as I struggled to get the key in the lock.

“Rita?”

The voice came out of the darkness and startled me. I whipped around, holding my keys in front of me like a weapon. “Who's there?”

A shadow stirred near the fence and Gabriel stepped into the moonlight. He held his arms high in surrender and a slow sexy Cajun smile curved his lips. He swaggered toward me wearing a tight pair of jeans and a dark T-shirt that made it clear to anyone with eyes what terrific shape he was in. “Hey, hey, hey! Calm down,
chérie
. It's just me.”

I let out a sigh of relief and lowered the keys to my side. “You scared me half to death. What are you doing here?”

He reached the bottom step and stopped there. “Waiting for you.”

“Why?”

“Why not? I had some time and it's a nice night. I didn't expect to wait so long, but I'm not complaining. I discovered that the little shop on the corner has great coffee and the Thai restaurant next door keeps their restrooms clean. The owner of that knitting shop on the other side, though”—he jerked his head at the shop in question—“is an extremely unpleasant woman.”

I laughed and moved to one side so he could join me on the porch. “Awww, what happened? You couldn't win her over with your charm and good looks?”

Gabriel climbed the steps and stood close enough for me to catch the faded scent of his cologne. A delicious shiver tickled my spine, but I tried to ignore it. My porch isn't big so I couldn't move far, but I did take a step back and put a little distance between us.

“She thought I was up to no good,” he said. “She threatened to call the police.”

I hadn't forgotten how he'd distracted me so Pearl Lee could slip away with Scotty, and I still wasn't happy about it, but it was nice to see a friendly face. “If I could get the key in the lock, I'd invite you in. You might even be able to talk me into making coffee.”

With a gentleness that almost made me cry, Gabriel took the keys out of my hand and unlocked the door on the first try. “Sounds great to me,” he said, handing the keys back to me. “I heard what happened with Scotty this afternoon. I came to make sure you're hanging in there.”

I tossed my keys and my bag onto the small table just inside the entryway and kicked off my shoes. “I'm fine. It was a little disconcerting, but he didn't actually
do
anything.”

Now that we were in the light, Gabriel ran his dark eyes over me, taking stock.

“Don't say it,” I warned. “I know I look like yesterday's trash.”

“You look fine,” he said. “Just sunburned and exhausted. You want to talk about it?”

“More than almost anything,” I admitted. He'd never been to my house before, so I nodded toward the back and said, “Kitchen's this way. I'll make some coffee and see if I have some cookies or something. Will that do?”

He smiled and followed me down the hall. “You don't need to feed me.”

“The cookies are for me,” I said with a grin. “But you're welcome to share.” Once in the kitchen, I focused on making coffee. “What are you doing off work so early?”

Gabriel took a chair at the table, angling it so he could watch me work. “I wanted to see you so I talked Brandon into working overtime.”

That was odd. I slid a glance at him and tried to read his expression. “Just because you heard about Scotty?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Edgar said Scotty looked madder than a three-legged gator. What was it all about?”

I pulled a dozen pecan balls from the cookie jar, tasted one to make sure they were fresh, and arranged them on a plate covered with a lacy paper doily. “I suggested to Pearl Lee that she might want to be careful around Scotty. Apparently, she shared my concerns with him. He took offense.”

Gabriel frowned. “You think she should be careful because . . .”

“Because she's only known him for five minutes, and she's moving too fast. Plus, I'm supposed to be keeping her away from men. That stunt you pulled at the Duke put me in a bad spot. Miss Frankie thinks I'm doing this super job of keeping Pearl Lee busy, yet she's out doing who knows what with Scotty. This can only end badly.”

Gabriel leaned back in his chair. “Not necessarily. Maybe they'll fall madly in love and live happily ever after.”

I laughed and carried the plate to the table. “I wouldn't get my hopes up. And more seriously, the police still don't know how Destiny actually died. What if Scotty killed her?”

Gabriel reached for a pecan ball, but his eyes clouded. “You really think he could've killed his own daughter?”

“It's a possibility,” I said. “He doesn't
really
have an alibi. Moose vouched for him, but what if Moose is lying? He was ready to divorce Destiny if she started using again—which she had. I told you what Edgar said, didn't I? That she'd spent so much money before she went to rehab, the Chopper Shop was in serious trouble?”

“Do you know that for a fact?”

I went back to the kitchen and grabbed a handful of napkins. “Moose admitted that he let her spend whatever she wanted. If she spent him into a deep hole he couldn't get out of, that might give him a pretty strong motive for wanting her out of the way, especially if there's insurance involved.”

“Assuming she didn't actually die of an accidental overdose.”

“I know she didn't.” I tapped my chest over my heart. “In here.”

“Rita—”

“Just hear me out,” I said. “She really wanted to turn her life around. She had a deal with the district attorney to reduce the charges, or maybe drop them completely, if she gave them the name of her dealer. You heard what she said at the meeting. I'm sure she planned to do it.”

“She was using again,” Gabriel pointed out. “Maybe she wanted to change, but addiction is a hard thing to beat.”

“I know that, but somebody almost hit me with that van right after she hinted about that deal. I was talking to Moose at the time. The driver could have thought I was Destiny. Or maybe he knew I wasn't Destiny and planned the attack as a diversion.”

“Because he was planning to kill her on Wednesday morning.” Gabriel sounded skeptical.

“When he knew she'd be at the shop early—and alone. Think about it, Gabriel. We only have Moose's word, and Scotty's, that she told them to sleep in that morning. What if she didn't? What if they made that up so it would sound like a last-minute decision?”

Gabriel chewed for a moment. “But why would either of them do that?”

“I don't think Scotty and Destiny were that close,” I said, putting the napkins on the table next to the cookies. “He said himself that he wasn't around much when she was growing up. And he told me she wasn't all that happy to have him around. The only reason he moved in with them was to make sure she didn't start using again. Maybe he was fed up with the drugs and the screwing around. From what I hear, Destiny wasn't all that particular about who she slept with. Maybe Scotty was tired of her ruining the family name.”

Gabriel shook his head slowly and patted the chair beside his. “Sit down, Rita.”

“Why? So you can tell me I'm getting involved where I shouldn't? So you can warn me I'm going to get myself hurt?”

“No, so you can rest. You look like you could fall over any second. And I want to look at your face while I'm talking to you. It's hard to carry on a conversation when the other person is moving all over the place. So you sit. I'll get the coffee when it's ready.” I didn't move. He grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the chair. “I mean it, Rita. Sit.” When I did, he took both of my hands in his. “You want to know the other reason I came over tonight?”

I nodded uncertainly. “Sure . . . I think.”

“You know how I feel about you getting into dangerous situations.” I started to argue with him, but he put two fingers on my lips and kept talking. “I don't know what it is about police investigations that revs your engine, but they do. Until tonight, I figured this one was like the others and I was all set to tell you to back off and butt out. But that cop—Winslow—was in the Duke tonight, talking to people. About you.”

My heart dropped into my stomach and they both crashed to the floor. I didn't know whether to cry or throw up. “What did he want?”

“He was trying to find somebody who'd tell him you and Moose are sleeping together.”

Crying was off the table as an option. I was definitely going to be sick to my stomach. It didn't matter whether it was true or not—give some people enough alcohol and they'll say anything. “And did he? Find someone?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Not that I know of. I vouched for you and so did Old Dog Leg.” Old Dog Leg was a friend of mine, an old blind jazz musician who occasionally sat in with the house band at the Dizzy Duke.

I appreciated Dog Leg's loyalty, but I didn't expect Detective Winslow to put much stock in the word of a blind man. He'd probably use Dog Leg's physical limitations to challenge any testimony the old man gave.

“I don't know what Winslow has against you,” Gabriel said. “But it's obvious the guy's trying to pin something on you. So I'm here to warn you, and also to offer my help.”

Had I heard that right? My heart was beating so loudly, I couldn't be sure. “Your help?”

“Hey,” he said, giving my hands another gentle squeeze. “Don't sound so surprised. You know we make a good team. I know you didn't give Destiny drugs, and if you need help proving that to Detective Wingnut, I'm your man. So tell me what you need from me. I'm at your service. Other than Scotty and Moose, who else is on the suspect list?”

I could only blink at him.
Blink. Blink.
“Aquanettia,” I said when the cogs in my brain were running in sync again. “There were some real issues between them. I've heard from more than one person that Destiny made a play for her sons, Isaiah and Keon.”

Gabriel nodded slowly. “I've heard the same rumors—usually about Keon. Isaiah keeps his nose clean, but Keon's had his own issues with drugs, and he has connections. I'm sure Destiny used those whenever she could—
how
ever she could.”

Blink. Blink.
“Keon's an addict?”

“Recovering. He seems to be doing well, but I'm sure that if Aquanettia thought Destiny was trying to pull her baby boy back into the life, she'd have come out swinging.”

Aquanettia's name took a giant step to the top of my mental suspects list. “Why hasn't anyone else mentioned that?”

“Circling the wagons, I'd guess. Aquanettia and the boys have lived here forever. You're . . . new. People around here don't air their dirty laundry in front of strangers.”

My breath caught and that old feeling of not belonging made my stomach lurch again. I shouldn't have been surprised. After all, getting me involved with the community was the excuse Miss Frankie used for signing me up for the alliance in the first place. “But a woman is dead,” I reasoned. “And Keon's past might have a direct bearing on how she died. And the police are trying to pin the responsibility for her death on
me
.” A new thought occurred to me and I gasped aloud. “Do the others think I'm guilty?”