The Cakes of Wrath (9 page)

I heard my name but I pretended not to and successfully skirted the group of curious bystanders. As I was about to cross the street, I saw Ox coming down the sidewalk toward me. He looked worried, which was understandable considering the call I'd made earlier. When he saw me, he kicked up his pace and jogged across the intersection.

“What are you doing here?” I asked when he reached me.

He gave me a quick once-over and then turned to check out the Chopper Shop. “It's been an hour since you called. I came to make sure you're all right. You sounded pretty shaken up on the phone.” Seeing the concern in his eyes made me feel like a jerk for being so short with him earlier.

“Well. Yeah. I guess I am,” I said. Now that I was with a friend, my hands began to tremble and my legs felt weak. “It was awful.”

“So she's really . . .” He glanced around to see if anyone was listening. “You know.”

Nobody appeared to be paying attention to the two of us, but I kept my own voice low just in case. “Yeah. I found her inside.”

Ox scowled so hard his forehead wrinkled. “How?”

“I don't know for sure, but I think she may have overdosed.”

Ox stared down at his feet for a long moment. “How's Moose taking it?”

“I didn't get a chance to talk to him,” I said. “The police kept us both busy with questions. I saw him from a distance, though, and he looked pretty rough.”

“I can imagine.” Ox rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I wish I could say that it's a shock, but it's not. Destiny's been messed up ever since I came here.”

Maybe so, but I doubted that made the reality of her death any easier for Moose. “I feel just awful. I should have gone after her when she left Zydeco yesterday. She was in bad shape then. I knew it and I just let her go. I didn't try hard enough to find out where she'd gone.”

“You're not seriously blaming yourself, are you? You couldn't have known this was going to happen.”

“I guess not. But I can't help thinking I should have done something more. I don't know if Edie told you, but Destiny took some pills out of my office yesterday. One of the bottles was in her hand when she died. That means my prescription might have been the drugs that killed her.”

Ox put a hand on my shoulder. “That still doesn't make this your fault, Rita. Maybe it was your prescription but you didn't force her to take the pills.”

I gave him a shaky smile. “Tell that to the detective over there,” I said, jerking my chin toward Detective Winslow. “He thinks I gave her the drugs.”

Ox snorted a laugh that was loud enough to make a few people turn to look at us. “Oh, come on! Be serious.”

“I
am
,” I said in a harsh whisper. “He pretty much accused me of being her dealer.”

“Obviously, the man's an idiot or he's just talking off the top of his head. He'll probably forget all about you in ten minutes.”

I sure hoped he was right.

“Come on,” Ox said, slinging his arm around my shoulder. “I'll walk back to Zydeco with you.”

We turned to go and I realized that the crowd on the corner had almost doubled in size while we'd been talking. I caught a glimpse of Edgar Zappa at the edge of the crowd, watching the scene unfolding from behind a pair of sunglasses, and I felt a pang of sympathy for him. I didn't know for sure if he and Destiny had been having an affair, but what if they had been? I didn't want him to hear about her death through word on the street. That seemed cruel.

I tugged on Ox's sleeve. “There's Edgar. I want to talk to him for a minute before we go back to work.”

“Edgar? Now? What's he got to do with all of this?”

“He and Destiny were friends,” I said, downplaying the relationship I suspected between them. “He has to be curious about what's going on.”

“Everybody here is curious,” Ox pointed out. “But okay. Let's talk to Edgar.”

I'd have preferred to have the conversation without Ox, but I didn't know how to say so without making him wonder why. Nothing would be gained by starting rumors flying now, so I bit my tongue and made my way through the crowd with Ox behind me. Edgar stood on the curb, his blond hair tousled by the light morning breeze. I touched his elbow lightly to get his attention.

He whipped around to face me. “Oh. Rita. Ox. Looks like there's some excitement at the Chopper Shop this morning. Any idea what's going on over there?”

“Yeah,” I said. “As a matter of fact, I do. Could I talk to you for a minute?”

He studied my face silently for a moment. At least, I think he did. All I could see was my reflection in his sunglasses. “Sure,” he said. “What's up?”

“Not here,” I said. “Too many people. Let's take a walk.”

His mouth set in a firm line and he looked back at the Chopper Shop as if he was reluctant to leave. Finally, he shoved his hands into his pockets and gave a firm nod. “If you say so. Lead the way.”

I waited to speak until we'd put the crowd behind us and I was pretty sure nobody could hear us. Even then it wasn't easy to find the right words. “There's no easy way to say this,” I said. “And I might be crossing a line by saying anything at all, but I know that you and Destiny . . .” I trailed off, took a deep breath, and tried again. “The police are at the Chopper Shop because I found Destiny there this morning. She's gone.”

“What do you mean gone?”

“I mean . . . I tried to help her, but it was too late.”

Edgar's jaw tightened visibly as realization slowly dawned. He looked from me to Ox and back again. “Are you telling me she's dead?”

I nodded sadly. “I haven't said anything to anyone else. I don't want word to get out before Moose can notify the rest of her family. But I know that the two of you were friends and I thought you should know.”

Edgar pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. His eyes were such a pale blue they were a little disconcerting. “But how? What happened?”

“The police think she may have overdosed,” I said. “She had a bottle of pills in her hand.”

“But that's impossible. She wasn't using.”

“I'm afraid she was,” I said. “She came to Zydeco yesterday to help with the collection of supplies for the neighborhood cleanup, but I had to send her away because she was obviously high on something.”

Edgar shook his head firmly. “No. That's not possible. I talked to her yesterday morning. She was doing fine. She wouldn't have—” He cut himself off and rubbed his face with both hands. “She wouldn't have,” he said again.

“But she did,” I said. “I talked to her, Edgar. She could barely stand up straight and her words were slurred. She was on something, and she admitted to taking something for a headache.”

“But she was so excited to help. She thought that would make certain people change their opinions about her. She wouldn't have risked messing that up.”

Ox stepped into the conversation for the first time. “Hey. I know it's a shock. Maybe you didn't know her as well as you thought you did.”

Way to be sensitive, Ox
. I tried to dilute the sting of his comment with a reassuring smile. “What Ox means is that maybe something happened between the time you saw her yesterday and the time she came to help out. Maybe something upset her. If everything was okay between the two of you, maybe she had an issue with somebody else.”

Edgar nodded almost absently. “Everything was fine with the two of us. We had breakfast yesterday. We were going to meet today for lunch. Things were finally looking up for her. She had no reason to start using again.”

“Sometimes addiction is just too strong,” Ox said. “Even if things are going well, a person just needs that fix.”

Edgar shook his head. “It wasn't like that for her. Not this time.” He paced the width of the sidewalk several times as he processed what we were telling him. His internal struggle was hard to watch. “This doesn't make sense,” he said after several laps. “This doesn't make any sense at all. What was she even doing here this morning? She doesn't work this early. She's not a morning person.”

“I wish I could tell you,” I said. “All I know is that I got there a little before nine. All the lights were on and all the bays were open. She was in the back.”

Edgar stopped pacing. “Where was Moose?”

“I didn't see him until after the police arrived,” I said. “So Destiny didn't tell you that she was coming in early this morning?”

“No.” He wiped his face with one hand and let out a heavy breath. “Last time I talked to her, she said she was going to her yoga class and then she was going to help you at Zydeco. She was excited about both things. The yoga was helping keep her centered and away from the drugs. Volunteering with the alliance was going to help change her image.”

He clearly wanted to believe the best of her so desperately I didn't have the heart to tell him again how wrong he was. The truth was that she'd been high when I saw her yesterday. She'd stolen my pills. Ox was right. The addiction had been stronger than she was. But I didn't say anything more.

After a minute Edgar pulled his sunglasses from the top of his head and wiped the lenses with the hem of his shirt. “You think I'm being naïve.”

“I think you're being a loyal friend.”

He managed a thin smile. “Yeah. Maybe I just feel guilty. I just don't know how I could have missed that she was slipping.”

“She probably didn't want you to know,” Ox said. “She had plenty of practice hiding her addiction. Maybe she thought she could handle it. You know . . . keep it under control or something.”

Edgar stopped polishing and looked up at the two of us. The sadness in his eyes was almost palpable. “Yeah. Maybe.” He put his glasses back on. “I've got to go,” he said suddenly. “Thanks for telling me about Destiny.” And then he hurried off down the sidewalk, leaving Ox and me staring after him.

“That was tough,” I said after a moment.

Ox nodded. “Yeah. He seems pretty torn up about it. Are you sure they were just friends?”

“I'm not sure of anything,” I admitted. “But I don't want to make this all harder on Moose.”

Ox nodded. “Gotcha. My lips are sealed.”

I started walking toward Zydeco, ready to put the whole morning out of my mind. As if I could. But the more I thought about Edgar's reaction, the more it bothered me. Maybe he was lying. Maybe he felt responsible for her death because the two of them had had an argument yesterday and now he was racked with guilt.

Ox frowned down at me and said, “You're still thinking about Edgar. I can feel it.”

“I can't help it. There's something wrong with this whole scenario.”

“Yeah. A woman is dead. From an overdose.”

“It's more than that,” I said, batting his arm lightly. “Something doesn't add up.”

“Not your problem.”

“I know, but—”

Ox stopped walking and took me by the shoulders. “Not your problem, Rita. Leave it alone. Please. We have a lot of work on the schedule and I need you to be focused on Zydeco, not chasing down bad guys.”

Way to ruin a moment. I made a face at him. “I am focused, okay? Don't worry about me.”

And I was. Really.

At least, I would be.

I spent the rest of the morning pretending to take care of some paperwork in the office. By afternoon I felt normal enough to go back to work on the petunias. I piped the remaining blossoms and set them aside to dry, and I pretended not to be thinking about Edgar's reaction to Destiny's death. That wasn't easy since word had spread around Zydeco. Destiny, her drug habit, her stint in rehab, and the state of her marriage were the only things anyone wanted to talk about.

I was feeling edgy and raw, and I kept hoping the others would run out of steam and move on. But after a couple of hours I banned the subject for the rest of the day and told them to let the poor woman rest in peace. After that, they only spoke about it in whispers or when they thought I couldn't hear. And they moved on to my next least favorite topic—the near hit-and-run Monday night.

“Don't you think it's odd,” Estelle asked as she sculpted a miniature golfer from gum paste, “that we've had two horrible tragedies in less than forty-eight hours? It's enough to make a person nervous.”

Dwight was still working on carving the golf course, but he shot Estelle a look from across the room. “Don't worry too much. It's not contagious.”

Estelle rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Well, I know
that
. But they do say that bad things happen in threes. What's next? That's what makes me worry.”

Ox laughed and shook his head. “Superstitious nonsense. There's nothing to it.”

“But it's true!” Sparkle insisted. “It happens all the time. Like when my brother left home and my mom broke her arm, and then three goats from the commune died all in the same week.”

Ox's expression sobered but his eyes danced with amusement. “I stand corrected. Never let it be said that I argued with dead goats.”

“Very funny,” Sparkle said with a frown. “I'm just saying that Estelle might be right. We should all be careful.”

Isabeau frowned thoughtfully as she crossed the room for a mixing bowl. “Wouldn't it be weird if the two things were related somehow? Like, I don't know, like if somebody is trying to get rid of Moose and Destiny for some reason?”

Ox turned to give her a warning glare. “Do
not
go there.”

“I'm just saying it would be weird,” Isabeau countered. “Does anybody hate the two of them?”

Okay. I'll admit the question intrigued me. “Not that I know of. But as far as I know, nobody hates me either, yet several people have said the van looked like it was trying to hit me.”

Estelle gave Ox and Dwight a stern look. “See?” As if my comment proved her point. “What if Isabeau is right? What if somebody has it in for Moose and Destiny? What if Moose is still in danger? Somebody ought to warn him.”

“Somebody should keep her nose out of other people's business.” Ox was speaking to Estelle, but he looked right at me. “It's none of our concern.”

“How can you say that?” Isabeau demanded. “This whole thing started when somebody tried to kill Rita. They could still be after her. I think that makes it our business.”

Ox disagreed, and said so in no uncertain terms. But the conversation started me thinking. What if they were right? What if someone had tried to kill
me
with those prescriptions? What if Moose really was in danger? Even after the conversation moved on to safer topics, I was still chewing on the idea. I knew I was going to have to do something, but I couldn't just walk away from work. I finally finished my petunias for the Oakes baptism cake, and then spent the afternoon tinting fondant a pale shade of blue, rolling it out until it was barely an eighth-inch thick, and then cutting a hundred ovals with a cookie cutter. Tomorrow, I would attach the medallions to all three layers of the cake and add detailing to the petunias, and do some piping work, but overall I was pleased with my progress and glad that, in spite of everything, I'd managed to catch up. That would show Ox how focused I was!

At seven that evening, I locked up behind the rest of the staff, after looking up Moose's home address in the Magnolia Square Business Alliance directory. I was reluctant to intrude on their grief so soon, but I felt I owed Moose something for saving my life. I couldn't just let him walk around oblivious to the possibility of danger.

The Hazens lived in a small white frame house in a depressed neighborhood off Opelousas. Cars lined both sides of the street and yellowing lawns sat border to border with yards overgrown with weeds. I spotted their house easily, thanks to the two motorcycles in the driveway and a third on the lawn. This neighborhood was more similar to the one I'd grown up in than the one I lived in now, but my inherited Mercedes was out of place. I nosed it into an empty spot a block from the house and walked back.

My bruises had faded a bit and so had some of the stiffness and swelling, but that didn't mean I looked ready to go out in public. The surreptitious glances I got from two middle-aged women chatting at the end of a driveway made that abundantly clear.

Now that I was here, I started having second thoughts about my plan. Maybe I
should
keep my nose out of it. Maybe Winslow would warn Moose to be careful. Or maybe he'd warn him to be careful of me. I had a negative gut feeling about Winslow, and I'd learned to listen when my gut started talking.

Taking a deep breath for courage, I climbed the steps and rang the bell. I heard voices, and a few seconds later, Scotty Justus opened the door. His graying ponytail was lopsided and his yellow Hawaiian print shirt and khaki shorts seemed oddly cheerful for a man whose daughter had just died.

His looked me over with grief-glazed eyes. “Yeah?”

“I don't know if you remember me,” I said. “I'm Rita Lucero. I run the cake shop just down the street from the Chopper Shop. I'm the one who . . .”

Scotty dipped his head slightly. “I know who you are. You found Destiny this morning. What do you want?”

All the openings I'd practiced on my way across town evaporated in the face of his anger and pain. “I—I just wanted to say how sorry I am for your loss. I know you must be devastated.”

Scotty gave me an odd look. “Yeah, you could say that. Look, I'm sure you mean well but this isn't really a good time.”

He was right. I shouldn't have come. I stammered an apology and turned to go as Zora swept up behind him and came to my rescue. I was surprised to see her there, especially after the way she'd talked about Destiny at the alliance meeting, but Scotty seemed comfortable with her, so who was I to judge?

She'd changed out of the blue tie-dye and now wore plain black slacks with a flower print shirt. Her hair was held back by a couple of mismatched barrettes. “Goodness, Scotty, don't keep Rita standing outside on the porch all evening.” She nudged him out of the way and ushered me inside to a small kitchen. Moose sat at the table in front of a spiral pad filled with notes and numbers.

I couldn't read the notations, but I knew what they were. Death is not only emotionally devastating, it's also a lot of work. There are calls to make and people to notify. Travel plans to coordinate and a funeral to organize. The obituary to write and countless forms to fill out. I guess it's a good thing, in a strange way. Having something to do can keep grief from swallowing your mind whole.

Moose held his head in both hands, his pain palpable even from a distance. Zora motioned me toward a chair across from him. Scotty stalked to the fridge for a beer.

Zora sent Scotty a fond smile and put a hand on Moose's shoulder as she passed. “It was sweet of you to come by, Rita,” she said. “Especially considering everything you've been through the past couple of days. How are you feeling?”

What could I say to that? I was alive. That just about said it all. “I'm fine,” I said softly. “I just wanted to come by and offer my condolences.”

Moose's eyes flickered up. Scotty uncapped his beer.

Zora smiled and said, “I'm sure they both appreciate that. I know I do. I was just about to make a pitcher of sweet tea. Can I interest you in a glass?”

I didn't want her to go to any trouble, but a glass of tea would give me something to do and a reason to stay until I could warn Moose. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

“Not a problem.” Zora set about putting a kettle on the stove and filling a pitcher with ice. “This has been the craziest few days, hasn't it? First the accident with you and Moose, and now Destiny. I don't know what's going on.”

Scotty scratched at the label on his beer, peeling little strips of it and tossing them onto the table. “That makes two of us.” He let out a heavy sigh and locked eyes with me. “I know one thing, though. You never should've given her those pills. If you hadn't, she might not have overdosed.”

I blinked in surprise. “But I didn't give them to her! That prescription disappeared from my office Tuesday afternoon.”

A deep frown creased Moose's face. “Are you accusing Destiny of stealing them?”

Well . . . yeah. But faced with their sorrow, I thought it best to keep my suspicions to myself. “I don't know who took them,” I said. “Destiny came by to help with the collection, just like we talked about. She wasn't feeling well, so I told her to go home and promised her she could help with something else. After she left, I realized the pills were missing, but I didn't see her take them or anything. Have the police determined they're what killed her?”

Zora shook her head and again answered for Moose and Scotty. “We don't know what happened yet. There will be an autopsy, but all signs point to an overdose.”

Moose grunted and slid down on his tailbone. “She didn't steal those pills, you know. She'd changed. Cleaned up. That last time in rehab—” His voice caught and he dropped his gaze again. “Those old issues were finally behind her.”

I looked at Zora and Scotty for their reactions to that. Scotty's expression gave nothing away, but I suspected that Zora knew the truth. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, so I thought she must have seen my surprise. Even though I'd been vague about her addiction yesterday, I wasn't so sure that keeping the truth from Destiny's family would be a kindness. It would come out eventually. But Zora knew the men better than I did, so I deferred to her judgment.

“Look,” Scotty said. “It's no secret Destiny used to have trouble with drugs and alcohol. She struggled with addiction for a long time, mostly because of how her mother raised her. In a way, I blame myself, too. I was never home when she was little. Wasn't welcome there, if you want to know the truth. I took the easy way out and avoided the hassle. I regret it now. Destiny wasn't one to leave old hurts behind. Maybe if I'd been around more . . . I don't know. Maybe I could have saved her.”

Zora abandoned the pitcher of tea on the counter and came to sit beside Scotty. “You can't blame yourself,” she said. “You did what you thought was best. And you were here for the last year of her life. You did what you could.”

Scotty's lips curved in an attempt to seem grateful for the encouragement, but his eyes were wounded and sad, and guilt created dark shadows in their depths. “For all the good it did me. Or her. I could have done more. I
should
have done more. I never should have let her open the shop on her own yesterday.”

“She didn't usually work in the morning?” I asked, finally spotting a chance to say what I'd come for.

“No,” Zora said. “It was unusual.”

Moose's face was so still, it could have been carved from stone. “A buddy of mine ordered the fight on pay-per-view last night. Scotty and I went to watch it and stayed out late. This morning Destiny knew we'd be hurting so she told us to sleep in.” He caught back a sob and said, “God help us, we took her up on the offer.”

I could have said a lot of things about living with regret after someone you love dies, but I didn't think Moose and Scotty wanted platitudes. They didn't help, and often they made the grieving person feel worse.

I tried to keep my voice soothing and asked, “Was she working alone this morning?”

Moose nodded. “We didn't have any repairs scheduled. I didn't expect it to be busy. I thought she could handle it, you know? Since she got out of rehab, she was trying hard to be more useful. Used to be she'd just show up whenever she felt like it and left the same way. I let her play around with the books some, but mostly she just spent the money.” His sharp laugh turned into another choked sob. “I know how you disapproved of that, Zora, but she wanted to help so I let her. She loved shopping, so I let her do that too. I just loved to see her smile.”

Zora got up and went back to making the tea. “Gracious, Moose, how you make it sound! I didn't disapprove. I just worried about you and Scotty. And about Destiny. I always thought she just needed a firm hand. It's a shame her mother never gave her one.”

I wondered if Destiny's mother deserved so much of this blame, or if Scotty had been bad-mouthing her to Zora to alleviate his own feelings of guilt. “Is Destiny's mother still alive?”