Franki Amato Mysteries Box Set

by Traci Andrighetti

  My heart raced when I saw Eugene's gaze lock onto the casket. Even though I was unable to prove it, I was positive that the pair had plotted to steal the pendant.

  Theodora pushed up her sunglasses. "That one's a witch, but the kind that starts with a b."

  At least I'd been right on that count.

  "Where's the other woman?" she asked, scanning the crowd.

  "Over there." I pointed at Eve, who was standing by a tree to the left of the seating, red-faced, and wringing her hands.

  Theodora removed her sunglasses and chewed on the tip. "There's something earthy about her, yes."

  I scrutinized Eve, who'd been getting more distraught as the day progressed. "Why do you think that?"

  "Have you missed the fact that I'm a witch?" she snapped, pointing her creepy pupils at me.

  "D-definitely not," I stuttered, moving backwards a step.

  She turned and looked at Eve. "Did you notice that she's wearing amber?"

  My head jerked in Eve's direction. Sure enough, it looked like she had an amber pendant around her neck, but it was round, not rectangular like the missing piece. "Maybe in honor of Amber?"

  "Or to invoke the mother goddess." Theodora narrowed her eyes like a cat contemplating a mouse. "She seems like an amateur. Is she from New Orleans?"

  I shrugged. "Her last name is Cajun, but I just assumed from her accent that she's originally from Georgia."

  "Hm." Theodora's red-stained teeth bit her lip. "A Georgia peach."

  I froze at the reference. And then I remembered seeing peaches on one of Eve's aprons.

  Eve was Peach—Amber's mother and the owner of the sugaring website!

  I looked toward the tree, but Eve was gone. Frantic to find her, I glanced around the grounds and realized that she was standing right in front of the casket.

  "Farewell, Amber," Bit-O-Honey said as the coffin began to lower into the ground. "We'll see you in that big strip club in the sky."

  A murmur of disapproval arose from the queens, most likely because of the strip club reference.

  An anguished wail followed.

  "You can't take my girl!" Eve screamed and threw herself on the coffin.

  A murmur of approval arose from the nonne, since casket diving was a thing among elderly Italian women.

  Detective Sullivan rushed to the casket and pulled Eve to her feet, while the ginger officer I'd seen the night of Bradley's arrest began to handcuff her.

  "Eve Quebedeaux," the detective announced, "you're under arrest for the murders of Amber Brown and Curaçao."

  She gasped. "You can't be serious." As the detective read Eve her rights, she looked from him to me. "Miss Franki, you're an investigator," she shouted over him. "Tell them I didn't murder those girls! You know I could never do such a horrible thing."

  I stared at her, unsure what to think. It wasn't clear whether the officers had arrested her because they thought she was making a play for the necklace or because they had evidence against her that I was unaware of. Nevertheless, when Detective Sullivan stopped reciting, I approached her and put my hand on her shoulder. "It's all right, Eve. If you're innocent, you have nothing to worry about."

  "I loved Amber," she explained. "Curaçao too, although I did not like her behavior. That's why I told Amber to do the spell—to undo the hex that Curaçao had cast on her." She began to sob. "I wanted to make things riiight."

  So, it had been an anti-hex spell. I was tempted to ask Eve about the Amaretto di Amore and Amber's sugar daddy, but I couldn't risk compromising the investigation or her defense. She'd said too much already.

  Detective Sullivan looked at the ginger officer. "Let's get her to the squad car."

  "I loved those girls like they were my own," Eve shouted as they led her away. "I was trying to help them. Why, I even found men to take care of them so they could get out of the stripping business. You have to believe me."

  The funny thing was, I did believe her.

  But if Eve hadn't killed Amber and Curaçao, who had?

  Veronica sighed into the phone receiver. "I feel awful that I missed Amber's funeral because of work. I might have to go ahead and hire a part-time investigator."

  I shot straight up in the dental chair. "Swear on your life that it won't be Glenda," I practically shouted into my cell. I lay back down and then sat up again. "Or anyone associated with the Amber Brown case."

  "Don't worry, Franki," she breathed. "I swear on my life that if and when I hire someone, it'll be a professional PI."

  Still vaguely unsettled, I clutched my phone and scooted deeper into the dental chair.

  "Anyway," she continued, "judging from what I've seen on the news this morning, it was quite a ceremony."

  "Veronica, even if Federico Fellini, Wes Anderson, and Tim Burton were all directing the same film, they couldn't have created a scene like that." I shook my head at the memory. "When I get to the office, I'll fill you in on all the outlandish details."

  "Oh, I'm still at the house." She slammed a cabinet door. "What time will you be in?"

  I glanced at the clock and saw that it was already seven thirty. "I thought I'd be out of here by eight or so, but Dr. Lessler's hygienist called in sick, and his receptionist is running late, so he's having to make some calls to try to find a sub. No telling how long that'll take."

  "It's a Monday," Veronica said. "While you're there, I'll call my contacts at the police station and try to find out whether there's any chance of Eve being granted bail."

  "I would give my eye teeth to be able to question her right now." I glanced at the dental instruments on the tray next to my chair. "On second thought, no I wouldn't."

  A knocking sound came from the other end of the line.

  "I think your mom and nonna are here to say goodbye," Veronica whispered. "I'll let you go."

  "Make sure they actually leave, will you?" I urged, but she had already hung up.

  Still holding my phone, I looked at the poster on the ceiling. Seeing the dolphin frolic among the waves made me think of the sea goddess, La Sirène. Even though King had laughed off my question about La Sirène and the amaretto, I still suspected that there was information out there somewhere that could help me connect the liqueur to the crime—and maybe even clear Eve's name.

  "Sorry about the wait," Dr. Lessler said from behind me.

  From my reclining position, I looked back and saw him in the doorway in his LSU scrubs.

  His blondish-brown brow furrowed. "I'm going to call a temp agency for dental hygienists, then I'll be right with you."

  "No problem, doc." I held up my phone. "I can do some case research while I wait."

  "Great." He flashed his dazzling dentist smile. "Be right back."

  Once he was gone, I opened my browser and googled La Sirène. After scrolling through several links, I clicked one that had an alphabetical list of the various voodoo gods and their functions. Baron Samedi was at the top, and the first thing it said was that he was called upon to heal sexual diseases.

  I curled my lips. That explains why King has the Baron as his cane topper.

  The entry for La Sirène referred the reader to the entry for Erzulie. I scrolled up and discovered that the entity known as Erzulie was actually a family of voodoo goddesses divided into four categories, one of which caught my eye—Petro Manifestations. The woman at Erzulie's Authentic Voodoo had implied that Erzulie D'en Tort, who sought vengeance for wronged women and children, was Erzulie Freda's sole Petro aspect. But according to this article, there were three others—Erzulie Mapiangue, who protected newborn babies, Erzulie Toho, who aided those who were slighted in love, and Erzulie Yeux Rouges, who took revenge on unfaithful lovers.

  The unfaithful lovers line got my attention. I'd suspected all along that love was a factor in Amber's murder given the bottle of Amaretto di Amore at the crime scene. I figured that either she had some boyfriend who'd found out about her sugar daddy, or she'd cheated on the sugar daddy with someone she really cared about. What I nee
ded to know was whether Erzulie Yeux Rouges was so evil that her acts of revenge included cold-blooded murder.

  As tension mounted in my gut, I performed a search on the vengeful Erzulie. And I discovered that when Erzulie Freda's desires as the goddess of love weren't met, she turned into the fierce and fearsome Erzulie Yeux Rouges, which was French for Red-Eyed Erzulie. Apparently, the red eyes referred to crying and anger. And not only was she merciless, but her wrath knew no bounds.

  I chewed my thumbnail as I contemplated the reference to the color red. Was there a connection between Erzulie's eyes and the label on the Amaretto di Amore? It was tenuous, but I had to try.

  With my heart in my throat, I typed Erzulie and amaretto into the browser. It took a few minutes, but I located a source in Italian, of all languages, that confirmed what I'd suspected.

  Erzulie Yeux Rouges preferred gifts that were red in color, and like Erzulie Freda, she loved to drink amaretto.

  "All right," Dr. Lessler said with a clap of his hands.

  I jumped at the sound.

  He laughed as he took a seat on his stool. "You know, I'm used to people being scared of me, but I've never had a patient jump when I entered the room."

  "Oh, it wasn't you. I guess I got spooked by some information I came across." I put my phone beside my left leg and lay back in the chair. "Did you find a hygienist?"

  "Ugh." He threw his head back. "The agency's sending someone over, but she won't be here for at least an hour. So, I'll have to go it alone with your crown. Speaking of which," he said, holding up a tooth with a gloved hand, "this is a porcelain-fused-to-metal crown. Pretty cool, huh?"

  "I guess," I said, unaffected by his enthusiasm for a fake tooth. "What I'm really interested in is the shot situation."

  He smirked and placed my crown on the tray. "Most patients are fine with a topical anesthetic, but if you experience any pain I can administer a local."

  I hid my disappointment at the needle news as he placed a bib around my neck.

  He pulled up his surgical mask and selected a tool from the tray. "Open, please."

  I did as I was told and felt him prodding my gums.

  "That was quite a funeral yesterday, wasn't it?" His eyes met mine as he sat up and reached for another tool.

  "Uh-huh." I looked at the dolphin to avoid further eye contact.

  "I'll tell you what," he said as he began working the tool between my gums and the crown, "the last thing I expected was to see the murderer arrested at the ceremony."

  "I O," I replied, which was dentalese for, "I know." Of course, I didn't think that Eve was the killer, but I couldn't tell him that.

  He snorted. "Did you believe all that stuff she was saying about loving Amber and Curaçao like they were her own children?"

  "I O O," I said, which was the negative, "I don't know."

  "If she did love them," he said as he tugged at the crown with his fingers, "she sure had a funny way of showing it."

  My tooth felt cool, and I watched as he tossed the temporary crown onto the tray.

  "Now I'm going to remove the cement." He picked up another instrument. "Let me know if this hurts, okay?"

  I nodded and opened wide.

  "The part that got me was when she said she had Amber do an anti-hex witchcraft spell," he said as he scraped the surface of my tooth. "What a psycho."

  Prior to this case, I would've agreed with his assessment of Eve. But after my crazy encounters with Theodora, Eve just struck me as a sweet but naïve woman who grasped at whatever straws she could—namely, spells—to try to control the uncontrollable.

  Dr. Lessler returned the tool to the tray and grabbed a Q-tip.

  I focused on the dolphin as he dabbed the anesthetic on my tooth.

  He gave a sardonic laugh. "Only in New Orleans."

  "Ut?" I asked, the meaning of which was obvious.

  "This is the only city I know of where even the witchcraft involves alcohol." He tossed the Q-tip into the trash. "Like the amaretto."

  "Oh," I said.

  Then my eyes dropped from the dolphin to the doctor.

  And the room seemed to rock like I was seasick.

  Because the only way Dr. Lessler could have known about the amaretto was if he'd been at the crime scene.

  23

  Dr. Lessler's bright blue eyes turned icy gray, like two frozen lakes. "You're going to need that shot now."

  A chill spread through my veins like a lethal injection. He and I both knew that I wasn't in pain and that the shot would be my death sentence. "If I die in your office, it'll be obvious you killed me."

  With his gaze glued to me, he reached for a packaged syringe. "Not if I make it look like an accident during oral surgery. Patients do occasionally die in the dental chair."

  Something I'd suspected since I started going to the dentist. "But I'm just here to get a crown."

  He smirked as he removed the syringe from the plastic. "I'll say that I convinced you to let me remove your wisdom teeth too."

  There was no point in protesting—Dr. Lessler was diabolical. My fingers felt for the phone I'd left by my leg, and I tried to buy some time. "Why'd you do it?"

  He shrugged. "Simple. Amber had become an expensive nuisance, and I wanted out of the spit business."

  The word expensive reminded me of the vassal's conversation with Sugar Cherie about Amber meeting a man she'd already known at the sugaring party. "You were her sugar daddy."

  His full lips thinned. "Among other things."

  I located the home button on my cell. "The two of you were emotionally involved?"

  "Let's just say that I'd availed myself of her professional services and leave it at that," he replied drily.

  "Okay." I needed to distract him, because I couldn't make a call without looking at my screen. "But why become her sugar daddy if all you wanted to do was steal the necklace?"

  "She tried to sell it to me to cover the cost of school, and I told her I wasn't interested in buying stolen property, especially amber that belongs to Russia. Next thing you know, she came up with the idea of sugaring to pay her bills while she looked for a black market buyer." He grimaced and shook his head. "Amber was such a disappointment. She'd said she was going clean, but she was never going to be anything but a whore and a thief."

  I didn't dare point out his hypocrisy. It would have been lost on him, and it might have accelerated his plan to kill me.

  "I figured that if I set her up in an apartment for a month or two, I could find out where she was hiding the necklace." He picked up a small vial marked Ketamine HCI. "So I signed up with the Sugar Shack under an assumed name and went to a so-called sugar bowl party. The rest is history."

  As he inserted the needle into the vial, I pressed the Home button.

  "I don't understand," I said as I glanced at my cell screen to orient my fingers. "Why didn't you just steal the amber from the apartment, then?"

  He thumped the side of the syringe and continued to extract the clear liquid. "Because I realized I could get the necklace and get rid of her when she told me about the witchcraft spell."

  "How did that come about, exactly?" I tapped the Emergency icon.

  "Curaçao told Amber that she'd put a hex on her back when they were working at Madame Moiselle's." He lowered his eyes from the syringe to me. "And Amber was stupid enough to believe in that witchcraft crap."

  In light of that comment, I felt like a fool for thinking that I was cursed myself—although my present situation sure seemed to support the idea.

  "Amber was convinced that the hex was the reason she hadn't been able to get her life together since she'd quit the club." He removed the needle and scrutinized the liquid in the barrel. "And she was afraid she never would—that is, until Eve recommended that she do an anti-hex spell on the spot where the hex had been placed."

  My fingers froze when my eyes set sight on that syringe. "So, you snuck into the club while she was doing the spell and strangled her, but Curaçao came in before you c
ould take the necklace."

  "Right." The corners of his mouth turned down. "Somehow she found out when Amber was going to do the spell."

  Based on what Carnie had told me, I guessed that Curaçao had been eavesdropping on Amber or Eve. "But why would Curaçao try to sell you the necklace after seeing you kill Amber?"

  "She didn't see me," he replied like he was talking about spotting a friend at the cinema. "While I was choking Amber, I heard a sound and hid in the prop room. I watched through a crack in the door as she ripped the pendant from Amber's neck."

  The casualness of his tone as he talked about killing gave me the mental kick in the rear I needed. As he returned the vial to the tray, I glanced at the numbers on my phone.

  "And you didn't kill her and take the necklace?" I asked as I tapped 9-1-1.

  "That was the plan." With the syringe in his hand, he smoothed his bangs. "But someone started unlocking the front door, so she ran to the back exit. Before I could do the same, the stripper mom came in."

  My surprise at learning that Eve was at the crime scene made it easier to do what I had to do next. I sat up and started to cough to cover the sound of the 911 operator's voice.

  He slammed me back into the chair with his left arm, and my cell hit the floor with a clatter. "Well, look at that—your phone." He stood up and pressed his left hand to my neck, and he kept it there as he walked around the back of the dental chair and smashed my phone with the heel of his shoe. "Try that again," he growled as he made his way back around, "and I'll make this as painful as possible."

  I swallowed hard and wondered whether the call had made it through, although I wasn't holding out hope. I hadn't heard the 9-1-1 operator answer, and I wasn't even sure that I'd dialed the number correctly. "I-I wasn't trying anything," I lied. "I just didn't expect you to tell me that Eve was there."

  The tension on his face relaxed as he released my neck and sat down. "That caught me off guard too. Until I saw her at Madame Moiselle's, I only knew her as the Texan lady that owned the sugaring company."