Shiny silver chafing dishes paraded down the table’s middle, with matching utensils paired with each one.
Several people already milled around the room, including Wesley’s stepsister, Electra; Daryl Tibodeaux, who still wore his coveralls; and the best man, Buck Liddell, who was dressed in a natty blue blazer and striped bowtie. Thankfully, Stormie and her cameraman either weren’t invited to stay, or they weren’t hungry.
“I hope you enjoy the meal,” a voice whispered behind me.
I turned to see Nelle, who anxiously appraised the table, like a general inspecting his troops.
“There you are!” I said. “I’ve been looking for you all afternoon.”
“Really?”
At that moment, the smell of seared meat and garlic potatoes wafted over to me. “Thank you for inviting us to dinner.”
“It was the least I could do, dear. I couldn’t very well send everyone back home on an empty stomach, now could I?”
“Speaking of which…” I leaned closer, since I didn’t want to broadcast our conversation to the room, “have you spoken to Detective LaPorte lately? Do you know if he’s going to let everyone go home tonight?”
Since I was stuck on my cell most of the afternoon, I had no idea what Lance planned to do with everyone.
“He and I finally talked a little while ago. He wants us to gather in the sunroom after dinner so he can make an announcement. I think most people will be eager to go home, though. Don’t you?”
“Probably.” Her mention of people going home reminded me of the reason I wanted to find her earlier. “I ran into Buck Liddell this afternoon. He told me he was going back to New Orleans. And he had several of your things with him.”
“Yes, I heard about that. He told me you thought he took those things without my permission.”
“In my defense, the story sounded pretty implausible.” I glanced at Buck, who hovered over one of the chafing dishes at the far end of the table. He seemed to have gotten over our little row because he winked at me when he noticed me watching him.
“It was all a big misunderstanding,” she said.
“So, you did tell him it was okay to bring those things to New Orleans?”
She nodded. “I did, but please don’t tell my husband. I was hoping to use the money to pay for Wesley’s funeral.”
“Really?” I squinted. Why would Nelle want to pay for Wesley’s funeral, when his parents looked perfectly capable of doing it?
“Excuse me.”
We both turned to see a man hovering behind us.
He wore a stiff dinner jacket and a plastic name tag that identified him as part of the catering company. “Sorry to interrupt, but I have some questions about dessert. Would you like us to serve the wedding cake, or did you have something else in mind?”
“Dear me, I hadn’t really thought about it. Maybe I should go with you to the kitchen.” Nelle glanced at me sheepishly. “Will you excuse me?”
“Of course.” No need for me to keep her to myself when other people needed her, too. “We can talk later. And thanks for letting me know about the antiques. I’ll tell Detective LaPorte about that.”
“Thank you, dear. And please don’t be shy about helping yourself to the buffet. You’ll find plates on the sideboard.”
She walked away, my unanswered questions trailing after her. Why would she sell her family heirlooms to pay for Wesley’s funeral, when that normally fell to the victim’s family? Although I didn’t know the Carmichaels personally, I’d heard his father was an attorney. Not to mention, Wesley attended a very expensive, private university, according to Lorelei.
The subject came up when we discussed wedding cakes, and Lorelei mentioned Wesley wanted a groom’s cake topped with the logo for Southern Methodist University, which was his alma mater. Around here people called that school “Southern Millionaires University” because tuition topped out at sixty thousand a year.
And yet, Nelle felt compelled to pay for Wesley’s funeral costs, in lieu of his family picking up the tab. Not only that, but why didn’t she want her husband to know about it?
I mulled those questions as I gathered a plate and silverware from a heavy antique sideboard placed next to the wall. As I made my way to the table, I spied Buck, who still stood at the head of it, debating whether to add a second serving of roast beef to his already full plate. Just then, the door to the dining room burst open.
Two strange men hustled into the space. They both wore dark sunglasses, even at night, and their suits looked expensive. They must’ve weighed about three hundred pounds apiece, all of it muscle, judging by the way their shoulders strained against the seams of their jackets.
Conversation immediately stopped. It wasn’t every day two huge men muscled their way into a room, side by side. By the time anyone realized what was happening, one of the men strode to the head of the table and grabbed Buck by the elbow.
Buck was so surprised, he tipped his plate sideways, and roast beef splattered to the floor.
We were all too shocked to move. By the time I pulled out my cell, ready to call Lance, the men had whisked Buck away from the room and into the hall.
Everything ended as quickly as it’d begun. As soon as the men disappeared, the room burst into a symphony of whispers.
“What was that?” someone gasped.
“Did anyone recognize those people?” someone else asked.
“My goodness!” An older woman with upswept hair slapped the arm of her elderly husband, who stood beside her. “Don’t just stand there, Albert. Do something!”
I quickly punched the number for Lance into my cell and waited for him to pick up the call. Luckily, he answered after two rings.
“Hi, Missy.”
“Lance…two men just kidnapped the best man!”
“Whoa. Slow down. Where are you?”
“The dining room. It happened a minute ago. Two thugs muscled Buck out of here before anyone could stop them.”
“Okay, I’m on it. Don’t move. I don’t want anyone else going after those guys. You got that?”
“Got it. I’ll tell everyone.”
I clicked off the call and lowered my cell. By now, the room buzzed with conversation, like a swarm of bees set free of its hive.
“May I have everyone’s attention, please?”
No one paid me a bit of mind, so, I cleared my throat and tried again.
“Everyone, listen! Detective LaPorte knows about what just happened. He’s looking for the guys. He told us to stay here, out of harm’s way.”
“But—” Darryl looked unhappy with my announcement. He’d already pulled a wrench from the pocket of his coveralls, and he looked ready to use it.
“Darryl, please put that away. Let the police handle this. Those guys could have guns.”
He glumly shoved the tool back where it belonged, and the buzz of conversation started all over again.
“Well, that was something!”
I turned to see Electra Carmichael, Wesley’s stepsister, who had moved to my side of the room. Tonight, she wore a bright sundress, and she’d piled her red hair on top of her head. She looked like Carmen Miranda, but without the grapes or bananas.
“I agree. I only hope Lance can catch those guys before they leave the property.”
“Why do you think they did that?”
“I have no idea, and I don’t think anyone else does, either.”
“It definitely shook up our hostess.” Electra pointed at Nelle, who slumped against the wall by the exit. She looked paler than a bedsheet, and she appeared too stunned to speak.
“I’d better go make sure she’s all right. Will you excuse me?”
“Sure.” Electra glanced at the empty plate in my hand. “But don’t forget to eat something, too. It’d be a shame to let all that expensive beef go to waste. I’m sure
my stepbrother would’ve helped himself if he was here.”
Her comment stopped me in my tracks. Judging by the conversation I’d overheard yesterday, Wesley didn’t eat meat. And apparently, his stepsister didn’t know that. Strange.
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” she said. “Gone like the wind. Guess I’ll never have the chance to get to know him better now.”
“I suppose.” I glanced furtively at Nelle, who still seemed shell-shocked. “If you don’t mind—”
“It’s a tragedy, that’s what it is.” Apparently, Electra wasn’t finished with her soliloquy, and she wanted me to stay for it. “Two siblings, separated by a great distance, but longing to reconnect across the miles. Cut down by the Fates before that could happen.”
“Yes, well—”
“You know what’s worst of all? My stepbrother died before I could tell him the good news.” She shook her head forlornly. “I only heard about it a few days ago myself, when Mother called. She can be a little, uh, controlling, you know. She never breathed a word of the trust fund until now.”
Trust fund? By this time, several people had gathered around Nelle, so I felt better about staying with Electra. Especially since her words piqued my curiosity.
“You have a trust fund?” I asked.
“Yes. Mother told me there’s a trust fund that comes from my stepdad’s side of the family. He included me on it when he legally adopted me. That was after he and my mom got married, you know. Only Wesley and I have access to it, which I’m sure didn’t make my mother happy.”
“And you never told him about it?”
“I didn’t have time.” She hung her head again. “Not that it would’ve changed anything. But it would’ve been nice for him to find out about the money.”
“I suppose.”
“Not that I was curious about the amount, of course.”
“Of course.”
“But get this.” She leaned in, and the pungent smell of wine hit me full force. I hadn’t noticed she held a wineglass, which was already two-thirds empty. “She told me it’s more than twenty million bucks. Twenty million bucks! Do you know how many zeros that is? Seven! I counted them on the plane ride over here.”
“That’s a lot of zeros.” My thoughts immediately flew to Lance’s police investigation. Did the police know about this? Whoever killed Wesley must’ve had a good reason for wanting him dead. In Electra’s case, it might be closer to twenty million reasons.
“But I’ve said too much.” Electra threw back her head and drained the last sip of wine from her glass. “Listen to me, going on and on. I’m sure you have better things to do than hear me babble about some silly little trust fund.”
“Oh, no. It’s very interesting.” Which was an understatement. And Lance would be just as interested to learn about it as I was. I’d have to find him on the double and fill him in on the latest turn of events. “Um, I think I should get going, though. I have, uh, some important business to discuss with one of the guests.”
Luckily, Electra didn’t seem offended. If anything, she seemed more concerned about finding the minibar than about losing me as her audience. “Of course. I have to find the bar, anyway. You’d think they’d bring the bottles out here so we wouldn’t have to hunt for them.” She stepped away, her footsteps wobbly, thanks to the wine and the sky-high stilettos she wore.
Once she disappeared, I turned to leave as well. I first passed the people comforting Nelle, and then I made my way into the hall. Between the two mysterious men and the way they muscled Buck out of the room, everyone was too busy gossiping to notice my departure.
I hurried along the corridor and made a beeline for the front door. Just as I was about to step outside, Lance walked into the foyer.
“Hey, there!” he said.
“Thank goodness you’re here! Did you catch those guys?”
He looked winded, and sweat lined his brow. “Yep…just as they were about to drive away. They shoved Buck into the trunk of the car, and then they tried to act like nothing was wrong when they saw me. Turns out they work for a bookie out of Baton Rouge.”
“So, Buck was involved in gambling, too?”
“We don’t know that yet. They’re questioning him down at the police station. My backup happened to be in the area, so she took the men down to the station for me.”
“Including the two thugs?”
“Yep. They both have open warrants, so they’re definitely going to jail tonight. I’m going to head back to the station after I wrap things up here.”
“Speaking of which—” I glanced over my shoulder, but the hall was empty. “Nelle said you wanted to meet with everyone. Do you have any news?”
Lance quickly nodded. “I do. Let’s move outside. I want you to be the first to hear it.”
“Of course.” I gladly followed him outside.
Once upon a time, before we became partners in crime, so to speak, Lance hoarded whatever information he got. He doled out a few snippets to me, but they would be few and far between. Now, however, he treated me like an equal when it came to solving crimes.
Everything changed when I helped him nab a murderer at Morningside Plantation. Ever since that investigation, he allowed me to read medical examiners’ reports, tox records, you name it. All in exchange for my observations about the cases.
“I got a preliminary report back.” Lance withdrew a slim folder from his back pocket. The cover was dark—about as dark as the inky night sky—which made it hard to read anything. I did manage to make out the seal for the St. James Parish Medical Examiner’s Office, though, because it twinkled in the air, like a shiny quarter.
“What does it say?” Sometimes Lance summarized reports for me, which made it easier for both of us.
“Basically, the ME found traces of an herb called thorn apple in the lining of the victim’s lungs.”
I cocked my head. “Thorn apple? I’ve never heard of that before.”
While I had become acquainted with some of the herbs that grew on the bayou, thanks to another killer who made use of a little-known plant called jack-in-the-pulpit, I’d never once heard of thorn apple.
“Its real name is Datura, and some folks call it jimson weed. It’s very toxic when the plant is young. It only takes about ten milligrams to kill someone.”
“But how would someone give it to him without him knowing it?”
“It’s not that hard, when you think about it. People crush up the seeds, and then they either ingest it, or they smoke it. It’s a hallucinogenic.”
“Smoke it? You don’t mean…”
“Bingo. Forensics found traces of the same herb on the cigarette paper we found in the wine cellar.”
“So someone gave the cigarette to Wesley, but first they doctored it with thorn apple. That’s really ingenious. Not to mention diabolical.”
“Right.” Lance opened the report to the first page, which listed all of Wesley’s biographical information. “He weighed about one seventy, so he probably felt the effects within an hour.”
“What does thorn apple do?”
“Everything…it causes nausea, vomiting, hallucinations. It makes people delirious.”
“But that doesn’t sound lethal.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Lance returned the report to his pocket. “But it can cause a chain reaction in the body. First comes respiratory distress and then tachycardia. He probably died from a heart attack.”
“Okay, so it sounds like you know how he died. But you still don’t know who killed him, or why.”
“True, but that’s what I’m hoping to find out tonight. And a good place to start is with the people in there.” He pointed to the house, which glowed like an enormous hurricane lamp in the dark.
“Are you going to tell everyone what’s in the medical examiner’s report?”
“Maybe. Or maybe not
. Maybe I’ll let one of them tell me what happened.”
“Well, now. That would be interesting.”
He threw me a sly smile. “Wouldn’t it? I have a feeling someone in there could tell us the whole story: beginning, middle, and end.”
Chapter 11
We both turned, but before either of us could move toward the house, I remembered something else.
“Wait a minute, Lance. I had an interesting conversation with Electra Carmichael a little while ago. She’s Wesley’s stepsister.”
“I know. She’s an actress out of New York City.”
“Well, she told me she’s coming into a ton of money from a trust fund.”
“A trust fund?” Lance cocked his head. “How much money are we talking about?”
“Twenty million dollars. She was supposed to get half. It’s coming from her stepdad’s side of the family.”
Now he squinted as well. “Don’t trust funds usually benefit blood relatives?”
“Usually. But she said her stepdad legally adopted her when he married Electra’s mom. Wesley was supposed to get half, and Electra would get the other half. But that was before Wesley died.”
“Did he even know about the money?” Lance asked.
“No, he didn’t. That’s the interesting part. Electra’s mother only told her about it last week. And Wesley had no idea he stood to inherit so much.”
“Hmmm.” Lance’s squint remained. “That means Electra had a good reason for wanting her stepbrother out of the picture. Even though he was family.”
“Here’s the thing.” I moved closer to Lance, although we were the only two people outside. “They weren’t a very close family. She didn’t know anything about his life. Not that he couldn’t practice law or that he’d become a vegetarian, even.”
“Well, listen to you.”
“What?”
“You’re starting to sound like a bona fide detective, Miss DuBois. Maybe I should be concerned for my job now.”
What the Hatmaker Heard Page 10