Arsenic and Old Cake

by Jacklyn Brady

  He actually laughed, which surprised me. “Well, you have me there. But you’ll have to forgive me for not indulging in idle gossip.”

  He was good at dodging my questions, but I didn’t let that discourage me. I’d just have to come at him from a different angle. I decided to lay a few cards on the table, in the hopes that it would encourage the same from him. “I heard you and Tamarra talking. Can I ask what happened in the past that she’s so determined to keep hidden?”

  He dodged again, saying, “You sure do ask a lot of questions.”

  “What can I say? I have a curious nature.”

  The pastor’s smile faded, and his gaze dropped to his hands. “It’s a personal matter. You understand.”

  I was disappointed but still not ready to give up. I stretched out my legs in front of me and let a little time pass before I tried again. “It sounds like Monroe stirred up some old hurts when he came back. Is that what Tamarra wants to protect all of you from?”

  “Tamarra’s a sweet girl, Mrs. Broussard. She cares about the people she loves.”

  I immediately felt guilty for getting on his case about telling the truth while still masquerading as “Mrs. Broussard,” but I tried not to let it bother me. It was, you know, for the greater good. “I can tell she does, but keeping secrets isn’t always the best way to handle things. Doesn’t the Bible say that the truth will set you free?”

  The pastor conceded my point with a nod. “It does.” He rolled his head on his neck and let out a weary sigh. “Grey said you’d talked to him yesterday, but I was under the impression he didn’t give you any information.”

  “He didn’t give me much,” I admitted.

  “And yet you expect me to spill my guts?”

  “Why don’t I tell you what I know, and you can fill in the rest.”

  The pastor didn’t exactly agree, but he didn’t refuse, so I jumped in and hoped he’d keep his end of my proposed bargain. “I know that Monroe worked at Letterman Industries back in the seventies and that some of the people who live here worked there, too. I know that something happened back then that everybody wants to keep hidden, and I suspect that whatever it was, it had something to do with why everyone is so angry with Monroe, and with Dontae’s death. I heard Tamarra say that she’s worried that you and the others will be charged as accessories to murder, but I don’t know whether she’s talking about Dontae’s death or whatever happened forty years ago. How am I doing so far?”

  The pastor rubbed his neck slowly and let out a sigh that seemed to come up from the depths of his soul. “Sounds like you know quite a bit.”

  “Not really. Who is Willie? Hyacinth’s husband?”

  “Can I ask where you heard that name?”

  “Cleveland mentioned him earlier tonight. Am I right? Was he married to Hyacinth?”

  The pastor nodded slowly. “Yes, Willie Fiske was Hyacinth’s husband, God rest his soul.”

  “And Tamarra’s grandfather.”

  “That’s right.”

  “How does Monroe Magee fit into all of this? Why do so many people think that Monroe killed Dontae?”

  The pastor linked his hands together over his knees and studied the shadow they made on the ground. “I don’t know about Dontae’s murder,” he said after what felt like forever. “Far as I know, nobody had any reason to want Dontae dead.”

  “If Monroe didn’t kill him, do you think whoever did might have been trying to kill someone else? Like maybe Monroe himself?”

  The pastor nodded again. “I think it’s possible.” He looked up at me and said, “Believe me, Mrs. Broussard, if I knew anything at all, I’d come clean immediately.”

  “But you suspect.”

  “I suspect.”

  “And do you know why anyone might’ve wanted Monroe dead?”

  He sent me a ghost of a smile. “That’s where it gets tricky.”

  “So tricky that you’ll risk your professional reputation to keep somebody’s secret?”

  Pastor Rod smiled sadly. “I’m a man of God. I should be above earthly things, right?” He groaned a little as he got to his feet. “It’s not somebody else’s secret, Mrs. Broussard. It’s my secret, too, but it’s not about me. Forty years ago, we were all young and stupid. We thought we were invincible, and nobody had any idea that the decisions we made then would have such long-lasting consequences.”

  I was afraid that he was going to walk away, so again I asked, a little more pointedly this time: “What happened back then?”

  He looked down at me, frowning deeply. “Why do you care so much, Mrs. Broussard? You barely knew Dontae, and it’s not as if you and Hyacinth are friends.”

  I thought about telling him about my friendship with Old Dog Leg, but I feared that if the others thought I was on Monroe’s side, they’d never talk to me again. “I don’t like unanswered questions,” I said. “I lost my parents in an accident the year I turned twelve, and there are still way too many things about that that I don’t know.” I stumbled a bit as I said, “And my first husband was a murder victim, too, so I can’t just sit by and let Dontae’s death go unsolved. It’s easy to see that your friends have been hurt by what happened all those years ago. Maybe talking about it after all this time would help.”

  Pastor Rod was quiet for a long moment, then seemed to come to a decision. “You’re right. We all worked at Letterman Industries together—me, Monroe, Cleveland, Grey, Dontae, and Willie. The pay was horrible. We worked hard, but none of us was ever able to make ends meet.”

  He sighed again and closed his eyes. “A few of us thought we had a solution to all of our problems. We knew there was a big shipment of stereo equipment at the warehouse—the kind that would bring big money on the streets.” He slid a glance at me and almost smiled. “They were some killer eight-track players. Hot stuff back then.” His smile slipped away and the sadness returned. “I’m not proud of what we did, but I’ve made my peace with God.”

  “And who was Tyrone?”

  “The night guard. A friend. But he wasn’t in on it. We timed everything perfectly. Knew we’d be in and out before he came by on his rounds. And we would have been.”

  “What went wrong?”

  The pastor opened his eyes and blinked in the darkness. “I wasn’t inside, you understand. I was the driver. They called me Hot Rod back then.” That ghostly smile made a return appearance. “There was nobody around here better behind the wheel.”

  “You were a getaway driver?” A sharp laugh escaped my lips.

  “I’m a man of many talents,” he said. “I wasn’t always this old, you know.”

  “So what happened? What went wrong?”

  He shook his head. “Monroe was there. He wasn’t really part of our group, but Primrose was sweet on him and she’d already told him too much. We had to pull him in. He tripped an alarm, and Tyrone came back early to check. The others tried to get out before Tyrone realized who they were. They were wearing ski masks, so they should have been able to just disappear. But Monroe panicked, called Willie by name.”

  My heart dropped like a rock, for Willie, for Monroe, for Pastor Rod, and for Old Dog Leg. “What happened?”

  “Tyrone pulled his gun. We were friends, but he was furious. He felt we’d betrayed him, and he wasn’t going to let us get away with it.” His voice cracked, and an incredible sadness settled over both of us.

  “Willie shot him?”

  Pastor Rod nodded. “Afterward, he took the fall for all of us. Insisted right up to the end that he was working alone.”

  “And Hyacinth went along with that?”

  “She put up a fuss, but Willie was adamant. She went to the police once, but he told them that she was lying to save him.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “And the police believed that?”

  “They had their man. They didn’t worry about looking any further. That’s how things were back then for people like us. I know it was selfish to keep our mouths shut, but Willie was going down for murder anywa
y. Telling the truth wouldn’t have lightened his sentence at all.” It was more than selfish, and I wondered if their silence had led to Dontae’s murder. Misery and guilt radiated from Pastor Rod’s dark eyes. “We promised Willie we’d stick with Hyacinth and make sure she was taken care of. She was too proud to take charity, so one by one, the others moved in here and made sure she had a steady income.”

  “What about Monroe?” I asked.

  “The others wanted to throw him to the wolves, but he ran off. None of us knew where he’d gone. After a while, we went on with our lives as best we could. At least, I did, and I thought the others had.”

  “And then Monroe came back.”

  “Only God knows why. He said that he heard about Willie dying in prison. Got some foolish idea that he needed to apologize to Hyacinth.”

  “He thought an apology would make things better? After all this time?”

  Pastor Rod shrugged. “He told me that he’d gone to Oregon and made a new life for himself. He had a wife and a couple of children. Got a good job and tried to put the past behind him. But lately, I guess he’s been looking back. It’s a side effect of old age, the urge to reach back and fix what you did wrong.”

  “So he returned to New Orleans and said he was sorry. How did the rest of you react to that?”

  “Not well. All of us men were in on that warehouse job together. Monroe was no worse than the rest of us, but he was no better either. Maybe we all kept quiet while Willie took the fall, but the rest of us stuck around to make sure Hyacinth was taken care of. Monroe didn’t even bother to do that.”

  Which explained the hostility I’d sensed the night Gabriel and I checked into the Love Nest. “What else did he plan to do while he was in town? Did he tell you?”

  Pastor Rod shook his head. “I don’t know. Nothing specific. His wife died last year and the kids are busy with their own lives. He doesn’t see much of them and he’s lonely. Maybe he just wants to be with friends and family again. A guilty conscience is a stern taskmaster. It’ll get you doing things that don’t make much sense.”

  He was about to say more, but the sound of voices nearby reminded us that we weren’t alone at the Love Nest. Just like that, the pastor shut down in front of my eyes. “I’ve said too much. Please, Mrs. Broussard, if you have a heart, let this remain between us.”

  “I can’t promise that,” I said. “The police are investigating Dontae’s murder. You know it’s going to come out eventually.”

  His eyes looked haunted, his face gaunt. I think he would have sacrificed himself if he thought he could save the others. Just as Willie had tried to do. I thought over what he’d told me. “How does Lula Belle fit into the robbery?”

  “She doesn’t.”

  I didn’t believe him. “She’s here and she’s one of you. Primrose clearly blames her for what happened back then.”

  The pastor’s gaze flickered toward mine. “Lula Belle hasn’t always behaved with discretion,” he said reluctantly. “Her antics caused some dissension between Willie and Hyacinth. And Primrose is very protective of those she loves.”

  “What kind of dissension, exactly?” As if I couldn’t guess.

  Pastor Rod shook his head and stood. “I’ve already said too much.”

  “Then I’ll just ask Lula Belle.”

  Pastor Rod rubbed his face and groaned. “I wish you’d just drop the whole thing. I think that would be a kindness. But if you insist on talking to Lula Belle, I will ask you to leave her alone tonight. She’s not feeling well. She complained of an upset stomach after dinner. Let her sleep. You can talk to her tomorrow.”

  He put a hand on my shoulder briefly, then left me sitting in the garden while I tried to absorb everything he’d told me. It wasn’t until he’d been gone for a few minutes that the importance of what he’d said hit me.

  Lula Bella wasn’t feeling well. After dinner. In a house where someone else had been poisoned less than forty-eight hours earlier. Not good. Not good at all.

  Twenty-six

  Panic almost choked me as I raced back along the path and let myself inside. I thought about calling for help, but I didn’t know who to trust, so I rushed past the parlor and turned down the corridor into the annex.

  I had a feeling of déjà vu as I reached Lula Belle’s door and knocked. She was an unpleasant old woman, but that didn’t mean I wanted her dead.

  “Lula Belle? Are you in there?”

  My heart was in my throat and my senses were on such high alert I think I could actually hear the blood pumping through my veins.

  “Lula Belle?”

  I was so sure she was dying that when the door flew open, I stumbled backward a step in surprise. The last person I actually expected to see was Lula Belle, but there she was, scowling up at me. She wore a pair of silky pajamas and a hairnet, a pair of scuffed purple slippers on her feet.

  In the room behind her, I could see a canopy bed heaped with lacy white throw pillows and an armchair in front of the window. A small closet gaped open, revealing a handful of pastel-colored pantsuits and pairs of shoes. I didn’t see any food, any overturned glasses, or any signs that she’d been ill.

  “What do you want?” she snarled toothlessly. “You’re making enough noise to raise the dead.”

  I ignored her attitude, relieved that she was feeling well enough to be rude. “Are you all right?”

  “I was before you started making such a fuss.” She started to shut the door.

  I caught it with one hand and stopped her. “Pastor Rod told me you had an upset stomach. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Lula Belle’s lips moved in and out over her gums as she glared at me. “Lordy, child, you’re an annoying little thing. You know that, don’t you? Can’t a woman be indisposed without having a big deal made out of it?”

  I let out a relieved laugh, but it sounded more like a nervous titter. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I just . . .” I waved a hand, at a loss for words. “I was worried about you.”

  “Worried? Why?” The light went on in her beady little eyes. “What? You thought somebody tried to poison me?”

  “The thought did cross my mind,” I said.

  Lula Belle threw back her head and laughed, giving me an unfettered view of her toothless mouth. “Oh, that’s rich, baby. Really. And just who did you think would be out to kill me?”

  I shrugged and then took a chance. “I don’t know. Primrose, maybe? It’s pretty obvious the two of you aren’t exactly friends.”

  Lula Belle stopped laughing abruptly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Judging from her reaction, I was almost positive I’d just hit a bull’s-eye. “Why does she hate you so much? Is it because she caught you sleeping with her brother-in-law or because you tried to steal Monroe from her?”

  Those beady little eyes turned hard. “I never laid a finger on Willie,” she said. “Hyacinth was like a sister to me. As for Monroe—” She waved the thought of him away with a flick of her wrist. “I couldn’t have stolen him from Primrose because he was never hers to begin with.”

  “But she was interested in him, wasn’t she?”

  Lula Belle tilted her head to one side. “Who told you that?”

  “Nobody had to tell me,” I said. A tiny white lie, but I excused it away with all the others. And besides, what I said next wasn’t a lie. “I saw how she looked at him the night we arrived.”

  A mean little smile curved Lula Belle’s mouth. “Primrose imagined a whole lot of things back then. She still does. She makes things up. But it doesn’t matter what she wanted. Monroe wanted nothing to do with her.”

  I wondered if that was true or just another mean jab at the woman. “How did she feel about that?”

  “What do you mean, how did she feel? She lived in her own little fantasy world. She thought he was madly in love with her.”

  “What about you and Monroe? Were the two of you an item?”

  “Me and Monroe?” Lula Belle laughed again and
shook her head. “He wasn’t my type, then or now.”

  “You seemed pretty interested in him the night we met.”

  “I was yanking Primrose’s chain. It’s what I do.” She put one hand on the back of her head and thrust out a hip in a pose that might have been sexy . . . once. “I never said he wasn’t interested, did I?”

  She’d let go of the door, so I relaxed my hold on it. “He wanted a relationship but you didn’t?”

  Lula Belle smiled like a cat with a bowl of cream. “Honey, I coulda had any man I wanted back then.”

  Maybe, but Monroe hadn’t seemed especially interested in her the other night. Maybe he’d just been hiding it well. Maybe she was the one living in la-la land. “So why do you dislike Primrose so much?”

  Lula Belle lifted one bony shoulder. “She’s a troublemaker.”

  “How so?”

  “Why don’t you ask her?”

  I was getting tired of these people and their secrets. “I’m asking you,” I said. “What did she ever do to you?”

  Lula Belle’s mouth went through its funny set of motions again while she thought about whether to answer me. “She told Hyacinth that I was sleeping with Willie. It was a lie, of course. And thank God Hyacinth believed me. But if Primrose’d had her way, I’d have been out on the curb.”

  Now I was confused. “She told Hyacinth about you and Willie while you lived here? After Willie went to prison?”

  Lula Belle nodded. “That’s right.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would she tell her something like that?”

  “Because she didn’t want me around.”

  Imagine that.

  “Would that really have been so bad?” I asked. “I mean, you’ve lived here with a woman you hate for thirty years. Wouldn’t it have been better to get a place of your own and get away from Primrose?”

  “Maybe, but that wasn’t part of the deal was it? I couldn’t leave.”

  I assumed it was the same deal Pastor Rod had told me about in the garden, but I asked anyway, just to be sure. “What deal?”

  Lula Belle leaned her head against the wall, and for a split second I saw a vulnerable side to her. “We owed Hyacinth. She needed us. I couldn’t turn my back on her.”