The Cakes of Wrath (A Piece of Cake Mystery)

by Brady, Jacklyn

  Breathing in the delicious aromas of cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove emanating from the kitchen and design area, I shut the door behind me and turned to say hello to Edie, who runs the front of the house from behind a large U-shaped desk and a massive computer screen.

  She took one look at my face and came out of her chair. “Rita? What in heaven’s name are you doing here? You should be at the hospital—or at least home in bed.”

  “I’m fine,” I assured her, feeling like a parrot. I wondered how many times I’d have to say those words before the bruises faded and the swelling went down. “I look worse than I feel.”

  She sat slowly. “Well, that’s good, because you look like death warmed over.”

  I laughed and headed toward my office so I could stash my things. “You sure know how to make a girl feel attractive.”

  “Sorry,” she called after me. “I should have asked you to call me when you left the hospital last night. I barely slept.”

  She’d been worried about me? I tossed the bag from the drugstore onto my desk and shoved my purse into a desk drawer. I still had a few minutes before my meeting with Miss Frankie, so I wandered back into the reception area. Edie’s concern was actually kind of sweet. We’d known each other since pastry school and hadn’t always gotten along, but we’d become friendly since we started working together last year.

  “I thought about calling,” I said as I slipped into a chair in front of her desk. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  She ran her gaze over my face, more slowly this time. “You look rough, but I’m glad you’re up and walking around. When I saw that van heading for you, I was sure you were dead.”

  “I thought I was dead when Moose was lying on top of me.” Now that she was eating for two, Edie kept a bowl of M&M’s beside her computer. I have a firm policy that nobody eats chocolate alone in my presence, so I helped myself to a handful. “I didn’t get a chance to ask you last night. Did you see what happened?”

  Edie nodded. “I saw the whole thing. I was just coming out the front door of Second Chances when the van came around the corner.” She closed her eyes briefly and shuddered. “It was horrible.”

  “It was pretty rough from my end, too,” I said, wanting to lighten the moment for her. “Did you recognize the van or see the driver?”

  Edie shook her head. “Not really. I think he was wearing a ball cap, but that’s about all I saw—and I’m not even sure about that. It was so dark and it happened so fast. Do the police have any leads?”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” I said, munching on a couple of candies. “I haven’t heard from them since they took my statement at the ER, but I’ll call later and find out if they’ve made progress on the case.” I hesitated to ask my next question. I didn’t want to upset Edie needlessly, but she had been an eyewitness and I needed to know if Sebastian and Destiny were right. “Do you think it was an accident?”

  Edie’s almond-shaped eyes widened in shock. “Well, of course it was! What else could it have been?”

  I could have hugged her. That was exactly what I wanted to hear. I shrugged and popped another candy into my mouth. “I don’t know. I was sure it was an accident, too, but I just came from the drugstore and Sebastian seems convinced that the driver was trying to hit me. And then I ran into Destiny Hazen and she said the same thing. In fact, she thinks the driver was one of the Fisher boys.”

  Edie’s eyes flickered. “I’m sure they’re both wrong.”

  Another perfect answer. We were two for two. “Yeah,” I said. “I’m sure they are. But they both seemed so certain. I thought I should make sure I’m not delusional. But, I mean, who would want to hurt me? It’s crazy . . . right?”

  “Right.” Edie looked away, but not before I saw that flicker in her eyes for the second time.

  I leaned into her line of vision, “Edie? What aren’t you saying?”

  “Nothing! It was an accident. I’m sure of it.” She tried to look outraged, but she didn’t quite meet my eyes, and I guessed that she was hiding something.

  “Let’s start over from the beginning,” I said. “What exactly did you see?”

  Edie rubbed her forehead and thought for a moment. “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. I mean, he could have been drunk or something. But he never did swerve, so either he didn’t see you at all or he did see you and—” She broke off, clearly distressed.

  My heart dropped like a rock. I’d felt bad enough thinking that my near miss had been an accident, Now, after hearing three people say the van had been aiming for me, I was starting to wonder if someone really had tried to hurt me.

  I stared at Edie for a minute. Or maybe it was an hour. I’m not sure. “But why?” I said when I thought my voice might work again. “And who?”

  She shoveled up a handful of M&M’s for herself. “An unhappy client?”

  Zydeco has a great reputation around town, and even though we’d lost some business after Philippe died, and again when the economy tanked, we’d been slowly rebuilding our client list all year. We’d had a few clients with issues of one kind or another, but we’d resolved every problem. Even if we hadn’t, no one had been angry enough to come after me with a loaded van. And besides, who would kill somebody over a cake? A beautifully crafted and very expensive cake, but still . . . cake.

  But if a cake order gone bad wasn’t the motive, what could it be? I’d lived a fairly tame life. I don’t have a long list of psychotic ex-boyfriends, and I’d never knowingly stolen another woman’s husband or boyfriend. I’d never cheated anyone in a business deal or run over a neighbor’s dog. My list of potential homicidal enemies was a short one, consisting of exactly nobody.

  Edie looked as confused as I felt. “Maybe we should look through the client files for the past year. That might jog our memories.”

  “Good idea,” I said, grateful that there was something I could actually do.

  “What about relatives?” Edie asked. “Are there any who might be angry with you?”

  “Not that I know of. And besides, none of my family lives around here.”

  “But Philippe’s does,” Edie said, looking up from the notes she was making. “He had a couple of aunts, didn’t he? Cousins? Maybe one of them is angry that you made out so well when he died. Or maybe it was someone else from Philippe’s past.”

  I shivered involuntarily. My almost-ex-husband had been murdered last year, which was why I lived and worked in New Orleans now. The idea that some relative of his might be angry with me for inheriting (since I’d technically been his widow) or the notion that he might have more enemies lurking out there made me ill at ease. “Do you know something I don’t?” I asked Edie. “Are you thinking of anyone in particular?”

  She shook her head quickly. “No. I didn’t mean it like that. I barely even know Philippe’s cousins. And besides, everybody loved Philippe.”

  “Almost everybody.”

  Her eyes clouded with memory, and when she spoke again, her voice was subdued. “Almost. But that’s over and done with. I was just tossing out ideas. And anyway, how would any of them have known where to find you last night?” She took a deep breath and made a visible effort to lighten the mood. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. There are a dozen reasons that van might have appeared to be aiming straight for you, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I’m sure when the police catch the guy, they’ll find out he was just distracted.”

  “Or drunk,” I said. “Or high.” I scooped up another handful of M&M’s for the road. “How well do you know Aquanettia and her sons?”

  Edie frowned at me. “Don’t tell me you’re taking what Destiny said seriously.”

  “I can’t just ignore it,” I said with a shrug. “What if she’s right?”

  “Is that a real question? You honestly think Destiny knows what she’s talking about?”

  “It could happen. Do you think either of the boys is capable of something like that?”

  Irritation tightened Edie’s mout
h but she answered me anyway. “Isaiah? No. He’s a good kid, and he’s serious about his schooling. Keon? Maybe. He’s always been a wild card. I know that Aquanettia has had trouble with him for several years. But he wouldn’t just randomly try to run someone over, and there’s no reason at all for him to come after you. It might be different if he’d been after Moose. Those two have clashed a few times.” She stopped talking abruptly and we stared at each other while her last few words echoed between us.

  I don’t know why the idea that Moose might have been the real target hadn’t occurred to me before. I was probably in shock. Not that I wanted Moose to be in danger, but if the driver wasn’t interested in killing me, I could relax and think about work. I was on the schedule to pipe three dozen buttercream petunias for a baptism cake due on Friday. Those petunias weren’t going to make themselves.

  “Maybe you should talk to Sullivan,” Edie suggested. Liam Sullivan, a detective in NOPD’s Homicide Squad, is a friend. A very good friend, and one of the reasons my relationship with Gabriel hasn’t developed into something more. Which was only fair, since Gabriel was a major roadblock in my relationship with Sullivan. And let me just state for the record that both men are well aware of each other. I’m not playing anybody.

  “I’d love to, but he’s on vacation. Deep-sea fishing with friends. He’ll be gone for a couple of weeks.”

  “So you’re not going to tell him?”

  “What’s to tell?” I asked with an oh-so-casual shrug. “Even if he were in town, there’s nothing he could do about it. Either the case will be solved by the time he comes back, or it will be nothing but a memory.”

  Edie gave me an “Are you kidding?” look.

  I made a mental note to mention the idea of Moose as target when I called the police. Later. Right now, I needed to get ready for my meeting with Miss Frankie. Not that I had much I could do to prepare. I had no idea why she’d called this meeting or why she wanted to see me. I’d been trying not to think about it. If she’d volunteered me for some new project, I’d just say no. And this time I’d mean it.

  I stood and turned to go back into my office, adding a mental note to ask Miss Frankie if any of Philippe’s relatives were harboring resentments toward me, just in case. “I’m going to touch up my makeup,” I said to Edie. “Will you let me know when Miss Frankie gets here?”

  With a gasp of horror, Edie glanced at the stairs. “Oh my gosh! I can’t believe it slipped my mind. You walked in and I saw your face, and everything else flew out of my head.” Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. “She’s already up there, waiting for you.”

  “Miss Frankie has been here the whole time?”

  Edie nodded. “Sorry.”

  I waved off her apology. It wasn’t the idea of keeping my mother-in-law waiting for a few minutes that had me worried. “You didn’t mention anything about the accident, did you?”

  The guilt on Edie’s face sharpened. “I wasn’t supposed to?”

  I thought she knew Miss Frankie well enough to answer that herself, but I didn’t waste time saying so. Miss Frankie had been bound to find out about what happened last night. I just hoped she hadn’t been sitting up there and fretting over me this whole time.

  I climbed the stairs quickly, groaning softly as my sore muscles screamed in protest. It wasn’t until I heard the phone ring and Edie answering questions about that afternoon’s supply drive that I realized I’d also completely forgotten to warn her about Destiny. But maybe that was for the best. She was bound to react badly to the news, and right now I had to focus on showing Miss Frankie that I wasn’t at death’s door. I’d have plenty of time to warn Edie later.

  Five

  I made it all the way to the second-floor landing before I was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps and equally heavy breathing on the stairs behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and found Estelle Jergens laboring to catch up with me. Her ample chest heaved and her face matched the color of her curly red hair. Estelle is the oldest member of the Zydeco staff. I don’t know her actual age, but I put her somewhere around fifty, though I could be off by a few years in either direction.

  “Hold on a minute, Rita,” she wheezed. “I need to talk to you.”

  I didn’t want to keep Miss Frankie waiting much longer, but I felt bad about turning Estelle away when chasing me had clearly required such an effort. “Okay,” I said, “but I only have a minute. I’m late for a meeting with Miss Frankie.”

  Estelle climbed the last three stairs and paused to catch her breath. “Oh.” Huff-puff. “Sorry.” Puff. “I . . .” Huff. “. . . didn’t realize you were busy.” Huff-puff. “I can wait until after. It shouldn’t take long.” She finally managed a deep breath and wiped a trickle of perspiration from her cheek. “It’s about Edie.”

  We’ve all been walking on eggshells since learning that Edie’s doctor had warned her that her pregnancy was high-risk and I didn’t want to ignore a potential problem, especially since the crew at Zydeco was Edie’s only support system. I knew Miss Frankie would understand the delay. “What is it?”

  Estelle looked over the banister at Edie’s desk and tugged me away from the landing. “We need to talk about Edie’s baby shower,” she said in a near-whisper.

  I laughed, relieved that we weren’t facing some actual emergency. “What baby shower?”

  Estelle looked confused for a moment, then chuckled and slapped my arm lightly. “For a minute there, I thought you were serious! We are going to give Edie a shower, aren’t we?”

  I was a little embarrassed that the idea of a baby shower hadn’t even crossed my mind. In my defense, Edie was only five months along, which seemed early to be talking about a shower. But since Estelle had brought it up . . . “Sure. Go right ahead. I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

  “Me?” Estelle rocked back on her heels. “No. I didn’t mean me. I’m not . . .” She waved a hand to encompass her gray sweatpants, stained red shirt, and the bright green kerchief covering her hair. “I didn’t mean me. I’m not good at that kind of thing. All of my artistic ability goes into decorating cakes. I thought you would want to plan it. You know. Considering how close you and Edie are.”

  Close? That was a stretch. Like I said, Edie and I had become friendlier in the past year but I wouldn’t have ever said we were “close.” “It’s fine with me if you do it,” I said. “Maybe you could get Isabeau and Sparkle to help you.”

  Estelle’s mouth fell open. “Sparkle? Queen of the Dark?” She snorted a laugh and shook her head. “She’s a sweet girl under all that goth makeup and all, but I shudder to think what kind of baby shower we’d have if she helped plan it. And I can’t ask Isabeau. You know how bad she feels about the whole baby thing.”

  I did not, in fact, have a clue what Estelle was talking about, but for the sake of keeping the conversation brief, I pretended I did. “Oh. Yeah. I wasn’t thinking.”

  Estelle gave me a maternal pat on the shoulder. “So you see, you’re the one who should do it. I’m just here to offer my help if you need it.”

  I never talk about it, but I have baby issues of my own. I have no children. I’ve never been pregnant. Never came close, not even before Philippe and I separated. Philippe and I agreed to wait to start a family so we could focus on our careers. But after a while, the waiting had become less voluntary and more obligatory. I’d gone through a time of grieving every month for a couple of years and then eventually made peace with myself.

  So while I don’t dislike babies, baby showers just aren’t my thing. I’m not into playing games and raving over diapers, burp rags, and other assorted baby paraphernalia. Apparently, Isabeau felt the same way.

  “You’re so clever,” Estelle chirped, her ability to breathe now fully restored. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

  That made two of us.

  “It’s just that I haven’t heard a peep about the plans, and you really shouldn’t put it off much longer. You know Edie’s not even close to being ready
for the baby. She doesn’t have a crib or receiving blankets. All she has is a couple of sleepers. We don’t want the baby to get here before we can fill out the layette at the party.”

  Right. Estelle gave me a quick hug and a pat on the cheek. “I’m so glad that’s settled. You’ll let me know if you need any help at all?” And then she turned and hurried down the stairs without waiting for a response.

  Considering how often Miss Frankie volunteered me for projects without consulting me, you’d think I’d be used to it by now, but I was feeling a bit shell-shocked as I continued down the hall toward the conference room. “No,” I muttered under my breath. “No!” It was such an easy word. Why couldn’t I say it when I needed to?

  I found Miss Frankie (aka Frances Mae Renier) sitting at the conference table sipping a cup of coffee and looking through the contents of a black leather folder. I’d been married to her son, but I’d kept my own surname. Most people think it was a professional choice, but it was actually homage to my parents, whom I’d lost when I was twelve. I didn’t want to lose their name, too.

  I’d been expecting to find Miss Frankie pacing, but she looked cool as a cucumber in a pale green pantsuit and low-heeled sandals. Her auburn hair had been teased and sprayed to within an inch of its life, and her nails and lipstick were the same shade of dark plum.

  She beamed when I walked through the door, but her smile faded abruptly when she saw the bruises on my face. “Lord have mercy,” she said as she stood to hug me. “Edie told me what happened, but I had no idea it was this bad. Are you feeling all right?”

  I’d managed not to groan when she wrapped her arms around me, but I couldn’t stifle the sigh of relief when she let me go again. “I’m fine,” I assured her. “Just a little stiff and sore.” I motioned her back into her seat, poured a cup of coffee, and joined her at the table. “So what did you want to see me about?”

  Miss Frankie laced her fingers together. “I need your help, Rita. My cousin Pearl Lee has gotten herself into a mess.”