The Cakes of Wrath (A Piece of Cake Mystery)

by Brady, Jacklyn

  “Of course I did. Wouldn’t you?”

  The line moved again and we all moved with it. I caught sight of my red-hot face in the mirror and winced at how sunburned it was. “So was it just once that you saw her high?”

  Lorena shook her head and answered for him. “If it had been, Felix wouldn’t have said anything. We both saw her slipping back into that old life and we felt we had to speak up.”

  We were close enough to the dining room now to see members of the wait staff walking by with plates of ribs, which made it difficult to stay completely focused on the conversation.

  “I told Felix he had to tell Moose. It wouldn’t be fair to just keep our mouths shut. Not when we saw the things she was doing.”

  I glanced back at her in surprise. “Like what?”

  Felix put a hand on Lorena’s arm. “I don’t think we should speculate aloud. We don’t know that anything was going on.”

  Lorena shook off his hand impatiently. “You might not want to believe it, but I sure do. A woman can always tell.” She turned to me for backup. “Isn’t that right, Rita?”

  “That depends,” I said. “What are we talking about?”

  “Lorena!” Felix snapped. “Not here.”

  She gave her boss a resentful look and flicked her gaze toward Aquanettia. “Ask her.”

  I decided to go out on a limb and take a guess. “Does it have something to do with Isaiah and Keon? I know that Aquanettia had some issues with Destiny over them.”

  “Issues?” Lorena laughed through her nose. “I guess you could say that. Destiny was lucky those boys aren’t any younger.”

  “Lorena, really.” Felix wedged himself between us and glared at me. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Rita. Repeating gossip where anyone can hear you. Destiny might have been a bad seed, but Moose still has to do business in this neighborhood. He still has to work with the people here. That’s why I told him about the drugs. She was ruining the shop’s reputation, and if that story gets out, it will ruin more than that.”

  Felix seemed genuinely concerned about Moose, but since Lorena was in a chatty mood, I pushed a little harder. “Did you actually see her doing anything inappropriate?”

  “Everything she did was inappropriate,” Felix said. “Now let the matter drop.”

  “Is that why you tried to have Destiny removed from the alliance? To protect Moose?”

  “I tried to have her removed for the reasons I stated at the meeting. She never even bothered to come to any of the meetings. You know that. Everybody knows it.”

  “But Edgar said she was ill,” I reminded him.

  “Edgar,” Lorena said with another soft snort of derision. “The man of a thousand excuses. Sick? Yes. By her own choice. Nobody forced her to pollute her body that way.”

  “She had no business voting on matters that would affect the rest of us,” Felix said. “We’re talking about my livelihood—and yours. Did you really want someone like her having a say? Running for office?”

  I looked around at that restaurant full of neighbors and wondered if I’d been on the wrong track all this time. Had one of these laughing, sweating, and chattering people killed Destiny to permanently remove her name from the ballot? None of them looked like a cold-blooded killer, but everybody knows that looks can be deceiving.

  We’d finally reached the head of the line and I turned my attention to the all-important selection of side dishes. Rubio allowed three sides with each entrée, but with a dozen to choose from, the decision wasn’t always easy. Corn on the cob (fresh, not frozen) and hush puppies (deep-fried nuggets of cornbread so named because Confederate soldiers used to toss them to the dogs to keep them quiet) made the cut almost immediately. Choosing between Rubio’s macaroni salad (a tangy mayo dressing over macaroni cooked al dente, cubes of sharp cheddar, and fresh peas) and collard greens (cooked in butter and pork fat) proved to be tougher.

  Before I could make my final pick, the door flew open so hard it hit the wall and bounced off again. Windows rattled and every conversation in the line behind us ground to a screeching halt. Scotty Justus loomed in the doorway, his chest heaving, his eyes wild. He glanced around, but it only took a moment to find who he was looking for.

  “You!” he shouted, pointing at someone behind me. “Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Everyone swiveled to look, including me. That’s when I realized that he wasn’t aiming that finger at someone else. I put a hand on my chest and squeaked, “Me?” just to be sure.

  “I want to talk to you. Outside. Now.”

  Right that minute it wasn’t hard to picture him trying to run down his own daughter in a murderous rage. The last thing I wanted to do was go anywhere with him, especially alone. But I was also determined to figure out what really happened to Destiny. If Scotty was going to open up to me, he probably wouldn’t do it in public. And since the police weren’t likely to even try getting information from him, I had to take a risk.

  Still, I was reluctant to leave the relative safety of Rubio’s as I followed Scotty out the door. For a laid-back beer-guzzling Parrothead, he sure had a head of steam worked up. Even his ponytail looked angry.

  The minute we hit the sidewalk, I decided to go on the offensive. I didn’t want him to think he could just waltz into a room and call me out, expecting me to come running. Which, of course, I had. But I thought it was important to establish ground rules going forward.

  “What’s this all about?” I demanded. “And how dare you shout at me like that?”

  Scotty put both hands on his hips and leaned in close. “You’re lucky I didn’t drag you out of there. You told Pearl Lee that I killed Destiny? Are you insane?”

  Wait a minute! What? “I never said you killed her,” I assured him. “I said it’s possible that someone killed her. Because it seems a little too convenient that somebody tried to hit her with a van and then she died of an overdose not even two days later.”

  His eyes narrowed but he looked more confused than angry now. “What are you talking about? Destiny was nowhere near that van.”

  “I don’t think the driver knew that. I think that whoever it was mistook me for her.”

  “That’s insane.”

  “Is it? What if I’m right? She was going to rat out her dealer . . . probably. What if someone killed her to keep her quiet? Because I think there was someone with her at the Chopper Shop on Wednesday morning. Someone she knew. Someone she’d sit and have coffee with.”

  Scotty swiped at his forehead with the back of his hand. I could tell that my arguments were getting to him. “The police said it was probably an accidental overdose.”

  “I know. But what if they’re wrong? Detective Winslow won’t even listen to me, but he might listen to you.”

  Scotty stared at me for what felt like forever. “Look, I’m sure you mean well, but I think you’re imagining things. Moose doesn’t need this, and neither do I. Losing Destiny has been hard enough on him. She was my kid, but she was messed up, okay? That’s all it was.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. “That’s it? You’re just going to shrug it off? Destiny was messed up, so forget it?”

  “This is none of your business. Stay out of it.”

  “Why? Because you don’t want me to discover the truth?”

  His confusion evaporated in a blink. “You really are insane, aren’t you? She was my daughter.”

  “And no father has ever killed his daughter in the history of the world? Sorry. I wish that meant more than it actually does.”

  Scotty swore long and loud.

  I waited patiently for him to calm down, and by patiently I mean that I held my breath and prayed he wouldn’t kill me. I thought about Gabriel asking me if I was going to put myself in danger and felt a little guilty about doing it again. But Winslow had me in his crosshairs, and his threat to charge me somehow in Destiny’s death had scared me. Sometimes a woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do.

  “As far as I know
,” I said when Scotty’s colorful vocabulary finally wound down, “you don’t have an alibi for the time of the murder. There’s only your word and Moose’s that you were both at home sleeping. The fact is, either one of you could have snuck out without the other one knowing. Do you know for sure that Moose never left the house?”

  He looked as if he wanted to throttle me, but he kept his hands on his hips and clenched his jaw a few times instead. “Somebody ought to lock you up.”

  The fact that he was able to show some restraint gave me a bit more courage. “If I can’t figure out who really killed your daughter, you might just get that wish. Detective Winslow would like nothing more than to put me in a cell and throw away the key.”

  “And your solution is to warn Pearl Lee about me?”

  “I didn’t accuse you,” I said. “I suggested that Pearl Lee show a little restraint. You just lost your daughter. I didn’t want Pearl Lee making a nuisance of herself. She can be a bit enthusiastic.”

  “Well, she’s also been a source of comfort. We’re both adults. We can make our own decisions, so back off. Because if you keep going, you just might end up regretting it.”

  I know I should have been frightened, but I was too angry to think clearly. “Or what?” I challenged. “You brought me outside to threaten me? Okay. Message received. Is there anything else? Because if not, I’m going back inside.”

  Scotty stared at me with eyes as cold as death and again I expected him to try hitting me, but he stuffed both hands into the pockets of his shorts and strode away.

  I let out a sigh of relief and my knees turned to rubber. Somehow, I managed to turn around and reach for the door handle, but when I spotted a man in a rumpled suit leaning against the wall just a few feet away, a cold chill crept up my spine. It was clear from the expression on his face that Detective Winslow had overheard the whole conversation.

  Nineteen

  The conversation with Scotty and then spotting Winslow stalking me took some of the joy out of the ribfest. Having to start over at the back of the line didn’t help. Neither did the covert way the other diners slid glances at me when they thought I wouldn’t notice. By the time the host finally sat me at a table—a tiny little thing stuck in the corner near the kitchen—I was in a foul mood.

  I ate quickly, keeping my head down to avoid conversation. I made the mistake of looking up once and thought I saw Gabriel sitting near the window. But since I wasn’t in the mood for another lecture from him, I scooted into the corner and prayed he wouldn’t notice me.

  After lunch, I trotted over to Zydeco so I could check in with Ox and found that they’d encountered a few problems of their own. Abe, our baker, had accidentally knocked over an entire tray of gum paste pine trees, and the fondant on the golf cart had cracked, putting the whole cake behind schedule. I promised to come back to help as soon as I finished with the cleanup, but Ox didn’t look happy as I walked out the door. I couldn’t blame him. I’d have felt the same way if I’d been in his shoes.

  On my way back to the cleanup, I stopped by the drugstore for sunscreen, but I had a feeling that even slathering it over every inch of exposed skin wasn’t going to help. It was too little, too late.

  By four that afternoon, I was dragging. Sebastian, Paolo, and I had finally finished our assigned section of the neighborhood. We’d bagged all the garbage and arranged it on the curb, where a local trash company would pick it up on Monday. We carried the tools back to Zydeco and put them into the storage shed, after which the guys went off to get a beer and I hobbled across the loading dock to begin my workday.

  As I reached for the door, I spotted Detective Winslow in the front seat of a dark-colored Crown Vic that was nudged up against a tree. Was he kidding me? My temper flared, but I was too tired and sore for a confrontation. I owed whatever energy I had left to Zydeco.

  After washing up and covering my dirty clothes with a chef’s jacket, I threw myself into the effort. Okay, maybe threw is the wrong word. The heat and sun had sapped my energy and finding focus wasn’t easy, so I kind of crawled up to my workstation. But I did my best under the circumstances, adding detail to the buttercream grass “rough” in between yawns.

  Pearl Lee sashayed into the design area a whole five minutes before Miss Frankie came through the door, and somehow managed to make herself look like she’d been there all afternoon. I was furious with her for ratting me out to Scotty, but way too tired to talk with her about it. Had she even considered the possibility that she was putting me in danger by telling him what I’d said? Did she care?

  I threw myself into my work, doing what little I could to help Ox and Dwight load up the golf course cake—which was a masterpiece, by the way.

  And then I packed up and headed for home. To my dismay, Winslow was still there when I hit the parking lot. I tossed my bag into the Mercedes, gave him a little salute as I drove past, and pulled out onto the street. But the more I thought about the day I’d had, the angrier I got.

  For the past two days Pearl Lee had ignored every word I said and refused to take direction. She’d thrown me under the bus with Scotty, who had called me out in front of half the neighborhood. She’d even enlisted Gabriel in her schemes, and he was supposed to be on my side.

  I was tired of fighting. Tired of the struggle. Tired of feeling like I was always climbing uphill. I knew I couldn’t just flip a switch and change everything that was wrong, but I could put an end to one of the battles.

  Telling myself that I had to set some firm boundaries before I had to work with Pearl Lee again—and I use the term work loosely—I turned the car around. The best way to get Pearl Lee’s cooperation would be to talk to her while Miss Frankie was around. So we could avoid any further misunderstandings.

  My mother-in-law lives in a rich old neighborhood full of classic old houses and rolling green lawns. At dusk, just before the sun slips below the horizon, I swear you can see money dripping from the trees. By contrast, I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks in a poor Hispanic neighborhood in Albuquerque. Driving into this neighborhood used to intimidate me in a big way. After living in Miss Frankie’s world for the past year, I’m gradually getting used to having upscale connections but I still don’t feel like I belong.

  When I pulled up in front of that big white house and saw that it was dark, I realized that Miss Frankie and Pearl Lee weren’t home, but I didn’t want to leave and risk losing my nerve and my opportunity, so I parked in front of the house and settled down to wait.

  Sometime later, I woke up with a start to the sound of someone tapping on the window by my head. It took me a few seconds to gather my wits and figure out where I was. Another heartbeat or two to realize that I was looking at Detective Winslow’s ugly mug.

  Groaning aloud, I leaned my head back on the seat. “Go away!”

  “Would you roll down your window, ma’am?”

  I did as he asked, but I made sure he knew I wasn’t happy about it. “What?”

  “Would you mind telling me what you’re doing here?”

  “I’m waiting for my mother-in-law to get home. I need to talk with her about something.”

  “Is that right?” Winslow took a step back. He ran a glance over my car before looking up the driveway at the house. “This is her place?”

  “Yeah.” I tried to stretch my legs, but I’d been sitting in one position too long. They wouldn’t move. “I suppose you’re going to tell me it’s against the law to sit here.”

  Winslow returned his eyes to me. “The good folks who live in this neighborhood don’t take kindly to folks loitering.”

  “I’m not loitering,” I said as I used both hands to straighten one leg. “I’m waiting. There’s a difference. What are you doing here anyway?”

  Winslow lifted both hefty shoulders. “Working on my case.”

  I arranged the other leg in a more natural position and nearly wept at the needle-sharp pricks that meant the blood was flowing again. “By following me?”

  “If need
be.”

  My legs burned. My muscles ached. My face was on fire and my head was pounding. As if all that weren’t bad enough, my stomach was painfully empty. “I didn’t sell drugs to Destiny Hazen,” I said, shoving open the car door. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  “You can tell me as many times as you want. I’m gonna keep following the evidence.”

  “None of which leads to me,” I said. I pulled myself out of the car and put both hands on my back, arching gently to stretch the muscles. “But knock yourself out. You won’t find anything. I barely even knew her.”

  Winslow sucked something from a tooth. “You knew her well enough to share your prescription painkillers.”

  “She stole those out of my office. I’ve told you that.”

  “Yes, you have,” Detective Winslow admitted as he hitched up his pants with his elbows.

  “You don’t have any real evidence against me, and you won’t find any.”

  “So you say.”

  “Because it’s true.” I slammed the car door and scowled at him. “Isn’t there some kind of law against the police harassing citizens?”

  He gave me a smarmy smile. “Ah, but I’m not harassing you. I saw you in the car, unmoving. In light of current events, I was concerned. I came to check on you and make sure you hadn’t taken too many pain pills yourself.”

  How sweet. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Destiny stole mine. I suppose you just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

  “As a matter of fact, I was. Lucky for you.”

  “Yeah. I sure feel lucky. But as you can see, I’m perfectly all right. Thank you for your concern.” That last bit nearly choked me.

  “I’m sure glad to see it,” he said. “I also happened to notice you having a small disagreement with Scotty Justus this afternoon. Would you mind telling me what that was about?”

  I worked up some phony dismay. “Don’t tell me you didn’t get close enough to hear? What a shame.”