‘Everything looks delicious,’ I cooed, reading the menu.
‘Thank you and hello, hello!’ Lulu was suddenly standing by our table, glowing in a chef’s hat and apron despite the sweat beaded up around her hairline and the dark circles beneath her eyes. M.J. stood to greet her but she held up her hands. ‘Oh, you don’t want to do that, trust me. I smell like a crawfish bath.’ She blew him a playful kiss. ‘Sit, sit. I’ll go wash up and join you in about twenty minutes. Porter’s agreed to cook for us after hours. I’ll have Gerard bring you out a bottle of wine, and I’ve already made a special appetizer.’ She clapped her hands and held them together in front of her like she was about to pray. ‘Devon, Elle, so glad y’all could make it. Be back in a bit.’
M.J. watched her go with a dreamy smile plastered on his face. ‘Well, feel free to order whatever you like. She makes a mean crawfish pie and the best chicken and andouille gumbo on the planet. There’s also the classic alligator bites if you’re feeling brave.’
Brave? Do they bite back? ‘It all sounds so good.’ My stomach growled as the waiter approached our table with a plate of fried oysters and a bottle of wine. I probably should’ve had a little snack earlier this evening to hold me over, but I hadn’t wanted to ruin my appetite for tonight. My stomach complained louder.
‘Good evening.’ Gerard’s mouth curved beneath his mustache as he began to work the cork in the wine bottle. ‘Monsieur Beckley, you would like to do the honors?’
M.J. nodded and Gerard poured a splash in his glass. After M.J. sniffed, tasted and nodded his approval, Gerard filled up the rest of our glasses.
I eyed the fried oysters. Tiny wisps of heat rose up from them, carrying their delicious scent straight to my nose. I think I made a little whimpering noise out loud. Either that or I was drooling, because Devon mercifully reached out and put a few on my plate.
‘Bon appetit, ma cherie,’ he whispered in my ear. Then he kissed my cheek and loaded his own plate.
‘These should be illegal. So, how are you holding up, M.J.?’ I asked around a mouthful of the sweetest, most buttery oysters I’ve ever had.
M.J. shrugged. ‘Fine, I guess. Though I think it’ll be easier once we have closure, when we can have Dad’s service and burial. They’re still holding his remains at the coroner’s office.’
Devon nodded and wiped his fingers on a cloth napkin. ‘I know how that is. I went through that with my parents five years ago. They were killed in a boating … accident.’ There was a catch in his voice when he used the word ‘accident’.
‘Oh, yeah, I remember hearing about that. That was your parents, huh?’ M.J. sat back in his chair, abandoning his oysters and blew out a breath. ‘I couldn’t imagine losing both parents at once. Losing Dad has been hard enough.’
‘Your sister indicated you two were very close,’ I chimed in, mostly so Devon wouldn’t have to talk about his parents but also to get M.J. talking about his sister. Actually, she’d said he was a daddy’s boy but I wasn’t going to put it that way.
M.J.’s jaw clenched as he ripped a roll in half. ‘Cali had always been jealous of our relationship. To say she has daddy issues, besides her other obvious issues, would be putting it mildly.’
Should I keep prying? He seemed awfully upset. Maybe just one more question. ‘Forgive the assumption if it’s wrong, but it seems Cali can do no wrong in your mom’s eyes.’
Sighing, he leaned forward and balanced his butter knife contemplatively on the edge of his plate. ‘No, that’s fair.’
I watched him cautiously. Was I making him more upset by these questions? I hoped not – he’d been through enough. But Breezy didn’t have much time. I decided to go for it. ‘So, I heard about Cali taking money for a tell-all book about your family. How did your mom handle that? She wasn’t furious like your dad was?’
M.J. chewed a piece of the buttered bun slowly. When he swallowed, he glanced up at me and shook his head sadly. ‘No. She wasn’t. Mom’s always let Cali use her mental illness as an excuse for her behavior. And besides, she believes family forgives each other no matter what they’ve done.’
So if Cali killed her father, Selene would forgive her?
‘But Cali went too far this time. All the stuff she fed that disgusting tabloid was lies. Well, except for my mother’s string of affairs but that’s between her and Dad. It didn’t need to be splashed around in public as news. And Cali went after the Beckley Foundation, telling all these fantasy tales of money laundering and theft. We used to do good things with that foundation but her lies really hurt us. Donations stopped coming in. We lost the faith of some key people.’ He stopped to sip his wine. ‘Anyway, Dad was a good guy. One of the best. He just wanted to do decent things in this world and she spoiled it for him.’
Devon’s low voice cut through the silence that followed. ‘Your da sounds like he was a stand-up fella, not the type to have an affair with the maid.’
M.J. glanced up at Devon, his mouth ticking up into a grateful smile. ‘No, he wasn’t. I mean, it’s unfathomable to me what the police are saying. That Breezy killed my dad because of a lovers’ quarrel? Ridiculous. She may’ve had a little crush on him. He had a big heart and was easy to love. But Breezy is no killer. She’s a sweet girl and practically part of our family. And Dad is … was no adulterer.’
I glanced at Devon for any sign that I should lay off the questioning. He didn’t seem to be saying that with his body language so I went on. ‘M.J., I realize this is a very delicate question, but do you think it’s possible Cali and your dad continued the argument in the kitchen and she could have … you know … killed him in a fit of rage? And maybe your mom is just saying she was with Cali upstairs to protect her?’
His eyes flicked to the window. ‘While unfortunately I do think they’re both capable of what you’re suggesting,’ he rubbed his forehead like a headache was brewing and moved his gaze back to me, ‘no. Only because the whole story is they were only in my sister’s bedroom for about ten minutes. Cali was too worked up and restless so she went down to find Sam in the library and Mom followed her. Mom told me she never left Cali’s side. She was afraid of what she’d do. And I know that’s true because I ran into them all coming out of the library together when we heard you screaming for help.’
So Selene and Cali had left the bedroom? I tried to calculate the timing. Selene had said she left Sven and took Cali up to the bedroom around eight forty-five. If they stayed around ten minutes, that means they went downstairs to meet Sam in the library a little before nine p.m. Michael was killed between then and nine twenty when I found him. I’d passed the library when Flavia led me through the house … the library is fairly close to Flavia’s kitchen. Cali definitely had enough time to cut her dad’s harness before she met Sam in the library and after Breezy left him. As long as her mom vouched for Cali’s whereabouts, though, no one was going to question that.
‘I expected those oysters to be gone by now,’ Lulu teased as she appeared and kissed M.J.’s cheek. She slid into the chair next to him, wearing a fresh green dress covered in a daisy pattern, her face scrubbed to a shine. ‘And what are we all looking so serious about?’
I dropped the whole Cali thing for now. ‘M.J. was just telling us there’s no way Breezy had anything to do with his father’s death,’ I said, wanting to get her opinion on Breezy.
‘Agreed!’ She plucked a piece of the crusty bread from the basket and slathered it with honey butter. ‘Breezy and I have been friends for years. She loves the Beckleys like I do, like family. She’d never hurt Michael. I don’t understand why the police are so convinced she did.’
Devon held up three fingers and began to tick them off. ‘The trifecta. One, they have hard evidence. Her fingerprints and Michael’s are the only ones on the severed harness and a drop of her blood was found on the floor beneath him. Two, there’s opportunity. She was seen running from the crime scene and admitted being there during the twenty-minute window Michael’s death occurred. And three, they have motive because s
he admitted she was in love with him.’
‘Let’s not forget the voodoo dolls she had tied together and leaning against the photo of her and Michael on her dresser. Kind of incriminating,’ I added.
Lulu waved her hand. ‘She got those dolls from my mother.’ She must have seen the shocked look on my face because she laughed. ‘Not to keep them bound together forever or anything like that. She told me she saw …’ Lulu glanced at M.J. ‘Sorry, sugar, but she saw Selene getting intimate with her trainer. You know that Norwegian mountain with eyes? And she was worried about Michael having a mistress, too.’ I nodded in understanding. ‘So she wanted to do something to help their marriage.’ She shrugged. ‘What could it hurt to send Breezy to my mother? It made her feel like she was doing something and I figured who knows, it might actually help. When you have a mother in the vodun business, you see things. Unexplainable things. Ya know what I’m sayin’?’
I made a note to ask her about those ‘things’ at another time. Right now I had to keep the conversation focused on Michael’s murder. ‘Your mother makes voodoo dolls?’ I asked.
‘Sure, she knows how, though she doesn’t do that so much anymore since her arthritis has gotten bad. She owns a voodoo magic shop and dabbles a little. Mostly crystals, books, essential oils, you know … touristy stuff. But back home in Louisiana she had a back room with the real deal.’
‘Do you think she would talk to us? Give us an idea of Breezy’s state of mind when she bought the dolls?’ Devon asked.
I knew what he was thinking. Just because Breezy told Lulu she wanted to help the Beckley’s marriage doesn’t mean it was true. She could’ve had a hidden motive. Since they both seemed to think Breezy was innocent though, maybe it was time to come clean. ‘Lulu, we don’t believe Breezy killed Michael either.’ I glanced at Devon and he nodded, so I continued. ‘Devon is a private investigator, and he’s working pro bono trying to help prove her innocence and find out the truth about what happened to Michael.’
‘Really?’ M.J. said in surprise.
‘Really?’ Lulu said at the same time. ‘That’s fantastic. Yeah, I’ll give Mom a heads-up you’re coming. Her shop is called Dutrey’s on Garden Street. I’m sure she’d be glad to help.’
‘I don’t know how to thank you, Devon. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.’ M.J. held up his glass. ‘To finding out the truth.’
‘Me, too. If I can help, let me know.’ Lulu held up her water goblet. Our clinking glasses echoed through the deserted restaurant.
Devon took a mouthful of wine and then set his glass down, addressing Lulu. ‘Not a big fan of wine?’
Lulu and M.J. shared a conspiratorial smile then M.J. rested his hand over hers. ‘Why not? Let’s celebrate. Tonight.’
Lulu nodded excitedly, kissed M.J. hard on the mouth and then they both turned to face us. ‘We’re pregnant!’ they said together.
Devon and I were both stunned into silence for a moment and then in a rush we both offered our congratulations.
I grabbed my glass. ‘Well, another toast is in order then. To a healthy mom and baby.’
‘You’re the first people we’ve told. My mother doesn’t even know yet. I hope she’ll be excited to be a grandmother.’ Lulu bit her bottom lip. ‘We were going to wait until the second trimester. Superstition and all that, but I don’t want to wait anymore. I want to shout it from the rooftops.’
The mood had turned to one of excitement as we ordered dinner and a second bottle of wine for three of us.
‘Do you have any names picked out yet?’ I asked, getting caught up in the possibilities. What would their baby look like? Would it have her amazing eyes and bubbly personality?
‘Well, I like Michael if it’s a boy. It only makes sense to have a Michael the third, right?’ Lulu tapped her lip thoughtfully. ‘Don’t know about a girl, but I’m only four weeks along so we have time.’
Wow. Four weeks? M.J. said they’d only been dating for four weeks; they must’ve started off their relationship with a bang. I smiled to myself at my own joke, but when I moved my attention to M.J. he suddenly looked sad and withdrawn. Was he not as happy as he seemed to be about the baby? Devon must’ve noticed his mood shift, too.
‘Thinkin’ about your da?’ Devon asked him quietly.
‘Sorry?’ M.J. came back from wherever he’d been with a shake of his head.
‘Your da? I know if I was expectin’ a baby I’d want my da around to be a grandfather.’
M.J.’s face paled and he squeezed his eyes shut. ‘Yeah. So damned tragic. I still can’t believe it’s real. He’s gone.’
Lulu wrapped both arms around his and rested her head on his shoulder. ‘He’ll never truly be gone.’
‘What about your dad, Lulu?’ I asked, changing the subject.
She folded her hands on the table. ‘Not around. He passed away two months ago. It was a big mess. My dad’s family wouldn’t even let us come to the services. They cremated him and held the wake in their big fancy New Orleans house and said they’d call the police if we trespassed. My mom and I were devastated.’
‘Why would they do that?’ I asked, shocked.
‘Because they never liked Mom. Said she was a witch because of her vodun religion. Though if you asked me it had more to do with the color of her skin. They come from Irish and French blood and she’s African-American. As far as they’re concerned, me and Mom don’t exist.’
‘That’s terrible. So you didn’t get to say goodbye to your dad?’
She shook her head while M.J. rubbed her arm, comforting her this time. She swiped a thumb beneath her eye and smiled despite the threatening tears. ‘What about you, Elle. Are your parents still alive?’
I squirmed a little. ‘My mom, yes. I never knew my dad.’
Steaming plates of food arrived just in time. I’d ordered the gumbo and it came in the biggest ceramic bowl I’d ever seen.
‘Now that’s a bowl of gumbo,’ I laughed. I spooned a big creamy, seafood-filled pile into my mouth, glad to not have to elaborate about my own parents.
We were all having such a good time, laughing, sharing stories and eating the most delicious Cajun food I’ve ever tasted, so I hated to ruin the mood by bringing up Michael again but I’d thought of something. If M.J. didn’t believe Breezy killed his father, maybe he had his own idea about who did.
While Lulu took her third bathroom break of the evening, I asked, ‘M.J., do you know of anyone at the party who would’ve fought with your dad? Besides your sister, that is.’
He swallowed, wiped his mouth and became very still, eyes wide as if he’d had an internal shock. ‘Yes. I do.’
SIXTEEN
He had both Devon’s and my attention quickly. ‘Who?’ I coaxed.
He glanced from me to Devon, his expression hardening. ‘Oliver White.’
I’d heard that name before. I looked at Devon, digging in my wine-soaked brain. I couldn’t place him.
He helped me out. ‘The neighbor.’
‘Ah!’ I said, focusing back on M.J. ‘The art dealer guy.’
He nodded. ‘Art dealer, casino owner … all-round sociopath.’
‘Was he at the party?’ Devon asked.
‘He wasn’t invited, no, but whether he snuck in or not, who knows. He and my dad had a feud going on for years. It started friendly enough with my dad pulling one of his pranks. Only Oliver doesn’t have a sense of humor. He threw a couple of boxes of nails in our driveway afterwards so Dad paid the gardener to set the sprinklers off during one of Oliver’s girlfriend’s book launch parties.’ His mouth twitched at the memory. I couldn’t tell if it amused him or made him sad. ‘Well, you get the picture.’
‘Every time I leave, you three get so serious.’ Lulu laughed as she returned to the table. ‘What are we discussing now?’
‘Oliver White,’ M.J. said, pulling out her chair for her. ‘Elle asked if I thought anyone else could’ve fought with Dad that night.’
‘Oh.’ Lulu rolled her eyes.
‘Yeah, that man is flat out disturbing. But he wasn’t at the party.’
M.J. looked at her thoughtfully. ‘How do we know? Everyone was dressed up. He could have easily snuck through the backyard and into Yiya’s kitchen without being noticed if he was in costume.’
‘Why would he do that?’ And then they both froze and stared at each other.
‘What?’ My heartbeat sped up. They’d just remembered something important. It was written on their faces. ‘What is it?’
‘The mask,’ Lulu whispered.
‘The mask.’ M.J. nodded. Then turning to us, he elaborated. ‘Dad has a room in the house dedicated to African art. There’s this African mask, once owned by some French poet and worth over a million dollars that Dad had really wanted. Somehow Oliver found out and outbid Dad during a silent auction. Not one to be denied something he really wanted, Dad paid one of Oliver’s maids to steal it for him. Paid her well, too. She no longer had to work. I heard she took her family and retired in the Caribbean somewhere.
‘Anyway, it became this thing between them. Instead of calling the police, Oliver had it stolen back. Dad had it last, though. Oliver could’ve used the cover of the party to disguise himself, waltz right in and steal it again. I’ll have to check Dad’s art room when we’re allowed back in the house and see if it’s missing.’
I sat up straight, my face drained of blood. ‘I don’t think it will be there.’ I was remembering the man in the mask bumping me in the hallway when I was trying to find a bathroom. ‘Someone wearing a brown wooden mask passed me in the hallway right before I found your father in the kitchen.’
Devon picked me up after my last doga class on Monday and we found ourselves headed back over the bridge, merging onto the highway headed to Madame Dutrey’s shop in Tampa. With every mile Clearwater receded in the distance, I felt my anxiety increasing. Even though it was only a forty-minute drive, I’d never been this far away from home before. I suddenly wished I’d brought Buddha with me instead of leaving him with Maria for a mud bath and massage. He was my security blanket, my anchor when I felt myself coming unglued. Like now.
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