A Flair for Beignets (The Sadie Kramer Flair Mysteries Book 3)

by Deborah Garner

  A Flair for

  Beignets

  A Sadie Kramer Flair Mystery

  Deborah Garner

  Cranberry Cove Press

  A Flair for Beignets

  by Deborah Garner

  Copyright © 2018 Deborah Garner

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  First Printing – September 2018

  ISBN: 978-0-9969960-5-1

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  EXCEPT FOR BRIEF TEXT QUOTED AND APPROPRIATELY CITED IN OTHER WORKS, NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM, BY PHOTOCOPYING OR BY ELECTRONIC OR MECHANICAL MEANS, INCLUDING INFORMATION STORAGE OR RETRIEVAL SYSTEMS, WITHOUT PERMISSION IN WRITING FROM THE COPYRIGHT OWNER/AUTHOR.

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  Books by Deborah Garner

  Above the Bridge

  The Moonglow Café

  Three Silver Doves

  Hutchins Creek Cache

  Crazy Fox Ranch

  Cranberry Bluff

  A Flair for Chardonnay

  A Flair for Drama

  A Flair for Beignets

  Mistletoe at Moonglow

  Silver Bells at Moonglow

  Gingerbread at Moonglow

  Nutcracker Sweets at Moonglow

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Lisette’s Beignets

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  For all those who love mystery, beignets and café au lait–

  or any combination of the above.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sadie fastened her seat belt, following the flight attendant’s directions. She leaned back against the cushioned seat, pleased with the window location. Holding her tote bag securely in her lap, she looked out onto the runway as the plane taxied into takeoff position.

  It would be good to get away, as much as she adored her life in San Francisco. She particularly loved running her fashion boutique, Flair, filled with unique apparel and accessories. The daily interaction with regular customers, as well as those discovering the shop for the first time, had kept her not only busy but entertained since becoming a widow years ago. Her assistant, Amber, was delightful to work with, not to mention the tantalizing plus of having her neighbor Matteo’s chocolate shop, Cioccolata, right next door. What could be better than an existence filled with fashion and chocolate?

  Actually, there were two additional aspects to her life that were even closer to her heart: the precious contents of her tote bag and a good adventure or mystery—not necessarily in a book either, though she appreciated a fictional detective who could follow a literary path of clues. Luckily, the treasure inside her tote often helped with her tendency to stumble upon mysteries herself. As if on cue, a tiny yip floated upward. Sadie hushed the source.

  “Praline?”

  Sadie turned toward the seat next to hers. She’d nodded to the woman but said nothing when she first sat down, as an animated cell phone conversation was in progress. Now that the phone was turned off and stashed away, the woman held up a light brown, cookie-sized concoction that might as well have had the words “sugar rush” printed on it in bold letters. Granted, it wasn’t chocolate, Sadie’s most fervent addiction, but then again, it would be rude to turn it down, wouldn’t it? Yes, of course it would, Sadie thought. She almost smacked her lips in anticipation of satisfying her sweet tooth. But she resisted as a matter of courtesy and accepted the offering gracefully.

  “I don’t mind if I do!” Sadie exclaimed, taking the sweet treat from the woman. “It looks delicious. Thank you. That’s very kind of you to share.” She took a nibble from the pale, bumpy, fudge-like cluster, closed her eyes, and sighed. “Oh my, pecans. I do love pecans.”

  “Clotile,” the woman said.

  Sadie opened her eyes. “Clotile? Is that a type of pecan?”

  A smile crept across the woman’s face, emphasizing wrinkles that gave away an age close to Sadie’s own sixty-something years. “No, that’s my name, Clotile. Clotile Laurent.”

  “Oh, of course!” Sadie said, taking another bite of the praline while noting the woman’s stylish red hair and dangling necklace of multicolored beads. “Sadie here,” she offered.

  “Delighted to meet you,” Clotile said. She pulled another praline out of a small bag and took a bite. “I never travel without a supply of Lisette’s pralines. Makes me feel I’m not far from home even if I am.”

  “And where is home?” Sadie asked.

  “New Orleans,” Clotile said. “And you?”

  “San Francisco,” Sadie answered. “I’m on my way to New Orleans.” As soon as the destination tumbled out of her mouth, she felt foolish. It was obvious where the plane was headed. “Is Lisette a friend of yours? Or a sister, perhaps?”

  “Oh, no.” Clotile laughed. “Well, I suppose you could call her a friend, at least an acquaintance. She owns Chez Lisette Patisserie. I go there every morning for my café au lait.” I’m a regular customer.”

  “Well, I can certainly see why, if everything she serves is this delicious,” Sadie said, finishing off the praline. She licked her lips to gather up any lingering trace of sugar. “I may have just become a regular myself, and I don’t even know where her place is.”

  Clotile laughed. “It’s in the French Quarter, not hard to find. You must go there.”

  “I’m staying in that area,” Sadie said. “I’ll have to make a point of visiting her bakery.” Sadie paused. “It’s a bakery, right?”

  Clotile nodded. “Yes, actually a bakery and a café. They serve a delicious lunch too. But the pastries and sweets are the main draw.”

  Sadie stole a peek sideways. Seated alongside Clotile, she could only take in a partial view, but the woman was slender enough to not look like she spent much time at a bakery, indulging in sweets. Maybe Clotile was one of those people with high metabolisms that she’d always envied. Sadie, however, was quite certain she could gain a pound just by smelling the enticing aromas wafting from a bakery doorway as she passed by. Not that she often passed by, that is. Sweets were like magnets to her.

  “Will you be staying long?” Clotile asked.

  “A week: six nights, seven days,” Sadie said. “Long enough to see the sights, take in local flavor, and relax.”

  “We should exchange phone numbers—if you’d like, of course,” Clotile said. “We could meet up at Chez Lisette Patisserie for coffee—and something sweet to go with it, naturally.”

  “Absolutely,” Sadie said. She pulled her cell phone out of her tote bag, which resulted in a tiny yip. A passing flight attendant sent a questioning look in Sadie’s direction. Sadie wa
ved her cell phone in the air. “Silly ringtone!” she exclaimed. The flight attendant directed Sadie to turn her cell phone off, then walked away, a dubious expression on her face.

  “We’ll exchange numbers later,” Clotile said. She lowered her voice, leaned toward Sadie with a conspiratorial grin, and whispered, “What’s his name?”

  Sadie sat up, noting the flight attendant had moved down the aisle. “Her,” she whispered as she leaned toward Clotile. “Coco.” She thought about letting Clotile peek inside her tote bag but knew it would result in another yip. “I’ll introduce you later.”

  “Where are you staying?” Clotile asked and then immediately backpedaled. “Oh, I’m sorry, you just met me, and you’re traveling, and… I should know better than to ask that.” She shook her head, and Sadie could tell Clotile was sincere. A sense of friendship had been evident from the beginning of the conversation.

  “No, that’s fine,” Sadie said. “I reserved a room at Hotel Arnaud-LeBlanc. A suite, actually—I decided to splurge on this trip, make it a true vacation.”

  “Ah, Hotel Arnaud-LeBlanc,” Clotile said, an odd expression on her face.

  Sadie frowned, confused by Clotile’s reaction. “Why? Is it not a good place? The reviews are excellent, and it sounded like it had an interesting history. I do love historic hotels.”

  “Oh, no, it’s fabulous,” Clotile said. “I’ve attended events in their courtyard, which is used for wedding receptions, garden parties… that sort of thing.”

  “Then why the odd look when I said the name?” Sadie asked. “I could change to another hotel, if you think I should.”

  “No, no reason to do that,” Clotile said. “It’s just funny that’s where you’re staying.” She sighed and let her head rest against the back of her seat, smiling.

  “Why is that?” Sadie asked. Clotile’s relaxed demeanor was reassuring, but her initial reaction had piqued Sadie’s curiosity.

  “It’s just an odd coincidence,” Clotile said. She patted Sadie’s armrest with one hand, an elegant ruby ring catching the overhead lighting. “LeBlanc is the family name of Bluette LeBlanc. The hotel’s been in their family for three generations.”

  “Okay,” Sadie said, not following at all.

  “Bluette LeBlanc—as in Bluette’s Beignets—is Lisette’s biggest competitor,” Clotile explained. “There’s tension between the two bakeries, going back generations.”

  “Like a Hatfield-McCoy scenario?” Sadie pondered the old rivalry between the Kentucky and West Virginia families. “Is Arnaud…” Sadie paused, thinking this through. “Is that Lisette’s family name? Do the bakery families own the hotel?” More and more, it sounded like changing hotels might not be a bad idea.

  “No, no,” Clotile said, shaking her head. “Nothing like that. Mimi Arnaud is a regular customer at Lisette’s place, but Lisette isn’t related to either family.”

  “Hmm,” Sadie said. “I’d think she’d want to frequent both bakeries, if they’re as fabulous as you say. Then again, maybe she does go to both, though she might prefer the food at Lisette’s, or…” At this point, Sadie was talking to herself and was almost startled when Clotile spoke up.

  “Mimi won’t have anything to do with Bluette’s place,” Clotile said. “It’s a shame, really, since both bakeries serve delicious food.”

  The flight attendant passed by again, handing out small packages of cookies. Sadie waited until she moved on before opening it and dropping one into her tote bag. She coughed to cover up the yip of thanks that she knew would follow.

  “It sounds like I might have to visit both,” Sadie said. “You know, just to do some taste-testing in order to better understand the rivalry.”

  “Of course,” Clotile said. “You won’t hear me disagree with that.”

  Sadie watched as Clotile pulled a book out of her carry-on bag.

  “Murder on the Orient Express,” Sadie said, reading the book cover. “A classic.”

  “Yes.” Clotile nodded her head. “I can’t resist a good murder mystery.”

  “I understand completely,” Sadie said. “Those seem to fall right into my lap.” Thinking back to recent trips to Napa Valley and Monterey Bay, she thought it best not to mention that they sometimes weren’t limited to printed pages.

  Sadie smiled and looked out the window, leaving Clotile to enjoy reading. Thick puffs of white clouds below suddenly reminded her of cotton candy. Yes, she would make sure to visit both bakeries. Any excuse to follow a trail of sweets was a good one, as far as she was concerned. The possibility of long-standing family intrigue was just an added bonus.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Tipping the bellman for delivering her luggage, Sadie closed the door to her two-room suite and looked around with approval. The pastel-colored finishes of the antique French provincial furnishings lent a peaceful ambiance to the elegant space. A mahogany settee with traditionally curved cabriole legs rested against one wall, its upholstery a dusty pink hue reminiscent of roses she’d passed in the courtyard on her way from the lobby. Two Louis XV armchairs graced the area in front of a small fireplace. A pine French country hutch with wrought iron detail displayed dishes and knickknacks inside glass doors.

  Sadie set her tote bag on the woven rush seat of a ladder-backed chair, one of two that flanked a simple mahogany table with a slight scalloped design along the edge. Coco’s tiny head popped out immediately. After giving Sadie a look of reprimand—after all, she’d been in the tote bag much longer than she would have preferred—she jumped down and explored the new digs. Finding a low ottoman in a rose tone that matched the settee, she hopped up and curled in a contented ball, a satisfied look on her furry Yorkie face.

  “I don’t think so, Coco,” Sadie said. “These are expensive pieces of furniture, and I did ship your pet palace out here in advance.” Although Coco raised her eyebrows in question, Sadie felt no guilt. Coco’s usual travel kennel—which kept her out of trouble in hotel rooms—was about as high-class as possible. Outfitted with velvet cushions and china food and water dishes, the petite canine could hardly complain. “We’ll set it up in the other room, near the bed. Speaking of which, let’s go check that room out.”

  Coco followed patiently as Sadie walked down a short hallway about five feet in length. A full bath sat off to the right side while a narrow table with intricate grape leaf carvings flanked the left. Coco veered off into the bathroom and hopped into a claw-foot tub. Wagging her tail in approval, she jumped back out and followed Sadie to the bedroom. Her ears perked up as Sadie gasped.

  “Coco, this is magnificent!” Sadie said, delighted. “Your travel palace can go right beside this sleigh bed—a wonderful style, I must say. It’s low enough that you can jump up and sit next to me while I read at night.” She made a mental note to ask the hotel clerk for an old sheet to cover the bedspread. As much as she hated the idea of covering up the design, she’d dislike any damage that Coco might do even more.

  A knock at the door signaled the arrival of Coco’s own accommodation. Again Sadie tipped the bellman and brought the lavish kennel into the bedroom. After unfolding and setting it up, she filled one Villeroy and Boch bowl with water and tossed a treat in the other, as it was too early for dinner. Coco trotted inside the open door, debated the treat as a form of bribery, ate it anyway, and took her place dramatically on a velvet cushion, as if it were a compromise over Sadie’s bedspread.

  “Just deal with it, Coco,” Sadie said, feeling humorous as she kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the sleigh bed. Looking around, she admired the printed linen toile window treatments, which featured peaceful pastoral scenes. The overall effect of the suite’s décor was relaxing, exactly as she’d hoped. As if it couldn’t get any better, a glance at her nightstand revealed a small box, tied with gold ribbon, compliments of the hotel. Opening it, she found six petite truffles, each a different culinary masterpiece. She popped one in her mouth and closed her eyes, savoring its delicious lemon crème flavor. This rivaled Matteo’s own
chocolates back home, not that she would dare tell him that.

  Tempting as it was to take another bite of chocolate, a rare moment of willpower struck her. She had five more nights in New Orleans, and there were five more truffles. She’d save one for each night. Besides, she hadn’t had dinner yet. There was no point in spoiling her appetite in a city brimming with delicious dining options. She retied the gold ribbon as a reminder of her resolve and set the box aside.

  “Speaking of dining,” Sadie said aloud, as if she’d been conversing with Coco about this very topic already. She paused as Coco tilted her head to one side, begging inclusion in Sadie’s thought process. “We haven’t eaten a normal meal since we left San Francisco. Those cookies in transit just didn’t do the trick.” Coco smacked her lips approvingly at the mention of cookies. “Let’s dress up and go out, explore the town,” Sadie said. She hopped up, opened her suitcase, and began rummaging through articles of clothing. Choosing a bright red tunic, rhinestone-studded jeans, and a denim vest with interior pockets, she quickly changed. She switched Coco’s usual hot pink collar for a red one to match her own outfit. Scooping the dog up, she settled Coco inside her tote bag and zipped her money inside her vest. Prepared for the raucous reputation of Bourbon Street, the two headed out—Sadie on foot, Coco and the tote bag firmly held against Sadie’s stomach.

  Six blocks later, Sadie paused in front of a café sign on Bourbon Street. “Red beans and rice,” she said to Coco. The Yorkie poked her head out of the tote bag and looked around. Apparently, this did not meet with approval, as Coco tucked her head back inside.

  “Fine,” Sadie said. She continued along the pedestrian street, then paused front of another eatery. “Red beans and rice,” she read from the menu posted outside. Coco didn’t even bother to stick her head out.