Arsenic and Old Cake Read online

  Old Dog Leg used his white cane to maneuver around the furniture and, with a little guidance from Gabriel, settled into a chair facing mine. He was a little less stylin’ than Gabriel, in baggy trousers, a plaid shirt, and the sunglasses he never removed, but he could’ve easily passed for twenty years younger than seventy-eight. I only knew his age because he’d told me; nobody would guess it just by looking at him. When I saw the worry lines creasing his usually smooth skin, however, the warm fuzzies I’d been feeling toward Gabriel fizzled out. Old Dog Leg had something on his mind.

  I rounded the desk to give the old man a quick hug and sent Gabriel a “what’s up?” look on my way back.

  He answered with an “I don’t know” shrug before claiming the chair next to Dog Leg’s.

  “This is a surprise,” I said. “Are you two here for business, or is this a social call?”

  The old man smiled at me as I sat. “I got somet’ing on my mind, lovely Rita. Gotta ask for some help.”

  That surprised me. Despite his blindness, or maybe because of it, Old Dog Leg was fiercely independent.

  “Whatever you need,” I assured him. “What’s wrong?”

  He tilted his head so that his round face turned toward the ceiling. “Got me a letter in de mail yesterday,” he said in a singsong accent that was pure Louisiana. “From someone claimin’ to be my brother.”

  I shot a surprised glance at Gabriel, but he was focused on Dog Leg and his expression didn’t reveal anything. “I didn’t know you had a brother,” I said. “You’ve never mentioned him to me before, have you?”

  Old Dog Leg let out a heavy sigh. “Don’t talk about him much. He disappeared a long time ago.”

  From where I sat, this was getting more interesting by the minute. I leaned forward, eager to hear more. “Disappeared? How?”

  Dog Leg gave me a patient smile. “Never knew de answer to dat question. He just up and vanished.”

  “And now he’s back?”

  “So it says in de letter. But dat’s de trouble. Mebbe it him. Mebbe it not. I don’ know.” He jerked his head in my direction. “Show her, Gabriel.”

  Gabriel pulled the letter from his shirt pocket and handed it to me as he explained, “Dog Leg brings his mail to the Duke and I read it to him. Take a look.”

  The small white envelope bore the logo of a Victorian-style house, the words Love Nest Bed & Breakfast in bold script, and a return address I placed on the West Bank here in New Orleans. I lifted an eyebrow at Gabriel. “The Love Nest?”

  “It’s a new one to me,” he said. “But I looked it up on the Internet. Apparently, it’s a deluxe romantic getaway for honeymooners.”

  My gaze swiveled back to Dog Leg. “Your brother’s here on his honeymoon?”

  “Don’ know. He didn’ say. G’wan. See for yourself.”

  I unfolded a single sheet of Love Nest stationery and found a short note in carefully printed letters:

  Hey, D, it’s me. Monroe.

  Sorry I run off the way I done, but I’m back for a spell. Sure would like to see you if you can forgive me for what I done. I’ll be at this address for a week. Come on by if you’ve a mind to.

  Your brother,

  Monroe

  I turned the page over, looking futilely for more, but the back of the sheet was empty. I’m an only child, but I grew up with four cousins. If one of them ever disappeared, I’d want more than a come on by when he resurfaced. “That’s it?” I asked.

  Gabriel nodded. “So it would seem.”

  “Monroe never was much for writin’,” Dog Leg said with a half smile.

  “So it would seem,” I commented, echoing Gabriel. “How long has he been gone?”

  The old man let out another sigh, this one so deep I could feel it from where I sat. “Last time I seen my baby brother it was de first of May, forty years ago.”

  I gasped. “Forty years?” That’s longer than I’ve been alive. No wonder he was uncertain.

  “He just vanished?” Gabriel asked. “You have no idea what happened to him?”

  Dog Leg shook his head. “Notta clue. Figured he run off, though. Least at first. After a while . . .” He lifted one round shoulder. “Well, you gots to wonder.”

  “You never heard a word?” I asked. “Monroe didn’t give you any clue that he was thinking of leaving? Never sent a birthday or Christmas card in all the years since?”

  “Nothin’. I tol’ you, he wasn’t much for writing.”

  Gabriel gave that some thought. “Did anything unusual happen before he left? Was he in trouble of some kind?”

  “I axed myself dat a t’ousand times, but I don’t know.” Dog Leg’s shoulders slumped and his frown deepened. “Him and me, we played together at de Cott’n Bott’m. You heard of it?”

  “I have,” Gabriel said, and then explained for my sake, “The Cotton Bottom was a popular club back then.”

  “Dat’s right. It was de place to go for a while, and we had us a mighty sweet gig. Money was good. Plenty of women. And we was buildin’ a name for ourselves. Den one day Monroe just didn’t show up. It was a Saturday night, biggest night of de week. Got worried, y’know? So me and a coupla guys went to check on him. His room? Cleaned out. His stuff gone.”

  I tried to imagine how Dog Leg had felt, not knowing where his brother was for four decades. Losing my parents the summer I’d turned twelve had devastated me, but at least I’d been certain about what happened to them. Dog Leg must have gone through hell wondering whether his brother was alive or dead. But I didn’t want to dwell on the pain of the past.

  “How did he even know where to find you?” I asked.

  “I’m livin’ in de house our folks owned. Been dere all my life.”

  “Then why didn’t he call instead? I mean—” I broke off, uncertain how to phrase my question without sounding rude. After a couple more fumbled attempts to get it out, Gabriel stepped in.

  “What are you trying to get at, slick?”

  “Well . . . doesn’t it seem odd that Monroe would send a letter when he knows his brother can’t read it himself?”

  “Not so strange,” Dog Leg said. “I wasn’t like dis when Monroe knew me. Didn’t get de glaucoma until I was in my sixties. Far as Monroe knows, I can see just fine.”

  Edie came back carrying a tray and sweet tea. We all fell silent while she passed around glasses and napkins. I used the interruption to try to wrap my mind around what Old Dog Leg had told us and to guess what he wanted from me.

  “So what are you going to do?” Gabriel asked when Edie left the room again.

  Old Dog Leg lifted one shoulder. “Only one t’ing to do. I gotta figger out whether he’s Monroe or he ain’t.”

  “And how are you going to do that?” I asked.

  The old man’s mouth curved slightly. “Well, dat’s where de two of you come in. Somebody gotta get a look at him. A real good look. I want de two of you to do it.”

  It was a logical request, I suppose. Old Dog Leg couldn’t do it himself. I put my glass on the napkin and asked, “What exactly do you want us to do?”

  The air conditioner clicked on, and a blast of cold air poured out of the overhead vents. It felt good to me, but Old Dog Leg shivered a little. “I know dis is a lot to ask. I wouldn’t botter you if I had any other way.”

  Gabriel put a reassuring hand on the old man’s shoulder. “You’re not bothering us. Just tell us what your plan is.”

  Dog Leg sent him a feeble smile and then turned it on me. “Well, we know where he’s stayin’. Got hisself a room at dat place on de West Bank.”

  “The Love Nest,” Gabriel said. “Do you need us to drive you over there so you can talk with him?”

  “Not exactly.” Dog Leg lifted a hand to his forehead, and I noticed that his fingers were trembling slightly.

  Poor old guy. I hated knowing that he was worried and confused. “Then what?” I asked. “It’s okay. We’d both be happy to help.”

  At that, Dog Leg smiled hopefully. �
�I’m sure glad to hear dat, lovely Rita. You’re a good friend. Both of you. So here’s my idea. I was thinkin’ mebbe de two of you could check in dere for a coupla days. Get to know dis fella. Figure out whether he’s tellin’ de truth or not.”

  My mouth fell open. I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that. I looked to Gabriel for backup, but he was busy making sympathetic noises, and his expression told me he was about to say yes. I spoke up before he could do something we’d both regret. “You want us to what?”

  Dog Leg’s hopeful smile faded. “I know it sounds crazy, Rita. Believe me, I do. I just don’t know what else to do.”

  “I don’t think it’s crazy,” I said, which was not entirely true. “But it does seem a little . . . over-the-top. Why not just talk to him and hear what he has to say?”

  Dog Leg shook his head firmly. “Not until I know for sure dat it’s Monroe.”

  “But how are we supposed to know that?” I asked. “Neither of us has ever met him.”

  “Easy. My brother had a birthmark on his right shoulder.” Dog Leg held up one hand, the thumb and forefinger roughly three inches apart. “’Bout dis long and light pink. If it’s dere, you won’t be able to miss it.”

  “Okay,” I said, “I get it. You want to be sure it’s Monroe. So one of us will go over there and check him out. It won’t take two people to get this guy talking.”

  Old Dog Leg gave his head another determined shake. “Can’t just one of you go. Dat’s a place for folks on their honeymoons. One of you show up alone, it’s gonna raise questions.”

  I started to launch another argument, but Gabriel beat me to it. “He has a point. Nobody will think twice about a husband and wife checking in for a few days.”

  And that brought up another issue: that of me alone in a hotel room with Gabriel. I knew I should refuse for at least a dozen reasons, starting with the trouble I knew I’d have saying no once we got there.

  It’s not that I object to the two of us getting closer. It’s just . . . complicated.

  Gabriel’s not the only guy in my life. I’ve also been seeing Liam Sullivan, a hunky homicide detective with the NOPD. Neither one is a serious relationship, and thanks to Aunt Yolanda’s strict upbringing (and Uncle Nestor’s frequent threats of bodily harm to any man who dared touch me), I’m not into the casual scene. And since I haven’t decided which of them I like more, I’m keeping my options open and my knees closed. In fact, it had been three years since I’d been with any man and the idea of spending an entire weekend in such close proximity made me a little nervous.

  I almost had the word no fully formed when Dog Leg rubbed his chin and sighed again as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Dis man could be my baby brother,” he reminded me. “Den again, he could be a crook. Either way, I gotta know. And I don’t wanna spook him. What if he is Monroe? He starts thinkin’ I don’t trust him, he could run again. I don’t want dat.”

  “But surely he’d understand why you’re being cautious,” I reasoned. “If he is Monroe, I mean. He’s been gone for forty years. He has to expect that you’ll have questions.”

  Dog Leg shook his head firmly. “You don’ know my brother.” He snorted softly and said, “Den again, neither do I. Dat’s the problem. When I knowed him, he was young and foolish. Did what he wanted and never thought much about de consequences. I tried to warn him dat’s de way to trouble, but he never listened. If he’s de same as he was den, he’s not thinkin’ far ahead.”

  “But still—”

  “Rita, I need your help. I promised my mama on her deathbed I’d take care of Monroe, and I failed. Mebbe dis is my chance to make it up to her—and to him.”

  “But you didn’t fail,” I assured him. “You’re not responsible for what Monroe did. He’s the one who ran off.”

  Old Dog Leg lifted a shoulder. “Mebbe. Mebbe not. But what if I still got me some family? I got nothin’ else to go on. I don’ have no other way of proving whether he’s my brother or he ain’t. If he is Monroe, den I’m gonna kill him for takin’ off and scaring me de way he did. If he’s not, I wanna know why he’s lyin’.”

  Gabriel nodded as if Old Dog Leg’s arguments actually made sense. Apparently, I was the sole voice of reason in that room.

  “I understand how you feel,” I assured both men, “but why not call the police?”

  Gabriel rolled his coffee-colored eyes as if I’d suggested something ridiculous. Because going undercover and spying on some old man made so much more sense than contacting the authorities.

  “Think about it, chérie,” Gabriel said. “What are the police going to do?”

  I knew I was fighting a losing battle anytime Gabriel rolled out the Cajun, but I wasn’t going down without a fight. “I don’t know, maybe run a background check on this guy or something.”

  “On a man who has done nothing wrong?” He shook his head. “The police have more important things to worry about.” He bored a hole through me with his eyes. “Unless you have connections Dog Leg and I don’t.”

  I knew he was talking about Sullivan, but I didn’t let his suggestion bother me. I haven’t kept either relationship secret, but neither do I flaunt them. Both men know what they’re getting with me.

  I briefly considered Gabriel’s suggestion, but there was no way Sullivan could help out with an unofficial background check. A recent triple homicide had claimed most of his attention for the past two weeks. Even if he was willing to help, it might be days before he could run a check, and by then Monroe might have disappeared again.

  “No,” I said. “I guess not.”

  Old Dog Leg made a noise in his throat, which I did my best to ignore. I tried not to notice the big brown eyes Gabriel was using on me, but that was almost impossible. So I made one more effort to inject common sense into the conversation.

  “I’m sure I’d feel the same way in your shoes,” I told Dog Leg, “but neither of us is equipped to do what you’re asking. We’re not private investigators. I’m a pastry chef and he’s a bartender.”

  “But you’re de only two can help me.”

  I laughed skeptically. “The only two?”

  “Who else am I gonna ask? One of de waitresses at de Duke? One of de guys from de band? I need somebody smart. Somebody wid a level head. Somebody who ain’t gonna start drinkin’ or worse and blow de whole t’ing ’fore I find out de truth. I know a lotta people, Rita, but not many I trust.” He put both hands on the desk and shot another volley at me. “You know I’d do de same for you if you needed help.”

  Every logical cell in my body was shouting at me to turn him down, but Old Dog Leg’s last argument had stirred up my sentimental cells, which are much more powerful than their sensible counterparts. The way Dog Leg had lost his brother was different from the way I’d lost my parents, but all great loss shares the same emotional aftereffect: the longing for one more chance. If someone showed up at my door claiming to be one of my parents, I’d do whatever it took to find out the truth and I’d probably be worried about scaring them off, just as Old Dog Leg was.

  Still . . . I sipped my sweet tea and thought it over. “Don’t you think it’s kind of devious to spy on him like that?”

  Old Dog Leg nodded. “Sure it is. But dere’s only one way I know of to be sure and dat’s to get a look at dis fella with his shirt off.”

  “So all we have to do is get a stranger to take off his shirt?” I laughed through my nose. “That ought to be a piece of cake.”

  “I’d try to get a look myself, but . . .” Dog Leg gave a little smile and a shrug.

  And there it was. My last solid defense. Gone in a rush of affection for the old man. Though I still wasn’t sold on the idea of checking into the Love Nest under false pretenses. The niggling sense that something was sure to go wrong just wouldn’t leave me alone.

  “You’re being awfully quiet, Gabriel,” I said. “How about suggesting some other way we can help Old Dog Leg without getting ourselves
into trouble of some kind?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Like I said before, I think Dog Leg’s argument makes sense.” He aimed one of his sexy, lopsided smiles at me and added, “Besides, I think it sounds like fun.”

  My heart did a little flip-flop in response, but I ignored it. “Don’t get any big ideas.”

  He waggled his eyebrows, all Sexy Cajun-like. “Ah, chérie, I’ve already got ideas.”

  Flip. Flop. “Funny. But you know what I mean. If I agree to do this, it’s about helping Old Dog Leg, not about . . . you know.”

  “Nothin’ wrong wid a little romance,” Dog Leg said. “It’s a sad t’ing to go through life alone.”

  I shook my finger at him, even though I knew he couldn’t see it. “Don’t encourage him. If you want my help, you’ll keep opinions like that to yourself.”

  Old Dog Leg chuckled.

  I pretended not to hear him. “I mean it, Gabriel. No funny business.”

  Okay. I was tempted. Who wouldn’t have been? But I’d lived thirty-seven years of life according to someone else’s rules. First my parents’, then Uncle Nestor and Aunt Yolanda’s. I’d found freedom in Chicago when I went to pastry school, but I hadn’t been there long before Philippe swept me off my feet. And I’d gone right back to Uncle Nestor’s world when my marriage ended. I was now living on my own for the first time in my life, and I was determined to make future decisions on my own terms.

  Gabriel held up both hands and looked at me with wide-eyed innocence. “As you wish. We’ll keep the whole thing strictly platonic.”

  “Good.” I sat down in my chair and got back to business. “What about work? It’s going to be pretty hard to look like we’re on our honeymoon if you’re working at the Duke until the wee hours every night.”