Rebel Without a Cake Page 9

  We’d almost finished cleaning up when Bernice gasped and put a hand on her chest. I was at her side in a flash, alert for any sign of trouble. It had been a long, troubling day for her, and I didn’t want the stress of it to get to her.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Oh. Yes.” She looked a little embarrassed by my reaction. “I just remembered my pills. I’m supposed to take them with dinner and I plum forgot.”

  I wondered how serious it would be for her to skip a dose. “You left them home?”

  Bernice laughed and shook her head. “No, baby, they’re in my purse. I left it in your car. I’ll have to run out there and get it.”

  Oh. Well, shoot. I hadn’t been raised to let a nice older lady go wandering around in the dark, so even though I was spooked by the dark swamp outside, there was no way around it. I told Bernice to stay where she was, grabbed my keys, and turned on the tiny LED light on my keychain. After giving myself a mental pep talk for courage, I stepped out into the night.

  A thousand stars lit the sky, and the moon looked gigantic without city lights to dull it. Something rustled in the nearby bushes, and something else let out a loud warning buzz. I was nervous, but I could also hear voices floating on the air so I knew I wasn’t alone.

  Even with odd sounds coming from the shadows, being outside wasn’t as frightening as I’d imagined it would be. Still, this part of the world was completely foreign to me. I’d spent my entire life in cities, as had generations of family before me. There’d been no childhood visits to an abuelo’s farm. No summers at camp. I was completely out of my element in nature.

  When I was a few feet in front of the car, I used my keyless entry to unlock the doors. The headlights flashed, momentarily blinding me with the bright light. I moved cautiously to the passenger’s side door and found Bernice’s purse.

  So far, so good.

  I pressed the remote to lock the car, and this time I saw something long and dark in the ditch illuminated by the headlights. My heart stopped beating and my mind screamed alligator! but the rest of my body froze in fear.

  Car. I needed to get inside the car.

  Scrambling like a madwoman, I tore at the door and threw myself inside. I had no idea if an alligator could get through a locked car door, but I sure hoped it couldn’t. Unable to stop myself, I leaned up to look at the beast. And in that moment, I realized it wasn’t an alligator at all—unless alligators in Baie Rebelle wore hunters’ orange vests and white rubber boots.

  I started the car and turned on the lights, and I sat there for a long time just staring at the body and willing it to move. It didn’t, so I made myself get out of the car for a closer look. He was facedown in the brackish water, but I didn’t think he’d been part of the search party who’d stayed for supper.

  I checked my cell phone, but just as Ox had predicted, I had no service. I walked back to the house and went straight to the kitchen, where I’d seen a telephone earlier. Aunt Margaret was there chatting quietly with Miss Frankie and Bernice. Tallulah and Bitty had disappeared somewhere.

  Miss Frankie smiled at me when I came through the door. “Margaret has kindly invited us to stay overnight, sugar. Do you think we should, or do you need to get back?”

  “I don’t think we’re going anywhere for a while,” I said. “I just found a dead man in the ditch.”

  * * *

  Things move a lot slower in the country than they do in the city. It took a local sheriff’s deputy nearly an hour to show up at Aunt Margaret’s. During that time curious onlookers—those who were still hanging around after dinner—trampled all over the driveway and the banks of the ditch. I didn’t know how the poor man had died, but I thought it would be easier for the sheriff to determine what happened if the evidence wasn’t disturbed. Every effort I made to keep people away fell on deaf ears, however. I had a hard time believing that the citizens of Baie Rebelle were that naïve—it seemed far more likely that they didn’t mind destroying whatever evidence there might be, which made me think the man in the ditch probably hadn’t keeled over from a heart attack.

  While we waited for the authorities to show up, rumors began circulating. Nobody had touched the body, but everyone seemed to know that it was Silas Laroche, the neighbor Eskil had been having trouble with. I didn’t like the sound of that, his body being in Eskil’s ditch and all, but nobody else seemed all that upset that Silas was dead. The women just kept the sweet tea and coffee flowing, as any self-respecting Southern woman would if a dead body showed up in her front yard.

  After a long wait, a police cruiser pulled up the driveway and a small woman in a blue uniform got out. She looked to be in her midthirties, about my age, with a slight build and brown hair pulled into a ponytail. She took a look around and then approached the porch, where we were all sitting, hands on hips. “What’s goin’ on here, Miss Margaret?”

  “Well, hello there, Georgie. Come on up and set. I’ll get you a glass of tea.”

  Georgie shook her head. “Thanks, but I can’t. Got a call about some trouble out this way.” She pulled a paper from her uniform shirt pocket and glanced down at it. “Is there a Rita Lucero here?”

  I waved my hand over my head and stood to make it easier for her to spot me.

  She motioned for me to sit. “I need you to stay there, ma’am. You’re the one who called dispatch?”

  “I am.”

  “What seems to be the problem?”

  I’d already explained the problem to the dispatcher, but I’d had enough experience with the police to know this was how they worked. Besides, Deputy Georgie had a look in her eye that convinced me I’d be smart not to argue. “I went to my car to get something and noticed a body lying in the ditch. It’s just down there if you want to take a look.”

  “It’s Silas Laroche,” Tallulah interjected. “Looks like he finally did what we always knew he’d do: got himself drunk and fell in a ditch.”

  Georgie looked surprised. “You positive it’s Silas?”

  “It sure looks like him,” Bitty said. She put on a virtuous expression and stood a fraction of an inch taller. “Of course, I could be wrong. We didn’t touch the body.”

  Georgie nodded curtly. “Y’all stay right here. I’ll go have a look.”

  She took a brisk walk toward the ditch, scrambled down the bank to check the body, and made a call using the radio on her shoulder as she walked back toward us. “It’s Silas all right,” she said when she finished her call. “Only it doesn’t look like he drowned in the ditch. I’d say somebody hit him over the head with something hard enough to crush his skull.” She zeroed in on me. “You’re the one who found the body, then?”

  I said again that I was, and after warning everyone else to stay put, Georgie led me inside. I swallowed my questions and tried to give off a cooperative vibe. The kitchen smelled of fresh coffee, underscored by Tallulah’s gumbo.

  We settled at the table and sized each other up. Now that we were closer, I could see that Georgie had clear gray eyes and a smattering of freckles on her nose and cheeks. “I’ve never seen you around here before,” she said. “You aren’t from around these parts, are you?”

  I said that I wasn’t, and rattled off my address and cell number before she could ask.

  She introduced herself as Georgie Tucker and put both elbows on the table. “You’re all the way down here from New Orleans, huh? Funny, you don’t look like the kind to hire a hunting guide.”

  “I’m not,” I said with a smile. “I drove my mother-in-law and her neighbor down here this afternoon. Bernice got a call this morning that her cousin Eskil was missing out on the swamp. Naturally she was worried about him.”

  “Bernice is your mother-in-law?”

  I shook my head. “My mother-in-law is Frances Mae Renier. Bernice Dudley is her neighbor.”

  Georgie made a few notes. �
�You ever meet Silas Laroche?”

  “Never.” My mind flashed back to the man I’d seen outside the bar when we pulled into town, but I told myself it couldn’t have been the same guy. Plenty of men wore ball caps and white rubber boots. “I’d never even heard of him until tonight.”

  “So you had no reason to want him dead?”

  “No.”

  “You know of anybody who did?”

  I shook my head. “I never even met any of these people until tonight. This is my first time in Baie Rebelle.”

  I wasn’t sure Georgie would believe me, but to my surprise, she nodded. “That’s what I thought. So tell me, what did they do between the time you called in and when I got here?”

  The question surprised me. Not including my friend Liam Sullivan, the last dealings I’d had with a cop had left a bitter taste in my mouth. Georgie’s easygoing manner and apparent lack of suspicion helped me relax.

  “I think just about everybody had a look around. I tried to stop them, but they weren’t in the mood to listen. For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure Bitty was telling the truth. They trampled all over, but I don’t think anyone touched the body.”

  “Did you see anybody arrive? Or leave?”

  “Lots of people,” I said. “Like I said, Eskil was stranded out on the water somewhere and people were out looking for him. They used this place as command central. The clearing was full of trucks and cars when we arrived. People left at various times. Some left after they found Eskil and some after we finished eating. I wish I could tell you who left when, but I met so many people, I don’t remember more than a handful of names.”

  “That’s okay,” she said. “I can get a list from the family and maybe you can look it over at some point to see if you notice anyone they left off.”

  “I’d be happy to, though I’m not sure how much help I’ll be.”

  Georgie smiled and stood. “Whatever help you can give me will be just fine. Folks out here aren’t real obliging in cases like this. They like to protect their friends and neighbors.”

  I got out of my chair and nudged it up to the table. “Even if one of them is a killer?”

  “That depends on who did the killing and who they took out,” Georgie said. “If there’s anybody more hated in these parts than Silas Laroche, I couldn’t tell you who it is. But he’s also a native of the area, and I expect the locals will circle the wagons. So be careful, okay? This little town didn’t get its name by accident. People around here are friendly enough, but they’re not known for welcoming strangers or following the rules.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. But I don’t plan to stick around any longer than I have to. As soon as you say it’s okay for us to leave, we’ll be out of here.”

  Georgie gave me a weary smile. “You can go whenever you want. I’ve got your contact info so I can find you again if I need to.”

  Even though the interview had gone well, hearing that made my knees weak with relief. I followed her back to the porch and sat down in the cane rocking chair next to Miss Frankie’s.

  She ran her eyes over me and spoke softly. “How did it go, sugar?”

  “Fine. We’re free to leave so once Bernice is ready, let’s get out of here.”

  Frowning lightly, Miss Frankie glanced at her watch. “It’s nearly ten now. We won’t get home until almost midnight.”

  “That’s not so late,” I said. “You and Bernice can sleep in the car if you want.”

  “Of course.” She glanced at Bernice, who sat between Bitty and Aunt Margaret. “This looks bad for her family, doesn’t it?”

  “How so? The family was here with us all evening.”

  “Except for Eskil.”

  Okay, so there might be something to worry about there, but I had a free pass to get out of Baie Rebelle and I wanted to use it before Deputy Georgie changed her mind. “I wouldn’t worry about Eskil. He was lost out on the water, remember?”

  Miss Frankie glanced toward the family. “Yes, but Tallulah told us that he’s had trouble with that Silas person. I’m sure you remember that.”

  I sighed. “I do.”

  Miss Frankie leaned her head back against the rocking chair. “So this Silas is dead and Eskil has several hours he can’t account for. And I’m sure you’ve noticed his resemblance to Bernice’s ghost.”

  “Yes, but if he was in New Orleans, wouldn’t that give him an alibi?”

  “Maybe. But he had plenty of time to get back here before Silas died. I expect Bernice will want to stay until this whole mess is cleared up. Margaret already gave us a blanket invitation, and I think we should accept it.”

  “But I can’t stay here, Miss Frankie,” I said. “I’ve got work to do.”

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday,” she reminded me. “Zydeco is closed.”

  “That’s true, but I have a lot to do for the Belle Lune Ball,” I countered. I didn’t mention the current hostility among staff members. Hopefully, it would blow over before Miss Frankie had to hear about it. “I need access to the Internet and my cell phone, and I doubt very much Baie Rebelle has reliable Internet service.”

  To my surprise, Miss Frankie didn’t argue with me. In fact, she patted my knee and smiled. “Well, whatever you think is best. I do think I’ll stay here with Bernice, though. Maybe, if it’s not too much trouble, you could stop by after work tomorrow and pack a bag for each of us. Just enough for a few days. Or would that be asking too much?”

  She knew I couldn’t say no when she put it that way, even though another trip to Baie Rebelle and back would eat half a day. But I didn’t care. I’d actually won an argument with her. It wouldn’t hurt me to compromise a little. I collected both of their house keys and set off for home. I wasn’t all that worried about them being safe at Aunt Margaret’s. Everybody in that house was probably carrying at least one gun. And if that was what Miss Frankie wanted, who was I to argue?

  Really, I should’ve known better by now.

  Eleven

  By some miracle I got myself out of bed on Sunday morning after hitting the snooze button only three times. I drove to work, arriving just before eight, and headed straight for the break room, where I made a pot of coffee, laced a cup of it with sugar and creamer, and then stifling a yawn, carried it to my office.

  Morning sun bathed the front of the building, and I opened the blinds to enjoy it while I worked. Like the rest of the city, this neighborhood was all decked out for Halloween, some shops opting for a festive look and others trying for a more ghoulish atmosphere. At Zydeco we’d gone the festive route, tying bundles of hay with wide orange and black ribbons and arranging pots of mums and colorful gourds around them. I filled a dish on my desk with an assortment of Halloween candy—a guilty pleasure from childhood—and settled in to check my voice mail.

  I had a couple of hang-ups, several inconsequential business calls, and a message from Uncle Nestor. Actually the last one wasn’t really a message for me. It had probably been a pocket dial, and I could only understand about one-quarter of what my uncle was yelling at someone in his kitchen since most of it was in Spanish, which I’d never learned as well as I should’ve. My parents hadn’t spoken Spanish at home so I didn’t learn the language when I was young. When I moved in with my aunt and uncle, I’d been hurt and angry with the world, and for a while I’d viewed the differences between my dad and his older brother as some kind of betrayal. I’d stubbornly refused to respond to anything but English, and to my continued amazement, Uncle Nestor had given in to placate me. I hadn’t recognized it at the time, but now I saw it as a measure of how much he loved me.

  I’d picked up a few words along the way, of course. Uncle Nestor hadn’t given up Spanish entirely. But most of the words I’d learned were the ones Aunt Yolanda would have washed out my mouth with soap for repeating.

  Uncle Nestor seemed oblivious to the fact that he was being re
corded. Not that he would have behaved all that differently if he’d been aware. He’s fiery and hot-tempered, but under that rough façade he has a heart as big as the Grand Canyon. I always find his tirades more amusing when they’re directed at someone else. Hearing him now made me homesick. Grinning, I hung up and made a mental note to call him later. And by later, I mean that I would call after I’d locked down the Vintage Clothing Society contract and told Miss Frankie about my Christmas plans.

  The last message was from a woman who identified herself as Simone O’Neil, a member of the Belle Lune planning committee. She left two phone numbers and said she was eager to hear back from me. I had no idea what her office hours were, but I thought eight thirty on a Sunday morning might be a bad time to return her call.

  I added another mental reminder to call her later as well then spent a few minutes sorting the mail that had piled up on my desk when I wasn’t looking. After that, I wandered into the design room to check on the cakes in progress.

  When I opened the door, I found Isabeau at her workstation rolling out some pale blue fondant. She was wearing pale pink sweats and a white T-shirt, and her summer blond hair was piled on her head in a messy bun.

  I glanced around for Ox, figuring he must be around somewhere. He and Isabeau had been pretty much joined at the hip since they started seeing each other last year. It’s not unusual for staff members to work on Sunday, especially when we have a large contract or we’re running behind. As far as I knew, we were right on schedule, so I was surprised to find anyone other than me working that morning. Seeing Isabeau made me wonder if something had gone wrong after I left yesterday.

  “Hey there,” I said to Isabeau. “Is there something on the schedule I don’t know about?”

  She gave me a low-wattage smile and shook her head. “No. I’m just playing around. I had some nervous energy and needed to burn it off.”

  I tried to imagine a world in which I had energy to spare, but it wore me out just thinking about it. “I just made coffee. If I’d known you and Ox would be here, I’d have stopped for doughnuts.”