The Cakes of Monte Cristo

by Jacklyn Brady

  At least that’s what I told myself.

  But that didn’t stop me from trying to remember who might’ve seen the necklace while I had it in my possession. There was Zoey, of course. And Simone. Corinne Carver had spotted it briefly when she’d barged in on my lunch meeting with Simone. And, of course, I’d told Gabriel about it.

  I couldn’t seriously think of Zoey, Simone, or Gabriel as thief material, but I supposed Corinne might have been a possibility. She’d always seemed fairly quiet and somewhat mousy to me, but she’d been wound up pretty tightly when she interrupted our lunch at the Monte Cristo.

  I had to assume that by now everyone at Zydeco knew about the necklace, but I wouldn’t even consider one of my staff as the would-be thief.

  Miss Frankie knew about the necklace, and she might have been capable of breaking into the Vintage Vault under the right (or wrong?) circumstances, but she’d been so upset by just the sight of the necklace that I could not truly believe there was any way she’d have gone after it. Though she might’ve mentioned it to someone else. Someone who wanted to get their hands on those rubies . . . But even if Miss Frankie had told everyone she knew about it, she couldn’t have known that I’d taken the necklace to Orra.

  Which brought me to the Vintage Vault itself. Orra certainly hadn’t broken into her own shop, but what about Dominique? Although it seemed unlikely that she’d have needed to break in if she’d wanted to steal the necklace; she could have just waited for Orra to go home.

  Sol Lehmann was a definite possibility. Orra had told me he was greedy. Maybe he’d returned to the Vintage Vault after Orra closed, determined to get his hands on pieces from the estate sale he’d been asking Orra about. Maybe the Toussaint necklace wasn’t even a factor in the burglary. I wanted desperately to believe that. The alternative made me feel too guilty.

  By the time a little gray began to creep into the night sky, I gave up trying to sleep and threw on a pair of comfy jeans and a favorite old T-shirt. I pulled my hair up so I wouldn’t have to spend time doing anything else to it, brushed on a skiff of eye shadow and a little mascara, and I was good to go.

  The streetlights were just starting to blink off as I pulled into the employee parking lot behind Zydeco. I dragged myself onto the loading dock and coerced myself into the break room with the promise of caffeine. By the time the coffee finished brewing, Ox and Isabeau had arrived, so I carried a cup with me into the design room hoping they’d help distract me from thoughts about Orra.

  Isabeau bounced around the room leaking cheerleader perkiness all over as she got her workstation ready for the day. Ox was a bit more subdued, eyeing my coffee as if I might hand it over if he looked pathetic enough.

  It wasn’t going to happen.

  I wanted to tell them about Orra’s death and the break-in at the Vintage Vault, but I didn’t want them to get the wrong idea. A few months earlier, the entire staff had staged an intervention of sorts, hoping to convince me not to get involved when odd situations crossed my path. I wasn’t in the mood for another lecture, so I decided to keep last night’s news to myself.

  I gathered the things I’d need to make fondant peacock feathers and set up my workstation while Ox got his own caffeine infusion. I waited until he’d had half a cup, which usually made him almost approachable, then decided to see how he felt about hiring his cousin.

  “Guess who I had dinner with last night,” I said as I dusted my table top with cornstarch.

  Ox glanced at me over the rim of his cup and made a noise in his throat, which I interpreted as a request for the answer.

  “Calvin. I ran into him as I was leaving the Vintage Vault. He told me that your aunt lives nearby there. I guess he’s staying with her?”

  Ox lowered his cup slowly. “She does. And I guess he probably is. I don’t really know.” His eyebrows drew together over the bridge of his nose. “You two had dinner together?”

  “Yeah. He was going to a place called Mama June’s and I didn’t have plans so he invited me to join him. The food was delicious, by the way. I can’t believe you haven’t told me about it before.”

  Ox’s eyebrows beetled even closer to one another. “I haven’t been there in a while. What did he want?”

  I pulled a ball of green fondant from its container and began to knead it so it would be the right consistency when I rolled it out. “What makes you think he wanted something?”

  “Are you saying he didn’t?”

  “He asked me about a job,” I admitted reluctantly. “But that’s not all we talked about.”

  Ox snorted a laugh and swallowed the rest of his coffee. “What did you tell him?”

  “I said that I’d see if we could find something for him, but I wanted to talk to you before I made any promises.” I stopped kneading and reached for my rolling pin. “And I warned him that even if we could find him a job during our busy season, it would only be temporary.”

  Ox didn’t say anything to that, but one eyebrow arched suspiciously.

  “Is there some reason I shouldn’t give him a job?”

  Ox shrugged. “I suppose not.”

  Hardly a glowing recommendation, but Ox never had been one to gush about people, “Good. Because I thought that with the Belle Lune Ball coming up and Mardi Gras right after that, we could really use some help. We always hire temps at this time of year, and I don’t know why your cousin couldn’t be one of them.”

  Ox buttoned his chef’s jacket before he responded. “Fine with me. He’s all right.” He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “Did he say anything about how long he’s planning to stick around?”

  “No, he just said he needs the work if he’s going to make ends meet.” I began to roll the fondant, aiming for a thickness of about one-eighth of an inch. “Is that something I should be worried about?”

  Ox shrugged. “I wish I knew.” He expelled a heavy breath and sat on a metal stool. “I have no reason not to trust the guy, if that’s what you’re asking. I just haven’t seen him in a while, that’s all.”

  Clearly, something was bothering Ox, but I didn’t want to push for an explanation—Ox tends to clam up under pressure. “That works for me,” I said with a grin. “And it’s not as if I’m relying on him to stay around. We’re just talking about a matter of a few weeks.”

  Ox grunted his agreement, but didn’t say anything more.

  Maybe I should have let the subject drop, but my curiosity had been stirred so I asked, “What kind of work does he usually do?”

  Ox gave me another shrug. “I have no idea. He’s been in Baltimore for a while. That’s really all I know.”

  “The two of you aren’t close?”

  “Not anymore.” Ox went to one of the metal supply shelves and rummaged around for a moment. “We played together as kids, but we lost touch when we got older.” He found a revolving cake stand and turned to face me. “What’s with the twenty questions? If you want to hire him, do it.”

  I turned the fondant and rolled it in the other direction. “You really wouldn’t mind?”

  “I said I didn’t, and I don’t. But if you’re asking for a recommendation, I don’t know him well enough to give you one.”

  “Well, great. I’m sure we can find enough to keep him busy two or three days a week. I’ll let him know—unless you’d like to be the one to tell him.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Sparkle arrived for work and Ox went into the kitchen, returning with a cart bearing half a dozen white cakes, which he would stack and secure before carving them into the shape of a female dress form. He spent a few minutes squaring himself away and situating the tools he needed before he asked, “What were you doing at the Vintage Vault last night?”

  With the fondant rolled out to the perfect thickness, I reached for a large leaf-shaped cookie cutter and pressed it into the fondant. Hoping I looked nonchalant, I said, “I’
m assuming you’ve heard about the necklace I found.”

  “Isn’t Zoey the one who found it?” Isabeau piped up.

  “She spotted the bundle inside the stair,” I admitted, wondering if Simone had been right to wonder if Zoey would claim a finder’s fee. I channeled my inner Scarlett O’Hara and decided to think about that later. “We opened it together.”

  “Well, whoever did what, I’m dying to see it,” Isabeau said.

  Sparkle, decked out in a filmy black tunic and slacks, perched on a stool and applied a fresh layer of black lipstick. “You don’t want to see it,” she warned. “It’s cursed.”

  “It’s not cursed,” I said firmly. “But I can’t show it to you. I don’t have it. Anyway,” I said, returning to Ox’s question, “Simone suggested that I take it to the Vintage Vault and have Orra Trussell appraise it for me.”

  Isabeau left her workstation and moved closer. “What’s that about a curse?”

  “It’s just a rumor,” I said.

  “There’s no curse,” Ox said, backing me.

  Isabeau’s blue eyes darkened with concern. “And you took it to the Vintage Vault? I think something bad happened there last night. I heard something on the news this morning but I’ll admit I wasn’t really paying attention.”

  “I heard it, too,” Sparkle said from her shadowy corner. “Didn’t somebody die?”

  So much for keeping my mouth shut. “Yes, unfortunately,” I admitted. “Somebody broke into the shop last night. Orra called for help, but Sullivan says it looks like she had a heart attack before anyone could get there.”

  Isabeau gasped. “Do they know who frightened that poor woman to death?”

  “No,” I said, “but she said something about a necklace to the 911 operator, and I can’t help wondering, what if she was talking about my necklace—the one we found, I mean? And what if the burglar was after it?”

  “Don’t get any big ideas,” Ox warned.

  “I’m not getting any ideas,” I assured him. “Big or small. I’m just feeling guilty, I guess. If I hadn’t taken the necklace to Orra, she might still be alive.”

  “Or she might be just as dead as she is right now.” Ox gently picked up a cake and prepared to stack it on top of the others. “It sounds like the woman had a bad heart, which means that she would probably have had a heart attack even without the robbery.”

  Sparkle rotated back and forth on her stool. “I don’t know. Maybe it was the curse.”

  “It was not the curse,” I insisted. “But maybe somebody was after the necklace I left with her, and maybe that frightened her so badly her heart gave out.”

  “I’ll bet that’s what happened,” Isabeau said in hushed tones. “No wonder you’re upset, Rita. I would be, too.”

  I sent her a grateful smile. “And I just know that Miss Frankie is going to blame the curse for it anyway. I don’t intend to tell her, but you know how she is. She knows everybody in this city. Somebody’s bound to tell her.”

  Ox stopped working and locked eyes with me. “There’s no curse. And as for Orra’s death, maybe she would have had a heart attack anyway. Maybe she wouldn’t. But we’re never going to know, are we? Racking yourself with guilt isn’t going to make one bit of difference to Orra or her family.”

  “She doesn’t have a family,” I said, “which somehow makes it all worse.”

  Isabeau gave a little mew of sympathy. Even Sparkle seemed disturbed by that piece of news.

  Ox shot a warning look at both of them. “It doesn’t change anything.”

  “Whatever.” I turned back to the fondant and cut out a few more leaves. “Technically, I suppose you’re right, Ox, but that doesn’t mean I can just flip a switch and change how I feel. And I do feel responsible for the necklace. After all, I’m the one who found it.”

  “Put the blame on Zoey,” Ox said with a grin. “Then it’s not your responsibility at all and we can stop talking about it.”

  His flippant attitude annoyed me, but Isabeau stepped in before I could respond. “Quit being such a grouch, Ox. I know exactly where Rita is coming from. And yes, Zoey might have been the one to find the necklace, but it was hidden here in this house, which means it belongs to Rita and Miss Frankie.”

  Exactly my point. It was nice to know that someone understood. And since Miss Frankie had washed her hands of it, the necklace was my responsibility.

  Isabeau moved a little closer to me and lowered her voice. “You know who you need to talk to, don’t you? Mambo Odessa could probably tell you everything you need to know. Zoey was trying to find out more about the necklace online yesterday, but there’s practically nothing on the Internet except something about an old painting. But Mambo Odessa knows all about local history, especially anything supernatural. I’ll bet she’d know all about the curse.”

  “Good idea,” Sparkle said. “She might even know how to counteract the curse. That could be good information to have.”

  Ox’s frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. “There is no curse,” he said again. “And don’t go dragging my aunt into the middle of this.”

  Isabeau sighed dramatically. “I don’t know why you’re so set against letting Mambo Odessa use her gifts. She’s remarkable. You’re just unsupportive.”

  “I’m not unsupportive,” he argued. “I’m practical. I’m realistic. I love Auntie Odessa, but I’m not going to say that she’s psychic or has some kind of otherworldly power. And I sure as hell don’t want you asking her to play around with some made-up curse.”

  “You can deny it all you want,” Isabeau retorted. “But Mambo Odessa knows stuff. You’re just too stubborn to admit it. She knows things that regular people couldn’t possibly know. And what if there really is a curse on the necklace? Wouldn’t it be better to know what you’re dealing with than to bury your head in the sand?”

  This last was directed at me. “I don’t know . . .” I said with an uneasy glance at Ox. “I mean it’s not as if I believe there’s actually a curse on the necklace, but it certainly upset Miss Frankie. Mambo Odessa might be able to tell me about the rumors.”

  “No!” Ox said, jabbing a finger at me. He wagged it at Isabeau next. “No. You know how I feel about that stuff.” And to Sparkle, “Quit egging her on. I mean it.”

  Sparkle rolled her eyes and mumbled, “Whatever.”

  Isabeau lifted her chin and glared up at him. “Yeah. I do know how you feel, but that doesn’t mean you’re right.” The top of her perky blond head barely reaches Ox’s armpit, but she didn’t let the fact that he had almost a foot in height and a hundred pounds on her get in the way. “Maybe there’s not a curse on the necklace, but if people believe there is one, isn’t that what matters? If somebody tried to steal it from the Vintage Vault, it’s because of the curse. You know that, too.”

  Ox’s nostrils flared. “That doesn’t mean that Rita has to get herself involved.”

  “I’m not getting involved in the robbery investigation,” I said stiffly. “There probably isn’t going to be one anyway. But once the police are done with the necklace, they’re going to give it back to me and I’d really like to know what I’m dealing with before they do. And if I decide to talk to Mambo Odessa, I will. I don’t need your permission.”

  Ox made a noise low in his throat that sounded suspiciously like a growl. He wasn’t happy, but he seemed to realize that he’d lost that argument. “Do what you want,” he snapped. “Just don’t call me when things go bad.”

  “You have my solemn vow.”

  The thing was, I hadn’t been sold on talking to Mambo Odessa until Ox forbade me to do it. Now I was determined to pay her a visit. Was it a good idea? Maybe. Maybe not. Right then, I didn’t particularly care.

  Ten

  If I hadn’t been a responsible adult, I would have left for Mambo Odessa’s shop right then and there. Instead, I stayed at Zydeco and tried my
best to focus on making several hundred peacock feathers out of fondant, layering green, blue, and lavender leaf-shaped cutouts on top of one another then using a plastic modeling tool to press indentations into the bottom two layers to create a feathery appearance. It wasn’t particularly grueling work, but it did take time and patience.

  I broke once to answer a call from Tommy Sheridan at the Monte Cristo Hotel, who wanted to make sure he’d answered all of my questions about the new location. I assured him that all was well and promised again to let him know if I needed anything.

  By the time noon rolled around, I was more than ready to meet Edie for our lunch date. She had suggested meeting me at Zydeco, but I’d discouraged that idea mostly because the reception area was still a disaster. Zoey had spent the previous day organizing the piles of paper currently covering Edie’s desk into stacks she and I would eventually have to work through, but I still wasn’t anxious for Edie to see the backed-up work, the holes in the wall, and the broken stair railing. The whole idea of our lunch date was to make her feel better, not worse.

  It also meant that I couldn’t tell the others about our lunch plans. If I did, they would certainly have wanted Edie and John David to stop in. I knew a visit was inevitable, but I hoped to put it off at least until we found the surface of Edie’s desk.

  I put away the remaining fondant and stored the peacock feathers I’d made that morning before I checked in with Zoey and made some admiring noises over her progress. Then I grabbed my bag and headed for the front door.

  I’d let Edie choose the restaurant and she’d picked Rubio’s Ribs, a local favorite within easy walking distance for me. She and John David were waiting just inside the front door when I arrived. Edie looked better than she had the other night. Her hair was clean and shiny and she’d even managed a bit of makeup. Only one small white splotch high on her shoulder marred her appearance, and I didn’t know whether to mention it or keep my big mouth shut.