“A black widow is a spider that kills its mate after they have sex.”
“Really? Like a viper woman?”
“That would be a snake woman like Cleopatra. Look, I’ll explain all that later. Woozie, I really need your help. The police have arrested Julia and taken her in. There’s only her…uh…houseman there who cleans and fixes things. There’s no one to cook the breakfast for the guests. Can you go over there and help out until she gets released? I’ll pay you if Julia can’t.”
“You want me to go help a murderess? A black widow spider woman, who kilt a man after she slept wit him?”
“She didn’t kill anyone. I know Julia and you don’t need to be afraid of her. This is a big mess.” I started to plead when Woozie cut me off.
“Oh, I don’t care if she gone and done it. Your momma thinks she killed him dead. This is gonna make her crazy enough to pitch a conniption fit when she hears I work there. She gonna think I know something she don’t,” she said, chuckling to herself. “Oh, yeah, I’ll be there first thing in the morning. Early, right, and don’t you go tell your momma I said that.”
“Yes, the earlier the better, and I won’t tell her if you don’t. I mean, don’t tell anyone, anything that you see or hear over there, except me.”
“Oh, don’t worry ‘bout old Woozie. We been keeping secrets for each other since the night your daddy got drunk with his brother and named you. When they came home neither one of them could write their own name. I’m the one who wrote your name on that birth certificate. I know that and you know that. Your momma don’t know and we gonna keep it that way. Woozie don’t tell nobody nothing.”
“I know my secrets are safe with you. I love you, Woozie. The guy, the cleaning man’s name is Frank,” I said, and then gave her the code to get in the back kitchen door.
***
I was about to leave on my appointments when my cell phone rang and the police department’s main number came up on caller I.D. It was Dante on the other end, in his official police—I’m not trying to win you back—voice, telling me that Julia was arrested and that I would most likely get called in for questioning.
“Are you going to question me,” I asked him, “or another detective?” I wondered if Hanky Panky was finally going to realize her dream of interrogating me. She was probably out right now looking for the highest wattage light bulb to sit me under during questioning. She might get lucky and find a pair of brass knuckles on her shopping spree.
“I don’t know. It won’t be me.” Oh yeah, it was going to be Hanky Panky. “I just wanted to give you a heads up. You might want to start to distance yourself from Julia. This has repercussions that could suck you in.”
“Well, thanks for the warning, and oh, I wanted to thank you for following me home from the Napoleon House for my safety. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I didn’t follow you home,” he said, and hung up.
***
I was jittery the rest of the day trying to stay focused. I had appointments to speak to clients who had complicated fraud problems and I needed to find solutions for them. Each time I was leaving a client’s office, I was expecting a smiling Hanky Panky in a police car waiting at the door to haul me in for questioning. When there was no police car I watched my rear view mirror wondering if someone was following me, and why. I thought I was probably making something out of nothing.
At my last appointment of the day, I called on the largest liquor wholesale distributor in the city. I met with the CEO who outlined their problem with hackers trying to reroute deliveries. I reviewed this case and said I’d upgrade his firewall, run diagnostics and remote testing to see if he was still vulnerable.
“Thanks, Ms. Alexander.”
“Please call me Brandy.” I stood to leave and shook his hand.
“You know with your name you’d make a heck of a liquor salesperson.” We both laughed. I picked up a bottle of Chianti he had on his desk and looked it over.
“Take it if you like red wine. My wife and I don’t drink Chianti. A client, well I should say a friend, ordered it and gave me a bottle. We don’t stock it. It was a special order.”
“It looks like a bottle my friend’s dad brought to my parents house when she announced she was getting married and asked me to stand,” I said.
“Donnato Fortunata’s daughter?” he asked.
“Yes. Small world. He’s your customer?”
“I’ve known him and his family for years. I import that for him, usually a case at a time. He says it is the best Chianti from Italy, so he ordered several cases for his daughter’s wedding.”
“Yes, he brought a bottle of this to my parents’ house. My dad loved it. New Orleans is great like that. If you talk to someone five minutes you will know someone they know. Now, I’m sure I’ll see you at the wedding. It’s going to be a big to do, this wedding and reception.”
“Yes, Donnato is sparing no expense for his only daughter.”
***
All afternoon nothing happened and no one called me with an update. I finally called Jiff’s office and his secretary told me he was working on Julia’s ‘situation’ and he’d said to tell me he would call as soon as he could. She added that he would have Julia call me as soon as she was released.
When I heard from Jiff later that evening he told me he put me on the defendant’s witness list and he said the prosecution would probably treat me as a hostile witness at trial since Julia called me right after the murder. We set up a time at his office so he could prep me to anticipate their questions which he felt would try to make me look like I helped her cover up evidence. I was more worried than ever, now that it was looking like Julia and her case were going to trial.
Julia was about to have a nervous breakdown by the time Jiff bonded her out late that evening. I went by the B&B after I stopped home to explain what I had done earlier since Woozie was there. I wanted to eyeball her and see how she was handling all this.
“Woozie is at your hotel because I asked her to come and take care of breakfast and help out,” I said.
“Frank was here,” she said absently. Her face was red and her eyes were puffy from crying.
“Yes, I know, but Frank can’t cook. He told me so and I thought Woozie could help him and fix breakfast,” I said. “Woozie is very organized and Frank… well, Frank isn’t. But, he’s helpful and very distraught over your situation.” She looked up at me for criticizing Frank. “Woozie was more than happy to do it.” I added.
“Woozie? Happy to help me? I suppose that is a good idea in case I’m hauled out of here again. What I keep going over and over in my mind is I could go to jail for a murder I didn’t commit and what is going to become of this place. Who do I have to run it? I’ll never recover from this.” She paused to blow her nose. “You wanna hear the best? More people are calling to make a reservation thinking it’s haunted here because it used to be a funeral home. They ask how many murders have taken place here over the years and what ghost is actually doing the murders? Can you believe it?” she asked.
“You know you can’t buy marketing like that. However, it might be a good idea not to mention to Woozie that people think this place is haunted. She didn’t seem to mind the fact that someone was murdered here, but haunted and ghosts are another story with Wooz. Anyway, use the bump in business to help pay your attorney fees for your defense. This case might go on for awhile but it would be great for business if you got a reputation for having paranormal activity.”
“What? You think people want to stay in a place that’s haunted?” She blew her nose again.
I lowered my voice. “People drive all the way to St. Francisville to spend a night in plantations they claim have spirits roaming around in them. It’s way out in the country with nothing to do except wait around to be spooked. But seriously, don’t say the “h” word or the “g” word around Woozie, got it?”
“Oh, all right, I’ll try to remember and I’ll tell Frank not to say it’s…” Julia only mouthed t
he word haunted.
I hesitated but then plunged in. “Did the police find your dress with the statue in the dumpster down the street? The way the room looked, it seemed all your clothes were off and hanging from the chandelier.”
“I wore that dress in there but it didn’t stay on long and I really didn’t miss it when you or the police got here. I didn’t notice the statue missing either. The statue is a knock off, not a real antique so it isn’t worth much.”
“That’s not the point. This isn’t an insurance claim. If you didn’t put your dress back on to leave the room, what did you wear when you left?” Julia’s answers were starting to confuse me. If I found flaws in her story, I could only imagine how the prosecutor would rake her over the coals.
“I didn’t wear anything, I just got out of bed and went to shower. There was no one else registered here to see me. It’s more or less like I told you. I did shower and dress before I called you. I woke up next to him and I never really looked at him before I got out of the bed, but now I realize he had to have been dead already. I showered thinking it would make me feel better. I thought I cut myself because I saw blood run off me in the shower. It didn’t even occur to me it might not be mine. I told you, everything felt blurry, like a really bad hangover. I dressed, went down to make us some breakfast and dropped the tray like I said when I went back into the room and saw him dead. I checked to see if he had a pulse. That’s when I called you. I knew he was dead. I think I was in the bed with him when he was killed. I just don’t remember anything.”
“OK, how did your dress and the bronze statue get into the dumpster?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t put them there and my dress was off when we got into bed. If he were killed next to me, I would have had to be wearing it to get that blood all over it. The last thing I do remember was him taking it off me when I walked in the door. It was off somewhere across the bedroom.”
“No one is going to believe that after they hear you showered and dressed. It’s going to sound like you tried to cover it up or get rid of evidence.”
“Why would I have blood all over my hands if I wanted to look like I was covering it up. I would have picked up all my clothes and removed everything of mine out of the room, wouldn’t I?”
She had a point. “What about the glasses and the wine bottle? Did you wash the glasses in the bathroom and leave them there?” I asked her.
“No, I thought they were where we left them.”
“Where was that?” I asked her.
“I don’t remember.”
“Well, take a deep breath and try. This is very important,” I said.
She thought a minute and said, “I remember he handed me a glass after opening the bottle, but I don’t remember where I put my glass or if he took it from me.”
“The glasses were in his bathroom when the police found them,” I said.
“I don’t remember if I washed or moved them and I didn’t notice if the wine bottle was still here. Did the police find the wine bottle?” she asked.
“They found a wine bottle in the dumpster smashed along with your dress and the statute they think is the murder weapon. The forensics’ team is running tests to see if it’s the missing wine bottle and whose fingerprints, besides yours and St. Germain’s, are on it and if it contained the drug. I gotta tell you, this doesn’t look good for you. You need to tell Jiff everything and hope he can run interference so some of this never comes out, but in all likelihood it will. You will need to brace yourself for the worst.”
Chapter Twelve
Julia was arrested, a trial date was set for six months out and things changed for me with Jiff and Dante.
Dante kept his distance since he was still on the case. I didn’t see him or hear from him regarding Julia, the case, or for any other reason. He didn’t contact me again after he phoned the day Julia was arraigned. One evening, when I stopped to visit my parents, I saw him starting to walk out of his parents’ house next door. When he spotted my car, he went back inside. So much for his working to get me back. The trial could get continued and who knew how long this could drag on.
On the other hand, Jiff and I saw each other almost every day. We were going dancing at Rock ‘n Bowl, or to hear a band we both liked. We went out with his friends and mine. We were getting to know each other. Jiff took me to his favorite place for donuts, which was a bakery in someone’s garage on Verbena Street. They made the best tasting donuts in the world. The donut man wore an all white uniform complete with a paper military type hat and made them while you waited. The owner sat in a reclining lawn chair with a cigar box and took the money for your order. I don’t think the New Orleans Health Department knew of or ever inspected this garage/bakery. If an inspector did come here, it was to order donuts.
We were doing normal things people do who like each other and date. He treated me like a princess. On Sundays he would come pick me up and we’d take our dogs, Meaux Jeaux and Isabella, to the dog park or he would come by on his motorcycle and we’d ride to a festival somewhere. He bought me all custom BMW gear, a helmet, matching leather jacket and leather pants, gloves and all the necessary protection I needed for the road. It was wonderful to ride on his K 1600 BMW, leaning against his back with my arms wrapped around him. We went to the Ponchatoula Strawberry Festival, the Sauce Piquant Festival and sampled every way Cajuns made piquant. Sitting behind him on his motorcycle had us close and in physical contact, touching each other all day. When we took off our helmets he would use a finger and gently move an errant wisp of hair off my face. We enjoyed the food, the music and checked out the local antique shops. If I wanted to do something, he wanted to do it with me.
Jiff supported my rescue efforts, never complaining about how many dogs I had at my apartment, and always considered what I had to say regarding Julia’s matter. He never dismissed me. Our bond was getting stronger and closer. I still wasn’t sure if I was ready to cut the line on Dante, at least not yet, not until after the wedding or Julia’s outcome, whichever came first. Jiff and I still had a lot to find out about each other and we were enjoying each other’s company doing just that. He was the consummate gentleman in all things. He never pushed me or rushed me to become more romantically involved although I was thinking about it more and more.
Jiff’s firm was working hard trying to find Violet Fornet to question her about Gervais St. Germain’s murder. She was nowhere to be found. Jiff told me Ernest had interviewed the Pancake Paddy manager who said Violet hadn’t shown up for work in a couple of weeks. Yes, they remembered hearing about the murder up the street, but no one could remember the last time they saw Violet, at work or anywhere. She and the other servers worked hours that could only be figured out by the schedulers who managed flight crews for airlines. Sometimes she worked the 3:00 a.m. until 11:00 a.m. shift, or she worked lunches 10:00 a.m. until 2:00 p.m., or sometimes she worked split shifts but only if someone would split the shifts with her. Sometimes she didn’t show up even if she was on the schedule. What he did find out was that Violet had another guy friend she would see whenever she broke up with Gervais. The servers at Pancake Paddy said this guy would sit at the counter when Violet worked and wait for her to get off. No, they didn’t know his name and Violet didn’t seem overly interested in him. They said she treated him more platonically and he always paid cash. They didn’t remember much about him but she never claimed to have dated anyone other than Gervais.
Julia signed a statement allowing Jiff and his firm to share information with me they received or obtained regarding her case. Julia’s parents were dead, her ex-husband was dead and she hadn’t spoken with her brother in years. In fact, she had no idea where he lived or how to find him. She thought a friendly pair of eyes who believed she was innocent would help.
Then, an odd thing happened.
“Brandy, did Jiff or that investigator call you?” asked Julia in lieu of a hello, when I answered my phone.
“No, why?”
“Well, it seems Violet
Fornet’s family has declared her a missing person.”
“What, when?” I asked.
“Jiff says…oh, just call him. My head is spinning because he said the police are on their way over here to question me about her whereabouts. Can you come here, for moral support?”
***
Woozie was blocking the front door of Julia’s bed and breakfast when I pulled up behind the police car. Dante and Hanky Panky were trying to reason with her to allow them in or to get Julia to come out. They could have brought the entire SWAT Team with them; they weren’t getting past Woozie.
“No warrant, no entry,” Woozie said, hands on her hips. Woozie was a giant force to be reckoned with. She was a large woman, six foot four, and she weighed more than Dante and his partner put together. Dante had grown up next door to me and had known Woozie as long as me. She had been our housekeeper since before I was born. He, along with the rest of my family, was intimidated by her. She stood fearless facing down their police presence. Hanky was about to try to push her aside, and boy was that something I wanted to see, but Dante stopped her.
“Please, Woozie, ask Julia to come out here,” Dante said, restraining Hanky’s raised arm.
“That’s Miz Richard and Miz Woozie to you. Where are your manners, Mr. Dante Detective?” Woozie was giving him both barrels.
I walked up behind them and smiled at Woozie. “Dante, Julia’s attorney is on his way, and he’ll want to be here if you are going to question her.”
Hanky Panky reeled around grabbing for her handcuffs and I could see she wanted to cuff me or hit me with the nightstick. “You can’t come in without a warrant,” I said to her, “and Julia doesn’t have to come out to speak with you, but she will when her attorney gets here.” Then, in the most sweet and syrupy voice I’ve ever used in my life, I said, “Why don’t you wait on the porch swing. Woozie will have Frank bring y’all a cold drink, if you like.”
Dead and Breakfast (The New Orleans Go Cup Chronicles Book 2) Page 9
