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

by Deborah Garner

  “Exactly,” Clotile said. “Very odd.”

  “Why odd?” Sadie asked. “He’s part owner, right?”

  “Yes,” Clotile said. “But he’s never here. He doesn’t even live here. He moved away years ago.”

  “Where did he move to?” Sadie asked.

  “Miami, I think,” Clotile said. “Or Chicago. Or Las Vegas. Someplace like that. He moved shortly after the scandal broke out about the hotel.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Can’t say I blame him. Mimi was running the hotel anyway. Who likes being the center of nasty gossip?”

  Clotile’s question was clearly rhetorical, so Sadie simply asked the obvious, lowering her voice appropriately. “What scandal? What kind of gossip?” she whispered.

  “They say he embezzled money.” Clotile dipped a cold shrimp in Cajun-spiced cocktail sauce, took a bite, then set the tail on the edge of her plate before picking up another.

  “Well, did he?” Sadie asked.

  Clotile shrugged her shoulders. “They were never able to prove it. He insisted it had to be someone else. Police investigated both families since they both had access to the cash, as well as the bank account. They accused Mimi’s father too. But he was cleared. So was Horace. Still, the families accused each other for years.”

  Sadie almost choked on a cracker smothered with hot crawfish dip. “Mimi? The woman who died at the bakery this morning? That seems like quite the coincidence, don’t you think? That the daughter of the other man involved in the scandal happens to die just when…” She looked back at the hotel’s front counter. “What is this man’s name again? Horace?”

  Clotile nodded.

  “Just when Horace comes to town,” Sadie said, finishing her statement. It was puzzling, and she could never resist a good puzzle. And, after all, she’d seen the poor woman die.

  “You know, it might have just been a heart attack,” Clotile said. “There’s no way to know at this point.”

  Sadie mulled that over. “But then why the coughing fit that Mimi had before collapsing, and the dizziness, the trouble walking? Why not chest pains or arm discomfort or nausea? Those symptoms would make more sense at the onset of a heart attack.”

  “Maybe a stroke?” Clotile suggested.

  Sadie started to make additional guesses but then stopped herself. She wasn’t a doctor. It was ridiculous for her to analyze the scene that morning in the bakery even though she’d witnessed it with her own eyes. Her entire medical knowledge was based on her penchant for reading murder mysteries. That was hardly the equivalent of attending medical school. Maybe this was one situation she should stay out of.

  “I’m sure there will be more information in the morning paper,” Clotile said. “And I plan to go by Lisette’s place later on to see how she’s doing.”

  “I could come with you,” Sadie said, immediately forgetting her thoughts from ten seconds before.

  “I’ll see if she feels up to company,” Clotile said. “It’s been such a shock; I’m not sure what sort of mood she’ll be in.”

  “Of course,” Sadie said. To call it a shock was an understatement. Seeing someone die was enough in itself, not to mention the effect on the business. Who knew how long the bakery would stay closed. And would customers even want to return when it opened?

  Sadie excused herself momentarily, hooked her tote bag over her shoulder, and sauntered back to the appetizer table. Surveying a platter of petite hush puppies, she mulled over the future of Lisette’s business. She glanced back at the hotel counter, observing a calm, hospitable interaction between Horace LeBlanc and a guest. Popping a hush puppy in her mouth, she piled a few on her plate, dropped one in her tote bag, and returned to her seat.

  “I’m not certain Horace has anything to do with Mimi’s demise.” Sadie spoke half to Clotile and half to herself.

  “Well, we don’t know if anyone had anything to do with it,” Clotile said. “In fact, I doubt anyone did. It may very well have been natural. Mimi wasn’t exactly a spring chicken.”

  Sadie frowned at that statement. Mimi had easily been a few years younger than herself.

  “Still,” Clotile continued, “it seems quite the coincidence that Horace appears just now. I’m sure if it turns out to be foul play the authorities will question him.”

  Sadie dropped another miniature hush puppy in her tote, earning a questioning look from Clotile, as well as a few nearby guests. Fortunately, the chatter of the crowd covered up the yip of thank you that followed.

  “Think of the effect this will have on Lisette’s business even if it’s ruled an accident,” Sadie pointed out. “Just the association with death could be enough to keep customers away.”

  “I don’t know,” Clotile said. “Lisette has a solid following. Her customers are devoted, if not addicts. I know I’ve been addicted to her pralines since the first time I had one.

  “Yes, I can certainly understand that,” Sadie said, remembering the mouthwatering concoction Clotile had offered her on the plane.

  “Still, you may have a point,” Clotile said pensively. “What exactly are you getting at?”

  “Competition,” Sadie said. “When a popular business suffers, the competition benefits. And you did say in your text that someone was looking out the window across the street.”

  Clotile eyed Sadie warily. “You read a lot of murder mysteries, don’t you?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” Sadie said. “But that’s beside the point. If you think that means my imagination is getting the better of me, it isn’t. I’m just debating different possible theories and motives.”

  “For a murder that might not even have happened,” Clotile said.

  “Well, yes,” Sadie admitted. “I suppose I’m getting ahead of things. It’s all conjecture at this point, obviously.”

  Clotile finished the last shrimp on her plate and stood up. “I really should go see how Lisette is doing, as difficult as it is to pass up another round of appetizers.”

  “Understandable on both accounts,” Sadie said. “I may stay for one more dab of that crawfish dip though. I’m debating it.”

  “Well, enjoy,” Clotile said. “I can’t blame you a bit. Besides, you’re on vacation, right? That means no calories.”

  Sadie laughed. “Yes, that has always been my philosophy, hence the extra baggage.” She patted one hip in explanation.

  “You and me both,” Clotile said, copying her gesture. “I’ll let you know if I find out anything more.” She started to leave but turned as Sadie called to her and waved her back.

  “Just curious, what relation is the man at the front desk to the owner of that other bakery, the one across the street from Lisette’s place?” Sadie asked.

  Clotile looked across the room and then back at Sadie. She lowered her voice. “Horace?”

  “Yes, Horace, the man you pointed out to me earlier,” Sadie said. “You said he’s a LeBlanc, the same as the family who owns the bakery across from Lisette’s.”

  “Bluette’s Beignets,” Clotile clarified.

  “Yes. Is he Bluette’s father, by any chance?”

  Clotile shook her head. “No. He’s her uncle. Why?”

  “I see,” Sadie said, not seeing at all. She wasn’t even sure why she’d asked the question. “No reason. Just seems like a complicated family.”

  “Sometimes I think all families are complicated,” Clotile said, sighing.

  Sadie nodded. “I suppose so.” She watched Clotile leave and then stood, hoisting her tote bag over her shoulder. She disposed of her appetizer plate and headed back to her room, mulling over the conversation. Yes, families are complicated. But perhaps not as complicated as those two.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sadie sat up in bed and leaned over to check the clock on the nightstand. At two a.m. in the morning, she should have been asleep yet was sure she’d heard sounds outside. As it was, she’d dozed off early with a copy of Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile on her lap. Having filled up on appetizers, she’d chosen to
skip dinner, as tempting as another culinary adventure on Bourbon Street sounded. Instead, she’d browsed the hotel’s guest library and borrowed the classic mystery novel for the evening. The hotel had kindly delivered complimentary hot chocolate to her room. Changing into a favorite pair of pajamas—bright purple with assorted farm animal faces—she’d snuggled up in bed to escape into a fictional Egyptian outing with Hercule Poirot while sipping the delicious beverage.

  With a twist of the nightlight’s knob, 40-watt illumination bathed the room in light. Coco let out a yip of disapproval at being roused from her beauty sleep. Sadie was certain she received a canine frown upon making eye contact with the Yorkie.

  “I apologize, Coco,” Sadie said. “But sometimes you just can’t get a good night’s sleep even if you try.” Coco yawned and dropped her head back down on the velvet pillow in her travel palace, determined to try. “Fine,” Sadie said. “Go ahead and sleep. But I’m going out to see what’s going on. I’m sure I heard an odd noise.”

  Wrapping the hotel’s luxurious logoed bathrobe around her, she slid her feet into her favorite leopard-print slippers and stepped outside to explore. The outdoor hallway faced a lovely interior courtyard. Soft garden lights lit flowering bushes from ground level, adding an enchanted feeling to the peaceful, deserted exterior. No lights shone from other rooms’ windows. Perhaps she’d imagined a noise? Or dreamed it?

  Turning back toward her door, she paused at the sound of voices. Too far away to decipher what they were saying, Sadie followed the sound until it grew louder, arriving at the back gate, where a conversation was taking place on the other side. She hunched down and pressed one ear against the gate in order to listen.

  “You shouldn’t have come here,” a man’s voice said. Unrecognizable, it clearly belonged to someone who was upset. It almost had a hissing tone to it.

  “It’s none of your business whether I’m here or not,” another voice said, also male, yet calmer than the first. “If anyone belongs here, it’s me.”

  Sadie shifted her position as her knees began to ache, careful to remain silent.

  “I’m making it my business now,” the first voice insisted. “It doesn’t look good for you to be around now. There’s too much at stake.”

  “You may be used to pushing people around, but you’re wasting your time,” the other man said. “You don’t scare me.”

  “Quite naïve of you…” Much to Sadie’s frustration, this statement seemed to be followed by a name, but it was too mumbled to make out.

  One of the men coughed, and the other hushed him up. A shuffling of feet followed, and the sounds moved farther and farther away until they disappeared completely. Sadie tiptoed back to her room, where she was greeted again by an annoyed Coco, who had fallen back to sleep while Sadie was outside.

  “There were two men out in back, Coco,” Sadie said, completely aware that Coco had no interest in listening. Still, conversations with the Yorkie, although one-sided, had proven useful to Sadie in the past. In truth, there were clear advantages to having discussions with someone who couldn’t talk back.

  Coco stretched out on her velvet pillow and rolled over onto her back, front paws extended in the air like antennae. She closed her eyes.

  “One man sounded threatening,” Sadie continued, not caring in the least that Coco wasn’t responding. She removed the hotel robe and hung it back up on a hook and continued. “The other didn’t seem intimidated. He stood his ground. If only I knew what that ground was.” She set her slippers beside the bed and climbed back under the covers.

  Coco let out a soft snore, drawing Sadie’s attention away from the ceiling. “I know,” she said to the sleeping bundle of fur. “Exactly what I was just thinking: I wish I’d heard Horace’s voice today. I might have been able to recognize it tonight—if he was one of the two men in the back alley, of course, which I have no way of knowing.”

  Sadie was just pondering that thought when she heard a slight creak coming from the direction of the alley. The gate? Reaching over, she quickly clicked off the light on the nightstand, letting the room fall into darkness just as she heard the sound of the gate latching. If one of the men from the alley was going to walk through the courtyard, it would be best if she didn’t appear to be awake. Even as nonspecific as the spoken words were, she didn’t want the men to suspect she’d overheard them.

  The exterior lights formed a soft backdrop to the garden courtyard outside, especially with her room lights now completely off. She was suddenly thankful that she hadn’t thought to pull the heavier set of curtains closed, as the wispy interior curtain allowed her to make out a shadow passing by her window. Was it a man’s shadow? She wasn’t sure, but it only made sense, having overheard the conversation before.

  Suddenly Coco yipped in her sleep, causing the shadow to pause outside her window. Not now, Coco! Not one of your silly dreams about chasing chipmunks! Sadie was used to the petite canine’s habit of talking in her sleep, but this was not the time. Remaining still, Sadie held her breath and waited until the shadow moved on, and then exhaled, relieved. There were no more sounds after that, and after some effort, she finally fell back asleep.

  * * *

  The local paper was the first thing to catch Sadie’s eye when she entered the lobby the following morning, even before her sight landed on the goal of her usual morning search—a pot of fresh coffee. She lifted the newspaper casually off the sofa, where it had been left by another guest. Tucking it under her arm, she poured herself a cup of coffee and took a seat in a wing-backed chair near a sunny front window of the lobby. She set her coffee down and thumbed through the paper until she found a small article on the fifth page. It barely read as an obituary, lacking the usual details of a person’s life. It simply said that Mimi Arnaud had died unexpectedly the morning before at Chez Lisette Patisserie.

  Well, there you have it, Sadie thought. There is such a thing as bad publicity. She felt a pang of sympathy for Lisette. No business owner wanted a death linked with the business name.

  Have you seen the paper yet? The text from Clotile came through just as Sadie set the newspaper aside.

  Yes. Just read it. Sadie sent the text back. She eyed her phone strangely, as if it were asking her to type more. But what else was there to say? There was nothing unexpected in the article. It was so brief it could hardly even be called an article.

  I’m at Bluette’s. Clotile’s text surprised Sadie, though she couldn’t pinpoint why. If a person’s favorite morning haunt was closed, it seemed natural to head to another. Why not the nearest one?

  Crowded? Sadie typed the text and hit Send.

  Packed, with a line outside. Again, Clotile’s text took Sadie by surprise, and she still wasn’t sure why. Perhaps she felt sorry for Lisette, knowing some of that business would normally be hers. Or was it that Clotile’s morning report confirmed one of her theories: a competitive business would benefit from the misfortune of another. Naturally, this would give the competitor a motive for causing said misfortune.

  “I don’t know, Coco,” Sadie said aloud. Coco stuck her head out of the tote and yipped at the sound of her name. “Yes, I agree. It seems extreme. But then again…” Her voice trailed off as she saw Horace LeBlanc step out of a side door behind the front desk. He scribbled something on a piece of paper, folded it neatly, and slipped it into his shirt pocket. He then stepped away and disappeared into a back office.

  Sadie thought back to the night before, remembering the voices she’d overheard in the back alley. Standing, she set her coffee aside and walked to the front desk. A moment later, Horace LeBlanc was standing in front of her.

  “Good morning,” he said, greeting Sadie in a somber yet professional manner.

  Two words, Sadie thought. Not enough.

  “How may I help you?” Better, but still not quite…

  “May I help you with something?” Horace LeBlanc’s forehead furrowed, causing Sadie to realize she had yet to respond to anything the man had said.
/>   “Oh! I’m so sorry!” Sadie exclaimed. “Not enough coffee yet, I guess.”

  “We have coffee set up across the room, in the lobby area,” Horace said. “Help yourself.”

  “Thank you,” Sadie said, turning away from the counter.

  “Ma’am, did you have a question?”

  Sadie turned back and smiled politely. “You answered my question, thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” Horace said. “If there’s anything else we can do to make your stay pleasant, don’t hesitate to ask. We’re here to help.”

  Sadie smiled. Now she’d struck gold. Twenty-two words, not even counting contractions and extra syllables. It was just enough to confirm what she suspected. Horace LeBlanc had been one of the men in the alley the night before. Yet questions remained. Why was he there? And did he have anything to do with Mimi Arnaud’s demise?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Clotile had not been exaggerating. Not only was the interior of Bluette’s Beignets filled to capacity, the line stretched down the block. A podium-type sign stood near the front door, attractively scrolled lettering announcing Please wait to be seated. Sadie didn’t remember seeing anything of the sort the day before.

  As she had the previous morning, she’d walked over from the hotel. This time, rather than keep Coco in her tote bag as she usually did, she attached a rhinestone-studded leash that matched the Yorkie’s collar. She always suspected Coco felt snubbed to be on a leash but tolerated it in exchange for being able to strut around and show herself off to others. Coco had never been shy. If anything, she was always curious about exploring her surroundings. On the other hand, she never complained about being chauffeured in Sadie’s tote bag either. Perhaps the velvet lining and custom iPod system had something to do with it.

  Sadie stood across from Bluette’s, yet not directly in front of Lisette’s taped-off storefront, which somehow felt disrespectful as well as blatantly obvious to those in line across the street. But she could see the commotion easily from where she stood. And the fresh-baked aromas were not beyond her either, nor did they escape Coco’s attention. The Yorkie’s nose was twitching and sniffing like someone with a frequent nervous tic.