Courteous murmurs of agreement circled the room. All attendees, invited or not, seemed pleased with Horace’s words. All but one, whose words flew above the soft murmurs like a hawk going in for a kill.
“That’s a whole lot of honor from someone who’s about to dump the legacy!”
Heads turned from side to side, searching for the source of the brash accusation. Like the others, Sadie and Broussard surveyed the room, curious who had decided to start the verbal food fight they’d hoped would break out. Their eyes found their destination in one inebriated redhead.
“Clotile!” Lisette moved quickly to Clotile’s side in an attempt to hush her up. Instead of heeding her friend’s warning, Clotile pushed Lisette aside and began walking toward Horace.
“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Horace said. “I love this hotel.”
“But you love money more, don’t you?”
Sadie and Broussard exchanged looks, eyebrows raised. This was going to be even better than they had thought. Clotile had barely managed a sentence before Johnny Malone jumped up. They’d figured he’d need at least ten minutes of goading before he broke.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Horace said, fighting to keep his composure.
“C’mon, Horace,” Clotile said. “Tell everyone what you’ve been up to. Maybe then they’ll understand why we’re having this celebration of life to begin with. We should be calling this a celebration of ending life, shouldn’t we?”
Lisette grabbed Clotile in an attempt to stop the shocking display, but Clotile pushed her away and turned her anger toward Johnny. “And YOU!” she screamed.
“What about me?” Johnny sneered. “Why are you so angry? You missed me too much?”
Horace looked between the two. “You two know each other?”
“You can make that past tense,” Clotile said. “Anyone who keeps this guy around is an idiot. You should listen to that if you care about your hotel.”
“IF? IF I care about it?” Horace stepped around the table and approached Clotile. “What are you talking about? You don’t know me well enough to judge what I love and what I don’t.”
“Maybe not,” Clotile admitted. “But I know the kind of people who go into business with Johnny. They either want to dump their businesses with shady tactics, or they’re too stupid to see a scam when it’s right in front of their noses.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Horace said. “I wasn’t going to sell it. We were forming a new corporation to take care of it. To remodel and restore it.”
“Remodel it?” Clotile laughed. “That’s what Johnny tells all his clients. Until they sell it short and find out the corporation is a phony and the restored building is turning into private luxury condos.”
Confused looks dotted faces of the guests who remained. Many had chosen to depart quickly before things became more volatile. A few grabbed whatever delicacies they could from the buffet on the way out, hunching low as if expecting bullets to fly at any moment.
“Private luxury condos?” Horace was shouting now. “That’s impossible. I’ve seen the blueprints myself. They show just a few minor interior changes.”
“Because that’s all he’s showing you,” Clotile said. “Let me ask you this: Did you agree on a final price for the sale yet?”
Horace looked around the room at shocked faces. “We were finalizing that when poor Mimi…” He choked up, unable to speak. Bluette came around the table and put her arm around him, glaring at Clotile for upsetting her uncle.
Broussard held out a plate of appetizers in front of Sadie, who took a miniature crab cake and tossed it into her mouth. Coco’s head popped up and settled on the edge of the tote to watch the commotion.
“Why don’t you explain, Johnny,” Clotile said, turning back to Johnny, who had conveniently edged closer to an emergency exit.
“You’ll shut up, Clotile, if you know what’s good for you.” Johnny took another step toward the exit, but Broussard moved quickly to block the way.
“Like I shut up during the New York deal when the building just happened to burn down right before the price was finalized? Or the Los Angeles deal with the water damage that caused the value to plummet right before the sale closed?”
“You’re walking on thin ice, Clotile,” Johnny warned.
“No.” Clotile stood her ground. “I was walking on thin ice then because I didn’t know what you were up to. I left Chicago because I found out. I didn’t want to be any part of it.”
Johnny turned to Broussard. “She’s never been very stable, especially after a few drinks.”
“Me? Not stable?” Clotile burst into laughter that caused a few to wonder if Johnny had a valid point. “I’m not the one who resorts to drastic measures in order to devalue businesses.”
“I told you to shut up, Clotile.” Johnny hissed. “You don’t want to embarrass Horace in front of all these people, do you?”
“A little late for that,” Sadie whispered to the carnation on her lapel.
Horace swiveled abruptly to face Johnny, his face draining of color. A meatball flew off his plate, which Coco tried to catch without success. “What drastic measures, Johnny?”
Any murmurs that had been floating around ceased as the room fell silent.
“You tell me, Horace,” Johnny said. “You’re the one who just happened to return to town when the only remaining member of your rival family happened to die.”
Lisette stepped in front of Mimi’s photos, as if protecting Mimi from the horrible scene, but kept silent as another voice spoke out.
“How dare you!”
This comment brought the escalating scenario to an abrupt halt. No one had ever heard Bluette raise her voice before. Even Sadie stepped back, stunned.
“My uncle would never hurt anyone, much less Mimi. He loved her!” She turned in a slow circle, making eye contact with everyone in the room as she spoke. “Yes, it’s true. My uncle loved Mimi with all his heart. Our stupid families kept them apart. That’s why he left. Not because he wasn’t devoted to the hotel! He left because his heart was broken.”
“I gotta admit I did not see that one coming, Coco,” Sadie said, shaking her head.
Lisette now lifted her arm and pointed to Johnny. “Then it was you. You’re the one who killed poor Mimi. You slipped into my bakery that morning with the poison. You knew which tart was for her because it had her name on it.”
The murmurs around the room started again, mixed with gasps from more than one guest.
“No,” Clotile said, drawing eyes to her that had moved from Horace to Johnny.
“Clotile?” Lisette said, eyes growing wide. Horace and Bluette also stared.
“No, I mean it wasn’t Johnny,” Clotile said.
“Thank you, Clotile,” Johnny said, earning a hateful gaze from Clotile.
“Johnny never does his own dirty work,” Clotile said. “He always has a sidekick somewhere in the wings.”
“Or in this case…” Sadie spoke up as Broussard’s two officers dragged a figure in handcuffs into the room “…in the garden.”
Again murmurs circled the crowd. Horace, Bluette, Lisette, and Clotile all stared as Sadie walked over to the petite figure dressed in a Cajun Clippers uniform. She calmly removed the person’s cap, sunglasses, and dust mask and then turned to face the room.
“Meet Virginia Moretti,” Sadie said. “Better known here in New Orleans as Gina, the fortune-teller.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Great turnout!” Sadie looked around the crowded interior of Chez Lisette Patisserie, pleased to see how many people had shown up to support the bakery reopening. Locals and tourists alike sipped coffee and chicory. Young and elderly feasted on Lisette’s mouthwatering beignets, cinnamon rolls, and rice fritters.
Clotile nodded, a partially consumed beignet in one hand and a powdered sugar mustache on her upper lip. “Yes. Lisette is thrilled. And it’s so sweet of Bluette to be here
this morning to help her out.”
Sadie took a sip of her café au lait and sighed. “I feel like such a fool for telling that fortune-teller where I was staying. I’ve traveled enough to know it’s wise to be careful about things like that.” A yip of reprimand followed from Coco, whose head and paws hung over the side of the tote bag, nose sniffing the enticing aromas of freshly baked bread and sweets.
“Oh, hush.” Sadie teasingly shushed the Yorkie. “She had you under her spell, too, as soon as she read your paw.”
“You shouldn’t blame yourself,” Clotile said. “You had no way of knowing she was fishing for information. In fact, maybe she wasn’t. Maybe it only occurred to her at the time that you’d make a convenient decoy.”
“She was certainly quite the frail thing, underneath all that gypsy attire,” Sadie mused.
“Light enough to zoom out of an alley on a bicycle,” Clotile noted.
“And to pull off the gardening disguise,” Sadie said. “She sure looked different without that mop of a wig she wore to tell fortunes.”
Looking above the cheerful crowd, Sadie noticed Detective Broussard enter and glance around. Spotting Sadie, he crossed the room to join her.
“Good morning, Ms. Kramer,” the detective said.
“What, no corsage this time?” Sadie quipped. “And are you ever going to call me Sadie instead of Ms. Kramer?”
“Maybe I’ll call you… if I have a question about a case,” Broussard said. “How would you feel about that?”
“I suppose that would be okay.” Sadie hoped her answer sounded light and casual.
“And what if I don’t have a question about a case?” Broussard asked.
Caught off guard, Sadie simply smiled.
“You’re blushing,” Clotile whispered in Sadie’s ear, close enough that Broussard couldn’t overhear.
“I think that would be fine,” Sadie said to Broussard with just a hint of a smile.
Lisette joined them after delivering an order to a table of women nearby.
“I still can’t figure out how you knew the fortune-teller was the killer,” Lisette said.
Sadie held up her arm to display the bracelet of skull beads.
“You knew because of a bracelet?”
“Well, I had a slight suspicion because of an incoming phone call Gina received during our second session. It seemed like the same Chicago area code, but I only saw it briefly before she put the phone away,” Sadie said. “Then when the police showed me the security tape, I didn’t see anything at first. But I asked them to run it again.”
“And again… and again,” Broussard said.
“Which was when I noticed a light spot around the edge of the person’s sleeve,” Sadie continued. “It was too faint to tell what it was at first, but I asked the technician to enlarge the image. That’s when I recognized this bracelet.”
“The one you have on now?” Lisette looked confused.
“Not this exact one!” Sadie laughed. “I’d admired one just like it on Gina’s wrist the first time I went to see her. I found this one later at a shop down the street. I think it’s a good souvenir, don’t you?”
“Quite stylish,” Clotile said. “In a voodoo sort of way.”
“Exactly what I thought,” Sadie said. “I may need to order some for Flair, my fashion boutique. The hip clientele would probably go for them.”
“Any excuse to shop, right?” Clotile said.
“Of course!” Sadie said. “You should see the mugs I picked up at the French Market. I just had to make a trip back there. Coco even has a new dog bowl. She loved the fleur-de-lis pattern so much that she licked it right in front of the vendor.”
“Well, I can see why you bought it.” Clotile laughed.
Horace LeBlanc entered, dressed casually compared to the formal attire he wore for Mimi’s funeral and reception. He ordered at the counter and then joined other hotel workers at a window table.
Lisette excused herself to go greet Horace and make the rounds to greet others.
“It’s nice to see Horace looking more relaxed today,” Clotile said. She took another bite of her beignet, this time brushing away the traces of powdered sugar. Coco attempted to catch the sweet falling powder with her tongue.
Broussard agreed. “I’m sure he’s relieved to be ruled out as the killer. It did seem suspicious that he reappeared in town at the time of the murder. Not that we didn’t have other suspects to investigate.” He looked around the ceiling in an amused manner, avoiding eye contact with Clotile.
Clotile laughed and looked at Sadie. “You suspected me too, didn’t you?”
“Briefly,” Sadie admitted. “It did seem suspicious when you said you were from Chicago since Detective Broussard had pointed out the Chicago area code on the paper Horace dropped.”
“I’m sure he’s glad to have Mimi’s celebration of life event at the hotel over too,” Sadie said. “Especially after all that drama.”
“Drama that I caused,” Clotile admitted. “But I couldn’t stand to see Johnny trying to pull off another one of his schemes. He tried to get me involved with those other projects in New York and Los Angeles. I had to quit, even when he tried to bribe me with large amounts of cash to stay and do his dirty work. Burning down one building and destroying another with water damage? Just to devalue the properties so he could pick them up for a bargain? No, thank you.”
“Well, Gina isn’t as smart or ethical as you are, Clotile,” Sadie pointed out. “Really, resorting to murdering a business’s key person is crazy.”
Broussard nodded. “People can make poor decisions when money is involved. We see it a lot in our line of work.” He turned to Clotile. “But it was good that you blew up at Johnny. It helped us solve the case. Those two will be behind bars for a long time.”
Turning to Sadie, Broussard continued. “And you got it all on tape, which was extremely helpful. Especially when Gina confessed to sneaking into the bakery and your room with the poisoned whipped cream.”
“Well, I did get to wear that lovely corsage in order to do it.” Sadie smiled and then added. “I bet you use that wire-tapping technique all the time, Detective Broussard.”
“Actually, it’s the first time,” Broussard said. “And you’re welcome to call me John.”
Clotile whispered in Sadie’s ear again. “Now he’s blushing.”
“John, as in… Johnny?” Sadie said with a mock frown.
“No.” Broussard laughed. “John as in Jean-Pierre. Our family history here goes back many generations.”
Lisette returned after working her way around the room, thanking people for coming, and refilling coffee. “Everything turned out just fine.” She let out a contented sigh.
“Yes,” Sadie agreed. “You have loyal customers and the support of a great community.”
“We do stick together here in the Big Easy,” Clotile said.
Sadie laughed. “You can all call it the Big Easy if you want. I think I’ll be referring to it as the Big Adventure from now on.” Coco yipped in agreement.
“Well, it’s that too,” Clotile admitted.
“It certainly is in my line of work,” Broussard said. “A day never goes by without some kind of adventure.” He turned to Sadie. “I suspect the same goes for you.”
“I will confess that’s true,” Sadie said.
Lisette held up one finger, indicating she’d be right back. She retreated behind the counter, set a few items on a tray, and returned.
“Beignets and café au lait for all of us,” she said, presenting four steaming cups and a plate of the legendary treats.
Each person took a cup and a beignet. Lisette did the same, setting the tray down and facing the others. Holding up her café au lait, she proclaimed, “To adventure.”
All four cups clicked as Sadie, Broussard, Clotile, and Lisette toasted together.
“To adventure!”
Lisette’s Beignets
Ingredients:
1 cup water
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla
3 cups all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
3 teaspoons sugar
Large pinch nutmeg
4 cups oil for frying
Powdered sugar to dust
Directions:
Mix water, milk, egg, and vanilla.
Sift together dry ingredients and add to wet mixture, mixing well until batter is smooth.
Drop by spoonfuls into hot oil and gently turn until brown and puffy.
Drain beignets on a paper towel and dust with powdered sugar.
Enjoy with your café au lait!
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Sadie Kramer and Coco have a great time on their fictional adventures, but they only manage to do so with the help of very real people.
I owe heartfelt thanks to Annie Sarac at The Editing Pen for polishing up the rough edges of A Flair for Beignets. Keri Knutson of Alchemy Book Covers and Design deserves a round of applause for the lively, colorful covers that grace all the Sadie Kramer Flair Mysteries. Formatting credit goes to Tara Meyers. Beta readers Jay Garner, Louise Martens, Tara Meyers, and Carol Anderson all provided insight into story development. And Paul Sterrett deserves a medal of patience for enduring my daily chatter about the plot for months on end.
If you're looking to enjoy some delicious beignets just like Sadie and her New Orleans friends do in this story, put on your patisserie hat and have some fun. The beignet recipe provided is courtesy of Keri Knutson, who not only works magic with graphic design but also knows her way around the kitchen.
As always, I'm grateful for the support of amazing family, friends, and readers in my life. Their encouragement is what allows Sadie and Coco to enjoy a world of mystery.
A Flair for Beignets (The Sadie Kramer Flair Mysteries Book 3) Page 14
