Cake on a Hot Tin Roof (23 page)

Violet’s posture grew rigid. “Who told you that?”

I shrugged. “I don’t remember. Did Big Daddy ever say anything about her cheating on him?”

“No,” Violet admitted reluctantly. “But I wouldn’t be surprised. If you ask me, she probably killed him. She’s a real piece of work.”

I couldn’t disagree with that. “What about Big Daddy’s relationship with his brother? What was going on between them?”

“Judd?” Violet seemed surprised by the change of direction.

I nodded. “Big Daddy threatened to send him to rehab the night he died. Do you know why?”

Her gaze flickered away from mine for a moment. “That’s not true. He would never have done that.”

“But he did,” I insisted.

Her gaze locked on mine. “Big Daddy would never have done that,” she insisted. “He worried about Judd. He took care of Judd. Big Daddy risked everything for him—” She cut herself off abruptly, eyes wide as if she’d said too much.

I felt a slow flush of excitement. “How so?”

Violet stood, shaking her head angrily.

“What did he risk, Violet?”

She came out from behind the desk and opened the door. “Your five minutes is up. Please leave. I have work to do.” I was disappointed but I wasn’t going to argue with her. I knew I’d struck a nerve and I was leaving with more than I’d had when I came in. I stood and walked toward the door, thinking back over everything I’d learned in the past week. Susannah had given Big Daddy an ultimatum last Friday evening at the party. She told him he had to make things right with Percy before the end of the night. A few hours later, Big Daddy told Judd that he was through covering for him and threatened to send him to rehab. I didn’t think that was a coincidence. “Just one more question,” I said. “Who gets all of this now that Big Daddy’s gone?”

Fear and anger rippled across her expression, but they were gone in a flash. “As far as I know, Susannah inherits everything as his widow.”

Thirty-four

“Susannah did it,” I told Gabriel an hour later at the Dizzy Duke. “I know she did. I just can’t prove it. Yet.”

It was the dinner hour and the bar was nearly empty, which meant that he had time to talk. He leaned on the bar in front of me and listened while I sipped a Diet Coke and laid out my theory. “She found out about his affair with Violet. Big Daddy was going to leave her, but she couldn’t let him do that. She’d have lost everything. With him dead, she gets it all. And she accused my uncle to throw suspicion off of herself.”

It was nice and tidy, all the loose ends tucked in neatly, and I was proud of myself for piecing it together on my own.

Gabriel didn’t look so sure. “So she picked up a statue and whacked him with it?”

“It was what she had. A crime of passion. I don’t think she planned it, or she’d have brought her own murder weapon along.”

“Why not wait until they got home?”

“Duh! Because then it would have been obvious. She saw an opportunity to pin the murder on a stranger, and she grabbed it.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes toward the ceiling for a moment, then looked at me again and shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t buy it.”

“What’s not to buy? It’s what happened.”

He shook his head again and straightened up, reaching for a couple of dirty glasses someone had left on the bar. “First of all, you’re assuming that Violet’s telling you the truth. How do you know she is? How do you know Big Daddy really planned on leaving his wife? Do you have anyone else’s word to back that up?”

Okay. He had a point there. Big Daddy hadn’t seemed all that interested in Violet when I saw them together. Was there any truth at all in her claim?

I’d give Gabriel that one. “No, but if it’s true, I’m sure someone will be able to corroborate her story. Why else would Violet and Susannah have argued?”

“I can think of at least half a dozen reasons off the top of my head. One, Violet knew that Susannah was cheating on Big Daddy. You know how protective she was of him. Maybe she got in Susannah’s face over that. Or two, maybe Big Daddy told Violet that he
wasn’t
going to leave Susannah.” He ticked off his ideas on his fingers as he went. “Three, maybe Susannah broke Violet’s fingernail or Violet accidentally bumped into Susannah. I’ve seen people go after each other over less, especially when booze is involved.”

I made a face at him. “Funny. Okay, I’ll grant you the first two, but this was about more than a fingernail or a misstep.” I pushed the picture across the bar toward him, a visual reminder of the incident in question. “Look at their faces.”

He glanced. Shrugged. “That doesn’t prove anything. You take that idea to the police, they’re going to laugh you out of the building. You don’t have a single piece of real evidence to prove your theory.”

So he had another point. So what? “At least it might convince the police to scratch Uncle Nestor off their list for good so he can go home.” They’d been in New Orleans a week already and Uncle Nestor was getting antsy. I hoped that getting back to the restaurant and their own house might help the two of them patch things up.

Gabriel wiped something from the bar and tossed the rag into the sink behind him. “What makes you think they haven’t already considered the wife as a suspect? You know what they say. The spouse is always the first person they look at. If the police haven’t arrested her, it’s probably because they’ve eliminated her as a suspect.”

And just like that, my heart dropped to the floor. I hated to admit it, but he was right. “Fine then,” I said grudgingly. “Who do you think did it?”

He shook his head and grinned at me as if we were playing a game. “I have no idea,
chérie.
If you ask me, the best thing you can do is to back off.”

“Not while Uncle Nestor is still a suspect.” I propped my chin in my hand and ran through my own list of potential killers once again. “How about Judd Boudreaux? In financial trouble and threatened with a stint in rehab. Did he kill his own brother, either because he couldn’t pay him back or to avoid being locked up in a detox center for a few weeks?”

Gabriel shook his head. “I don’t buy it. I’ve known Judd for years. He’s a mess, but he’s not violent.”

“You didn’t see his face when I was at his house the other night.” Gabriel gave me a
didn’t I warn you?
look, which I ignored. “Judd stays on the list, at least for now. What about Percy Ponter?”

“As far as I can see,” Gabriel said thoughtfully, “he doesn’t even have a motive.”

“Oh, he does,” I insisted. “I just don’t know what it is yet. Whatever was going on between him and Big Daddy, nobody’s talking about it. And that makes me think it must have been something big.”

“Okay, but Susannah’s off the list, right?”

“Not even close,” I said. “And let’s not forget about Tyson. Maybe he wanted Big Daddy out of the way so his girlfriend would inherit all that money. And, of course, Violet,” I went on. “She’s capable of murder, even if she didn’t have a reason to commit one.”

Gabriel laughed and walked away to help another customer. When he came back, he put a fresh Diet Coke in front of me and changed the subject. “You still want that introduction to Ivanka Hedge?”

Thoughts of murder melted away like a mouthful of meringue. “Are you kidding me? Of course!”

“All right then. If you’ll drop all this murder business, you can go with me to the Musterion Ball. Interested?”

Wow. I had to think about that for a few minutes. It was short notice, but it was also a chance to land a contract for Ivanka’s wedding cake and that was huge. But by asking me to stop looking into Big Daddy’s death, he was asking me to turn my back on Uncle Nestor.

I chewed my thumbnail for a moment, torn between the biggest opportunity that had come my way professionally and the biggest trouble to hit my family since my cousin Julio told us he’d gotten his girlfriend pregnant.

“Are you in or out?” Gabriel asked. “Make up your mind now or the invitation’s gone.”

“Hey! That’s not fair. Give me a minute.”

“Who cares about fair? You asked me for a favor. I’m willing to do it, but you’ve got to do me a favor in return. Stop poking around in this murder investigation before you get yourself killed.”

When he put it that way, what else could I do? I smiled my most agreeable smile and lied through my teeth. “All right,” I said. “You win. It’s a deal.”

He picked me up Saturday evening, just like a real date, and I don’t mind admitting that seeing him on my front porch in a tux made me sit up and pay attention. He cleaned up even better than I’d expected him to, and I’d had some pretty high expectations to begin with.

Aunt Yolanda had helped me get ready, which was a good thing, since I’m fashion-challenged. I’d picked up a silk chiffon A-line dress with spaghetti straps and pleating in the front. It was cut so low I felt exposed and vulnerable, but the look in Gabriel’s eyes when he saw me made it worth a little discomfort.

Aunt Yolanda and Uncle Nestor greeted him together, which I took as a good sign. They both seemed charmed by his easy smile and laid-back personality, but I wondered if Uncle Nestor would have something snarky to say later.

Gabriel and I made the short trip to the historic Belle Grande Hotel and walked together through the lobby, just like a real couple. Chatter from groups of people in formal evening dress rose and fell all around us, the cacophony of sounds amplified by the hotel’s high gilt-edged ceilings. The hotel is a beautiful place, all glitter and opulence—the perfect venue for a formal ball during carnival season.

We walked what felt like two miles through the hotel to the escalator leading to the brilliantly lit mezzanine, where the party seemed to be in full swing already. I waved to Miss Frankie, who was laughing with Bernice and a few other friends across the room. I’d called to tell her that I’d be coming to the ball with Gabriel, and she’d seemed delighted with the idea…but I could tell it was hard for her to think of me moving on with my life. She still held on to the belief that Philippe and I would have gotten back together, had he lived. But I was in no real hurry to get involved, and I knew that she’d come around eventually.

Gabriel seemed to know everyone, and to my surprise, everyone seemed to know him. I wondered how he’d come to be so comfortable in a social class that I’d pretty much automatically assumed was as far over his head as it was mine. My old insecurities rose up to lodge in my throat for a moment, but I shoved them aside. I was going to have a good time tonight.

I still didn’t feel like I belonged here, but I had to at least learn to fake it. If I couldn’t do that, I’d never make Zydeco a success.

Squaring my shoulders and holding my head high, I walked with Gabriel through the crowd. I smiled at people I recognized and indulged in so much small talk, I thought my head would burst. At last, I spotted Ivanka Hedge and her fiancé, Richard Montgomery, a few feet from where we stood. They weren’t alone; it took me a few seconds to realize that the couple with them was Susannah Boudreaux and her brother-in-law, Judd. I felt a flash of disappointment I couldn’t entirely explain, and I thought Judd looked a little uncomfortable when our eyes met. Hovering a few feet away and trying to look discreet, Tyson looked on with storm clouds in his eyes.

Gabriel put his hand on the small of my back and steered me toward them. He greeted the women by kissing their cheeks and spent a few seconds shaking hands and slapping backs with the men. To my surprise, Judd seemed almost sober—or at least not too drunk yet. Susannah seemed unpleasantly surprised to see me there, but she greeted me with a nod before pointedly ignoring me.

My ears were buzzing, but I couldn’t tell if it was because I was nervous about meeting Ivanka and Richard, or if some sixth sense was telling me to beware. I decided on the former, if only because I couldn’t figure out where Susannah would have hidden a weapon in the slinky black gown she wore.

Gabriel officially introduced me to Ivanka and Richard. She gave me a cool hello and a limp-wristed handshake. Richard greeted me more warmly, and even asked me a few questions about Zydeco. And then it was over. Ivanka turned away from me as if I was of no more interest to her than a gnat, and I wondered for a minute why I’d wanted to make her wedding cake in the first place.

I thought about Big Daddy’s advice the night of my party. I could almost hear his big, booming voice when he said, “You can make yourself crazy chasin’ after people who don’t give two hoots about you. Don’t do it. Just relax. Be yourself. That’s what I do.” And I realized that in spite of all his faults, he might have been right about that.

Gabriel glanced down at me and grinned as if he understood my disappointment. “Got what you wanted?”

“Yeah,” I fibbed. “Thanks.” And then I turned my attention to more important matters. I nodded toward Susannah and hissed in his ear, “What’s she doing here? Shouldn’t she be somewhere pretending to mourn or something?”

Gabriel’s smile vanished. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything,” I assured him. “It just seems a little odd, don’t you think? Her husband’s barely in the ground and she’s partying—with his
brother
. What’s up with that?”

Gabriel tugged me a few feet away from their cozy little group. “It’s Mardi Gras. You’re not from around here. You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re right,” I said, making a face. “I don’t get it. I’m not sure I want to. What do you think is up with the two of them?”

Gabriel shook his head and propelled me a few more feet away. “You promised. No more with the murder.”

“I lied.” He rolled his eyes in exasperation, and I said, “Oh, come on, Gabriel. That little nothing introduction was hardly worth the price.”

“You,” he said, “cannot be trusted.” And then he pulled me into his arms and swept me out onto the dance floor.

It was a brilliant move on his part. I didn’t think about the murder again for hours.