Rebel Without a Cake (7 page)

I finished up with Evangeline Delahunt as quickly as I could. She promised to have the decoration committee chair call me, and I said again that I'd draw up some sketches and make another appointment with her when I had them ready. I just hoped she would call her decorator pronto. We couldn't afford to lose a single day.

By daylight Miss Frankie's neighborhood looked festive and ready for Halloween. Corn husks and jack-o'-lanterns decorated sidewalks and porches. Fall wreaths hung on doors. A couple of neighbors had even created faux graveyards on their lawns.

Bernice must have been watching for me because she opened the door and stepped out onto the porch before my car stopped moving. The moment I got close enough, she grabbed my arm and tugged me to the far side of the porch. “I
told
you I didn't want anybody to know what happened last night,” she scolded in a harsh stage whisper.

I pulled my arm away gently. “I didn't say a word,” I assured her. “I have no idea what's going on, but I'll find out. Where are they?”

“In the living room,” Bernice said with a nod toward the door. I hurried inside and she trailed behind me. As we passed the kitchen, I said, “Stay here. I'll come back when they're gone.”

I was a little surprised that she obeyed me without arguing. I could hear soft voices as I walked down the hallway, but that still didn't prepare me for what I saw when I stepped into the room.

Isabeau sat on Bernice's giant leather sofa next to a tall black woman wearing a white turban, tiny oval-shaped sunglasses, and a black sundress sprinkled with yellow flowers. If it hadn't been for the small bones on a jute string she held in one hand, the woman would have looked perfectly normal.

Isabeau grinned when she saw me, and I flashed back to the night before at the Dizzy Duke. I hadn't meant to lie to Bernice a moment ago; I'd honestly forgotten that I'd told the group about Bernice's visitor. I'd also forgotten Isabeau's claim that she knew a way to help. Oops.

My stomach dropped and guilt settled on me like a pile of rocks, along with a sprinkle of outrage. “What in the hell are you doing here?” I demanded.

Isabeau popped up from the couch and bounced across the room to hug me. “I told you I knew someone who could help. Don't you remember?”

“I do now. Who is this?”

She turned back to her companion with a flourish. “This is Mambo Odessa, Ox's aunt.”

You could have knocked me over with a feather. Ox had an aunt who was a voodoo priestess? I offered Mambo Odessa a friendly sort of smile. After all, this wasn't her fault, and I didn't want to get on the bad side of someone who walked around town carrying bones.

“I didn't realize Ox even had an aunt,” I said, “much less one who dabbles in voodoo.”

Mambo Odessa's mouth curved down at the edges. “I do not ‘dabble,' as you put it,” she said. “And there's no need to worry. I only use my connection to the spirits for good.”

Had she read my mind, or had she overheard what Bernice said to me? Either way, I hoped her definition of “good” and mine were the same. I assured her that I believed her and turned back to Isabeau. “Why didn't you tell me what you were planning to do?”

“Because you're busy. There's that big new contract and all. And you had the meeting with Evangeline Delahunt this morning. I didn't want to bother you when I could just do this myself.”

“But you shouldn't have done
this
at all. You scared Bernice half to death, and now she thinks I've been blabbing about what happened last night to anyone who would listen.”

Tears welled in Isabeau's usually bright blue eyes. “But you
did
tell me about it, and you didn't say that it was a secret.”

“Because it never occurred to me that you'd do something like this.” My conscience gave me a sharp prod, and this time I decided to listen. Isabeau wasn't to blame. I'm the one who broke my promise to Bernice. This was my fault alone.

I sighed and rubbed at the knots of tension that were forming in my neck. “You're right, Isabeau. I'm sorry. I apologize to you, too, Mambo Odessa. It's my fault you've wasted your time this morning.” Keeping my voice down so that Odessa wouldn't overhear, I asked Isabeau, “Does Ox know you're here?”

Isabeau glanced at Odessa and smiled sheepishly. “No way. I didn't want Ox to find out what we were doing. He doesn't like this kind of thing. So the two of us met for coffee this morning and rode over here together.”

Mambo Odessa rose majestically and came to stand by me. “We'll leave now. But you should be careful, my girl. There's trouble in your future.”

News flash: There was trouble in my present. I didn't want to offend her, especially since I already had trouble with Ox, but I couldn't pretend to believe in what she did either. “Thanks,” I said, “but I could have told you that.”

“Your friend here is headed for trouble, too. She got some old things coming back to haunt her.”

I might have been impressed if Isabeau obviously hadn't already told Mambo about Bernice's Uncle Cooch sighting last night. “I'll make sure to warn her.”

Mambo Odessa smiled. “You think I'm a fraud, but you'll find out I'm not. Somebody wants something from that lady and you have to help her. She doesn't have anybody else.”

Another good guess, but anybody could have put those pieces together. Bernice thought she saw her dead uncle. When in trouble, she'd called me. A plus B equals C. As for me being all she had, that wasn't entirely accurate, but I saw no reason to mention Bernice's nephew Bernie and his family. Bernie was nice enough, but he wasn't the kind of guy who'd hold up well if confronted by the spirit of Uncle Cooch.

“Got it,” I said. “I hate to seem rude, but I really have to ask both of you to leave.”

Mambo Odessa took a step. “Be careful, child. You're going to uncover some secrets you may not want to know about. You're going to uncover some things others don't want you to know about. You watch your back, hear?” And then, pressing a business card into my hand, she smiled softly. “When you need me, call.”

I mumbled something noncommittal and motioned for Isabeau to join us. “I know you're trying to help, Isabeau, but I'm really in hot water with Bernice. You guys need to go.”

She looked disappointed, but she led Mambo Odessa out the front door and I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn't know what to make of Mambo Odessa's parting comments, but I didn't waste time thinking about them. I had to make sure Bernice was still speaking to me.

I found her at the kitchen table sipping sweet tea. She seemed all right, but I had a major apology to offer and some groveling to do.

“I'm so sorry,” I said as I sat down beside her. “I did open my big mouth last night. I just had no idea Isabeau would do something like this.”

Bernice ran a finger along the side of her glass, leaving a clear streak in the condensation. “You promised you wouldn't say anything.”

“I know. I just—”
No excuses
, my conscience whispered. It sounded a whole lot like Aunt Yolanda, and I knew it was right. “I screwed up. Big-time. Can you forgive me?”

Bernice looked at me for a long time. “I suppose there was no real harm done. I just hope Polly Ebersol didn't see them. She's as sweet as she can be, but she can't keep a thing to herself. I know it's not her fault really. She's been lonely since her husband died. When she finds someone to talk to, she just can't stop herself.”

I bit back a smile. “Well, I'm sure that even if Polly saw them, it will be okay. Everybody knows you don't believe in voodoo, and if it helps, Mambo Odessa says she only uses her spirit connections for good.”

Bernice wiped her wet finger on a napkin. “Well, of course she'd say that. It's what you wanted to hear.”

“She said a few things I didn't want to hear,” I said. I hadn't really believed Mambo Odessa, but the fact that she was Ox's aunt stirred up some weird kind of protectiveness in me. My own version of the six degrees of separation game, I guess. “Anyway, they're gone and they won't be back.”

“Well, good. Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?” I asked. “Are you okay?”

Bernice shrugged one shoulder. “Oh, I'm fine. Or I will be. Having that woman in my house stirred up some old memories—ones I'd rather leave behind.”

Uh-oh. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“No. Not really.” Bernice stared at her glass for a heartbeat or two and then let out a big sigh. “It's funny how things from your childhood never really leave you, you know?”

I nodded but I don't think she saw me. Her eyes had taken on a faraway look.

“Maybe it's just because I saw Uncle Cooch last night—or thought I did. He was a lot of fun when he was alive, but there were times when he scared me a bit. He believed in all those old swamp superstitions, especially those about fishing and hunting. He absolutely believed in the rougarou, and sometimes he'd tell us bedtime stories about it.”

She'd lost me. “The what?”

“The rougarou.” Bernice shuddered and linked her hands together. “It's a creature of the swamp that's a cross between . . . oh, probably Big Foot and a werewolf. Uncle Cooch used the rougarou to keep us kids in line. He didn't like for us to break the rules.”

So he'd used some hideous creature to frighten them into obedience. I took an instant dislike to Uncle Cooch. “Good thing Aunt Yolanda didn't know about the rougarou when I was a girl,” I said with a grin. “I was so angry about my parents' accident, I made sure to break as many rules as I could get away with for a while.”

Bernice smiled, but her eyes still seemed far away. I tried another tack. “Does that mean you grew up in the swamp, too?”

“I sure did. Little bitty town out in Terrebonne Parish called Baie Rebelle.”

“Rebel Bay?”

Bernice nodded. “I could hunt and fish with the best of them when I was a girl. Even beat my cousin Eskil one year in the catfish contest.” She smiled at the memory. “But that was a long time ago. I haven't touched a pole in years.”

“What brought you to New Orleans?”

She laughed. “I got married. What else?” She looked around her kitchen and let out a yelp. “Gracious! Where are my manners? Would you like some sweet tea? I brewed some fresh this morning. Or I can stir up some lemonade in a blink.”

I said that tea would be fine and she poured me a glass.

“I suppose you think I've lost my mind, don't you?” she said as she put the glass on the table.

“No! Not at all. I'm sure you saw something last night. As a matter of fact, I came back to look around and found a cat on your deck. It seemed pretty comfortable. Maybe it jumped up on the window—”

“That was no cat,” Bernice said with a scowl. “It was my uncle Cooch, plain as day. But please don't repeat that to Frances Mae. She's already convinced I'm seeing things.”

After betraying her confidence last night, I was determined to avoid a repeat performance. “I won't say a word,” I promised. “To anyone.”

“So you came back last night,” she said after a moment. “Does that mean you believe me?”

“I believe you saw something,” I said. “I thought that if I could find footprints or some other physical evidence of neighborhood kids pulling Halloween pranks, it would set your mind at ease.”

“And did you?”

“Well, no. But that doesn't mean there wasn't someone here.”

She sighed again and took a drink. “I appreciate you checking, baby. Really, I do. I know how crazy it all sounds. What I saw simply couldn't have been Uncle Cooch, but I don't have any other explanation for it.” She winked at me as she put her glass on the bar. “I'll just have to pray extra hard tonight, won't I?”

“Would you feel better if you weren't alone? I'm sure Miss Frankie would let you stay with her again if you want to.” I didn't doubt my mother-in-law's hospitality for a moment, and besides, it was my turn to volunteer her for something without asking. She owed me at least a dozen times over.

Bernice shook her head. “Oh no, honey. I'll be just fine. But if I do get nervous, I'll give Frances Mae a call.”

She seemed calmer and her nostalgia had faded, so I stood to leave. As I did, the phone shrilled. The harsh ring in the quiet house startled us both.

Bernice let out a chirp and one hand flew to her throat. Her eyes flashed to the phone uncertainly. “Excuse me for a minute, won't you, dear? Let me see who that is.”

Okay, so maybe she was still a bit nervous. Besides, it seemed rude to slip out while she was on the phone, so I wandered into the dining room to give Bernice some privacy and sent Ox a text letting him know I'd be back soon. Just as I pressed Send, Bernice let out a cry of alarm and the phone dropped with a clatter onto something hard.