Rebel Without a Cake (5 page)

Ox experienced an abrupt change of mind about talking to Edie. He shouted a few choice words at her and stormed back to his truck. I thought he'd been in a bad mood before, but that was nothing compared to this. I had a feeling it would take a while for him to cool down.

The weight of the world landed squarely on my shoulders. Ox wasn't the only one on my staff who looked ready to commit murder. The last thing I needed right now, with the biggest contract of my career on the line, was a civil war. I needed them all to pull together and get along. But if the stone-cold expressions on all their faces were any indication, the hostilities had already begun.

I was frustrated and exhausted when I pulled back onto Miss Frankie's street an hour later. I'd done my best to negotiate peace with the staff, but I'd failed. Ox had continued to give Edie another very loud, very angry piece of his mind, and Isabeau had done the same. Neither of them had seemed to care that Edie wasn't really listening.

Estelle had sympathized with Edie one moment, then joined the outrage brigade the next. Sparkle had glowered at Edie while alternately chewing her fingernails to nubs and defending her brother.

River had shown up a few minutes after the others left, and that was when things got really hairy. Edie had read him the riot act for failing to show up for her phony labor. River had done his best to explain that he'd been in a meeting, but Edie hadn't stopped talking long enough for him to get out a whole sentence.

I wondered what kind of meeting River had been in late on a Friday night. I liked him, but he was still a mystery. The middle of the hospital parking lot didn't seem like the right place to satisfy my curiosity, though.

Eventually, River had convinced Edie to go with him to talk things out, and Sparkle had tagged along, leaving me on my own to think about what had just happened. I wasn't looking forward to going to work tomorrow morning. My staff members are all eccentric and mulish, and I had no idea how to get them to move forward as a team after Edie's ill-advised trial run. I just knew that the bad feelings from tonight would spill over into the workplace—just in time for Evangeline Delahunt to pick up on them.

Still pondering options for soothing ruffled feathers, I drew up in front of Bernice's dark house. I turned off the car and sat there for a moment, trying to mentally switch gears. I was annoyed with Miss Frankie for lying to me about the Vintage Clothing Society contract situation, but I was also concerned about Bernice. It wasn't her fault that Miss Frankie had manipulated me.

I'd called Miss Frankie on my way from the hospital. She'd assured me that they were both safe and sound. Bernice was still at her house and the two of them were having cocoa and watching TV.

Maybe I should have been satisfied with that, but Bernice had seemed so certain that she'd seen a man outside her window. Her fright had been real. If I could find evidence of a prowler, maybe it would help calm her down. At least she'd know that she'd seen a live human being, even if she didn't know who he was.

Now that I knew both women were carrying guns, I was a little nervous about skulking around in the dark without letting them know I was there, but I decided to take the chance. If I told them what I was planning, they'd probably decide to join me. I didn't think that would help. Besides, if there was any evidence there, three people searching together could easily obliterate it.

Grabbing the flashlight from the glove box, I climbed out into the night. The wind had died down a bit, and the temperature had dropped by several degrees. Cool temperatures and low humidity. It was the best kind of night if you ask me. To me this was T-shirt weather, but here in New Orleans many people bundled up on nights like this to ward off the frigid temperatures. It's all a matter of perspective, I guess.

I checked to make sure the coast was clear, then hurried up Bernice's driveway and lifted the latch on her back gate. Thankfully, I'd been here a few times, so her yard wasn't completely unfamiliar to me.

I waited until I was inside the yard with the gate closed before I turned on the flashlight. It gave enough light for me to see my shoes, but not enough to see more than a few inches in front of my face. Maybe this was a bad idea. It would take forever to go over the whole backyard, but I reasoned that if someone had been looking in Bernice's window, I could confine my search to the area closest to the house.

Walking slowly and carefully, I made my way around one of Bernice's many flower gardens. I kept the flashlight trained on the ground and looked for footprints in the soft dirt or any place where the grass might be matted down. Maybe Miss Frankie was right about neighborhood kids out for a good time. Or maybe Bernice's visitor had a more criminal reason for prowling around her house. Whatever the answer, I was sure it wasn't the spirit of Bernice's dearly departed uncle, and I wanted to prove that to her.

Bernice's house sits on a slight hill, making it one story in the front and two in the back. I swept the flashlight across the first-story windows and the lower deck. To my relief, I didn't see any broken glass or other signs of a break-in on the ground floor.

I played the light over the deck steps to make sure they were clear then started climbing. The planks creaked beneath my feet, and I wondered if the noise was loud enough for someone inside the house to hear. Probably not, I decided, especially if Bernice had the TV or radio on.

From somewhere nearby a dog barked, startling me, and I almost lost my grip on the flashlight. I didn't want the neighbors to see me snooping around and call the authorities (or come after me with guns) so I turned off the flashlight and relied on the moon to guide my steps.

Without the light, I felt unprotected and vulnerable. A branch scratched against the side of the house, and a chill raced up my spine. I was being fanciful. There's no such thing as ghosts. But for a moment, I understood why Bernice had been so frightened earlier.

As I reached the upper deck, a cloud drifted across the moon and I lost my bearings in the darkness. My foot hit something solid and I lost my balance. I windmilled my arms, trying to stay on my feet, but I landed with a
whomp
,
half
of me on the top step, the other half sprawled on the deck
.
The flashlight flew out of my hand, hit the deck, and rolled.

I wasn't seriously hurt, but I was majorly annoyed. I didn't want to leave the flashlight behind. I'd need it once I got back on the ground. After falling, I was leery of going back down the stairs in the dark, and walking around on the deck was sure to be risky. Bernice was an avid gardener. Every time I'd been here, I'd seen gardening tools, plastic flats emptied of their flowers, and other gardening implements spread out over her deck, never in the same place twice. I didn't want to trip over something while I looked for the flashlight.

I had no idea which direction the flashlight had gone, so I slowly crawled around and felt my way. I picked up a splinter in my palm, swore under my breath, and changed direction. My fingers brushed up against something solid . . . and hairy.

My heart leaped into my throat and I jerked my hand away, barely holding back a scream. I scooted back a few inches and squinted into the shadows, wishing Bernice had left on a light so I could see what was on the deck with me.

I heard claws on the wood flooring and prayed that I wasn't alone in the dark with a possum. Those things scare me to death with their pointy noises and sharp teeth. The critter bumped my arm with its head and a tentative purr wiped away my nerves.

Laughing softly, I scratched the cat's head. It leapt onto the window ledge, its silhouette looming in the moonlight, then rejoined me on the deck, nudging my hand for more attention. I was so happy it wasn't a possum—or a ghost—I gave in to the petting. I wondered if I'd found Bernice's intruder. It wasn't a huge cat, but if you combined the element of surprise with the distortion of wind and shadow, the cat might have looked like a guy with a beard. “Well, friend,” I said as I rubbed its fur, “who are you? Did you frighten the lady who lives here earlier? That wasn't polite, you know.”

The cat didn't seem to care. It nudged up against me for a few more minutes before deciding it had had enough. With a twitch of its tail, it jumped onto the deck rail and strolled away. I laughed again and resumed the search for my flashlight. It was so late now, I decided to tell Bernice about the cat tomorrow. But I knew she'd be relieved at the very simple and logical explanation, and so would Miss Frankie.

*   *   *

A few minutes before eight on Saturday morning, I pulled into the parking lot at Zydeco. It had taken me another fifteen minutes the night before to find my flashlight, but I'd finally made it home and crawled into bed around one. I could have slept all day, but Evangeline Delahunt was giving up part of her weekend to meet with me. That's what had finally convinced me to get out of bed.

I didn't know what I'd find when I walked through the door this morning, but I hoped that everyone had thought about their behavior and had come to some grown-up conclusions. I hoped that Ox would keep his opinions to himself while Evangeline was in the building, and that Edie had seen the error of her ways. And I prayed that everyone else was in a forgiving mood. And for world peace and the end of human trafficking. I thought I might as well go for broke while I was asking for the impossible.

Zydeco is housed in a renovated antebellum house on the edge of the Garden District. It was built before the Civil War, but the only historical pictures I knew of were taken around the turn of the last century. At some point, someone had removed part of the extensive gardens to make an employee parking lot and build a loading dock onto the back of the house, but otherwise, it looks much like it did back when.

The day had dawned cool and sunny, and I'd have loved to do something fun outside in the glorious weather, but I needed to do what I could to prepare before my meeting with Evangeline Delahunt. Normally I'd have used the time to sketch out a few ideas for the cake, but this was an unusual situation. Edie hadn't set the appointment, so I didn't have the benefit of the extensive notes that usually accompanied my first meeting with a new client. I had no idea what kind of cake Mrs. Delahunt would want, what kind of menu she had in mind, how many people she needed to serve, or her personal likes and dislikes.

The lack of information made me a bit edgy. I don't like walking into a meeting at a disadvantage. On my way to work I'd decided the best use of my limited time would be to read up on the Crescent City Vintage Clothing Society. At least I'd know something about it and its history when Mrs. Delahunt arrived.

Trying not to anticipate the worst from my staff, I climbed the loading dock steps and let myself into the design room. Even on my worst days, this area can cheer me up. With its high ceiling and huge windows overlooking the remaining gardens, it's cheerful and sunny. Philippe had painted each of the walls in a different color using hues of gold, fuchsia, teal, and lime. That had been one of my ideas, by the way. What can I say? The use of bright, sunny colors is part of my Mexican heritage, and the color and creative chaos in this space fed my soul.

At least it usually did.

Today, the tension in the design room was so thick you'd have needed a butcher knife to cut it. I took one look at everyone's sullen faces and decided to talk to Edie first. If I could sort things out with her, maybe I could make headway with the rest of my very pissed-off staff.

I waved to Sparkle and Estelle, who were huddled together in Sparkle's corner—the one that never catches the sunlight—whispering about something. I hoped they were discussing work, but they both looked so guilty I suspected they were complaining about Edie and our ill-fated run to the hospital.

Dwight was pulling his beard guard over his whiskers and hair to protect his work from fallout, and Ox sat alone at his workstation sketching something. That was unusual, since Ox and Isabeau usually arrived together and spent a few minutes running over the daily calendar while they had their first cups of coffee.

“Where's Isabeau?” I asked him. “Is she sick today?”

He shook his head without looking up. “She'll be in later. Said she had something to take care of.” He flicked a glance at me, but didn't actually make eye contact. “That a problem?”

Well . . . kind of. If she'd had an appointment, she should have run it past me first, but after last night I wasn't going to say so. Sometimes you have to pick your battles. “It's fine with me as long as the work gets done. What's on the schedule for today?”

He shrugged and pushed the calendar across the table. “See for yourself. What time is your meeting?”

“Evangeline is supposed to be here at ten,” I said. If we were talking about any other client, I would have asked him for ideas and invited him to sit in on the consult, but he'd made it clear how he felt about the job last night, and I wasn't in the mood to deal with his negative attitude or go down that road again. “I expect it should take an hour or so. After that, I'll work on the pumpkin cauldron for the Howard family reunion cake.”

The Howards had commissioned a Halloween-themed cake for their annual get-together at the end of the month. We'd designed a three-tier tilted cake painted with spooky trees and a full moon, rimmed by a chocolate path that climbed up the tiers to the top of the cake. The path would be edged by fallen leaves, tiny pumpkins, and wooden signs made from fondant and gum paste. Each sign would bear the name of a family member from the oldest living generation. We planned to top the cake with a large jack-o'-lantern, its “lid” shifted to let a witch's brew of chocolate spill out to create the path. I was in charge of making all the fondant items. I'd already assembled two dozen tiny pumpkins and boxes full of colorful autumn leaves, so the large jack-o'-lantern was the only thing left on my list.