The Cakes of Wrath (10 page)

Scotty nodded. “I called her this morning. She'll be here in a couple of days.” He swiped his cheek with the back of his hand. “Destiny was such a sweet little thing when she was little. Even-tempered. Obedient. So full of life. I don't know all that happened, but she sure had to navigate some rough seas in her lifetime. Then she finally decided to get herself on the right course and this happened. I don't get it. Why her? Why now?”

“I wish I knew,” I said. “Sometimes there are no answers.” I knew it would hit hard when he learned the truth about her apparent relapse, but I decided to leave the subject of Destiny's drug use for now. “I don't want to pry, but doesn't it seem odd that someone tries to run me down one night, and Destiny dies of an overdose less than forty-eight hours later?”

Zora turned quickly, dropping a spoon into the sink. “Surely you don't think the two things are connected?”

“I don't know how they could be,” I admitted, “but the timing makes me wonder. Can you think of anyone in the neighborhood with an axe to grind, maybe over the alliance?”

Moose lifted his eyes slowly. “You think whoever tried to hit you is connected to the alliance?”

“It's possible,” I said. “It's really the only connection between Destiny and me.”

Zora put one hand on her chest. “Do you think someone is after all of us?”

I didn't want to ignore a potential threat, but neither did I want to start a full-scale panic. “What if the driver of the van wasn't aiming at me on Monday night? What if the same person showed up this morning at the Chopper Shop expecting to find someone else?”

Moose stared at me without blinking. “Like me? You think somebody meant to hurt me?” The quiet man I'd come to expect disappeared right in front of my eyes. Moose shot up, knocking over his chair and slamming his massive fist on the table. “You think somebody killed Destiny because of me?”

“I didn't exactly say that—” Okay. Sure. That's what I'd been thinking, but his anger made me a little nervous.

“It was that asshat with the blown clutch,” he said to Scotty. “What was his name? I'll kill him with my bare hands.”

Scotty hooked an arm over the back of his chair. “John. Or Jack. Last name started with an S.”

“Wait!” I said, raising my voice a notch. “It's just a theory. I might be completely off base.”
Please don't run out and rip somebody in half
. I looked to Zora for help, but she was clearly shell-shocked.

“Or that other guy,” Moose said. “The one I caught hitting on Destiny last week. Or that little pissant from Second Chances. Keon. That kid's nothing but trouble.”

That got my attention. “Keon Fisher?”

Moose looked at me as if he'd forgotten I was in the room. “Yeah. That's him.”

“You think he might have wanted to hurt you? Why?”

“It's a long story. But yeah.”

Go ahead
, I urged silently.
I have time
. He wasn't in the mood to share, and I could sense the natives growing restless, so I said, “Look, I'm not trying to stir things up. I just wanted to make you aware so you can be cautious until the police figure out what really happened.”

“That shouldn't take long,” Scotty growled. “All they have to do is arrest that idiot Felix Blackwater. Say what you want, Moose, I know he's the one who drove that van, and he's had it in for Destiny for months.”

“Except that Felix was there when the van came at us,” I reminded Moose. This wasn't going exactly the way I'd planned it. “I know that Felix tried to have Destiny removed from the alliance,” I said. “But you know he wouldn't try to hit one of us. He's not the violent type.”

“The man is an idiot. Certifiable. You know why he really wanted Destiny out of the way? He thought she was using again. Claimed that he saw her buying something on the streets a couple of nights before the meeting.”

Uh-oh. “He told you that?”

Moose nodded. “He was waiting for me at the shop when I pulled in, said Destiny was a menace. A threat to polite society and all the kids around here. He said that if he ever saw her buying again, he'd call the police.”

“But you didn't believe him.”

“Hell no. She told me what she'd been doing, paying for some cookie dough she bought from a school fund-raiser. Some menace, huh? Next thing you know, Felix will be wanting to put schoolkids in jail as drug dealers.”

I admired his loyalty even if I did think it was misplaced. After all, I'd seen Destiny flying high as a kite. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't adding up. Could Moose really be
so
wrong about his wife?

Zora carried the pitcher to the table and went back for glasses. “I have to admit, Felix
is
a bit of a pill. Why, just last year he complained about the clothes women wear to my yoga classes. He said some of their outfits were too revealing.” She pulled a lemon from the fridge and quartered it. “He wanted me to post notices requiring my clients to wear clothing he considered appropriate. Can you believe it?”

“The man's a freak,” Scotty said with a sharp nod of his head. “Crazy as a loon. What did Destiny ever do to him, that's what I want to know.”

I didn't know Felix well, but he'd never seemed like the vindictive type either. Though I couldn't deny that he'd been determined to remove Destiny from the alliance, if it was because she was using drugs again, why not say so? Why blow smoke in everyone's face by claiming it was about missing meetings?

“Felix wasn't the only person at the meeting who thought Destiny should lose her seat in the alliance,” I reminded them.

Both Moose and Scotty frowned at that.

Zora poured tea into four glasses and then dropped heavily into a chair. “I think Aquanettia was behind it all.”

Was she serious?

Moose scowled as he reached for his tea. “You could be right. I mean, the two of them weren't exactly friends, were they?”

Scotty ignored the glass Zora pushed toward him and took a long pull from his beer. “They fought over a bunch of silly shit. Aquanettia's stupid dog barks all the time. It drove Destiny nuts. She threatened to call the pound. Aquanettia told her she'd see her in hell first.”

“I know you think it was nothing,” Zora said, “but people can get violently angry over things that seem like nothing to somebody else. I read once about a guy who killed his friend over a game of Monopoly. And you can't deny that dog is annoying.” She turned to me and explained, “He's a little bitty thing, named Gilbert. Yips all the time. And he didn't like Destiny at all—probably because Aquanettia didn't. Dogs pick up on that sort of thing.”

Maybe so, but I couldn't imagine Aquanettia going off the deep end over a dog.

I tried to remember where Aquanettia had been when the van came around the corner. I was almost certain she'd still been upstairs, but I supposed she could have hurried down the back stairs, fired up the Second Chances van, and gone after Moose . . . but why? For marrying Destiny in the first place? Even if Destiny had been using again, nobody had any reason to hurt Moose. Maybe I was trying to make something out of nothing. None of it made any sense to me, and I felt silly for coming by in the first place. I finished my sweet tea, offered my condolences again, and beat an escape. It was time to take Ox's advice and leave well enough alone.

I chewed over what I'd just learned as I walked back to my car. The nagging feeling that I'd missed something just wouldn't leave me alone. But for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what it was. I was so deep in thought, I didn't see the man leaning against my Mercedes until I was only a few feet away—too close to pretend I had somewhere else to go and walk the other way.

Winslow was just as rumpled as he'd been earlier. I'd bet everything I owned that he lived out of laundry baskets heaped with clean clothes he was too busy (read: lazy) to fold and put away. This evening his tie had some kind of stain on it and a toothpick dangled out of his mouth, adding to the middle-aged bachelor look he was trying to pull off.

He pushed off the car and grinned as I approached. “Well, well, well. I wish I could say that I was surprised to see you here, but I can't. Paying a visit to the boyfriend?”

I fought the urge to pay a visit to his face with the palm of my hand. However, knowing how the police feel about assault upon one of their own, I managed to control myself.

“No.” I walked past him so I could get to the driver's side door. “I came to offer my condolences to the family.”

“Really? Well, isn't that nice?” He came around the front of the car, beating me to the door and blocking it. He took a few minutes to get the toothpick in a new position. “I'm sure they all appreciate your concern. Do they know you were supplying Destiny with drugs?”

“Someone certainly tried to make them think I was,” I said, remembering what Scotty had said earlier.
And for what must have been the twentieth time:
“For the record, I was not supplying her with anything. I barely even knew her. I found her body. I checked her for a pulse. I called 911. That's it.” I waited impatiently for him to move out of my way.

He didn't budge, except to lean against the car again.

“Don't scratch it,” I warned sullenly. “NOPD might not appreciate a bill for a new paint job.”

“What I don't understand,” he said, ignoring my warning, “is what you see in Moose Hazen. If I were a betting man, I'd put money on the notion that he's not your type.”

That was the first thing Winslow had ever said I could agree with. “He's not, but he seems like a genuinely nice guy and he's grieving. I feel awful for him.”

Winslow resituated the toothpick one more time. “Feeling guilty?”

“Of course not. Tell me, Detective, have you even considered the fact that someone tried to run me down on Monday night and then Destiny may have died after taking pills that were meant for me? If she hadn't stolen them, I might be lying in the morgue right now instead of her.”

He rolled his eyes in my direction. “I'll keep that in mind. And who do you think tampered with the pills? Should I be dragging the pharmacist in for questioning?”

I thought about Sebastian with his big, open face and friendly smile and realized how foolish my idea sounded. “No, but Moose was there with me the night the van almost ran us down. He was the one who should have opened the shop instead of Destiny this morning. Maybe somebody's after
him
.”

Winslow gave me the stink-eye, which wasn't all that different from his usual expression. “Why would this fictitious somebody want to kill Moose? And why would this imaginary someone use thirty of your pain pills to do it?”

“That's how many there were?” I asked.

“Assuming you were telling the truth about not taking any yourself. I checked with the pharmacist this afternoon. So? Tell me . . . what do you imagine the motive to be for these attacks on Mr. Hazen?”

“There could be any number of reasons,” I said. “Like a customer with a grudge. Or somebody who wanted Destiny for himself.” Maybe I should have also mentioned Keon and Aquanettia, but I didn't. Aquanettia was a hardworking single mother doing her best to raise those boys on her own. I wanted to clear my own name, but I couldn't throw her or her sons under the bus without a good reason. Keon might be a troubled kid, but was he troubled enough to try killing a neighboring businessman? I'd need more than speculation to shatter Aquanettia's world.

Winslow didn't seem to notice that I was holding back. He just pushed off the car and pulled the toothpick from his mouth so he could point at me with it. “I don't know what you think you're doing, Ms. Lucero, but I'm warning you to stop. One of my confidential informants is dead, and I'm not happy about that. If you think I'm just going to write this off, you're sorely mistaken. And if I can gather enough evidence to prove it, I'll charge you in her death. This isn't a tea party, lady. I'm going to advise you to stop snooping around and attempting to influence witnesses. There's a name for that. It's called witness tampering.”

Was he kidding? I looked into his eyes hoping to find a glimmer of amusement, but all I could see was steely determination and a pinch of disgust.

“I wasn't tampering with anything,” I protested. I wanted to sound strong and confident but it came out sounding whiny and scared to death. “I came to pay my condolences. It's a social courtesy.”

“Yeah? And that's important to you?”

His question made me nervous, but I nodded and tried to put a little starch in my voice. “Yes it is. I was raised to have manners.”

“I see. Then maybe you can tell me where sleeping with another woman's husband falls in the social courtesy arena.”

He was really starting to annoy me. “I. Am. Not. Sleeping. With. Moose. Hazen.” I spoke slowly and clearly, and I used small words that he could understand. “I am not, in fact, sleeping with anybody.”

Oops. TMI. I could have held back that last part. But nothing gets me angry faster than being accused of something I haven't done. “Now would you please move out of the way?” I said. “I'm tired and I hurt all over, and I just want to go home.”

Winslow moved, but he took his sweet time doing it. I wrenched open the car door and got inside, but he grabbed it before I could close it. Leaning both arms on the top of the window, he looked down at me with a smirk. “Be careful, Ms. Lucero. I'm watching you.”

• • •

I sat there for a while after he walked away. My hands were shaking so badly I didn't dare drive. Was I seriously considered a suspect in Destiny's death, or was Winslow just jerking my chain? Did he seriously think I was dealing prescription drugs out of Zydeco? If I were, why would I use my own prescription to do it?

After a long time I finally calmed down enough to drive away and I made a solemn vow that the next time I had to talk to Aaron Winslow, I'd point out a few of the flaws in his theory. Beginning with the complete lack of logic.

I had a rib eye and a potato I'd intended to bake twice and fully load waiting for me at home, but I was already exhausted and the thought of cooking and waiting to eat held no appeal. I decided to pull into a fast-food drive-through instead. I ordered a portabella mushroom burger with fries and, in a moment of weakness, deep-fried cheesecake bites with strawberry dipping sauce. And a Coke. Diet. To balance out the calories from the rest of the meal.

Two blocks from the drive-through, the smell of food began to get to me. I pulled into the parking lot of a supermarket and dug in. The burger was greasy but delicious, the fries perfectly crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. The cheesecake bites were a whole 'nother story. Not only had they spent too much time in the deep fryer, I would testify under oath that no actual strawberries were harmed in the making of that sauce.

Already regretting my decision to forgo the rib eye, I tossed my trash and pulled back onto the street. I was just wondering if the day could get any worse when my phone rang. I answered and found out that, yes, the day could indeed get worse.

“What did you say to Miss Frankie?!” Edie shrilled when she heard my voice.

“What do you mean, what did I say? What are you even talking about?”

“My baby shower? Does that ring any bells?”

Uh-oh. “Um . . . yeah. Listen. About that . . .”

“She just called here asking for my parents' address. My parents, Rita. You know we're not on speaking terms. And why is
she
planning my baby shower anyway?”

“Long story,” I said. What with finding Destiny and all, the whole baby shower/Pearl Lee exchange had slipped right out of my mind. Now I also remembered that cousin Pearl would be showing up for work the next morning and I was nowhere near ready for her. But right now, I needed to calm Edie down so she wouldn't go into premature labor.

I had the feeling I'd need all my concentration for this conversation so I pulled off the road again. “I swear, I told Miss Frankie not to invite your family. I said it several times, but you know how she is. Once she gets an idea, she doesn't let go.” Ever.

“You'd better convince her to let it go this time,” Edie warned. “I am
not
going to let my mother ruin this for me.”

“I'll talk to her,” I promised. “I'll make it very clear that you don't want your mother and sister there.”

Edie sighed heavily into the phone. “It's not that
I
don't want
them
,” she said. “They don't want me, and they won't accept this baby. They've made that perfectly clear.”

She sounded a little calmer, which I took as a good sign. “They're upset,” I said. “Finding out about the baby was a shock.”

“Don't you
dare
take their side,” Edie warned. “I need
somebody
on mine.”

“That's not what I meant,” I said quickly. “Of course I'm on your side. I hope you know that.”

“Maybe. All I know for sure is that you're weirded out about the pregnancy.”

I wasn't sure what she was talking about. I'd tried so hard not to let any of the issues caused by my own failure to reproduce show around Edie, but she must have picked up on something. “I'm not weirded out,” I said. I wanted to tuck what I was feeling into a hole and never look at it again, but I could hear the pain and fear beneath Edie's anger, so I decided to be honest with her. “I think I might be jealous.”

I heard Edie's quick intake of breath, followed by, “Of what?”

“You. The baby. The pregnancy.”

Edie actually laughed, and then she blew her nose. “Well, don't feel too bad about the pregnancy. So far, it's not as fun as people try to make it sound. You really don't want the morning sickness.” She fell silent for a moment and then said, “Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come down on you so hard, but getting that call from Miss Frankie really threw me for a loop.”

“I should have warned you she was working on the baby shower,” I said. “I should have known she'd do whatever she wanted.”

Edie blew her nose again and hiccupped softly. “It's okay. It's just that this whole thing is such a mess. I know I screwed up. I'm thirty-five years old and pregnant, my mom isn't speaking to me, my dad just tells me to talk to my priest, and my sister won't even return my phone calls. I'm trying to make the best of a bad situation, and not doing a very good job of it.”

Edie doesn't show vulnerability often, so being on the receiving end of her confidences made me squirm a little. I haven't had a close friend since high school and my girl talk skills are a little rusty. I asked myself what Aunt Yolanda would have said and then I tried that. “You didn't screw up. Maybe this isn't what you planned, but it doesn't have to ruin your life.”

“Oh, yes it does. Just ask my mother. The only way I can make her happy is to marry the baby's father and become respectable. Can you imagine? She acts like it's 1950 or something. Well, that's not going to happen. Not in this lifetime.”

Usually Edie avoided any mention of the baby's father, which, of course, made us all wildly curious. I wasn't convinced that Aunt Yolanda would go there, but in the interest of community spirit, I threw caution to the wind. “Have the two of you discussed marriage at all?”

“He doesn't even know about the baby. I haven't told him.”

That surprised me. I said, “Oh,” in what I hoped was a tone she couldn't read anything into.

“Don't you dare say that I need to tell him either. That's completely out of the question.”

I couldn't help it. My mind jumped to a conclusion I didn't like. I blame Winslow for putting the whole idea of cheating into my head. “Why is that? Is he married or something?”

“No! At least, I don't think he is. But that's probably what my mother thinks.”

I chose my next words carefully. “Well, even if he is, don't you think he'd want to know?”

Edie sniffed loudly. “He might. I don't know. But I can't tell him if I don't know where to find him.”

“What does that mean? Did he run out on you?”

“Not exactly.” She fell silent again and the only sound I could hear was the tap-tap of her feet as she walked the floor. “He didn't run out on me,” she said after a long time. “He's in Afghanistan.”