That Old Black Magic Page 19

  Sabrina nodded.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetheart! Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you right before you left. I knew you’d be here this morning. That seemed time enough to share the bad news.” A tear seeped from the corner of Sabrina’s eye, and she dabbed at it with her napkin. “Oh, Mama. I never thought that this was the way my wedding was going to turn out.”

  The older woman comforted the younger one throughout the rest of the meal. After they had finished eating and paid the check, Sabrina’s mother took a handful of change from her wallet. She gave half the coins to her daughter.

  “What are these for?” asked Sabrina.

  Her mother pointed. “There’s a fountain over there and a wishing well over there. Take your pick. Throw in the coins and make your wish. I will, too. Everything is going to work out, Sabrina. You’ll see.”

  Sabrina smiled weakly. “You always make me feel better, Mama. Thank you.”

  As she tossed the pennies, nickels, and dimes into the wishing well, Sabrina prayed that her mother was right.

  Chapter 86

  Piper lined up the round red velvet cakes, from large to small, on the bakery worktable. Though the tops of each appeared to be flat, just slightly uneven layers could add up to a wedding cake with a pronounced slope. She found a long serrated knife in a drawer and gently sliced away any high spots. Next Piper torted the cakes, splitting each horizontally to form two equal halves.

  Flour. That was the unlikely ingredient in her mother’s favorite frosting. Piper whisked it into milk in a saucepan, stirring constantly until it thickened. When the mixture was the consistency of a dense cake batter, Piper took it off the stove and added some vanilla.

  While waiting for the frosting base to cool, she creamed together butter and sugar until the result was light and fluffy. Then she added it to the completely cooled mixture of milk, flour, and vanilla. Beating, beating, beating it all together until it resembled whipped cream.

  Piper stuck a spoon into the finished frosting and sampled it, closing her eyes and purring at the amazing taste. As many times as her mother made it, Piper never failed to relish the flavor. If and when she got married, this would certainly be the frosting on her wedding cake!

  Turning back to the cake, she selected an appropriately sized cardboard round for the bottom of the layers. Each tier had to be frosted individually before the entire cake could be stacked and assembled. The bottom layer of the cake was not strong enough to support the weight of the other cakes on top of it without getting squashed. Piper strategically inserted wooden dowels into the cake base before placing the next tier.

  She stood back to take a look at her creation thus far. The tiers were even, glimmering with snowy white icing. But she had to decide how to decorate the sides. Bertrand and Piper had never come to an agreement on that. He hadn’t wanted to go with her idea of using the fleur-de-lis, the symbol of New Orleans. It was too much of a cliché, he thought.

  Piper went into the office, turned on the computer, and clicked on Google. She started typing “NEW ORLEANS WEDDING,” and after the first few letters a list of the most recent searches beginning with “NEW” dropped down from the input box. “NEW ORLEANS ST. PATRICK’S DAY” was at the top.

  Piper finished typing in the rest of her search and, hitting the ENTER key, came across several entries that described baking the wedding cake with ribbons coming out of the sides. To each ribbon was attached a silver charm. Before the cake was cut, the bride would call female guests up to pull out the ribbons. Each charm had a meaning and foretold the future. A ring meant “next to marry.” A thimble or a button meant “old maid.” A horseshoe or a four-leaf clover was good luck. A heart meant that true love was in the offing.

  What an awesome tradition! Piper wished she had come across it sooner. But she could still pay homage to the custom in a small way.

  She went back to the kitchen, filled a piping bag with icing, and began to fashion swirling ribbons on the side of the cake. She had finished and was flanking the chocolate-covered paddleboat with the fondant bride and groom for the top of the cake when the phone rang. Marguerite was calling.

  “I wanted to see how you’re holding up, Piper.”

  “How am I holding up? What about you, Marguerite?”

  “I’m all right,” said Marguerite. “I’m so busy I guess it all hasn’t hit me. But I don’t like to think of you by yourself over there. With a third murder, you must be so shaken.”

  “I’m not gonna lie. It’s hard to take it all in, but I’m just about done with the big cake,” Piper replied. “I’m trying to focus on that.”

  “Take a picture and send it to me, will you?” asked Marguerite. “I’m not going to be able to come into the bakery or go to the party on the Natchez tonight. I’m just not up to it.”

  “Of course. I completely understand, Marguerite.”

  Piper did understand, but she was still a bit disappointed. A photograph was fine, but actually seeing the wedding cake was much better. She was proud of what she had created, and she wanted another professional to admire it. Still, Piper was well aware that Marguerite had more on her mind than wedding cakes. Marguerite needed to take care of herself and get some rest if she could.

  “The delivery van will be there at four o’clock to pick up the cake and transport it to the Natchez,” said Marguerite. “And you’ll go over there later and make sure that everything is set up correctly?”

  “Definitely,” said Piper. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

  When she hung up, Piper took a picture of the cake and sent it to Marguerite.

  The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as Piper prepared the first stage of the bananas Foster cake for the smaller party the following night at Bistro Sabrina. One layer of moist, rum-soaked cake would be covered with thick caramel sauce, and the other three would have cream-cheese frosting.

  As she mashed ripe bananas for the cake batter, Piper tried to keep her mind on the task at hand, but she couldn’t help thinking about Ellinore Duchamps’s murder. Perhaps if Piper had gotten there earlier to warn the woman, Ellinore would still be alive. Guilt was another item to put on her mental list of things to discuss with a therapist when she got back home.

  But she comforted herself somewhat with the knowledge that when she’d mentioned the butcher–baker–candlestick maker theory to the detective, he hadn’t seemed to think the idea held any water.

  Tired and ready for a hot shower, Piper climbed the outdoor stairs to her apartment. She hoped she might be able to squeeze in a short nap before dressing and heading over to the Natchez.

  She opened the French doors to the balcony and felt a warm breeze waft in. The fresh air felt good to her after she’d been cooped up inside the bakery all day. She stepped out to enjoy the warmth of the late-afternoon sun as she looked down on Royal Street. She averted her eyes from the yellow police tape draped around the latest crime scene.

  She started to do some of her yoga stretching exercises to work out the tightness in her neck and shoulders. Then she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, in and out. She felt better.

  As she turned to go back inside to take her shower, Piper looked down at the street one more time. She noticed a man leaning against a streetlamp. She was sure he was looking up at her, watching.

  Chapter 87

  The muddy waters of the Mississippi River flowed beneath Sabrina and Leo’s friends and family gathered for cocktails on the upper deck of the giant paddleboat. The breeze blew more heavily out on the water, causing dresses to flutter and paper napkins to fly off the tables. Nobody seemed to mind. They were busy chatting, laughing, and enjoying the five-piece jazz band. Trumpet, clarinet, trombone, bass, and drum played smooth, happy songs: “Fly Me to the Moon,” “All of Me,” “Cheek to Cheek,” “Walking My Baby Back Home.”

  Piper found herself hum
ming as she took the stairs down to the lower deck. She asked a steward to point the way to the private dining room. She wanted to check on her work. When she entered the room, she saw that the groom had beat her to it.

  “It looks great,” said Leo as he stood grinning at the cake. “The chef’s jacket on the little groom is a nice touch.”

  “Glad you like it,” said Piper.

  Leo offered his hand to her. “Thank you, Piper. With all that’s been happening, it’s a relief to have something come out right. I know that Sabrina will love it.”

  Piper shook back firmly. “I hope so, Leo. It was a pleasure to work on something for such a life-affirming occasion.”

  Leo looked at her intently. “You know, until just this minute I hadn’t given any thought to how tough this past week must have been for you, Piper. Coming down here thinking you were going to be spending your time working with a renowned baker only to find yourself smack in the middle of a killing spree. The worst, discovering Bertrand’s dead body. That must have been horrific.”

  “It was,” said Piper softly. “I’m trying not to think about it.”

  “Of course you are,” said Leo. “None of us should think about any of it tonight. Right?”

  Piper smiled as Leo put a hand on her shoulder. “Right,” she agreed.

  “Tell me again,” said Leo as he looked at the wedding cake one more time. “What kind of icing are you using on the cake for tomorrow night?”

  “Cream cheese.”

  Leo shook his head. “You know, I’m sorry I didn’t let you know earlier, but I’ve been so distracted by everything. I’m not a real cream-cheese fan. Too heavy. I think buttercream would be better. Maybe you can spice it up with some pecans or crumbled pralines or something. Would you mind doing that? It’s not too late, is it?”

  “Of course not, Leo,” said Piper. “You should have exactly what you want on your wedding day.”

  Hoooooooo!

  Piper winced at the deafening sound of the paddleboat’s horn. The vessel was about to pull away from the Toulouse Street Dock. Piper stood at the railing as the strong breeze off the river whipped at the folds of her long skirt. She watched the lights of the New Orleans skyline glittering against the darkening sky as the Natchez began its cruise down the Mississippi. She took out her iPhone and snapped some pictures.

  “Pretty, isn’t it?”

  She looked up to see Falkner Duchamps standing beside her. Piper pulled back with alarm, missing as she tried to slide the phone into her shoulder bag. She didn’t hear its protective rubber covering hit the deck.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Falkner when he saw the wary expression on her face. “I thought we were friends.”

  “I’m surprised to see you,” said Piper.

  He frowned. “Oh, you mean because of my aunt’s death?”

  “Yes,” said Piper. “I’m very sorry about that.”

  Falkner shrugged. “We weren’t the closest.”

  “I gathered that,” said Piper.

  Falkner looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”

  Piper hesitated before answering. Should she tell him that she’d heard him yelling at Ellinore about changing her will? She decided to go ahead. A person was innocent until proven guilty. Falkner should know that the police were aware she’d overheard the fight.

  She told him.

  “So you’re the one?” he asked incredulously. “You’re the one who sent the cops banging on my door?”

  Piper nodded.

  “You shouldn’t have done that, Piper!” Falkner yelled, his face reddening. He pounded his fist on the railing. “You should have come to me first and let me explain!”

  “I had to tell the police what I heard,” said Piper quietly. “They’re investigating a murder spree. I had to tell the truth before somebody else ends up dead.”

  “Telling the truth can get people in a lot of trouble, Piper!” yelled Falkner as he stepped closer to her.

  “Are you threatening me, Falkner?”

  Before Falkner could answer, a man dressed in a navy blazer appeared beside them.

  “Is this man bothering you, miss?” he asked.

  Falkner quickly pivoted and stormed away. Piper turned to thank the man for coming to her aid, but he was already walking in the other direction. She had seen him just briefly, but his appearance struck a familiar chord.

  Was he the same guy who’d been leaning against the lamppost watching her on the balcony this afternoon?

  Before dinner both the best man and the maid of honor made toasts to the bride and groom. The assembled guests clapped and cheered, their enthusiasm and goodwill overshadowing, for a little while at least, all thoughts of murder. Everyone wanted Sabrina and Leo to be happy and enjoy their special evening.

  After the buffet dinner of seafood gumbo, snow crab claws, oysters Bienville, crawfish étouffée, and creole jambalaya, Aaron stood at the front of the room enthusiastically clinking his water glass with a spoon. When the guests quieted down, he made a big show of presenting his wedding gift to Sabrina and Leo. The couple seemed thrilled with the model of the Natchez.

  “Oh, it’s wonderful, Aaron,” said Sabrina, warmly embracing the portly man. “We’ll find a special place for this and always remember you and this magical evening. Thank you so much.”

  Piper watched, thinking that Aaron clearly liked the fuss Sabrina made over him, as well as the guests coming over to shake his hand and clap him on the back afterward. She supposed that the radio personality really craved being the center of attention.

  That “hoodoo murder” theme of his had probably fed his need to be noticed.

  Strains of “That Old Black Magic” filled the air as the guests streamed off the paddleboat. Piper wished that Jack were with her, holding her hand as they walked down the gangplank together after the romantic dinner cruise. She decided she was going to give in and call him tonight when she got back to the apartment.

  First, though, she had to stop at the bakery kitchen. If Leo wanted buttercream frosting with something extra added to it for tomorrow’s cake, Piper wanted to have it all decided before she went to sleep, with the recipe printed out and waiting for her when she arrived at the bakery the next morning.

  Some of the guests left the wharf and proceeded into the French Quarter to continue partying. Others went to cars in the wharf’s parking lot. Piper joined the rest who stood at the corner hailing cabs. While she waited, she spotted the man in the navy blazer again.

  As her taxi pulled away from the curb, Piper looked out the rear window. The man was still watching her. She shivered as they made eye contact.

  Chapter 88

  The undercover cop realized that he’d been made.

  Piper Donovan knew that he was watching her. He was pretty sure that she’d spotted him as he stood looking up at her apartment balcony on Royal Street that afternoon. And now she had stared right at him as she drove away.

  He cursed the fact that he’d intervened in the altercation between Piper and Falkner Duchamps on the boat that evening. But he had no choice. Duchamps was clearly intimidating Piper. Instinctively he’d felt he had to intervene.

  It had all happened so quickly. He’d hoped that Piper had been too focused on Duchamps to pay close attention to the stranger who came to her aid. He’d tried to get away before she had a chance to thank him.

  But now the worried expression on Piper’s face, the directness of her gaze from the cab window confirmed that she was onto him. Perhaps she didn’t realize that she was being tailed by the police. But she almost certainly understood that she was being watched by someone she didn’t know. Against the backdrop of the eerie and gory multiple murders on Royal Street, that knowledge had to be deeply unnerving for Piper.

  The thought crossed his mind that he should tell her who he was, so she’d realize that he wasn’t a
physical threat to her. He wasn’t some crazy Hoodoo Killer out to make her his next victim. But telling her would defeat the whole point of the surveillance.

  Now he pulled the collar of his blazer up against the cold breeze that came off the river. He didn’t think that Piper Donovan was a ruthless murderer killing Royal Street merchants in her spare time. She certainly didn’t fit any profile he could imagine. But the brass was putting on the heat and insisting that every possible lead be pursued. He had orders to follow. Until his shift was over, that’s exactly what he was going to do.

  Chapter 89

  The taxi dropped Piper in front of Boulangerie Bertrand. She went in, turned off the alarm, and quickly switched on all the lights. Even then it was creepy being in the bakery at night, walking through the hallway where Bertrand was killed. Piper had considered asking the driver to take her to the back entrance, but going through the small trash-strewn alleyway wasn’t a more attractive alternative. She was scared that there would be rats skulking around in the dark.

  She hurried past the dumbwaiter and went directly to the small office. As she booted up the computer, she noticed a light blinking on the desk phone. She punched in the code and listened to the message.

  “Hello, this is Simon Seaford from Consolidated Cuisine. I’m trying to reach Mrs. Bertrand Olivier. We’ve been dealing with her husband, Bertrand, and under these tragic circumstances we need to speak with her. The home phone is unlisted, and, understandably, there’s been no answer on Bertrand’s mobile. Please let Mrs. Olivier know that we are trying to reach her. It’s urgent.”

  The caller left a phone number.

  Piper debated with herself. It was after ten o’clock, and Marguerite could already be asleep. Yet the man had insisted it was an important matter. Picking up the phone again, she consulted the phone list on the wall and called Marguerite at home.

  When Marguerite answered sleepily, Piper apologized profusely before passing on the message and the return number.