The Cakes of Wrath (23 page)

Dwight nodded. “What time are we leaving for that?”

We?
I hadn't really expected him to go with me, but I wasn't going to turn him down. “We should probably get out of here in time to pay our respects before the service starts.”

“Okay. I'll tell the others.” I was not going to cry again, but my heart melted a little hearing that the whole staff planned to be there.

“What time should I pick you up for work tomorrow?”

I did some quick calculations and said, “Is seven too early?”

“I'll be there on the dot. Don't want to let my boss down.” I smacked his arm, but there was no heat in it. Neither of us spoke again until we were in the Jeep with our seat belts fastened.

“Thanks,” I said as he turned the key in the ignition. “You're a good friend.”

He flicked a glance over my face as he shifted into reverse and gave me a little chin jerk to acknowledge what I'd said. It wasn't much, but it didn't have to be.

• • •

The Mercedes was missing one flat tire by the time Dwight and I got to work the next morning. The car sat up on an industrial-strength jack steadied by a couple of cinder blocks while it waited for Dwight's “guy” to come back with the tire. Seeing that he was already at work on a fix made me feel downright optimistic. Well, that and the fact that I'd told Pearl Lee to stay home today. I didn't want her tagging along to the memorial service.

I headed straight to the break room for a cup of coffee, and carried it to my office so I could catch up on some paperwork. I found a note from Sparkle asking for Monday off so she could spend time with her brother. I made a note on my calendar so I wouldn't forget and picked up the next item on my desk. I'd just opened an envelope containing the annual report Zydeco had to file with the state of Louisiana when the phone on my desk rang.

Edie appeared in my doorway at the same time. “Sorry,” she said with a nod toward the phone. “I know you're busy, but it's Dwight's mechanic friend. I figured you'd want to talk to him.”

“You're right. Thanks.” I snagged the phone from its cradle and answered with a chipper, “This is Rita.”

“You're the woman that owns the Mercedes, right?”

“That's right. And you are—”

“Ken. I'm a friend of Dwight's. He asked me to take a look at that tire of yours.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I said as I sipped my coffee. “And? How soon will you able to patch it?”

“Well, that's the thing, see? I'm not going to be able to patch it. You're going to have to get yourself a whole new tire.”

I choked a little on the coffee so I put the mug down. “I'm sorry. What?”

“I can't fix that tire, ma'am. You're going to have to get a new one.”

“You can't patch it? But I thought—that is, Dwight said—”

“Yeah. Under normal circumstances, I could put a patch on it and you'd be good for the life of the tire. But the thing is, that tire of yours doesn't have any life left. That's what I'm trying to tell you. It wasn't just a nail in the tire. That thing's got a gash in it probably six inches long.”

Something skittered across the back of my neck. All along my back and arms, my nerves twitched. But I didn't want to jump to conclusions, especially not the wrong one. So I asked him, “What could have caused something like that?”

Ken sighed heavily and then said the words I dreaded most: “Only one thing I know. It didn't happen by accident, that's for sure. Somebody slashed that tire.”

All the air left my lungs in a
whoosh!
I swallowed my fear and let anger take its place. I had a pretty good idea who had slashed that tire. It was the same person who had tossed that rock through the window. And I was determined to put an end to it now—before somebody else got hurt.

Much as I wanted to confront Scotty the very next time I laid eyes on him, I didn't actually do it. Aunt Yolanda always says there is a time and a place for everything. I was furious about the slashed tire and the broken window, but rational enough to know that Destiny's memorial service was neither the time nor the place for a showdown.

We locked up the shop shortly after ten, packed ourselves into a couple of cars, and drove to the mortuary. I rode with Ox, Isabeau, and Dwight in Ox's truck. The rest of the crew rode in Estelle's car. Ox and Dwight sat in the front and talked softly about inconsequential things. I didn't feel like talking at all, which worked out just fine since Isabeau was uncharacteristically subdued as well.

Even though I thought we'd left Zydeco in plenty of time, we hit some traffic and arrived just a few minutes before eleven. Several cars were in the parking lot, but it wasn't full by any means, which made my mood droop even lower. I thought someone as young as Destiny should have a huge funeral, filled with family and friends who mourned her passing.

We joined up with the rest of the staff and filed inside together. The overpowering scent of funeral flowers—probably my least favorite smell in the entire world—hit me the instant I stepped through the door, and soft organ music floated down from speakers that I suspected were hidden in the ceiling. The funeral director handed each of us a small printed program and pointed us toward a room at the end of a short hallway, where Destiny's casket was surrounded by several framed pictures of her at various stages of her life. Among them I noticed what looked like a wedding picture, and a young Destiny with a woman I guessed was her mother.

I spotted Felix and Lorena talking with Sebastian in one corner of the room. Scotty and Moose, both of whom looked uncomfortable in dark suits, were standing near a middle-aged woman who sobbed into a handkerchief. She bore a resemblance to the woman in the picture, so I presumed she was Destiny's mother. Zora sat beside Edgar near the front of the room, and Isaiah and Keon had claimed a couple of seats near the back. Not too surprisingly, I didn't see Aquanettia anywhere and I wondered if she knew her sons were here. I noticed a few other familiar faces from the alliance and a handful of women about Destiny's age sitting together and chatting quietly, but that was the extent of the crowd.

At least I thought it was—until I spotted Detective Winslow hovering between two large flower arrangements at the back of the room. He nodded at me and I nodded back. I wondered why he was there if the case was now a homicide, but I wasn't curious enough to ask him.

I'd been planning to say something to Destiny's family, but after finding out about my slashed tire, I was too angry to talk to Scotty and I didn't want Detective Winslow to start speculating again just because I offered condolences to Moose, so I followed Isabeau to an empty row of seats and sat down. Estelle sat next to me and Sparkle sat next to her. Edie walked all the way around the bank of chairs so she could sit next to Ox, putting several of us between her and Sparkle, which was probably a good idea.

Once she was settled, Isabeau glanced around the room and leaned over to whisper to me. “Did you see that detective in the back of the room?”

“Yeah. I did.”

“He's probably here to see if he can figure out who killed Destiny, don't you think?”

I nodded. “Probably.”

Estelle looked over her shoulder to see Winslow for herself. “Do you think the killer is here?” she asked in a stage whisper that I'm sure everyone in the building could hear.

I put my finger to my lips and whispered back, “I'd almost bet on it.”

Isabeau craned her neck to get a better look at everyone. “Who do you think it is?”

Oh, good. That wasn't obvious at all. “I don't know,” I said. “But do me a favor and stop trying to figure it out while Detective Winslow is watching. I don't need any more trouble from him.”

Estelle checked behind us again, I guess to make sure Winslow hadn't missed the fact that we were talking about him. “You're right,” she said out of the corner of her mouth. “He's watching you like a hawk.”

“I figured he was.” I tried not to sound exasperated. Really, I did. “But please don't look at him again, okay? Just sit here and look at the flowers or something.”

“Right,” Estelle said with a wink. “You want us to be inconspicuous.”

I glanced up and down the row at our group. Pregnant Edie was munching on M&M's while we waited for the service to start. Dwight wore a suit so wrinkled he could have taken it from Detective Winslow's laundry basket. Ox cleaned up nicely but still looked like Mr. Clean, and Isabeau, for once, didn't look like a cheerleader. She'd pulled her hair into a messy bun and held it in place with something that sparkled in the light every time she moved her head. Estelle wore a shapeless navy dress with bright pink flats and carried an oversize yellow purse that clinked when she walked, and Sparkle wore her usual black clothing, lips, and nails. Her only ornamentation was a heavy silver cross on a chain around her neck.

Yeah, I thought, holding back a grin. Inconspicuous.

A few minutes later, just as the funeral director asked everyone to be seated, the doors opened and Pearl Lee teetered inside a step ahead of Miss Frankie. I barely held back a groan of dismay. I should have known Pearl Lee would find a way to come. I held my breath, expecting her to do something inappropriate like rush to Scotty's side and fling her arms around his neck. To my surprise, she followed Miss Frankie to the row in front of us and sat with her hands folded in her lap. Both cousins gave me a quick smile.

The memorial service was brief—a couple of hymns, a couple of prayers, remarks from a clergyman whose address was so impersonal I could only conclude that he'd never actually met Destiny, and a musical number by one of the women I'd noticed earlier who turned out to be a friend of Destiny's from high school. The whole thing was punctuated occasionally by soft crying, most of which came from the front row, where Destiny's mother sat between Moose, who tried hard to keep his emotions under control but failed, and Scotty, who kept his head down most of the time. I kept an eye on Edgar, too, but though he knuckled away a few tears, he certainly didn't act like a grieving lover. Felix wore a solemn expression that never wavered, and Lorena, who looked almost bored, fanned herself with her program through the whole service.

When the last notes of the final hymn died away, the pallbearers moved into place and the family followed the casket outside to the hearse. The rest of us remained respectfully silent until they disappeared, and then began gathering our things to leave. I felt strangely disappointed, not only by the service, but because if anyone there was guilty of drug dealing and murder, I sure hadn't spotted any sign of it. I wondered if Detective Winslow had seen something I'd missed, but when I looked at the spot where he'd been standing, he'd already disappeared.

While Miss Frankie and Pearl Lee lined up to compliment the clergyman on the service, the others from our group moved away, talking softly among themselves. Ox came to stand beside me and asked, “So, what's the plan? Do you want to go to the cemetery?”

An involuntary shudder skittered up my back. If there's anything I hate worse than a funeral, it's a cemetery. “I'd rather not, but if you want to, that's fine.”

He shook his head and his mouth twitched slightly. “Naw. I'm good. What do you say we all grab some lunch on our way back to work?”

I gave that idea an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Zydeco was closed and we were all here together, and I wasn't the only one of us who'd had a tough week. “Sounds perfect. We'll let Zydeco pick up the tab. What do you have in mind?”

He shrugged as we started toward the door. “Anything's fine with me. Do you have a preference?”

I was paying attention to our conversation, so I didn't notice Zora talking to Keon in the doorway until it was too late. I plowed into Keon's back before I could stop myself. He swore and tried to keep his balance, but he stepped on my foot in the process. A sharp pain shot up my leg and I accidentally elbowed Zora in the side as I tried to keep from falling. She jerked backward and dropped her purse. She made a grab for it, but she must have twisted her head the wrong way because she let out a howl and clutched her neck. Ox jumped in to help steady her, but I knew she'd had trouble with her neck since her accident, and I felt horrible about causing her more pain.

“I'm so sorry,” I said, bending to pick up her bag myself. “I didn't see you there.”

Keon took a couple of steps backward and shoved his hands into his pockets. “It's all good. No harm done. You're all right, aren't you, Miss Zora?”

She closed her eyes briefly. After a moment she tried to smile but her mouth was pinched and tiny white lines radiated out from her lips. “Yes. Yes. I'm fine. At least, I will be.”

She didn't
look
fine. “Did you drive here today?” I asked.

She gave a little nod.

“If you're in a lot of pain, maybe you shouldn't drive home,” I said. “Is there someone who can drive you?”

“I'd offer, but we were just heading out to lunch with the staff,” Ox said. “Keon? Are you going back that way? Maybe you could drive Miss Zora home.”

Keon hunched his shoulders and shook his head quickly. “I can't,” he said, taking another few steps backward. “I got stuff I've gotta do. In fact, Isaiah's probably tired of waiting for me already. Y'all take care.” Before we could say another word, he loped off down the hall as if he couldn't get away from us fast enough.

Ox and I exchanged a stunned glance. “What was that about?” he asked.

“I have no idea.” I handed Zora her purse and she excused herself to go to the ladies' room. As she walked away, I realized that one of us would have to drive her back to her place. It really wasn't how I wanted to spend the next hour or so, but she was hurt because I hadn't been paying attention, so I stepped up and took responsibility. “You go on to lunch with the others,” I said. “I'll drive Zora home and join you as soon as I can.”

“It's no big deal,” Ox said. “I can take her.”

I waved him off. “No. Go. I'm the one who ran into her. I'll do it. Just text me and let me know where to find you. Do you have the company credit card on you?”

“Always.”

“Good. Use it to pay for lunch if the check gets there before I do.”

He grinned and walked away. I tried not to slip into a funk, but it wasn't easy. Technically, I know that an after-funeral lunch with friends shouldn't be fun, but I still hated missing out. And since this week was turning out to be almost as bad as last week, I could have used a break.

Maybe I shouldn't be so pessimistic. I could probably take Zora home and still make it to lunch. After all, how much trouble could the woman possibly be?

• • •

“Hey! Rita! A little help?”

I heard Ox calling me, but I'd been back at work for two hours already and I was still fuming. How much trouble could Zora be? Turns out the answer to that was “a lot.” It had taken me nearly twenty minutes just to find her after Ox left and another ten to get her outside and settled in her car—a Prius, of all things. Which meant another fifteen minutes for instructions on how to drive a hybrid and forty minutes for the drive to her house, which, I swear, was way over on the Mississippi border.

She'd fallen asleep after just five minutes on the road, so I had to pull over and dig around for her registration to find her address. And let's not even get into how much time it took to wake her up and get her to the door once we got there. After which she shut the door in my face without even letting me inside. Then there was the wait on her front porch for a taxi and the ride back to Zydeco.

“Hey! Rita! Help!”

I finally glanced up and saw Ox trying to balance on top of a stepladder while holding the top tier of the wedding cake in both hands. The ladder swayed unsteadily beneath his feet, but Dwight was doing his best to steady the bottom tiers of cake, so he couldn't give Ox another hand. The look on both their faces told me they were in trouble. It was just the three of us in the design room. Isabeau, Sparkle, and Estelle had gone on break a few minutes earlier.

I tossed aside the piping bag I'd been using and raced toward them, slipping between workstations and shoving stools out of my way. I got there as the top tier of the cake began to slide out of Ox's hands toward the floor.

With my heart in my throat, I threw myself under the cake and caught it just before it hit the ground. Unfortunately, it wasn't a clean catch. My hand smooshed a large section of painted buttercream and I could feel cake on my fingers.

My instinct was to jerk my hand away to avoid further damaging the cake, but I knew that would be the worst thing I could do. I waited until Dwight balanced the bottom of the cake, steadied the ladder, and then finally turned to help me with the tier I was holding. I felt the weight shift and gently pulled my hand away so I could get a good look at what I'd done.