Cake on a Hot Tin Roof (17 page)

The light turned green, but with the intersection full of cars and people, we weren’t going anywhere. Sparkle put the van in park, prepared to wait. “She said they were through. And she said that she wasn’t going to cover for him anymore.”

The hum of anticipation turned to a low-pitched drone that seemed to pulsate in my blood. Or maybe that was the music blaring from some nearby loudspeakers. It was hard to tell. “Cover how? For what? Did she say?”

Sparkle shook her head. “I didn’t hear that, but I got the feeling it had something to do with Musterion.”

“Why? What gave you that impression?”

Another shrug as the light turned yellow again. A woman dressed as a gigantic purple-and-blue dragonfly floated past the van, followed by another wearing a flower arrangement on her head and then a hairy man in a mermaid costume. “You haven’t seen anything yet,” Sparkle said with what, for her, passes as a grin.

I must have looked confused, because she nodded toward a couple of harp-playing angels with gossamer wings and said again, “You haven’t seen anything yet. We’re just getting started.”

I laughed and tried to take in the sights, sounds, and smells that bombarded me from every angle. “It’s like a gigantic Halloween party, isn’t it?”

Sparkle snorted. “Without the ghosts and goblins, I guess, and only about a million times better.” We caught a break in traffic and we were moving again—if you can call a slow crawl through the crowded streets “moving.” Spectators lined the parade route, waiting for the fun to begin. Music spilled into the air from loudspeakers and street musicians, and we moved from one song to another as we crept along the street.

We made it through the police barrier, but being one of the few vehicles allowed inside the Quarter didn’t make it any easier to maneuver. In addition to the costumed crowds, dozens of street entertainers dotted the sidewalks, artists working in every medium I could have imagined—dancers, singers, jazz musicians, all adding to the experience.

“Is that all you wanted to know?”

Sparkle’s question broke through my thoughts, but it took me a few seconds to remember what we’d been talking about. Oh yeah. The murder.

“You said that you thought Violet and Big Daddy were talking about Musterion. What gave you that impression?”

“I can’t remember exactly,” Sparkle said. “She mentioned a couple of names, but I don’t remember what they were. Parry maybe? And Scott?”

I forced myself to look away from the spectacle on the street. “Could it have been Percy?”

Sparkle’s black-rimmed eyes widened a bit. “Yeah. I think so. Why? You know him?”

“I know who he is, and I know that he was upset with Big Daddy earlier in the evening. Do you remember what Violet said about him?”

Sparkle inched the van around one last corner and pulled into the parking lot of the church. She put the van into park and shut off the engine. “She said that she was going to back Percy’s story, but I don’t know what she meant by that.”

Neither did I, but I meant to find out. “What about my uncle?” I asked. “Did you see him anywhere?”

She cut a glance at me. “Yeah, I did.”

“Where was he?”

“Out by the pool.”

My heart stopped beating for an instant, but I told myself not to panic. I already knew Uncle Nestor had been out by the pool, and so did the police. “What was he doing?”

“I’m pretty sure he was talking to Dwight,” Sparkle said, and somewhere in the depths of her dark eyes I saw hope flickering. “I know that probably doesn’t help.”

“It doesn’t hurt either,” I assured her as I opened my door. “How did Sullivan react to hearing all of that?”

“He didn’t. He just wrote it all down and thanked me for my time.”

We closed our doors and met at the back of the van. I had one more question for her before we got back to work. “What time did you hear Big Daddy and Violet arguing? Do you remember?”

Sparkle opened the van’s back doors and nodded. “Around midnight. It was just a few minutes after we served the King Cake.”

The back door of the church opened and our contact came outside to greet us, and the time for thinking about the murder was past. I had to focus on getting the cake inside without smearing the icing or the piping, or knocking off any of the tiny daisies on the top tier.

I didn’t know whether Sparkle’s story helped Uncle Nestor or not. The argument she’d overhead seemed more like a motive for Big Daddy to get rid of Violet than the other way around. But it did prove that something was askew in Big Daddy’s world—and for now that was enough.

Twenty-three

Sparkle and I maneuvered the henna cake through a narrow gate, across a small children’s playground, and into the back door of the church’s fellowship hall. In spite of the cool weather, I was red-faced and glistening enthusiastically by the time we finished. Sparkle, on the other hand, looked as cool and pale as ever.

On our way back, we stopped at The Joint for a mess of fall-off-the-bone ribs and tubs of creamy coleslaw and slow-cooked baked beans. It was a little out of our way, but we both agreed it was worth the effort. We loaded a couple gallons of sweet tea into the van with the food and headed back to Zydeco to feed the masses.

Traffic was heavier than ever when we finally pulled out of the French Quarter, but this time we were driving away from the parade zone, so we made better time. We still saw people in costume heading toward the festivities, but the carnival atmosphere faded a little more with every block.

Just as Sparkle stopped for a traffic light, a tall black man stepped off the sidewalk and strode across the street right in front of us. He was surrounded by a dozen other people, but I recognized him immediately. Tall. Dark. Denzelesque.

Percy Ponter.

Since we were stopped already, I made a split-second decision. Unbuckling my belt and grabbing my bag in one continuous motion, I waited until he’d reached the other side of the street and opened the van’s door.

“Hey!” Sparkle cried as I hopped out into the middle of traffic. “What are you doing?”

“I just saw someone I need to talk to.” The light turned and my sense of urgency spiked. “Ten minutes,” I promised. “It’s really important.”

I could still hear music playing along the parade route, but we were far enough away that I could also hear snatches of conversation as people passed me. The air was rich with scents that should have clashed, but instead worked together in a weird way. Hot grease and the yeasty smell of beignets, spicy polish sausage with onions and peppers, shrimp on a stick, and popcorn, all being sold by street vendors. I thought I caught a whiff of cinnamon and curry powder as well, and it all mixed with the mustiness of old buildings.

“I’ll call you on your cell in a few minutes,” I yelled to Sparkle.

“What in the hell—” The rest of her question got lost when I shut the door between us.

I darted between cars, earning a couple of shouts, one raised middle finger, and three horn blasts. But I made it to the sidewalk in one piece, and that’s what mattered. I slipped behind a chalk artist’s easel and around the crowd of people watching him work. I had to walk quickly to keep up with Percy’s long stride, but following him was easier than I’d expected. Even if he hadn’t topped out at a head taller than almost everyone else on the street that day, his tailored and obviously expensive suit stood out in the mostly jeans-and-a-T-shirt crowd.

I tried to remember if Miss Frankie had told me anything about Percy in the weeks before the party, but the details of two hundred lives were all crammed together in my head. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Miss Frankie’s number. The phone rang a few times and the call went to voice mail. There was no answer at Bernice’s house either, which probably meant that the two of them were out somewhere together. I just hoped they were staying out of trouble.

Two blocks later, Percy crossed the street and I got caught by the light. I bounced onto my toes so I could keep him in sight. He disappeared into a narrow building midway up the next block and my spirits sank. I shouldn’t have hesitated. Now I might have lost my chance to approach him.

Sighing with frustration, I glanced to my left to check the flow of traffic and realized that Sparkle was sitting at the intersection in the Zydeco van. She was watching me with a strange look on her face.

When she saw that I’d spotted her, she rolled down the window. “What are you doing?”

I glanced back up the street to make sure Percy wasn’t on his way back and stepped off the curb between two parked cars so I wouldn’t have to shout. “I told you. I need to talk to someone. Please, just go around the block and park. I’ll call you in a few minutes.”

She chewed her bottom lip, considering. “Are you doing something dangerous?”

“No,” I said quickly, even though I wasn’t entirely sure I was telling the truth.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. The light turned green but she didn’t move, even when a driver two cars back laid on his horn. “Let me park this thing and I’ll come with you.”

I shook my head and stepped back onto the curb. “I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “Now go!”

She didn’t look convinced, but at last she put the van into gear and slowly turned the corner. I hurried across the intersection and began the task of trying to figure out which door Percy had gone through.

I’d passed five or six stores without seeing any sign of him when he suddenly appeared on the sidewalk right in front of me. I let out a nervous yelp and sidestepped quickly to avoid running into him.

He tossed an apologetic smile in my direction and prepared to step around me. While I tried to figure out what to say, I saw recognition dawn in his eyes, followed by a minibattle over whether to say hello or pretend not to recognize me.

After a few seconds his shoulders sagged with resignation, a result of his Southern breeding, I guessed.

He hid his hesitation behind a smile, as if he was delighted to see me. “Don’t I know you?”

“Rita Lucero.” I popped out a hand for him to shake and returned his smile, trying to look as if I was surprised to see him standing there. I won’t ever win an Academy Award for my acting skills, but I think I fooled him. “We met at the Musterion party. I was the hostess. And you’re…Percy? Is that right?”

Something wary flashed behind his eyes, but he kept that friendly smile in place as he nodded. “Of course. I knew you looked familiar.”

I glanced at the building he’d come out of—a small neighborhood market. Nothing particularly sinister there. When I looked back at him, he was already making noises about leaving, so I jumped in with both feet. “I suppose you’ve heard about Big Daddy Boudreaux.”

His smile faded and the wariness I’d noticed before spread from his eyes to his face. “Of course. It’s been all over the news. It’s a horrible thing. Just horrible.”

“I met him for the first time at the party, but my mother-in-law has known him for years.” I squinted into the setting sun, still trying to look casual and chitchatty. “His death must have come as a shock to you,” I said. “It’s not easy to lose a friend.”

Percy put his hands in his pockets and glanced up and down the sidewalk, just looking for an excuse to walk away. “It was a shock, yes. But we weren’t really friends. We were just both members of Musterion.”

“Oh? Why did I think you were?”

“I couldn’t say.” He checked his watch and tried to look regretful. “It’s been nice seeing you again. The party was great. You outdid yourself.”

I wasn’t finished with him yet, so I just kept talking, counting on his being too well bred to leave midsentence. “I guess this creates quite a problem for Musterion, doesn’t it? Next year’s captain is dead. What happens now?”

Percy reluctantly looked up from his watch. “It’s unfortunate, of course, and the timing is delicate, but there are procedures in place to fill a vacancy. The board will take the appropriate steps after Big Daddy has been laid to rest.”

I hadn’t even thought about the need for a funeral, but now that Percy had mentioned one, I was pretty sure Miss Frankie would be going and she’d expect me to be there. I hate funerals, but it might be interesting to see how Big Daddy’s family and friends handled saying their final good-byes.

I tried to look sad, not curious. “Of course. When will that be?”

“I think Susannah has decided on Wednesday afternoon. It will be in the obituary, of course, and we’ll post the details on the krewe’s website.”

I wondered how many hoops they’d have to jump through to secure a venue large enough for Big Daddy’s funeral less than a week before Mardi Gras, but didn’t ask. I just made a mental note to talk to Miss Frankie about going together and got back to business. “It’s all so sad. And for you especially.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. Why me especially?”

“You had unfinished business with him, didn’t you?”

There was no mistaking the way Percy’s spine stiffened at that or the cautious way he eyed me while he framed his answer. “That was all a misunderstanding. Nothing important.”

“Really? It sounded important. You told him that you were going to settle something between you by the end of the night.” It was a bold point to make and I was a little nervous making it, but I wasn’t about to let him tell me a blatant lie and get away with it.

All pretense of friendliness vanished. “You must have misunderstood. It wasn’t like that at all.”

I gaped at him. “I was standing right there when you confronted Big Daddy. He’d just arrived at the party. You wanted him to talk to you that night. He tried to put you off until Monday. His assistant told you to call and make an appointment. Are you really going to claim I misunderstood all of that?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and glanced around nervously. “Look, Ms. Lucero, it’s not what you think.”

“Then what was it? What were you so angry about?”

“I wasn’t angry. I was…concerned.”

“Okay. Fine. What were you concerned about?”

“It wasn’t important. Just some krewe business. And it’s really none of your business.”

Maybe not, but I wasn’t going to let him sweep that conversation under the rug. “It was important enough for you to issue an ultimatum. What was it you said? Something about taking care of it one way or another?”

Percy forced a laugh and shifted his weight again so that he was facing me more fully. “Okay. Yeah. I know how that must have sounded, but it really wasn’t a big deal. It
wasn’t important
.”

“So then you won’t mind telling me what he did to upset you.”

“That’s confidential,” he said, his expression cold. “It was a krewe matter. I’m not at liberty to discuss it with you or anyone else.” He paused. Shook his head and smiled with wry amusement that almost looked genuine. “Look, you have to know what Big Daddy was like. He was a hard man to pin down. Sometimes you had to get a little in his face to get his attention. But that’s all it was, trust me.”

Maybe. But not yet.
“Did you talk to him again the night of the party?”

Percy shook his head and checked his watch again. “Not that I remember. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment.”

“Just one more question. Please?”

I could tell that he wanted to leave, but he held back and looked at me with exasperation. “What is it?”

I was feeling some frustration of my own. So far nobody had been able to provide Uncle Nestor with an alibi—or at least nobody was willing to admit they could. Maybe I was barking up the wrong tree. Maybe instead of trying to clear Uncle Nestor, I should be trying to figure out which of these people had the strongest motive to want Big Daddy out of the way.

So I blurted out the question I really wanted him to answer: “If you didn’t kill Big Daddy, who did?”

Percy stared at me for a minute before letting out a whooping laugh. “If I—Are you serious? You’re standing here in the middle of the street accusing me—Are you
nuts
, girl?”

“I’m just trying to find out who might have had a motive for wanting him out of the way. You knew him. You worked with him at Musterion. If you had to pick a name, whose name would it be?”

Percy put both hands on his hips and turned away so quickly he almost ran into a couple of elderly women coming out of a hair salon. The breeze caught his suit jacket and whipped it out from behind him, making him look like some kind of avenging superhero.

He took a couple of steps away from me, then turned around and came back toward me. “That’s a dangerous game you’re playing,” he said, his voice low.

“It’s not a game,” I said back. “Who had a reason to want Big Daddy dead? I’ve heard that he was arguing with both his assistant and his wife that night, and with his brother. And of course, with you. Do you have any idea why he argued with the others?”

Percy barked a sharp laugh. “How would I know that?”

“I just thought you might. Susannah seemed to know about your krewe business. She told Big Daddy that he had to make things right with you that night, or else. And Violet told Big Daddy that she was going to back your story. What did she mean by that?”

Percy’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you hear that?” He looked so angry, my heart skipped a beat.

And just in case he was a crazed killer, I wasn’t about to give him a name. “From someone who has no reason to lie.”

“And you think I do, is that it?” Percy sighed. “Look, Rita, there are a lot of people in this town who aren’t exactly losing sleep over Big Daddy’s death. But folks in these parts tend to close ranks against outsiders. Take my advice. Quit asking questions.”

I didn’t know how much of Percy’s story to believe. He’d seemed genuinely angry the night of the party, but it was pretty clear he wasn’t going to tell me why. He would certainly have the strength to use the statue as a weapon, but was the mysterious krewe business important enough to kill over? Susannah and Violet obviously knew about it, but I wondered who else knew and whether any of them would talk to me about it.