The Cakes of Monte Cristo (6 page)

“Try not to let Natalie bother you. We'll get her calmed down again,” Simone said reassuringly. “Rita and I were just having coffee. Would you like to join us? We could figure out the best way to deal with this mess.” She looked at me over the top of Corinne's mousy brown hair. “Would you mind, Rita?”

We'd handled all of our business and I couldn't do anything about the necklace until I talked to Miss Frankie, so I assured them both that I didn't mind at all. I finished my coffee while Simone pulled out the notes we'd made earlier and showed Corinne how all the display tables would fit fine.

I listened with half an ear in case they made a decision that would impact Zydeco, but that left my mind free to skitter back to the necklace. I wondered if Simone was right. If the necklace was old and valuable, if the stones were genuine, it could be worth a
lot
of money. But I was more intrigued by the story behind it. Somebody had hidden the necklace inside the staircase, and I wanted to know who . . . and why.

I went back to Zydeco after lunch and spent the afternoon working with Zoey, who peppered me with questions about the computer system and our calendar program, tossing in a question or comment about the necklace every so often. By the time Estelle was ready to leave and came to collect her niece, I was completely worn out and I still had to finish payroll.

Luckily, with everyone else gone, I was able to finish my own work quickly. I zapped the figures to the payroll company and locked up around seven. After twelve long hours, I was ready to curl up with a good book and some Cherry Garcia ice cream, but I didn't want to put off showing Miss Frankie what we'd found. She had friends everyone and I didn't want her to hear about the necklace before I could tell her.

Fog had settled in, so the drive across town took a bit longer than usual. My mother-in-law lives in an upscale neighborhood filled with lots of money and people who don't
like to talk about it. Even shrouded in fog, the neighborhood managed to look elite.

I found Miss Frankie standing at the end of her driveway, shining a flashlight on a misshapen cluster of pampas grass. Last time I'd visited, the grass had been roughly eight feet tall and crowned with huge white plumes that fluttered gently whenever there was a breeze. Tonight the bush had shrunk by at least half, and only a couple of white plumes remained.

I parked and got out of the car. “What on earth happened here?”

Miss Frankie glanced at me and gave her head a solemn shake. She was wearing an outfit in winter white, slim pants and a sweater embroidered with gold snowflakes. Even in the near-dark I could see that her auburn hair had been teased and sprayed so well the moisture in the air had no effect on it. Not so for mine; I could feel my hair frizzing a bit more with every passing second.

“Boys from the church,” Miss Frankie said sadly. “They came by this afternoon.”

“What did they do? Play football in it?”

“No, sugar, they were helping out. Trying to earn money for something. Their youth pastor asked if I had any yard work the boys could do. I wanted to be helpful, of course, so I told them they could trim back a couple of bushes.”

I tried not to laugh, but a titter escaped my lips anyway.

Miss Frankie turned toward me with a dejected sigh. “It's hideous, isn't it?”

“I wouldn't say it's hideous,” I fibbed. “But it does look a bit sick.”

“It looks horrible. They took my money and drove away like nothing was wrong. I didn't even notice it until Bernice came by.” Bernice is Miss Frankie's neighbor and dearest friend. I was surprised she'd left Miss Frankie to deal with the
Frankenbush alone. “Can you believe they left it looking like that?”

“I think you should call and tell them to fix it.”

Miss Frankie rolled her eyes at my suggestion. “And just how would they do that? Mow it down? Dig it up and burn it?”

I laughed. “Either one might be an improvement.”

“A big one,” Miss Frankie agreed. She turned away from the bush and squared her shoulders. “What's done is done,” she said firmly. “But I've learned my lesson.” She tucked a hand into my arm and started walking slowly toward the house. “But let's talk about more pleasant things. What brings you here this evening?”

I pulled my gaze away from that sorry clump of pampas grass and fell into step with her. “I have something to show you. I found it today at Zydeco and there's a good chance it's worth a
lot
of money.”

Miss Frankie patted my arm. “That sounds intriguing. Tell me more.”

I considered skipping the gory details. Did she really need to know how I'd found it? But I knew I couldn't conceal the damage the boxes had done, and the bad news would be better coming from me so I plunged ahead. “Estelle's niece Zoey started working for us this morning. She was emptying the storage room on the second floor and lost control of a box or two. There are a couple of holes in the wall and there's some damage to the staircase.”

Miss Frankie's step faltered, so I hurried to reassure her. “It's not as bad as it sounds. I don't think it will be difficult to fix.”

Miss Frankie stopped walking entirely. “How bad is it?”

“Hopefully the cost out of our pockets will be minimal,” I said, silently urging her to keep walking. I wanted to get out of this humidity. My hair was so big, I felt like a Chia Pet.

She took the hint, and when we reached the front door,
Miss Frankie ushered me inside and led me into her living room, a large room done entirely in sea foam green and white. She motioned me toward the couch and took a seat beside me.

“I suppose I'll have to come down and see the damage for myself,” she said.

“If you want to. Simone O'Neil gave me the names of some contractors. If you have no objection, I'll call for estimates, but I may not be able to get to it until after the Belle Lune Ball.” I pulled the necklace in its box from my bag and put it on my lap. “I hope this will make up for it.”

Miss Frankie studied the box for a moment and lifted her curious amber eyes to meet mine. “What is it?”

I removed the lid with a flourish and unwrapped the velvet. The stones caught the overhead light and gleamed deep red. The gold setting shimmered and I heard Miss Frankie's quick intake of breath.

Naturally, I understood her reaction completely. I'd known she'd be blown away, too; I'd been looking at the thing all day, and even I had trouble taking it in. It seemed a little more beautiful every time I opened the box. “I know, right? Have you ever seen anything like it?”

“Put it away.” Miss Frankie's voice sounded harsh. Clipped. Even angry.

Confused, I frowned up at her. “If you're worried about someone seeing it, I don't think—”

She stood quickly. “I said, put it away. Get that . . .
thing
 . . . out of here.”

Her reaction was so odd, I had trouble processing it. “Are you talking about the necklace?”

“Of course I am.” She wagged a hand at it, then pulled her hand back sharply, as if she'd been burned. “I don't want that thing in my house. I don't want it anywhere near me. Get rid of it immediately.”

Was she joking?
“Why? What's wrong with you? Do you
have any idea how much it could be worth? It could fund Zydeco's operation for months, if not years!”

My mother-in-law's horrified expression cut off whatever I might have been planning to say next. “Rita, stop. I will not have that necklace in my house, nor will I use it to pay for anything. You shouldn't have it anywhere near you either. If you're smart you'll throw in the river and get rid of it for good.”

Except for right after Philippe died, I'd never seen Miss Frankie so agitated. In spite of the fact that curiosity was eating me alive, I wrapped the necklace and returned it to the box, then carried the whole thing out to the car. I wasn't happy about leaving something so potentially valuable unattended, but I reminded myself that Miss Frankie's neighborhood is usually safe. I couldn't keep the necklace in the house—obviously—but I wasn't ready to just drive away without finding out what had prompted Miss Frankie's freak-out.

She had moved into the kitchen by the time I returned to the house. Her hands were wrapped around a glass of iced tea and she stared at the ice cubes as if they'd done something to offend her.

“Okay. It's gone,” I said. “Do you mind telling me what that was all about?”

She lifted her gaze and shook her head. “I want you to get rid of that necklace, and I don't mean just put it away somewhere. Do you understand?”

“I understand what you're saying, but I don't know why you're saying it. What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Just do what I say.”

My spine stiffened and my jaw clenched. One of the fastest ways to get me angry is to order me around without an explanation. “I'm not just going to toss a clearly valuable antique necklace into the trash,” I told her. “And I'm sure not going to throw it into the Mississippi River for no reason. I don't even know if it's even genuine.”

“It's genuine all right,” Miss Frankie said.

“You can tell just by looking at it?”

“I can tell because I know exactly what that necklace is. I thought it was long gone. Destroyed, I'd hoped. Are you telling me it's been at Zydeco this whole time?”

I sat across the table from her. “It's been there awhile anyway. As long as I've been there. Why would you hope it had been destroyed? It's beautiful.”

“It's cursed,” Miss Frankie snapped. “If you have that necklace in your possession, something horrible will happen.”

I laughed. I couldn't help myself. Miss Frankie is the most practical person I know—at least most of the time. With all the mystical, magical things swirling around New Orleans, her feet remain firmly on solid ground. I didn't know why she was pretending to believe in some curse now, but I wasn't buying her act.

“Very funny,” I said. “I've been carrying it around with me all day and nothing bad has happened yet.”

“I'm not joking,” Miss Frankie barked. She followed that declaration with the sign of the cross, which was really odd since she's not Catholic. “That's the Toussaint necklace. It disappeared in 1885 and it hasn't been seen since.”

Confusion made it hard to follow her. “If it's been missing, how do you know what it is?”

“I've seen the painting. I've heard the stories.”

“What painting?” I asked. “What stories?”

She waved off my questions. “You don't want to know.”

Oh, but I did. She wasn't going to fill me in though, so I switched gears. “So those are actual rubies? For real?”

Miss Frankie let out a shudder that racked her entire body. “Yes, but they're dangerous. They're cursed, Rita. Cursed.”

“Surely you don't believe that.”

“I most certainly do.”

“What kind of curse do you think is on it?”

“I don't think there's a curse, I
know
there is, and that's all I'm going to say on the subject. You get rid of that vile necklace at once and we'll say no more about it.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up a hand to stop me. “No, Rita. I'll say no more. I've said too much already. You're just going to have to trust me on this.”

I'd never seen Miss Frankie like this but her odd behavior only made me more curious. I could tell that she meant what she said, and I knew better than to push when she'd made up her mind, so I zipped my lip and tucked my questions away for a later time.

“All right,” I said. “If you say so.”

“You promise you'll get rid of it? Immediately?”

“You'll never have to see it again,” I vowed. That seemed to mollify her, but if she really thought that I would throw away the necklace and let the matter rest, she didn't know me very well at all. Miss Frankie might not have to see the necklace again, but I was determined to find out everything I could about it and about the curse that had her so rattled. What Miss Frankie didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Maybe she wouldn't talk about the necklace, but
someone
would. All I had to do was find the right person.

*   *   *

I left Miss Frankie's house intending to go straight home, but halfway there, I changed my mind and drove to the Dizzy Duke, the Zydeco staff's favorite after-work watering hole. I was in the mood for one of Gabriel Broussard's margaritas. I hoped a little tequila and some time with a hot Cajun might take the edge off after my strange conversation with Miss Frankie.

The Duke is a redbrick building in a rundown neighborhood two blocks east of Zydeco. I stepped into the dimly lit interior and headed straight for the polished wood bar that
stretched across one end of the long, narrow room. Most of the round tables surrounding the dance floor were filled, and the house band was playing on the small raised platform at the far end of the room.

Laughter and conversation ebbed and flowed all around me. It was nearly ten so it didn't surprise me when I didn't see anyone from Zydeco in the crowd, but Gabriel was holding court behind the bar and that's all I needed. He's all sorts of male sexiness, from his chocolate brown bedroom eyes to his killer smile and a few other attributes that haven't escaped my notice. One lazy shank of dark hair fell across his forehead. I swear it does that just to make women swoon.

Besides just his physical appeal, Gabriel's easy to talk to. He and I have been dancing around a relationship of sorts for a while now. I'm not sure which of us is holding back more—Gabriel's true intentions are still a mystery, and he's not the only guy in my life, which tends to complicate things.

My insides did their usual flippy thing as I bellied up to the bar. Hoping to have an equal effect on him, I offered my most seductive smile. I'm not sure I succeeded. It felt more like a grimace from my end.