The Cakes of Monte Cristo (22 page)

She gave me a skeptical look. “And just how do you intend to figure out who the rightful owner is?”

“I thought I'd start by talking to Thaddeus Montgomery.”

Miss Frankie looked surprised, but she recovered quickly and gave a thoughtful nod. “I suppose talking to Thaddeus is a good idea, but I think he'll tell you that the necklace rightfully belongs to the Toussaint family.”

“Maybe he will,” I said, “but at least I'll know for sure. I mean, the Merciers must think they have
some
claim on it.”

“I can't imagine why,” Miss Frankie said. “Delphine never actually owned it.”

“No, but it was promised to her, and that's why the whole mess got started in the first place.” I swept a glance over the room again, noticed several more people snapping pictures of the cakes, and then caught a glimpse of the human bulldozer several tables away. She was talking to a young woman with dark hair who looked vaguely familiar. Both women looked a bit angry—but then, that seemed to be Natalie's default emotion.

“That reminds me,” I said. “Do you know Natalie Archer?”

Miss Frankie followed my gaze. “Of course I do, sugar.”

“She says that she's Gustave Toussaint's only heir. Is that true?”

Miss Frankie frowned. “Well, bless her heart. Natalie knows she's not Gustave's only descendant. There's her brother, too, and at least a dozen cousins. I'm sure she's just confused.”

Yeah. I'm sure that was it. “She also says that you told her about Zoey and me finding the necklace. Is
that
true?”

Miss Frankie patted the back of her hair nonchalantly. “Yes, I did. I went to speak to her the day you were so worried
about me. I heard about what happened to Orra, so I knew you hadn't taken my advice. And since I knew that Natalie was one of the Toussaint heirs, I decided she ought to know. We had lunch.”

Lovely. Miss Frankie and Natalie, ladies who lunch. Considering how worried I'd been, I supposed I
should
have been relieved to learn that she'd been with Natalie and not visiting Mambo Odessa or some other voodoo priestess. But it was hard to feel relieved about anything where Natalie was concerned. “Sounds like a long lunch,” I said with a halfhearted grin. “Why didn't you just tell me that's where you were?”

“I didn't realize I had to account for every minute of my day,” she said. “And it was a wonderful lunch. We had a lot to talk about. Natalie and I have known each other for years. I went to school with her brother.”

As if that explained everything. “That's nice,” I said, “but now she expects me to just hand over the necklace to her on her say-so. She had some grandiose plan about me giving it to her tonight in front of the press.”

Miss Frankie slid a sidelong glance at me. “Has she been bothering you?”

I shrugged. “A little, I guess. But it's nothing I can't handle. Just please tell me if you've spoken to anyone else who might come forward with a claim. I'd like to be prepared.”

Miss Frankie patted my shoulder gently. “Natalie means well, bless her heart. Although she can be a trial at times. Do you want me to call Thaddeus for you? I'd be happy to arrange a meeting.”

I shook my head, wanting to keep Miss Frankie as far from the necklace or anything having to do with it as humanly possible. I
so
didn't want another freak-out. “I'll take care of it. After tonight, I'll have a couple of days to breathe before we have to gear up for Mardi Gras.” And I intended to lay the Toussaint necklace to rest.

I'd been away from my post for too long, so I stood to excuse myself just as Sparkle appeared on the edge of my vision. I saw her look around, spot Miss Frankie and me, and begin weaving her way toward us. She didn't say a word when she reached me; she just shoved her phone under my nose and waited for my reaction.

I wasn't sure what I was seeing at first, but after a moment the confusion cleared and I let out a tiny shriek. “Is this what I think it is?” I asked.

Sparkle's face remained completely stoic, but her dark eyes glittered with excitement. “Yeah. Zydeco's trending. Cool, huh?”

Miss Frankie moved a little closer, trying to see the phone screen. “Trending? What does that mean? Is it good?”

“It's very good,” I told her. “It means that people are talking about us online.”

“Lots of people,” Sparkle added. “They're posting pictures
of the cakes, of the buffet, of the dessert bar . . .” Her voice trailed off, but I thought I detected a hint of a smile. “I just thought you'd want to know.”

“I did,” I assured her. “Thanks.” A little bubble of euphoria surrounded me at the thought of Zydeco being a trending Twitter topic. And in a good way! I didn't ever intend to admit it aloud, but I'd overextended myself and my staff by accepting this contract. I was more than a little relieved that it was working out so well. Better than I could have expected, in fact.

“We have hundreds of new Twitter followers, too,” Sparkle said. “All in the last few hours.”

I mentally upgraded my opinion of social media, but just then Natalie spoke to the young woman at her table and rose to her feet and I forgot all about Facebook and Twitter. The young woman turned toward me and I saw her full-on for the first time. I caught my breath when I realized that I was looking at Dominique. She looked completely different in a jade beaded gown and matching headband in her dark hair. It was the hair that made her unrecognizable to me. Somehow she had removed every trace of curl so that it fell in silky straight lines to her chin.

I nodded a greeting, which she returned with the hint of a smile before she turned away to watch Evangeline resume her place at the podium. Evangeline introduced the members who were running for board positions in an upcoming election and turned the microphone over to Natalie.

I held my breath, hoping Natalie wasn't going to blindside me by mentioning the Toussaint necklace. I needn't have worried. Turned out, she was only up there to deliver a memorial to Orra, complete with pictures taken of her at various events over the years.

Based on my limited experience with Natalie, the heartfelt tribute stirred and surprised me. Most of the people in that room seemed touched by Natalie's presentation, and several
were mopping their eyes with their napkins as the homage wound to a close. I thought Orra would have been pleased by the outpouring of what appeared to be genuine grief.

Only one couple seemed unaffected by the tribute—Sol Lehmann and his wife exchanged glances several times as Natalie spoke. Neither seemed upset over Orra's untimely death; in fact, I was almost positive that I'd caught Mrs. Lehmann rolling her eyes over a couple of Natalie's more sentimental comments.

I reminded myself that failure to show grief or sadness didn't automatically mean that the Lehmanns had tried to steal the necklace from Orra, but it certainly didn't make Sol or his wife appear
less
guilty. Which is why, when Mrs. Lehmann excused herself from the table and stepped out into the hallway, I decided to follow her. It was probably too much to hope that I'd catch her riffling through my handbag looking for the necklace, but a girl can dream.

Mrs. Lehmann headed straight for the ladies' room, not my handbag, which was kind of a letdown. I'd been so
sure
she was going to make another attempt at stealing the necklace.

After she disappeared into the lavatory, I hesitated for about three seconds, then went in after her. I wasn't ready to write her off as a suspect just yet. And I was tired of looking over my shoulder, wondering when the jewel thief would strike again. If Sol Lehmann and his wife were responsible, I wanted to prove it. It would be easier to confront her now than to find a time and place later.

I did a little reconnaissance and determined that there was no one else in the bathroom with us—at least assuming those were Mrs. Lehmann's black pumps I could see beneath the stall door—and that there was no other way to leave the room. Satisfied that she hadn't ducked out the back way, I busied myself in front of the long mirror and waited.

She didn't make me wait long. Mrs. Lehmann came out
of the stall, glanced at my reflection as she walked toward me, and gave me a vague smile when we made eye contact in the mirror.

I smiled back and mumbled a greeting—the kind that's socially acceptable under awkward circumstances. I waited until she'd activated the water faucet and reached for the soap dispenser to strike up a conversation. “You're Mrs. Lehmann, aren't you?”

She stopped mid-pump but her smile was a couple of watts brighter. I guess she thought I was a potential customer. “Yes. Do I know you?”

“I don't think we've ever met,” I said. “My name is Rita Lucero.” I watched her closely, looking for a guilty flinch, a flicker of recognition—anything to convince me that she knew who I was.

I got nothing. She gave the soap dispenser another pump and smiled. “I'm Miriam.” She ran a glance over my chef's jacket and plain black pants. “Are you one of the caterers?”

Either she had never heard my name before, or she was doing a good job pretending to be oblivious. I bet on the latter. “Actually, I'm one of the partners at Zydeco,” I said, wondering if that bit of news might get something out of her.

She looked surprised as she put her hands under the water stream again. “I hope I didn't offend you. I just assumed you were one of the workers.”

“Not at all,” I assured her. “I'm definitely one of those, too.” I glanced at the door and changed the subject before she could finish washing up. “That was a nice tribute Natalie gave in there, wasn't it?”

Miriam's lips quirked slightly. “Yes. Very.”

I knew I was being pushy, but I didn't want her to get away before I could ask a few questions. “Did you know Orra Trussell well?”

“I suppose. As well as anyone here.”

“Well, it's nice that she had so many friends. Someone told me that she had no family.”

Miriam's lips quirked again. “I wouldn't say that she had
friends
here.
Colleagues
might be a better word.”

“Oh!” I tried to act surprised. “So you weren't friends with her? That seems so sad.”

“Save your sympathy,” Miriam said. “You reap what you sow.”

“Oh!” I said again. “Natalie's tribute left me with a different impression.”

Miriam looked away from what she was doing. “She made Orra sound like a saint, didn't she? Don't get me wrong, I'm sorry Orra's dead, but she wasn't a saint by any means.”

“I only met her once,” I said. “I didn't know her at all, but she seemed like a nice woman.”

“That's the impression she wanted people to have,” Miriam said. She pulled her hands away from the sink and shook the excess water from them before heading for the paper towel dispenser. “Most people fell for the act.”

“I wish I'd known that before I went to the Vintage Vault,” I said, hoping to encourage more gossip from Miriam. “I left a necklace with her for an appraisal. Was she not trustworthy?”

Miriam dried her hands and tossed the towels, but this time when she looked at me, she seemed more focused. More alert. She completely ignored my question and took the bait I'd dropped. “Sol was telling me something about a necklace that Orra was appraising. The Toussaint rubies, I believe. You're the one who left it at the Vintage Vault?”

I nodded. “Actually, your husband approached me about buying the necklace. He didn't tell you about that?”

“We're supposed to be partners,” she said with an eye roll dramatic enough for a teenage girl. “He's
supposed
to tell me everything, but he doesn't. You know how men are.”

Did I ever. Seemed like all the men in my life were experts at keeping things bottled up. “Sol didn't discuss the Toussaint necklace with you?”

“Oh, we've discussed it. Plenty of times, in fact. Every jeweler in the South has been waiting for that piece to turn up again. Of course, not everyone thought it would be found. Some people believed that the stones were removed from their settings and sold off separately years ago, but most of us thought that it would be found eventually.”

“I had no idea it was so well known.”

“Oh, yes,” Her eyes narrowed speculatively. “So what kind of deal did you and Sol strike?”

“We didn't make a deal. I'm still trying to decide what to do with the necklace. I'm not sure I even have the right to sell it to anyone.”

Miriam's smile faded. “You found it, didn't you?”

“Well, yes, but it originally belonged to the Toussaint family . . .” I let my voice trail away and hoped that I sounded genuinely confused.

“Don't let anyone bully you, my dear. You found the thing. You can do whatever you want with it.” Miriam opened her purse and produced a business card. “Before you strike a deal with anyone, please call me. I can make you a much better deal than anyone else, including my husband.”

Interesting. Clearly Miriam and Sol weren't working together. I took the card and slipped it into a pocket. “Thanks. I'll keep you in mind,” I said, but Miriam was already halfway out the door.

I tucked my disappointment away and waited a few seconds before I followed her. By the time I emerged, she had already disappeared but I guess it didn't really matter. I had a feeling she wasn't the jewel thief, after all.

But crossing Miriam Lehmann off the list of possible suspects brought another name up to the top. Dominique had
painted a far different picture of Sol and Miriam's working relationship than the one Miriam had shared with me. Had Dominique deliberately misled me? And if so, why?

*   *   *

People were dancing by the time I got back to the ballroom. Gabriel waltzed by with Bernice on his arm and mouthed, “You're next,” when he knew I was watching them.

My insides did their usual flippy thing at the look in his eyes. Under other circumstances, I would have waited right there for him to come back, but I had no intention of making a spectacle of myself. I turned away reluctantly to check on the behind-the-scenes staff, which was what I was being paid to do.

I walked past the buffet tables, pleased to see that most of the food was gone, and started down the hall toward the staging area. I spotted Zoey sitting on a bench outside the prep rooms. Carlo Mancini stood over her, punching and swiping on his tablet. Anger bubbled up inside me, but I wasn't sure which of them I was angriest with.

Zoey saw me coming and her face blanched. She shot up off the bench and backed away from Mancini as if she'd suddenly discovered he had the plague. “I really have to get back,” she murmured. “I have to work.”

She slipped back into the prep room before Mancini could stop her. He turned slowly to face me, a deceptively calm smile on his face. “It seems you make young Zoey nervous. Why is that?”

I wanted to snatch that goatee right off his smug face, but I was pretty sure he'd jump on an angry outburst from me like a hungry duck on a junebug. Since I didn't want to feed him any kind of story, I returned his smile with one of my own. “I don't know what you mean. Zoey is a conscientious employee who knows she shouldn't be having personal conversations when she's supposed to be working, that's all.”

“Or granting interviews to reporters you've forbidden her to talk to?”

I gave an icy laugh. “She can talk to whoever she likes, as long as she's not speaking for Zydeco. I'm the only one who can do that.”

He glanced at the door behind him and shrugged. “Fair enough. I understand you may be presenting the Toussaint necklace to its rightful owner tonight. Any comment?”

The door flew open while Mancini was asking his question and I caught a quick glimpse of Calvin holding a gray plastic bin, on his way to start disassembling the buffet tables. Not wanting to interrupt the conversation Mancini and I were having, however, he eased the door almost shut again, but I could see a sliver of his dark arm and white sleeve.

It was nice of him to want to protect me, but considering Mancini's question, Natalie Archer was in more danger than I was. How
dare
she claim that I was going to give her the necklace? I ground my teeth in frustration. Was she trying to back me into a corner?

“My only comment would be that you have your facts wrong,” I told Mancini. “The necklace isn't even on the premises.”