Limoncello Yellow (Franki Amato Mysteries) (26 page)

"
Imma's murder," She interrupted with a flourish of her pen.

"
Precisely."

"
Then Stewart could have been paying her to keep quiet."

I
nodded. "That would also explain Jessica's reluctance to testify at the trial. Of course, it's pure supposition at this point, but this could be the link between the cases that we've been looking for."

"
True." Veronica pressed the pen to her lips.

"
That reminds me. Have you looked at the picture of Stewart at the courthouse after his acquittal?"

"
I have. And judging from his demeanor, I wouldn't put bribery past him."

"
Yeah." My mind started racing. "Oh my gosh! I just remembered something."

"
What?"

"
That day I ran into Bradley at Market Café, he told me that Jessica came to the bank to make a deposit every month. Do you think it could have been a payoff?"

"
Well, it might have been her paycheck. But we definitely need to look into that."

"
I'll text Corinne and ask if she would be willing to help." I pulled my phone from the pocket of my jacket. "After all, I did find her dog."

"
Great idea. I also think it's time we paid Stewart Preston a visit."

"
I doubt he would talk to us," I said as I typed a message to Corinne. "I mean, it's not like he's going to want to associate himself with Jessica's murder, especially not after he was lucky enough to get off for Immacolata's."

"
Oh, I know he won't talk to us. We'll have to go undercover."

I placed my phone on her desk.
"What do you have in mind?"

"
Well, what do we know about Stewart?" Veronica had a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. I
'd seen that look before, and it always spelled trouble—for me. "Besides the fact that he's an acquitted murderer, you mean?"

"
Yes, Franki," she said with a reproving look. "Besides that."

"
We know that he loves Mardi Gras and women."

Veronica picked up my phone.
"Right. The Mardi Gras parades have started, but according to this year's schedule, the Krewe de Eros parade isn't until a week from tomorrow. So, we'll have to go with women." She gave me the once-over.

"
Oh no." I jumped to my feet in alarm. "
You're
the bat-and-twirl girl! Besides, I already went undercover at LaMarca. It's your turn!"

"
If Immacolata is any indication, Stewart has a weakness for busty, dark-haired Italian girls. That would be you." She nodded in the direction of my breasts.

I shot her a look. It really was true that blondes have more fun, mainly because they leave all the crap to us brunettes.
"All right." I sighed as I flopped back into my chair. "What do I have to do?"

She grinned, triumphant.
"Well, first we have to contact Stewart. I've been doing some searching, but I can't find a phone number or email address for him. His parents are listed in the phone book, though, so we'll start with them."

"
Do you just want me to pretend to be interested in him, or something?"

"
If you get one of his parents on the phone, yes. But if by some chance Stewart actually answers, then tell him you're an old friend of Jessica's and that you need to talk to him urgently."

I again leapt from my seat.
"Are you crazy? If he
did
have anything to do with Jessica's murder that'll make him think I want to blackmail him. You could get me strangled!"

"
Calm down, Franki. You'll be fine. Besides, you know we're going to have to play hardball to get a guy like Stewart's attention. If you just pretend to be some floozy who wants to sleep with him, he'll figure out that you're a fraud the minute you try to ask a question about Jessica. This way, he'll know you're looking for information about her from the start."

"
Yeah, and he'll be suspicious of me from the start, too," I muttered. "Maybe he'll even bring a scarf to our meeting."

"
We can worry about the meeting later. Right now, all you have to do is call him. I've already signed you up for a Google Voice phone number to conceal your identity."

"
Veronica, a guy with Stewart's financial means could find out the identity of the most protected person in the federal witness protection program. So he's not going to have any trouble figuring out who owns a Google phone number."

She leaned forward.
"There is a chance a master hacker could trace it, but it would take some time because I registered the number from a public computer. And besides, I used an old email address that could only be traced back to me."

"
I see that you've been thinking about this for a while." I glared at her as I returned to my seat. "Have you picked out a fake name for me too?"

She repressed a smile.
"I have."

"
What is it?"

"
Gina Mazzucco!"

"
That sounds like one of the freakin' Pink Ladies." Veronica had always gotten to play Sandy in our college dorm Grease sing-alongs, while I'd been forced to play Rizzo. I had the sneaking suspicion that she was rubbing that in right now.

"
I know." She chuckled as she began dialing a number on my phone and then shoved it into my hand. "Here you go, Rizzo—I mean, Gina!"

Suspicion confirmed. I scowled at her as I grasped the phone.

"Preston residence," an older woman's velvety voice replied on speakerphone.

I fumbled for something to say.
"Uh, hi. May I speak to Stewart, please?"

"
The third or the fourth?" she drawled.

"
Pardon?"

The woman gave an exasperated sigh.
"Are you looking for my son or for his father?"

"
Oh, for your son." I felt my face getting warm from embarrassment.

"
He lives in New York."

"
Would you mind giving me his number?" I asked somewhat timidly. Even though Stewart's mom clearly wasn't in the near vicinity, she was pretty darn intimidating nevertheless.

"
Yes, I would mind," she replied icily. "Who
is
this?"

"
Gina Mazzucco," I said while glaring at Veronica. "I'm an old friend."

"
Stewart has asked me not to give out his private number. Good day."

"
Wait—" I said, but she had already hung up the phone. "Nice manners!"

Veronica shrugged.
"She did say 'Good day,' Franki."

I sighed.
"What now?"

"
We'll try again tomorrow. Maybe someone else will answer."

"
And if not?"

Veronica drummed her French-manicured fingernails on her desk.
"Then we'll just have to wait and pay a visit to the Krewe de Eros parade."

"
Do you really think Stewart will come home for Mardi Gras? After all, he might want to steer clear now that Jessica has turned up dead."

"
It's one of the biggest parties in the world, and one of the few where women routinely flash their breasts, unprompted," Veronica said. "He won't be able to resist a powerful combination like that, not even under the threat of a murder investigation."

* * *

By eight o'clock that evening, I had already been waiting for Odette Malveaux for two hours. But I was determined to stay at Marie Laveau's for the long haul. I'd been unable to find any link between Stewart Preston and voodoo on the Internet, so Mambo Odette was my best chance to establish a connection.

I walked over to the front door of the store and looked out at the bawdy crowd on
Bourbon Street. Then I turned and leaned against the cashier counter. Thankfully, the kid with the acne was back at work, so I didn't have to endure the disapproving gaze of The Church Lady.

While I waited, I glanced around the room at the merchandise, starting with the vials of potion right next to me on the counter.
So much for Love Potion #9
, I thought, just as another wave of heartburn rose in my chest.

Next my eyes fell to the necklaces on the other side of the cash register. As I was
looking at the various charms, a woman shoved her way into the store, thrusting me into the cash register in the process. I turned around and saw that it was Mambo Odette.

With her graying black dreadlocks hidden by a crisp white
tignon
and matching dress, Mambo Odette seemed slightly more approachable than the last time I'd seen her, despite the fact that she'd just given me a shove. So, I summoned up the courage to walk over to her. She was busy grabbing handfuls of chicken feet from a bin and throwing them into a small burlap bag.

"
I don't know if you remember me," I said with my heart palpitating wildly in my chest, "but you gave me some advice when I was here a few days ago."

Mambo Odette didn
't respond. She kept her head down as she continued to put chicken feet into the sack.

Undeterred by her lack of a reply, I continued,
"I'm investigating the murder of Jessica Evans, and I'd like to ask you a few questions." Then, in the event that money was an issue, I added, "I'm willing to pay you for your time."

She moved from the chicken feet to the alligator teeth without a word.

I decided to try a more direct approach. "Do you know anything about Jessica Evans?"

"
I know she didn' make no offerin' ta Baron Samedi."

"
Offering?" I asked, startled by her sudden response.

"
He don' have ta dig de grave fo' Baron Kriminel if he don' wan' ta. But ya got to give 'im rum soaked in twenty-one hot peppas an' Pall Mall cigarettes."

"
I-I'm sorry?" I was a little caught off guard by her mention of grave digging.

Mambo Odette didn
't reply. She had begun carefully sifting through the alligator teeth as though looking for a specific one.

Looks like I need to try another tack,
I thought. "Can you tell me anything else about Jessica?"

Again no response. Instead, she began to count the items in her bag.

Okay, I'll take that as a "no."
"What about Stewart Preston, IV?"
              "Don' know 'im," she replied. "But Erzulie D'en Tort do. And she goin' ta deal wit 'im."

"
Who?" I wondered whether this Erzulie was associated with Jessica or Imma.

She said nothing as she moved to another bin full of some unidentifiable shriveled items.

I tried another angle. "Can you tell me if Stewart Preston practices voodoo?"

Mambo Odette stopped sifting and looked me in the eyes.
"I tol' ya, chile, I don' know him."

I took a step back from her, just in case, before I pressed on.
"Can you tell me anything else about this case?"

She looked down.
"Watch out fo' dem who take magic."

"
Take magic?" I repeated. "Do you mean drugs or something?"

Without a word, she began carefully selecting dried up items from the bin and placing them into her bag.

By now it was clear that this conversation was going nowhere, and I was starting to think I'd been wrong about consulting Mambo Odette on the case. So, I shifted the focus to Bradley.

"
You told me to stay away from the bayou," I began.

"
And ya didn' do it," she said.

Struck yet again by the knowledge this woman had, I gushed,
"No, and now I've found out that the man I'm crazy about, the one that you said was a 'good man,' is married."

"
Thangs ain't always the way they seem, chile," Odette said as she turned to a small display of gris-gris bags that promised everything from love to prosperity to the bearer. After selecting a red bag, she untied the piece of yarn at the top. Then she rummaged around in the pocket of her white cotton dress and pulled out some sort of dried root. She put the item into the bag, tied it closed, and pressed it into the palm of my hand. "Ya need ta go
home
."

I wasn
't sure what I was supposed to do with the gris-gris bag, but I could see that there was no point in asking. So I pulled a twenty-dollar bill from my wallet and handed it to her. She quickly slipped it into her pocket and then returned to the business of selecting items for her sack.