April Fools Read online

  She greeted me with a warm smile. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “Same here.” I paused a moment to accept a glass of white wine from a tuxedo-clad waiter, then turned back to Lisa. “So what’s been happening with you?”

  “I just returned from an international art show in Paris.”

  “Paris in the spring, wow.” I reflected on scenes of sidewalk cafes, flower markets, and the Eiffel Tower. “Have you been there before?”

  “Actually this was my third… no, fourth visit to Paris. I started going to the art shows there in the 90’s, and the city never fails to excite me.”

  Lisa, an artist and a sculptor, displayed her work in her own studio in the Quarter. One of her paintings, a Creole cottage, hung on the wall in my living room.

  Abruptly a scene from the past crossed my mind. What triggered it was a mystery— probably all the events of the day. I remembered the celebration on the night of Anne’s murder, a party at Lisa’s former residence in the Garden District.

  “I’d like to ask you a question,” I said in a low voice. “This isn’t a pleasant topic, but a conversation I had earlier today forced the subject to mind.”

  “How can I help you?” A curious look flitted across Lisa’s face.

  “You may not remember this because it happened ten years ago,” I began cautiously.

  “The night of Anne’s murder?” Her question sounded equally guarded.

  I nodded.

  She lowered her eyes briefly, and then moved her gaze back to my face. “What do you want to know?”

  “Do you remember who came to your party? Or more importantly, who didn’t show up?”

  “I’ll have to think about it for a while. A long time has passed since I threw the party.” She tossed an anxious glance over her shoulder.

  What was wrong with me discussing a murder in this place? There were a lot of ears in the room, ears possibly belonging to Anne’s murderer. Lisa must have read my mind.

  “Let’s do lunch tomorrow if you’re free. We can talk about old times.” Leaning closer, she whispered, “As I understand, you never were convinced of Steven’s guilt. Are you sure you want to dredge up all those painful memories? Especially since you…”

  “Quite sure. I believe he’s innocent,” I whispered back. “What time shall I come over?”

  “About noon or so.”

  “Listen, if you’d rather not get involved in this, we don’t have to discuss the subject. We can simply have lunch and talk about art and other creative things.” I mentally crossed my fingers.

  “I’ll have the list for you.” She smiled. “Speaking of creativity how’s your writing coming along?”

  “I’m still trying to promote a full length sequel of the short story published in Mystery and Intrigue magazine.”

  Lisa nodded with sympathy. “It’s difficult to get your foot in the door no matter your type of art. Believe me, I’ve been there.”

  Another party guest walked up and greeted us. A faint smile touched her lips. “Would you mind if I borrowed Lisa for a while? I need some advice on a painting I’m considering for my master bedroom.”

  “Sure, I don’t mind.” I wondered if the interruption happened on purpose and covertly scanned the room. The feeling of being watched came over me. Am I getting paranoid or what? Turning slowly, I encountered the prying eyes of Mary Catherine Durand.

  Tonight she wore four inch heels with her royal blue mid-calf dress. If John were with her now she’d tower over him. His Napoleon complex would never allow it. The picture made me smile. She quickly turned and stormed away, her dress tail swirling.

  I sauntered over to the buffet table, which overflowed with wonderful food. A little dab of everything from crawfish etoufee and marinated shrimp to lemon meringue and pecan pies landed on my plate, the aroma as enticing as the taste. Of course, I felt totally stuffed after eating all those goodies and wished I hadn’t made such a pig of myself.

  Later, Melanie joined me as the waiter served one last round of drinks.

  “My goodness, I haven’t seen you all evening.” She laughed. “And you were the one who didn’t want to come here tonight.”

  I shrugged. “It’s been an interesting evening so far.”

  She looked curious and opened her mouth to speak, but the voice of our hostess calling for attention rose above the party noise. We both turned in her direction.

  “I’d like to propose a toast,” Amanda said, after the room had quieted. She raised her glass of wine in the air, “To all of us. May we meet again on many more occasions.”

  Several women in the crowd echoed her sentiment and the clink of glasses ricocheted around the room.

  Before I realized what happened, I found myself speaking out. “There’s something I’d like to add.” My voice sounded a bit shaky, but I plunged ahead. “Here’s to Anne. I know we all wish she could be here. She’s gone, but not forgotten.”

  A small gasp escaped Mary Catherine’s mouth. I expected a reaction from her. But the frightened look on Amanda Williamson’s face surprised the devil out of me. She looked like she had just seen the proverbial ghost.

  ~ * ~

  Susan knows or suspects something. But how could she? Snooping into Anne’s murder to save that no good twin brother of hers just might create the possibility of uncovering the real murderer. That can’t happen. He deserves to go down for this exactly as planned.

  ~ * ~

  Melanie hardly said two words to me on the way back to my house. No doubt my eulogy upset her and she probably decided I purposely sabotaged the evening. My cousin’s silence made for an uncomfortable ride. I felt sure tomorrow would bring a chastising phone call from my mother. She and Melanie’s mom were sisters so word getting back to my mother seemed unavoidable. No doubt I’d be in for one of her scathing tirades about how my behavior was contrary to my family position in New Orleans society.

  Both my mother and aunt completely forgot their blue collar roots, which they left behind when they married my dad and his best friend forty years ago. The two women severed all ties with their family and never looked back. Growing up, Steven and I didn’t know our maternal grandparents until one day during our senior year in high school we located them on our own in Algiers on the West bank and were welcomed into the Kelly family.

  I stole a quick glance at Melanie, who stared straight ahead. Obviously she didn’t intend to speak so I turned my gaze out the window and watched the city slip by. We headed down St. Charles past the Loyola University campus and the Audubon Park Golf Course. Melanie rounded the corner onto my street and pulled up in front of my house.

  “Was your toast really a tribute to Anne, or were you trying to get back at me for talking you into doing something you didn’t want to do?” Melanie’s words came out icy and stinging, and darn irrational.

  Irritation swept over me. “I meant what I said about Anne. You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Well, you must have been trying to see what kind of reaction you’d get. Maybe you hoped to figure out whether one of the women there collaborated with Steven in the murder.”

  “You’re the one who brought the idea to my attention. Not that this was my intention.” Liar. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset about my tribute to Anne.”

  “Lately I can’t tell what’s going on with you.” Melanie sniffed. “You started drifting away from all of us when you married Jim Foret. He’s trying to separate you from your family.”

  “He’s doing nothing of the kind,” I snapped.

  I opened the car door and stepped out, barely getting the door shut before Melanie pulled away from the curb. The sound of squealing tires echoed through the neighborhood.

  My face felt like a fireball. Furious, I stormed up the sidewalk to the front door. Somehow I managed to get inside, although I’ll never know how. My hands were shaking so badly, I could hardly place the key into the lock. Miraculously, I remembered to reset the alarm. After slamming a couple of doors, I stomped
up the stairs. For the second time today I scared the daylights out of my poor cat and sent her scurrying to find a hiding place.

  Before I even reached the landing, I spotted Jim heading out our bedroom door, wearing nothing but a pair of briefs. At any other time I would’ve been thrilled to be greeted by this gorgeous half-naked man, but tonight I wasn’t in the mood to say the least.

  “What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

  Whenever I get this angry I always end up crying. Tears started streaming down my face until my fury erupted into loud heavy sobs. Jim wrapped his arms around me, his embrace slowly draining my anger away. At that moment I realized he had a pistol in his hand. I glanced at the gun and back up to his face.

  “I didn’t know what happened.” His lips narrowed into a thin line. “I still don’t. Follow me.”

  He guided me into the bedroom, and I sat on the side of the bed. He put his gun away and sat next to me. I leaned my head on his shoulder.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said, in a soft voice.

  “If I can do it without bursting into tears,” I said. Grabbing a tissue from the box on the nightstand, I dabbed my eyes and proceeded to tell him about the party, including my luncheon date with Lisa Olivier tomorrow, but not the real purpose for it. I finished the story with Melanie’s accusation. “I wonder if Dad’s family subjected him to statements like hers about Mom and Aunt Rose.”

  He didn’t say anything for a while. Eventually he commented with a question. “Why do you torture yourself by associating with those people?”

  I felt a bit defensive. “Melanie is family. We’ve always done things together. And before the murder Anne did also.”

  “But you never cared for all those damn parties, all those women trying to outdo each other. At least, you always gave the impression you didn’t like those gatherings.”

  “You’re right to a certain extent.” My mind started to come back into focus since I’d calmed down now. “I wasn’t exactly miserable when I attended those gala affairs as a kid and a teenager. But the social events were a big part of my life back then. Now the parties and all the fal-de-ral don’t mean as much to me. They still mean everything to the other women.”

  “Then don’t go to the parties.”

  “I didn’t intend to go to this one, but Melanie talked me into it,” I said, thinking my excuse sounded like the truth.

  He raised his eyebrows. “And besides, there might be a chance to uncover clues to solve Anne’s murder.”

  I fluttered my eyelashes several times. “Now would I do something so reckless?”

  “Honestly,” he said, folding his arms. “Yes, you would.”

  Jim knew me too well. “Okay, you’re right. I did have ulterior motives for attending the party, but my luncheon date with Lisa tomorrow is simply lunch with an old friend.”

  “Why do I find that hard to believe?” He grinned and patted the bed in a spot next to him. “Come on, it’s late.”

  Wrapped in Jim’s arms, I fell asleep, thinking I would drop the idea of proving Steven’s innocence. Let the cops handle it. Instead I’d just enjoy visiting with Lisa tomorrow. It would be a pleasant, but boring affair. A surprise awaited me.

  Four

  My heart skipped a beat as I turned onto Royal Street. An NOPD unit with lights flashing partially blocked the street, right in front of Lisa’s gallery. A uniformed officer stood at attention outside like a military guard to keep the half dozen spectators at bay.

  I managed to find a parking spot and rushed over to the door. The extremely young-looking officer stationed there ordered me to stop and state my business. His Ray-Bans hid his eyes so I couldn’t read him. He reminded me of a ten-year-old playing cop.

  “I’m Susan Foret, a friend of Lisa, the gallery owner. We were going to have lunch. Is she okay?” Perspiration beaded up inside my blouse.

  He hesitated.

  I started to drop my husband’s name, but apparently he decided to give me a tidbit.

  “We answered an alarm for a break-in.” He swaggered a little, placing his hand on his gun. “Nobody’s hurt.”

  A sigh of relief escaped my mouth. “Thanks.”

  In my peripheral vision I caught a glimpse of a person walking by. Most likely just another rubbernecker curious to see what had happened, but my inner voice told me to turn and check.

  Trey Williamson, Amanda’s other half, strolled by, trying to be nonchalant and not doing a very good job of it. Our eyes met for a split second. He quickly made his way to the opposite side of the street. His presence in the area seemed out of place to me.

  I peered through the gallery window and spotted my lunch partner in conversation with another officer. Lisa turned in my direction, acknowledging my presence with a wave. A short time later, she accompanied the officer to the door.

  Once the police left, I followed Lisa back inside. Scanning the gallery, I noticed a couple of damaged paintings and the small sculpture of a cat that resembled my Katy smashed to pieces on the floor. I hoped this wasn’t an omen. The image terrified me.

  “What in the world happened?”

  “Something really odd,” Lisa said, frowning.

  “How so?” I eyed her with curiosity. “This looks like vandalism, maybe by some street kids. Is anything missing?”

  “Yes, and this is what’s so strange. The only missing item is the list of people I prepared for you.”

  My mouth gaped open. “You mean the names of people who attended your party?”

  She nodded. “I wrote up the list down here and left it on the desk while I ran to the market to buy food for our lunch.”

  “That is odd about the list.” My heartbeat revved up. “Did you mention this to the cops?”

  “No, I couldn’t bring myself to tell them. It seemed so silly. I can’t imagine why anyone would go to such extremes for a list of names.”

  “Maybe to make sure his or her name was or wasn’t on the list,” I said, remembering Trey’s appearance outside the shop.

  She stared at me with surprise. “Who would know I planned to prepare the list?”

  “Several women who attended the party last night could have overheard our conversation.”

  Lisa considered the idea. “You might be right.”

  “I could kick myself for discussing murder at such a gathering.” How could I have been so stupid? I heaved a sigh of exasperation. “It’s basically my fault your artwork has been damaged. Let me pay for some of this.”

  She brushed off my offer with a wave of her hand. “Don’t worry about it. My insurance will cover everything. You could be right about who broke in. If we can find out who trashed my artwork, we just might discover Anne’s killer. I want to help you.”

  Looks like I had acquired a partner. “You’re on.”

  “Luckily, the break-in took place as I left the market so I did manage to get lunch for us. And since today is Good Friday I consider myself lucky to have scored a pound of gorgeous shrimp.” She grabbed a brown paper bag with a loaf of French bread protruding from the top from a nearby table. “Let’s go upstairs to my apartment. We can think better with full stomachs.”

  I followed her up a flight of stairs concealed in an adjacent storage room, reflecting on her mention of today’s observance of Good Friday. At that moment several blocks away the church bells of St. Louis Cathedral rang out announcing the occasion of Christ’s death on the cross and provided a solemn reminder of my lapsed Catholic faith. I glanced at my watch…exactly twelve noon.

  Lisa’s home exhibited her artistic talents in the décor; an amazing collection of antiques, and of course, the wall art. An enchanting swamp scene complete with moss-draped cypress trees and white egrets, hung over the mantle.

  Cream colored candles sat on a wrought iron grate in the fireplace in lieu of a fire which generally isn’t necessary during April in New Orleans. This year may be an exception. We’ve had some pretty chilly days, freezing to be exact, in March. Judging by today’s mild t
emperature, warmer times may be slow in coming. I’d better enjoy this weather while it lasts. Summer heat tends to wilt everything in sight.

  My attention moved back to the swamp scene. “This painting is gorgeous.”

  “Thanks, it’s one of my favorites.”

  “I can tell by the way you have it displayed so prominently. This one deserves a place of honor.” I continued to stare at the painting, engrossed in the mystique of a Louisiana swamp, dark and quiet, yet so full of life.

  After lunch we started compiling the list of invited guests and divided the names into two categories; those who made an appearance and those who didn’t. There were several surprises. Mary Catherine Durand turned out to be a no show, but her husband John arrived late.

  “I did a lot of thinking about the whole scene and the demeanor of the guests. As I recall, John Durand seemed kind of agitated the whole time,” Lisa said.

  “How interesting. Do you remember if he made excuses for Mary Catherine?”

  “I think he said she wasn’t feeling well.”

  “Maybe his wife’s absence had something to do with his manner.” I shrugged. “Or maybe I’m reading more into his moodiness than I should.”

  Lisa glanced over the list. “There is another missing spouse.”

  I checked the two member no-show column again. “You’re right.”

  Amanda Williamson attended without her husband. The earlier sighting of Trey Williamson outside Lisa’s studio came to mind. Did he have an interest in the list of party guests? If so, why?

  “Melanie came with Michael, but they left early because Mel wasn’t feeling well,” I remembered.

  “Yes but Michael returned about an hour later,” Lisa added.

  “He did come back.” I thought for a moment. “If Melanie went home sick, maybe there could have been a bug going around and Mary Catherine truly was sick.”

  “Possibly, but she and Trey were the only ones who didn’t attend the party at all.”