A Flair for Beignets (The Sadie Kramer Flair Mysteries Book 3) Page 2

  Three doors later, Sadie paused again. “Okay, Coco, I’m telling you right now you’re going to have to go along with this one, whether you like it or not.” She recited multiple menu items from a chalkboard posted on the wall outside. “Jambalaya, shrimp po-boy, seafood gumbo, chargrilled oysters…” Sadie scanned additional choices, already edging toward the door. Once inside, she was greeted by a young hostess and escorted to a comfortable booth alongside a far wall. Within minutes, a glass of water landed on the table and a well-dressed waiter in his early twenties stood before her. His name tag was shaped like a crawfish and read Charles.

  “Would you care for a drink to start and perhaps some of our Cajun turtle soup?”

  The dual question gave Sadie pause. A drink sounded good, but she felt iffy about the soup. Not wanting to show ignorance by asking if there really was turtle in the soup, she ordered a gin and tonic and asked for more time to look over the menu. Halfway through the tantalizing descriptions, her cell phone buzzed with an incoming text.

  All settled in? Meet for coffee at Chez Lisette Patisserie tomorrow?

  Sadie wasn’t at all surprised to hear from Clotile already. When they’d parted ways at the airport earlier, both felt as if they’d known each other for years.

  Sure. What time? Out at dinner now. Sadie clicked Send.

  Great, your first dinner out here. Have red beans and rice with whatever you order.

  Sadie grinned. Will do. Thinking seafood gumbo. Do you recommend? Again, she hit Send, noticing the waiter approaching the table with a pad of paper and pen.

  Excellent choice. Enjoy. Nine a.m. for coffee at Chez Lisette Patisserie?

  “I’ll have the seafood gumbo,” Sadie said to Charles. She covered the cell’s microphone with one hand as she spoke but quickly realized the gesture was absurd. “With a side order of red beans and rice.” She turned back to her cell phone and sent another text. Sounds good.

  Need directions?

  Sadie shook her head, yet another ridiculous response. Would she ever get used to these newfangled phones? No thanks. Will Google it. See you then. There, she told herself. She was a modern woman, after all.

  Ten minutes later, Sadie took her first taste of the gumbo, then a second, then a third. Delighted, she waved her napkin at Charles, calling the waiter over to the table.

  “My, this is exceptional!” Sadie exclaimed. “What exactly is in it?”

  Charles laughed. “You might as well just ask what isn’t in it,” he said. “It might be a shorter list.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” Sadie said, eyeing the large bowl in front of her. She poked at it with a fork in one hand and a spoon in the other, picking out random pieces for analysis. “Obviously there’s shrimp and crab and some kind of whitefish.”

  “Red snapper today,” the waiter said, “although sometimes we use cod or pollack.”

  “Obviously tomatoes and… bell peppers, I think—something green,” Sadie continued.

  “Yes,” Charles said. “Green peppers, also scallions and okra.”

  Sadie looked up. “And about fifty spices!”

  “Indeed,” the waiter said. “Well, maybe not quite that many, but yes: spices galore.”

  “Well, I approve wholeheartedly,” Sadie said. After Charles walked away, she dug in, alternating the gumbo with the red beans and rice and enjoying every bite. Contrary to her usual dining habits, she turned down dessert, certain her visit to the bakery in the morning would make up for whatever she would have ordered after the meal.

  A leisurely walk back to the hotel gave her time to take in the ambiance on Bourbon Street. Jazz music floated out from bars and eateries, and neon signs lit up windows filled with NOLA souvenirs. Tourists strolled along, frozen daiquiris in hand. Iconic locations caught her attention, such as Pat O’Brien’s bar, and Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo.

  “Look, Coco,” Sadie said, reading a sign in a window next to Marie Laveau’s. “Maybe we should have our fortunes read. What do you think?” She listened to Coco’s yipped response. “Well, I don’t know about that,” Sadie said. She looked down at the top of the tote bag as she spoke, earning strange looks from a man and woman passing by. “You have a good point there, Coco,” she continued after the couple walked away. “I’m not sure if they can read the fortunes of dogs, but it’s worth a try. Who knows what the lines in your paw might foretell?”

  Patting her tote bag as one might pat a baby to keep it calm, Sadie entered the shop and approached a sales counter. The girl behind the counter looked barely out of her teens, perhaps a college student working part-time to help pay tuition.

  “We’d like to have our fortunes told.”

  The young girl looked to Sadie’s left and then to her right, undoubtedly trying to identify the “we” in Sadie’s statement. Not curious enough to ask, she simply glanced toward the back of the store, indicating a beaded curtain. “We have a new fortune-teller. Gina is new in town but in tune with the spirit world. She will tell you all you need to know.”

  Sadie thanked the girl and headed for the back, passing rows of voodoo dolls, miniature alligator heads, and a variety of other items that struck her as bizarre.

  The beads rustled as Sadie stepped through, and she had to pause to detach a few strands that became tangled with her tote bag. Once inside, she looked around, taking in the dimly lit room. The space was small, just large enough for two velvet armchairs to sit on each side of a glass table. Strings of twigs, small leather pouches, and faded feather boas hung from the walls at contrasting levels. Images from movie scenes and books flitted through her mind, and she briefly expected to see a crystal ball in the center of the table. Instead, the surface was clear, aside from a deck of tarot cards.

  A small side door opened, and a woman stepped in, dressed in a flowing skirt and tunic, with a fringed shawl around her neck. Her hair was long and thick and hung loosely around her shoulders like a mop. A few strands intertwined with multiple gold chains that rested against her tunic. Several crystals hung from the longest chain. A cluster of bangles adorned one wrist, as well as a bracelet of skull beads that glowed softly. She made a note to find one like that in a souvenir shop. It would amuse people she knew back in San Francisco.

  “I am Gina,” the woman said softly as she approached a chair. One hand encircled the crystals that dangled in front of her shawl. The other indicated the other chair, bangles and skull beads clinking against each other as she invited Sadie to take a seat. “You are here to have your fortune told,” she said, a statement Sadie was certain she’d repeated hundreds of times, if not thousands.

  “Yes, we are,” Sadie said, taking a seat in what turned out to be a surprisingly comfortable chair. She eased back against plush padded velvet, placing her tote bag on her lap and settling in. Between the dim lighting, the fortune-teller’s soft voice, and the cushy chair, she wondered briefly if she might fall asleep.

  The woman repeated the sales girl’s exact movements, looking first to Sadie’s right, and then to her left. “You are not alone,” she said, redirecting her gaze to Sadie.

  My, this woman is good, Sadie thought. She fought back an urge to grin and to counter with a sassy reply. However, no response was necessary, as Coco’s ears, eyes, and nose suddenly popped up above the rim of the tote bag. Coco tilted her furry head to the side and eyed the unfamiliar woman with curiosity. Both Coco and the fortune-teller blinked.

  “I see,” Gina said, a slight smile emerging on the otherwise serious face. “Well, I think we can manage that.” She gathered the tarot cards, shuffled them, and then laid them out one by one, each bringing a pause and declaration. “You are on a journey.”

  Yes, I think that’s obvious.

  “You are only passing through briefly.”

  Well, it is a vacation, after all.

  “The winds of change are approaching.” Each statement was delivered calmly and routinely until one card caused the fortune-teller to pause and frown.

  “I sense sadness.
”

  Way off base, but I’ll play along, Sadie thought.

  “Well, I do miss my neighbor’s chocolate store.” It was something to say, after all.

  Gina stifled a look of annoyance but continued.

  “I can feel something else. You are unhappy in your travels. Perhaps something you ate? Or you’ve landed roughly…” Gina paused, eyes closed. “Your means of transportation… no, your accommodations… or perhaps…”

  Sadie held back a sigh. This was fun but getting to be enough. “I’m sure you’re right,” she said, not wanting to be rude, “but it must be something else. My flight was fine, the seafood gumbo was delicious, and the Hotel Arnaud-LeBlanc is charming.”

  The fortune-teller’s expression then became more serious. It struck Sadie that the woman’s acting ability was better than she’d given her credit for. Instead of being annoyed with Sadie contradicting her previous statement, she looked genuinely afraid.

  “This is not good.” Gina shuffled in her seat. “I’m sorry. I don’t like it when the cards foretell danger, but I cannot ignore what they tell me.”

  “What is it?” Sadie asked, not sure whether to be entertained or worried.

  Gina shook her head, as if trying to shake away a feeling, but her expression remained the same. “I’m afraid someone is in grave danger.” She paused, frowning. “Someone you know, or… that you will know.” Again, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure.”

  “Will my palm tell you more?” Sadie extended her arm. Gina took it cautiously and traced the lines, which caused a tickling sensation that briefly lightened the somber mood.

  “It appears you will have a long life,” Gina said, looking relieved.

  “And what about Coco,” Sadie said. She gently lifted Coco out of the tote bag and set her on the table. Coco hesitantly allowed Gina to examine her paw.

  “Also a long life,” Gina said. She smiled and took a look at Coco’s other paw. “And many treats,” she added, much to Coco’s delight. The Yorkie bestowed a slurp of appreciation on the fortune-teller’s hand. Gina thanked Coco and then turned to Sadie. “I don’t know anything more.”

  “Thank you,” Sadie said. She stood, settled Coco back in the tote, and started toward the exit, turning back once more. “This was fun.” Sadie tried not to notice the worried look on the fortune-teller’s face.

  Yes, Sadie thought as she left the fortune-teller’s shop, this was simply a bit of fun. Right?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Chez Lisette Patisserie was as charming as Sadie expected it to be, its appeal accentuated by the sweet aroma of sugary baked goods. Stepping into the café felt like entering another world. As opposed to the modern tables, counter seats, and occasional armchairs of big-city coffee haunts, Chez Lisette offered old-fashioned café tables and chairs. The side walls boasted floor-to-ceiling murals of outdoor scenes, such that customers might feel like they were seated on the outside patio of a Parisian café along the Champs-Élysée. Sadie half expected to look to her side and see the Arc de Triomphe out the window.

  The line at the register was long but dwindled while Sadie eagerly scanned the contents of the display cases. She couldn’t recall ever seeing such an extravagant, tempting assortment of croissants. Notecards in front of each tantalizing tray announced enticing flavors in scrolled calligraphy: almond, raspberry-peach, boysenberry and, of course, chocolate. Each perfectly formed croissant was stacked artfully on a mountain of similar items. White paper doilies with scalloped edges decorated the base of each mouthwatering stack of baked delicacies. The glass shelf just below held trays of puffed pastries dusted with powdered sugar. A sign with calligraphy that matched the croissant notecards presented these tantalizing creations as “BTBs.” Small lettering below spelled out Blissfully Tasty Beignets.

  “Don’t fall for that BTB description,” a voice behind Sadie whispered after she took a place in line. She turned to see Clotile had joined her. “Everyone knows it really stands for Better than Bluette’s.”

  “Seriously?” Sadie’s eyebrows lifted. “The rivalry is that intense?”

  Clotile nodded and leaned closer, lowering her voice even more. “Oh yes, absolutely. You should see the shelf of tortes called ‘BTLs’ at Bluette’s place.”

  “Dare I ask?” Sadie said.

  “Best Tasting Linzer, supposedly,” Clotile said. “But you know it means Better than Lisette’s.”

  The line moved forward as Sadie contemplated this information. “Are the bakeries situated close to each other?”

  Clotile laughed. “You could say that.” She nodded toward the front window. Sadie followed her gesture, noticing for the first time that another bakery sat just across the street.

  “Oh dear,” Sadie said. “That must be awkward.”

  “Awkward but convenient for battle,” Clotile said. “If Lisette puts a sign in the window, Bluette responds with one that is a tiny bit bigger. If Bluette opens her front door to let the bakery aromas float out to the sidewalk, Lisette opens not only her door but her windows too.”

  A petite woman at the register greeted Sadie. She wore basic jeans and a T-shirt, both partially covered by an apron that said Kiss the cook.

  “Good morning, Lisette,” Clotile said, peeking around Sadie. “This is a new friend of mine. Ring everything together; I’ll pay.”

  “How kind,” Sadie said, “but not necessary. I’m happy to pay.”

  “Nonsense,” Clotile said.

  Lisette laughed and smiled at Sadie. “There’s no point in arguing with Clotile, my dear.”

  Sadie gave in, ordered a chocolate croissant and café mocha, and thanked Clotile.

  “And I’ll take a cinnamon BTB and café au lait,” Clotile said. She pulled a twenty out of a shoulder bag and handed it to Lisette, who gave back change along with the baked goods. “I’ll bring your drinks out when they’re ready,” she said.

  Sadie and Clotile moved away from the counter, drinks in hand, and settled at a small table along one side of the café. A colorful mural on the wall showed a railing and street scene, giving the table a semblance of a balcony location.

  A jangle of bells from the direction of the café entrance caused Sadie to glance at the front door as a woman entered. Sadie took in her slightly graying hair and guessed her to be in her midforties. Wearing a plain dress and cardigan sweater in subdued colors, the woman took a seat on the opposite side of the café.

  “Interesting,” Sadie remarked to Clotile as she tilted her head toward the other table. “The woman who just entered didn’t order anything at the counter. She simply sat down.”

  Clotile looked across the café, following Sadie’s gesture. “Oh, that’s Mimi Arnaud. She’s quiet, keeps to herself. She always has the same thing—actually, two of the same thing, some kind of tart. She’ll eat one and then work on crossword puzzles and then eat the other. Quite the creature of habit, but that’s how some customers are. She doesn’t need to order; Lisette knows what to bring out to her.”

  “You said her name is Mimi… Arnaud? As in…?” Sadie left the question unfinished as Clotile had already begun to nod her head.

  “Yes,” Clotile said. “As in Hotel Arnaud-LeBlanc, where you’re staying. You’ll probably see her around the hotel. She still does the books and does the hiring and firing. I guess she pretty much runs the place.”

  “And LeBlanc is…”

  “Yes,” Clotile repeated. “As in Bluette LeBlanc.”

  “I see,” Sadie said as she took a bite of her croissant. She closed her eyes in delight at the taste of the smooth chocolate filling and then continued. “Mimi Arnaud always eats here, you say. She never eats across the street at Bluette’s place?”

  “Absolutely not,” Clotile said. “She won’t step foot inside there.”

  “Because of the old hotel rivalry?” Sadie raised an eyebrow.

  The conversation paused as Lisette approached the table with a tray and set the café au lait and café mocha down. Sadie noticed
a small pot of tea with lemon, along with two raspberry tarts, remained on the tray.

  “My, those look delicious,” Sadie said, eyeing the baked goods.

  “The raspberry-almond tarts? We still have some left in the display case,” Lisette said. “If you’d like one of these, I’ll just grab another for the customer.”

  “I’d better not,” Sadie said, patting her ample belly. “But I dare say they look tempting.” She thanked Lisette for the offer and was not surprised to see the café owner head to Mimi’s table next to deliver the tarts and accompanying tea. The two women exchanged a few quiet words that Sadie couldn’t overhear, and then Lisette returned to the counter to serve a customer waiting in line.

  “To answer your question from a minute ago, no, Mimi will not have breakfast anywhere but here,” Clotile said. “I suspect part of the reason she comes here every day is just to annoy Bluette. Although she must love those tarts. That’s the only thing she ever orders, always with a pot of tea.”

  “I saw those in the display case when I first came in,” Sadie said. “If I didn’t have such an addiction to chocolate, I might have ordered one myself.”

  “You could always take one to go,” Clotile suggested. “Perhaps for a midnight snack later tonight in your hotel room.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Sadie said. It had already occurred to her that a couple of to-go items might come in handy later. She could always grab coffee or tea from the hotel lobby to accompany the treats. “Tell me more about the Arnaud-LeBlanc feud.” She took a sip of her café mocha and waited for more information from Clotile.

  “I don’t know much, and what I know is mostly based on word of mouth,” Clotile said. “The families have never been very forthcoming with specifics, and newspaper articles have always seemed like speculation to me, without any details.”

  “Isn’t that sort of odd?” Sadie said.

  Clotile shrugged. “I don’t know. Some families are more tight-lipped about their secrets. All I know is there was some kind of falling-out between Mimi’s grandfather and Bluette’s father. The Arnauds and LeBlancs have been at a standoff ever since.”