Marguerite insisted on accompanying Piper upstairs.
“Are you sure you won’t see a doctor, Piper?” she asked as they entered the apartment.
Piper shook her head. “No, really, I’m fine. I just want to lie down for a little while.”
Marguerite looked skeptical, but she acquiesced. “All right, but there’s no way you’re coming with me to talk to the police,” she declared. “I’ll tell them what happened at the cemetery. They can interview you another time.”
Piper didn’t protest. She felt washed out, and her eyes burned. Marguerite and she both had seen the same horrible things last night. She doubted she’d have anything to add to what Marguerite would describe. Though Piper was more than willing to talk to the police, it didn’t have to be right now. Better later, when she was feeling stronger and more alert.
But she did want to talk to Marguerite about something else. Sabrina and Leo’s wedding celebration on the Natchez was only two days away, with the reception at the restaurant on the following day. If Piper was to make the cakes, she had to be able to use the kitchen and ovens downstairs in the bakery. Would the police still have the area closed off as a crime scene?
“You know, you’re right,” said Marguerite. “I hadn’t even thought about the wedding. I’m determined that the business Bertrand and I built will go on, but I just assumed the bakery would be closed until after his funeral. . . .” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, Marguerite,” said Piper, distressed. “I’m so sorry. Really I am. I hate bringing up such a trivial matter at a time like this.”
“I know you’re sorry, Piper.” Marguerite straightened her posture and wiped away the dampness at her eyes. “But of course. Bertrand would want us to fulfill his commitment to Sabrina and Leo. I’ll talk to the police about it. I don’t see why they can’t make sure to go through at least the kitchen today for any evidence. They’d probably want to do that as soon as possible anyway. If they want us to keep the rest of the place closed for a while, I couldn’t care less.”
When Marguerite left for the police station, Piper went to the bedroom and lay down. She breathed deeply, in and out, trying to soothe herself, attempting to practice the meditation techniques she’d learned in her yoga classes. Breathe in through the nose. Exhale long and deeply through the mouth, releasing toxicity and tension. She imagined herself looking out at the calm, clear waters of the Gulf of Mexico, feeling a cool breeze blowing soothingly. Piper started to drift off to sleep.
Her nap was interrupted by her ringing cell phone. She answered immediately when she saw the name on the screen.
“Oh, Jack. I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” she said with relief. “I tried you last night. Where were you?”
“Out with some of the guys,” he said. “The bar was noisy, and I didn’t hear my phone. I called you back on my way home in the cab, but you didn’t answer. I had to testify in court this morning about one of my cases. This is the first minute I’ve had to call you again.”
She pictured him getting up early, showering, shaving, and dressing, all the while going over his testimony in his mind. He probably didn’t have the television on. He wouldn’t have heard the news.
“It doesn’t matter,” answered Piper. “I’m just so glad to hear your voice.”
“What’s wrong, Pipe?”
“Why do you always assume something is wrong?”
“Don’t answer my question with another question, okay? Something’s wrong, Pipe. What is it?”
She told him. About finding Bertrand murdered, about the flour and the snake in the dumbwaiter, the flower nail and the CPR, about the jazz funeral and the fainting episode in the cemetery.
“I’m hanging up now and making you a plane reservation to come home on the next available flight,” Jack said when she was finished. “I’ll call you right back.”
“No, Jack. I can’t come home yet. I can’t abandon Marguerite or leave the couple getting married in the lurch. It’s Tuesday. I’ll come home Friday night as soon as I finish the cake for their wedding reception. I promise.”
“I don’t think you get it, Piper. That first murder was committed down the street. The victim was somebody you didn’t know. Voodoo, hoodoo, whatever is going on down there, Bertrand’s murder puts you right in the middle of it now. That’s a good enough reason to get yourself out of there and fast. And while we’re at it, have you ever fainted before in your entire life?”
“No,” Piper said softly. “But even my father understands why I can’t come home yet. Why can’t you?”
“I get why you think you should stay, Piper, but I think you should see a doctor, a shrink or something. You’ve been through a lot—that nightmare last month in Florida—it’s taking its toll, physically and mentally. The world will go on if you don’t make a wedding cake. I’d come down there right now and bring you back myself if I didn’t have to be in court to testify again this afternoon.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child, Jack.”
“Well, then don’t act like one, Piper. I just don’t think you understand how serious this is.”