CHAPTER EIGHT
There was a rush of first responders that made their way through the hall. Baking was cancelled for the day and would resume the following day if it was allowed by the police.
“What do you think, Tommy?” Luke asked the assistant coroner.
“Hard to tell right now, Luke. We’ll do a complete autopsy but it doesn’t appear to be a heart attack, there’s too much blood. It’s almost as if he ate a mouthful of glass.”
“Where’s his cake? Where’s the cake that he was working on?” asked Wilson.
“It was right there,” said the woman at the table beside the man. “He fell right into it and then fell to the floor.”
“Who moved the fucking cake?” screamed Luke. Everyone backed up a step and stared at him, even the police officers. “Find that damn cake.”
“Yes, sir,” said a young officer. Luke turned to the man in charge of everything. Milton Lebeau.
“What was his name?” he asked Milton. The man swallowed, tears in his eyes as he shook his head.
“I can’t believe this. I just can’t. He was young and everyone liked him.”
“What was his name?” growled Luke.
“Luke, take it easy,” said Sara. “Everyone knew Jacques. He worked as the head pastry chef at the Grand Orleans. He was one of the best in the world and he was damn sure one of the nicest.”
“Sorry, Aunt Sara,” he frowned, ducking his head. “Did he have family?”
“I don’t think so. He was never married but he may have been in a relationship. With a man,” she said whispering the last line. Luke just nodded, somewhat ashamed by his uncaring tone.
“Let’s get everyone back to the hotel,” said Wilson. “Let the team investigate this and we’ll make a plan to pick up where we’d left off tomorrow.”
“We’ll bring the cars around,” said RJ, nodding at Elias. Tango, Rett, and Gator walked the women toward the exit while Wilson turned to look at Luke and the others.
“He had no lock on his refrigerator and no secure space for his baking items. Try to get everything out of here for testing.”
“What are we testing for, Uncle Wilson?” asked Luke.
“Everything. Poison, glass, drugs, all of it. The coroner will do his job but we need to figure what the fuck is going on here.”
By the time they’d returned to the hotel, everyone was waiting in the lobby to walk across the street for dinner. Sara had called ahead to Brennan’s asking for a private room and they were happy to oblige the family.
When drinks were brought in, hot bread and gumbo, and the orders for the main entrees taken, Wilson stared at the room.
“What do you think, honey?” He looked at Sara, then at the other women. “All of you. I want to know your opinion of what happened today.”
“Honestly? I’m still in shock,” said Celia. “Jacques was one of the nicest men you’d ever meet. He’d do anything for you.”
“And was he talented?” asked Gator. They all stared at him, the women frowning.
“Of course he was talented. He wouldn’t have been there if he wasn’t talented,” said Janie.
“Was he talented enough to be a threat to the competition?” he asked the room.
“Yes. Yes, he was one of the most talented in the room,” said Janie. “What does that have to do with anything? Everyone in that room is talented, that’s why we’re all there. That wouldn’t prompt someone to kill him. I mean, you could destroy his recipe without actually killing him.”
“That’s true, although with all of you so close together, that might be difficult,” said Wilson.
There was a knock on the private door and Tailor and Alec walked in, along with the assistant coroner.
“You have something already?” asked Wilson.
“It wasn’t hard to find, brother,” said Alec. “We found the cake in a trash can near the back service entrance. It was out of place because nothing else was in it. By the time we got to Tommy’s office, he already knew that he’d died of arsenic poisoning.”
“But why all the blood?” frowned Wilson. “That’s not consistent with arsenic poisoning.”
“Tiny shards of glass in the cake. He’d made a smaller tasting cake for himself.
There was no sign of arsenic in the contest cake or any shards of glass,” said Tommy.
“Someone knew. Someone knew that he was going to eat from the smaller cake. The arsenic content was so high, I’m shocked that he couldn’t taste it. ”
“So, we’ve got a murder at a fucking baking competition,” said Luke. “I think we need to back out.”
“No!” cried all the women. The men stared at them as if they’d lost their minds. Dylan stood and stared at them.
“No, we can’t back out. We’ve invested too much time and energy. Besides, we have all of our things under lock and key. No one can touch them. We need to encourage the other bakers that remain to do the same. But we’re not giving up.”
“She’s right,” said Taylor. “You need us to catch this man or woman. Being there without us looks ridiculous. We’ll be extra cautious and we’ll make sure that everything is followed to the exact detail you want. We promise.”
Luke stared at the entire row of women, holding hands as if trying to stop the blockade of muscle in front of them. He chuckled and shook his head.
“Alright. We continue but it will be under a different set of rules that you all will damn sure follow.”