Maggie’s hand covers her mouth. “The fire ant mound.”
“Maisyeah. But I didn’t know dat on account of it was gettin’dark.” Jean-Pierre scowls and adjusts his hat lower over his brow.
“Tell them the rest of it.” Eva is already laughing and holding her side.
“Not much to tell.” Jean-Pierre sniffs. “Me, I barely had time to shuck my clothes before the li’l bastards damn near ate me alive.” Although, when he says it, it sounds more likeehtme alive. “Went runnin’, naked as da day I was born, back to Mawmaw’s house.”
“He says his granny told him she thought he’d been snacked on by Comte de Saint Germain when he came through the front door covered in bloody bites.” Eva slaps the table and wipes away a stray tear as both Luc and Maggie burst out laughing.
“Who’s Comte de Saint Whoever?” I ask. Everyone at the table seems to get the reference but me.
“He was an alchemist way back when,” Maggie explains. “He claimed to have found the elixir of life. Told everyone he was six thousand years old. It’s all well documented in the history books,” she insists when I give her a skeptical look. “Anyway, sometime around the turn of the last century, a man by the name of Jacques St. Germain who claimed to be a descendant of Comte de Saint Germain bought the house on the corner of Royal and Ursaline.”
“The big one with the red door and all the ironwork?”
“That’s the one. So the story goes, Jacques was said to be quite the ladies’ man. But one of the ladies claimed Jacques attacked her and bit her. When police went to the house to arrest him, all they found were bloodstains and empty wine bottles. Jacques was never seen again. And to this day, no one knows who lives in that house. But the taxes are always paid on time.”
“So let me guess, everyone thinks Jacques St. Germain was actually Comte de Saint Germain,” I surmise. “And it wasn’t the elixir of life he found, but vampirism.”
“You got it in one.” Maggie winks.
“You know, if there were as many vampires running around New Orleans as people claim, there wouldn’t be any of us left alive. We’d all have ended up as snacks of the undead a long time ago.”
She makes atchingnoise with her teeth. “Oh ye of little imagination.”
Before I can say anything to that, her sister appears, and my improving mood takes an immediate nose dive. Haven’t seen Violet since New Year’s Eve, when we had our little tiff followed by my not-so-little confession.
“Look!” Violet says, smiling at everyone gathered around the table. When her eyes touch mine, they seem to linger for a while longer than necessary. “The gang’s all here.”
“Hey, Vee.” Maggie glances around the coffeehouse. “Are you with your Ladies Who Brunch or—”
“No, no.” Violet waves her off. “We only do that once a month. I came in to grab a coffee, and then I’m supposed to meet Aunt Bea for lunch after church lets out. I’m helping her organize the masquerade ball, and we need to talk flower arrangements. The florist ran out of the morning glories I wanted for the centerpieces, so now we have to come up with a different purple flower to go along with the yellow and green ones. I was thinking aster or gladiolus, but I want to get Aunt Bea’s opinion before I change the order and…absolutely none of you gives a damn about any of this.” She laughs, shaking her head.
A joke. Miss Humorless made a joke. It wasn’t a great one, but hey. Plus, she’s smiling.Trulysmiling. And…touching Maggie’s shoulder?
What the hell is going on here?
Luc sees my frown and leans over to whisper, “They’ve had a recent come-to-Jesus talk. I’ll tell you about it later.”
I nod and listen as Maggie invites her sister to join us. To my surprise, Violet actually accepts, taking the seat across from Jean-Pierre and doing a double take when she gets a look at him.
“It’s a long story,cher,” he tells her. “Involvin’ snipe, a fire ant mound, and missin’ clothes.”
“Ah.” She nods. “So your typical Cajun Saturday night.”
Jean-Pierre grins and then winces like it hurts.
“I’ve told y’all howmynight went,” Eva says, glancing between Maggie and Luc. “How didyournight go? Did that recipe I gave you for blackened redfish turn out, Luc?”
I frown. “You guys had dinner together last night?”
“I told you,” Luc assures me.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did,” he insists.
Dread lands like an anvil in the bottom of my stomach.
