Chapter 6 - The Recipe Book

Emmett Fontaine lived in a rehabilitation facility overlooking a courtyard of winter roses.

Nell entered first.

Her father looked up from a chessboard and smiled.

“Ellie.”

The name stopped her.

Nobody had called her that in years.

She kissed his forehead. “Hi, Dad.”

His eyes moved to Carmine.

Then Benny.

Then Odette.

The smile disappeared.

“Her.”

Odette stopped in the doorway.

Nell turned. “You remember her?”

Emmett pointed with a shaking finger.

“Fire.”

Odette closed her eyes. “Yes.”

Emmett became agitated.

“Door.”

Nell knelt. “I know.”

“Door.”

“I know, Dad.”

“Woman.”

“What about her?”

Emmett struggled.

“Saved.”

Nell froze.

“Saved who?”

He touched his chest.

“You?”

“Yes.”

Odette began crying.

Nell looked at her. “Tell me.”

Odette stepped closer.

“I went to the bakery after Vincent told me the fire was planned.”

“You knew before?”

“Two hours before.”

“And you did not call police?”

“He said it would be empty.”

“That does not answer me.”

“No.”

Odette wiped her face.

“I went because I wanted to stop it. When I arrived, smoke was already coming through the roof. I broke the office window. A man passing by helped me pull your father out.”

Emmett nodded.

Nell stared.

“You saved him and then helped blame him.”

“Yes.”

“How am I supposed to understand that?”

“You do not have to.”

Carmine watched her carefully.

There was no clean shape to Odette.

Victim.

Accomplice.

Witness.

Savior.

All true at once.

Emmett pointed toward the wardrobe.

“Book.”

Nell opened it.

At the bottom sat an old metal flour tin.

Her heart stopped.

Inside lay a brown leather recipe book.

Blackened along one edge.

Claire Fontaine’s handwriting still marked the pages.

Nell pressed it against her chest.

“My mother.”

Emmett whispered, “Claire.”

Carmine looked away to give her the privacy of grief.

Nell opened the book.

Pecan pie.

Pralines.

King cake.

Bread pudding.

Between two pages near the back, she found a folded envelope.

Palmira.

Her hands shook.

Emmett nodded.

Nell unfolded it.

Her father’s handwriting covered two pages.

He had warned Palmira that Vincent Marrow was using Alessandro Orsini’s name and Meridian Parish Holdings to pressure business owners. He described trucks entering old tunnels at night. He wrote that Vincent seemed desperate to acquire the Fontaine property because the basement covered a central junction.

The final sentence read:

If Claire was right that you value truth more than appearances, please look into this before someone gets hurt.

Nell read it twice.

Before someone gets hurt.

Odette sat.

“I took the original from Palmira’s desk.”

“You robbed her of the chance to stop it.”

“Yes.”

“But you copied it.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I was afraid of what Vincent was turning me into.”

Nell looked at her father.

“Dad, why didn’t you tell me about the tunnels?”

Emmett touched his chest.

“Protect.”

“Me?”

He nodded.

“You were terrible at that.”

A crooked smile appeared.

“Still here.”

She laughed despite herself.

“Yes. Still here.”

Carmine asked, “Did you see Vincent the night of the fire?”

Emmett shook his head.

“Jerome?”

A pause.

Then a nod.

Nell went still.

“You saw Jerome?”

“Truck.”

“With a chain?”

Emmett struggled for the word.

“Metal.”

Benny leaned forward. “Did he see you?”

“No.”

“What time?”

Emmett looked frustrated.

Nell touched his hand. “It’s all right.”

“One… thirty.”

Carmine and Benny exchanged a glance.

It matched Ortega’s statement.

Two independent witnesses.

Benny took notes.

“Mr. Fontaine, did you see anyone else?”

Emmett closed his eyes.

“Ring.”

Nell inhaled.

“A man with the Orsini ring?”

“Yes.”

“Vincent?”

Emmett shook his head.

“No?”

“No.”

Carmine frowned.

“Who?”

Emmett’s speech failed him.

He tapped his temple angrily.

Nell said, “You do not have to force it.”

“Face.”

“You remember his face?”

“Yes.”

Benny took out his phone and showed photographs.

Vincent.

Jerome.

Old Meridian employees.

Emmett rejected each one.

Then Benny reached a photograph of a younger man.

Oliver Pruitt.

Odette’s son.

Emmett pointed.

“Ring.”

Odette stood so quickly her chair scraped.

“No.”

Benny looked at her.

“You said Oliver was in Chicago.”

“He was.”

“Was he in New Orleans the week of the fire?”

Odette went pale.

“I don’t know.”

Nell watched her.

“Do not lie now.”

“I am not.”

Carmine asked, “Could Vincent have used him?”

Odette’s voice shook.

“Oliver worked summers for Meridian when he was younger. He hated it. He left.”

“Would he have access to a crest ring?”

“Vincent gave him one when he was twenty-one.”

Nell stared.

“You knew there was another ring.”

“I had forgotten.”

“You forgot?”

“I had not seen Oliver wear it in fifteen years.”

Benny asked, “Where is he now?”

“Chicago.”

“Call him.”

Odette dialed.

No answer.

Again.

No answer.

Her face changed.

“He always answers me.”

Carmine looked at Benny.

“Find him.”

Twenty minutes later Benny returned from the hallway.

“Oliver’s apartment was found empty this morning.”

Odette gripped the table.

“What?”

“Neighbor says he left two nights ago with a man.”

“What man?”

“Description fits Vincent.”

Odette sat down hard.

Vincent had not merely framed Oliver financially.

He had taken him.

Nell looked at Emmett.

“Dad, are you sure it was Oliver?”

Emmett nodded.

“Scared.”

“What?”

“Scared man.”

Odette stared.

“He was there because Vincent forced him.”

Emmett nodded again.

Carmine understood.

Oliver had been another piece of leverage.

Another person forced into Vincent’s machinery.

Benny’s phone rang.

He answered.

“Romano.”

His expression hardened.

“When?”

Everyone watched him.

“Send me the address.”

He ended the call.

“Vincent’s car was found near the river.”

“Blood?” Carmine asked.

“Yes.”

“Whose?”

“Unknown.”

“Oliver?”

“Maybe.”

Odette covered her mouth.

Nell looked at Carmine.

“Vincent is cleaning witnesses.”

“Yes.”

“Then my father is next.”

Carmine immediately called security.

Emmett watched him.

“Orsini.”

Carmine looked down.

“Yes.”

“Different.”

Nell translated softly. “He says you are different.”

Carmine met Emmett’s eyes.

“I am trying to be.”

Emmett nodded once.

“Good.”

They moved him before dawn.

At six fifteen, Benny’s men intercepted a stranger entering Emmett’s old room carrying a syringe.

No identification.

No phone.

Only a hotel keycard.

Room 904.

St. Laurent Hotel.

Registered to a fake name.

Camera footage showed Vincent entering the previous night.

He had already left.

Odette stared at the keycard.

“He is not only cleaning witnesses.”

Carmine looked at her.

“What else?”

“Accounts.”

She explained that when Vincent believed an operation was collapsing, he converted records into cash and moved money through charitable organizations.

“The Marrow Children’s Foundation,” Carmine said.

Odette nodded.

Sophia Marrow managed the books.

Vincent’s daughter.

Carmine’s cousin.

His childhood friend.

Nell saw his expression.

“You trust her.”

“Yes.”

“Should you?”

He did not answer.

His phone rang.

Sophia.

He answered.

“Where are you?”

Her voice shook.

“Carmine.”

“What happened?”

“My father came to my apartment.”

“Is he there?”

“No.”

“What did he want?”

“Passport. Cash. My old Canadian identification.”

“Did you give it to him?”

Silence.

“Sophia.”

“Yes.”

“What else?”

“He told me if you called, I should say I had not seen him.”

“Why are you telling me?”

Sophia began crying.

“Because he left blood on my floor.”

After the call ended, Nell remained beside her father.

Emmett touched the recipe book.

“Yours.”

“No. Ours.”

He shook his head.

“Yours.”

“You want me to bake again?”

“Yes.”

“I already made one pie.”

“Not enough.”

Nell smiled.

“Bossy.”

“Father.”

“Same thing?”

“Yes.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder.

For several minutes neither spoke.

Then Emmett whispered, “Name.”

“What?”

“Eleanor.”

Nell closed her eyes.

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Nell… safe.”

“Yes.”

“Eleanor… home.”

The words opened something painful and warm.

She held his hand.

“Maybe someday.”

Emmett nodded.

“Someday.”

Before they left Emmett’s room, Carmine stayed behind while Nell walked Odette into the hallway.

Emmett watched him with careful eyes.

“Orsini.”

“Yes.”

“Father.”

Carmine understood he meant Alessandro.

“My father is dead.”

Emmett nodded.

“Name… heavy.”

Carmine looked toward the doorway where Nell had disappeared.

“Yes.”

“Do not… give her… another heavy name.”

The sentence took effort.

Carmine felt it land anyway.

“I won’t.”

Emmett shook his head.

“Not promise.”

Carmine frowned.

“Then what?”

“Choose.”

Every day.

The missing words were obvious.

Carmine nodded slowly.

“Every day.”

Emmett relaxed.

Then pointed toward the untouched coffee.

“Bad.”

Carmine almost laughed.

“That seems to be a family opinion.”

In the hallway, Odette sat with Nell.

“I need to tell you one more thing,” Odette said.

Nell looked exhausted. “There is always one more thing.”

“Claire knew I had taken the money from Alessandro.”

Nell turned sharply.

“What?”

“Your mother found me crying in the pantry twenty years ago. I told her my husband was sick and I had forged the transfer.”

“What did she do?”

“She brought me coffee.”

“That sounds like her.”

“She did not tell Palmira. She told me to repay it and confess when I could.”

“You never confessed.”

“No.”

“And that is how Vincent found leverage.”

“Yes.”

Nell looked through the glass toward Emmett.

“So my mother’s kindness helped keep your secret.”

Odette’s eyes filled.

“Yes.”

“That makes me angry too.”

“I know.”

“But she would probably still have brought you the coffee.”

“Yes.”

Nell rubbed her face.

“I hate that people can be consistent and complicated at the same time.”

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Odette gave a weak smile.

“That may be the most accurate thing anyone has said about this family.”