It was a stellar blue and sun filled morning in New Orleans and Cay had company for breakfast in her rented shotgun apartment for the first time since she had left Francisco back in Lake Charles.

It wasn't quite the same romantic overnight stay as she had enjoyed in the past, but Cay could really get used to the idea of having breakfast cooked for her like this. Three doting males, Mambozo, Rey and Bert, all hustled around her spacious, yet unused kitchen trying out new recipes made with Houma Brewing Company beers. Amidst the fast filling sink of dirty dishes and a loud clanging of pots against the stove, the trio was working on the chapter dealing with breakfast food. Cay's seldom used, bright yellow kitchen was experiencing more cooking and food preparation this morning than in the total time she had lived there.

"Beer for breakfast? Is that wise?" she foolishly asked when Mambozo asked if they could come over to use her kitchen and use her as a taste taster.

And now, the trio was making a tremendous to-do in her kitchen (they had to bring over most of their pots, pans and utensils) and constantly asked her how her food was and if she needed more coffee and cream to go along with her food and pushing yet another plate of yummies in front or her.

"Hot out of the fryer, love." Mambozo cooed. " A Doughnut made with Iko Iko IPA. Just a dusting of powdered sugar for fun," Mambozo would fuss, watching her expression as she bit down on an impossibly tender doughnut. "Too much beer flavor? Do the hops balance with the sweetness of the doughnut?"

Then Rey humbly offer a plate of pastries featuring a triangle of beignets on a platter. "A sampler, Ms Del Roi. I can't decide which recipe I should include. Which one do you suggest?" He indicated toward each delicacy as he told her what he had made. " This one is the Brennan's Banana Beignet, made with the Skeleton Key Lager you like so much. The Bon Temps Raspberry Wheat Beer goes into the Louisiana Raspberry Beignets, and the last is an Apple Beignet which I also made with the Lager, but I'm wondering now if the Bayou Cane Bitter might offset the sweetness of the Calvados a bit better. What do you think? "

"All of them," Cay declared through a mouth bursting with fruit flavors and soft, sweet piping hot pastry. "All of them deserve to be in there."

She finally had to stop eating in the midst of a very large Skeleton Key Lager Pancakes with a generous helping of Steen's Pure Cane Syrup and put her hands up in defeat. "No more please! I'm going to burst."

The trio protested and tried to push more plates of food but she stood her ground. "I have to leave room for lunch," she protested, knowing that today was the end of Food Con and the piece de resistance was the final luncheon.

Kristina had scored two tickets to the gourmet luncheon and was using the opportunity to do a review on what a hotel restaurant chooses to serve to a convention of restaurant reviewers. She invited Cay to be her guest and Cay jumped at the chance. Besides never turning down a well cooked meal, Cay wanted to try to reach Ivan McNulty one more time to confront him about the recipes.

As she pushed herself away from the table while the cooks continued to sauté, broil, beat, whip, strain and puree their culinary experiment, she took her laptop into the next room to do a little research and detective work before her next meal.

First, she brought up the web page for the Times Picayune and read the latest story on the Black Roux deaths. She caught herself up short. Even she was thinking of Gusto as the Black Roux Killer now, even though the evidence connecting the two of them was circumstantial at best. She skimmed the highlights of the latest story, which turned out to be more a summary of past articles than any new information. An autopsy was not yet completed on Nicholas Doogan and Gusto remained in custody until the results were completed and reviewed by the district attorney. Several gang related murders and another mysterious death of a oil industry executive in his home seem to be occupying the police department. The story also recapped the suspicious death of Seane Trudeau and invariably tied that one to "Alleged murder Gustavo Perez, who has been arrested for yet another murder and is in the city's custody being held without bond." Cay tried calling Rufus, but his cell phone wasn't working for some reason. She left a message on his office phone to call her.

Then she Googled "Food Spell New Orleans" and read a bit more about the history of Food Con and this unique fundraiser for the local Food Bank.

Today would be the final banquet of Food Con and the final event was a gourmet lunch put on by the hotel chef along with a selection of top chefs from the Brennan family of New Orleans restaurants. Ralph Brennan was being honored for his work in the New Orleans food industry and would be the highlighted speakers for the event. For the final entertainment, Food Con was joining with the local Food Bank network for a spelling bee called Food Spell. This is a highly entertaining event where the audience tries to stump famous food reviewers with words and definitions of obscure food related terms. Judges this year included Brie De Queso from the De Queso Family of Cheeses, Dana Corwin, the editor of the magazine Food and Wine, and Melvin Courtbouillon, president of Second Harvest Food Bank of Greater New Orleans and Acadiana

As Cay read about the day's events, she struggled with a plan of how to corner Ivan McNalton in a way that he would have to talk to her. She had a thread of connection linking Rey de Queso to McNalton's computer at the Times Picayune, but it had gone nowhere. While she was deep in thought, she saw Bert poke his head in the room. She looked up and saw his holding out a plate of warm, dark brown muffins topped with a silky white glaze. He smiled sheepishly and asked in a cajoling voice, "How about it Cay? Just one bite of a Chocolate Stout muffin." He handed her a deep brown muffin with one hand along with a bright white napkin. " Just tell me what you think."

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Restaurants were hit pretty hard after Katrina, after the people left and the workers left and the chain of supplies and restaurant supplies disintegrated. But the culture of food and eating is as ingrained in the soul of New Orleans as the culture of jazz and blues and living on a sense of time different than the rest of the world. So hosting Food Con in New Orleans was a coup. Many national organizations were trying to hold their large events in the Big Easy to help with the economy. Food Con was one of the biggest food industry trade conferences and appeared to have been a tremendous success in New Orleans. All but for the matter of two dead as a door nail attendees, a fact that hung over the event like the proverbial pink elephant in the living room.

Kristina was in the kitchen of the Marriott, watching the hectic proceedings of the lunch and food preparation. She wanted to get "local flavor" into her article and earlier that morning she had been talking with the chefs about the menu choices and food preparation. The menu included a chilled sweet potato vichyssoise garnished with cayenne and fresh chives followed by a dick and andouille etouffee with corn cakes and a choice between callas (a sweet rice fritter), café brulot custard or burnt sugar cake. Cay had followed Kristina into the kitchen to say hi to Flamenco, but he wasn't due to come on shift until later. She spied Carlos, the sous chef, cutting up vegetables and waved a friendly "hola!" his way. Upon recognizing Cayenne, Carlos looked alarmed at first, grabbing his knife, then seeing she was alone, look relieved and waved back with the hand that was not holding the knife.

Cay left Kristina chatting away and exchanging food ideas with the executive chef. She waded her way upstream through the crowd who was now filing into the large room and choosing seats amongst the dozens of elegantly set round tables. A large dais at the front of the room was set with a podium and a head table for ten. A smaller, deeper stage to the right was set with just chairs on stage and a microphone, and a narrow table on the floor with the chairs' backs to the audience. This was obviously where the Food Spell competition was going to take place. A large screen was lowered behind the empty stage, and logos and information about food products and industry magazines flashed information and photos about the luncheon's sponsors, along with occasional public service announcements about the local Food Bank network in the Orleans parish.

After fighting her way through the hungry and noisy crowd, Cay finally reached the women's restroom and ducked in for a visit before lunch.

As she washed her hands in a coconut smelling liquid soap, and waiting to dry them with the air dryer, Cay was distracted by a conversation between two obvious conference attendees at the sink, primping in the mirror "That man that was killed was supposed to be competing today, did you know?" Said one woman, powdering her nose.

"Was that Nicky Doogan?" the other well groomed and obviously well to do woman said, searching her purse for a comb. " Our company published his first book of food critique, but he has since dumped us for bigger waters. We all thought he was going to be the next Carson Fontainbleau." She grunted. "Nasty man. We all called him the Ann Coulter of the Food World. Don't know if he ever really believed that vicious hooey he spouted but it obviously got him fame and attention. Heard his next book was supposed to be taking down the current darlings of the food world. Fontainbleau included."

She ran the comb through her hair and patted it down. "I think we are better off without him." She put the comb back in her purse. "Bless his soul."

Cay worked her way back to the table and checked out the program. Besides Nicholas Doogan, who was still on the program though obviously not competing, a group of local contestants filled out the roster. The Time Picayune is putting up Ivan McNalton, naturally. The Bourbon Street House is putting up Dickie Brennan (Cay decided to root for Dickie because of his fabulous oysters) , The Bourbon Street House is putting up Dickie Brennan, the New Orleans School of Cooking was sponsoring their big chef Kevin Belton, Emeril's restaurant NOLA is putting up Marcelle Bienvenu, who was a well known cook book author. And Carson Fontainbleau put up himself.

The actual Food Spell event didn't happen until the end of the meal. Meanwhile, Kristina had returned to the table and was chatting pleasantly with the other folks at the table about their experiences with the Crescent City Market and their favorite fish vendors in the city. The lunch was impeccable and Cay noticed that Kristina was quizzing the other people at their table as to their reactions to the dishes. The vichyssoise was a particular hit.

After the dessert was served, several of the organizers rotated through to make announcements about checking out of the hotel, receiving continuing education credits, and the final events of the conference including a "Ghosts of New Orleans" tour scheduled to start at 7 p.m. and the final Black Pot Chef Competition the next evening. Finally, Costanza Collens walked to the podium wearing a flattering emerald green suit with an asynchronous bow that angled to one side. She posted an attractive, energetic picture in front of the large crowd, but Cay was struck by the difference between this conservatively dressed business woman and the lingerie-laced-and-net-stocking bombshell that strutted her stuff last night. Cay couldn't be certain, but she was pretty sure that she was the only one in this crowd that was in that dark room at the Cave last night.

"When you think of New Orleans fine dining, you think of the Brennan family name." She begun, her voice strong and clear through the ballroom. " Owen Edward Brennan first opened his French restaurant on Royal Street in 1946 and since then, the extended family runs 10 restaurants in this town with others in other parts of the United States. Ralph Brennan is our speaker today to talk about the future of the restaurant innovation versus preservation in New Orleans' unique dining culture. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, Mr. Ralph Brennan."

The crowd broke into enthusiastic applauding as Ralph made his way to the podium, who stopped to chat with Costanza before taking his place at the podium and adjusting the microphone for his height.

He tested the mike a bit by tapping on it, then began with a strong, amiable voice. "My name is Ralph Brennan, and though my family has lived here in New Orleans for a long time, the South has a long memory. We Brennans will always be known as the Irishmen who made good in the Quarter. In fact , I bumped into a fellow Irishman at the exhibit hall where we both found ourselves magnetically drawn to where the meat and potatoes were clustered in the corner." He gave his words a bit of an Irish Brogue. " I told her I would give a "shout out" as the young people say and acknowledge my newly found friend Dolores Flannigan from Missouri. Dolores, are you out there?"

Heads spun around looking for the woman named Dolores. Slowly in the middle of the crow, a portly matron with white, salon rolled hair and a tight fitting wool suit around a roly-poly midsection got up with a look of disbelief on her face, but when the crowd started clapping , she waved enthusiastically to everyone before sitting back down. Cayenne slumped down into her chair and used a napkin to wipe her mouth, and obscure her face.

Ralph looked confused. He fumbled with his glasses and his notes before regaining composure. He began with an entertaining piece about his grandfather talking about the fishmongers and fruit vendors singing their wares for sale in the old French Market and quickly connected the nostalgic story with the marketing challenges in a food world that is both intensely local and increasingly global.

He was a great speaker and kept his comments short, focused and funny enough to take people up though their dessert. After hearty and appreciative applause, a different conference organizer got up and introduced the head of Second Harvest Food Bank of Greater New Orleans and Acadiana, Melvin Courtboullion.

Melvin was nervous speaking in front of such a large group and the microphone gave a huge squawk until he adjusted his distance from the mike. "We are pleased to work with the organizers of the Cook Book and ... Writers ... I mean... Food Reviewers... Publishers ... " he stumbled over the words. Finally he looked at the crowd and pleaded, "Can I just call it Food Con?" The crowd laughed and clapped and that seem to put Melvin at ease.

As the president talked about the need for food shelters and food pantries in the time of a weakening economy, Cay saw Brie come in through the side door and stand behind the stage, readying to take her seat at the judges table. It suddenly dawned on Cay how she could test if Ivan was telling the truth. She pulled out her phone to retrieve the saved text message from Mary Dan. She dug out an envelope from her purse and a pen to copy the message on the blank side of the envelope. She paused as she wondered how to get a message to Brie without walking past Ivan and causing him to be suspicious. She looked at Kristina who was obviously enjoying the last of her burnt sugar cake. Cay scribbled these words above the single word she had written in block letters.

Brie, very important, ask this word of Ivan McNulty. Do it for brother Rey. -Cayenne McKenzie Del Roi.

"Kristina, how would like to go on a secret mission to save the world?" Cay said, folding the envelope in half.

"After this dessert, I feel like I can do anything." She said, dabbing her sugar frosted lips with a napkin. "What's up?"

Within minutes, Kristina had worked her way up to the back of the stage where the judges waited to be introduced and seated. Cay saw her talk to Brie and Brie looking doubtful before reading the note. She read the note with a serious look, then nodded to Kristina who returned to the table.

Cay turned her attention back to Melvin. "... table now are our judges, Dana Corwin, managing editor of Food and Wine and one of our sponsors." The crowd politely applauded after each introduction amidst the final clinking of fork against dessert plate and the stirring of cream and sugar into coffee. "Brie de Queso of the De Queso Family of cheeses. And myself, Melvin Courtbouillon of the Greater New Orleans Network of Food Banks." He then introduced the contestants who came on the stage as they were introduced.

"We have assembled some of the most knowledgeable people about food that we know. Many thanks to each of our contestants for their good sportsmanship. Each contestant has been sponsored by a contribution to the Food Bank Network and the final contestant will receive a notice in Food and Wine with a feature about themselves and their sponsor. The rules of Food Spell say that our judges will give you a food related word. You need to both spell it and give its definition. Don't worry, we'll start out simple and then we will challenge you."

Dana Corwin of Food and Wine started with Miss Bienvue, " Roquefort."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "R-O-Q-U-E-F-O-R-T Roquefort."

"And it's definition?"

She smiled. " A creamy, sharp bleu cheese."

Brie offered the work "Frumenty" to Fontainbleau. " F-R-U-M-E-N-T-Y," he spelled, almost spitting out each letter. "A horrid sweetened porridge made of wheat that the English insist on eating despite its inedibility." The crowd was loving Carson's commentary, hanging on every word before laughing and rolling their eyes at the others sitting at their table.

"Cannelloni" went to Dickie Brennan who spelled it correctly. "I'm not Italian but I love them."

"Poutine," went to Kevin who spelled it correctly and identified it as a Yankee dish of cheese curds, French Fries and gravy. "Can you imagine?" he mugged to the crowd.

"Mulligatawny" went to Ivan who spelled it correctly.

Dickie Brennan protested. "Hey wait! Didn't you listen to Ralph's speech? All the Irish sounding names should go to us Brennans!"

Ivan smiled as he corrected Dickie. "It's actually a Middle Eastern dish, Dick. Doesn't he get a point subtracted for that?"

And so the verbal sparring and good natured teasing went until participants started to drop out.

"Bibimpbap" went to Dickie who put an extra b in the word, but could still identify it as a vegetable and meat Korean dish. He had to sit down.

"Doberge" went to Marcelle who not only defined it as a layered dessert with a hard shell frosting, but offered a quick sweet cream recipe to put in between the layers of crepes.

"Gualjillo" went to Fontainbleau who spelled the word for the chili pepper both in Spanish and English.

It took several times around before the opportunity for Brie to ask Ivan her word. Cay leaned forward and held her breath.

"Ostreophagous."

Cayenne watched Ivan's face closely. He looked confused. "Could you repeat the word again?"

"Ostreophagous."

He again looked confused, then shook his head. "I could try to spell it but I have no idea what it is. Where is spell check when you need it?" He joked and bowed. "I hope I still have a job at the Food Section tomorrow. " He gallantly bowed then took his seat. The crowd applauded and laughed.

Cay was disappointed, Ivan appeared to genuinely not be familiar with that word, let alone know it well enough to use it as a password. Maybe he was innocent. She glanced over to where Costanza Collens was sitting to check her reaction. Her face was flushed and she seemed agitated, clutching a napkin, her bright red knuckles visible even toward the back of the room. Cay watched her intense reaction for a second then turned her attention back to the stage as Brie offered the word to Fontainbleau who spoke as if participating in an amusing, yet somewhat tedious exercise.

"Of course, Miss De Queso. Ostreophagous O-S-T-R-E-O-P-H-A-G-O-U-S. It means oyster eating." He paused for effect before he added. "Any good New Orleans native knows that one." The crowd laughed and applauded. Ivan nodded, enjoying the joke at his own expense.

Cay looked over back over to Costanza and was alarmed to see that Costanza had spotted her in the crowd and was looking right at her, with a tinge of fury in her eyes. Bingo, Cayenne realized. It wasn't Ivan who was posting the recipes. It was Costanza.

In the end, Food Spell turned out to be a fierce battle of words between Marcelle Bienville and Carson Fontainbleau, and the Food Bank President finally called a tie. After thanking the crowd and a round of applause for all the contestants, the crowd was dismissed and the round of picture taking commenced as Cay worked her way through the departing crowd over to the front. She was trying to get to where Costanza was caught in conversation with several conference goers. She had composed herself again and was the picture again of all hospitability as she greeted Cay.

"Ah, Miss Del Roi. I hope you enjoyed out little competition. It's all good fun for a good cause."

"About that passwor..."

Another organizer put a hand on Costanza's shoulders, "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt but we want to include all the conference staff in this next photo for Food and Wine. This was the best Food Con ever. "

"Excuse me, please," Costanza immediately turned away from Cayenne, put her stack of papers on the edge of the stage, and walked toward where photographs were being taken on the spelling stage.

Cay waited for her to return for her papers after the photo session was over. But Costanza took the opportunity to speak first. "I'm hoping that you'll be able to join us at the final Black Pot Chef competition tomorrow evening as part of the Krewe of Muses parade. It's our final Food Con event, for locals really and whoever is spending a few days extra in New Orleans. The five best chefs in New Orleans have a cook off featuring their best one pot meal. We've assembled a fine team of judges."

"Carson Fontainbleau, of course, along with Ralph Brennan of course. We have Tom Colicchio from Bravo's Channels Top Chef, and for a twist this year, I've asked Rufus Thibodeaux, the new community liaison for the New Orleans Police Department to be part of it. Good for protection for us since this town has gone wild with murders and such."

Costanza reached over to pick up her stack of papers and folders. "Captain Thibodeaux is a friend of yours, isn't he? He'll be a good fit for the group." Costanza asked, and then she gave a sharp little wink at Cay and said, "You betcha!" just as she turned and started walking away.

Cay was astounded. How would Costanza Collens know that she and Rufus were friends? She started pursuing her with more questions, but Costanza slipped artfully through the crowd. Cay tried to follow, but suddenly felt a restricting hand on her shoulder. She turned around to tug out of the grip and found herself looking straight in the eyes of Ralph Brennan. "Well! Well! Well! If it isn't the Dolores Flanagan imposter herself! Sneaking in to get the free appetizers, were we? Why, I forgive you but not unless you let me buy you a drink and you can tell me who you really are."

His grip was firm and relentless and Cayenne saw Costanza slip away in the crowd through a side door heading toward the back.

Ralph steered her in the direction of the small bar set up in the back of the room as Cay decided that she should just fess up and tell him the truth. "I'm intrigued that a red haired beauty would find a food convention so appealing." He said good-naturedly. "I'll get us some cocktails and then I want to know what is your real name and what you're doing at Food Con."

As Ralph ordered two glasses of wine at the portable bar set up in the corner of the room, Cayenne heard the familiar tinkle of her phone sending an alert that she had received a text message.

She glanced down. The number was Mary Dan's. She punched up the message.

Contact Curtis. Says LL nasty.

She thought for a while puzzling the meaning of the message. LL. Then it came to her. Curtis had news about Lena Levandowski. And it didn't look good.

February 24, 2009. The Black Pot Chef Competition.