Cay vowed to herself that the next time she hired an assistant, she would first ask the question, "Are you currently incarcerated?" Then she would ask, "Have you ever been in lockdown?"

Curtis would have had to answer "Maybe" to the first question and a definite "Yes" to the second. Okay, he wasn't technically incarcerated, but his group home was in lockdown because a gun was found in one of the other boys' possession. Lockdown meant no phone calls coming in or going out. And no trips into the community, which meant that Curtis was missing his community service. Which meant, he was incommunicado in detective-speak. Which meant she still didn't know who Lena Levandowski was or why Curtis used the word nasty to describe whatever he had found.

"I even went over there, Cayenne," Mary Dan apologetically said on the phone when she called to give her the news. "But they aren't allowed any visitors."

The big parade of the Krewe of Muses was tonight, Mardi Gras just a few days away, and Cayenne was only slightly closer to solving the mystery of who was stealing Monterey de Queso's recipes. Carson Fontainbleau seemed to be more than familiar with the odd password than Ivan McNulty, but it was Costanza who seemed the most agitated at Food Spell. Cayenne's own web searches didn't turn up much about a "Lena Levandowksi," the odd name found in Costanza's bag, but obviously Curtis had found something . When she had called Curtis's group home, the head supervisor turned away her calls telling her that lockdown would stay in place indefinitely. There was nothing she could do but wait.

So Cayenne closed down the office and went back to her place. Mambozo was out all day, huddling with Rey and Bert to tweak the final recipe for the Iron Pot Cook Off. Cay decided to take a quick nap, knowing it was going to be a late night in the Quarter. By the time woke up and changed into her outfit (modest powder blue harem pants, with a leotard top and short vest, accented with an "I Dream Of Jeannie" type fez for her head), it was getting dusky. She drove as quickly as she could to the staging head quarters, found a parking spot, and walked to where the Krewe du Couture float was farther back in line for the Muses parade. The parade was slotted to head down Magazine Street, then down Napoleon and St Charles before making a jog onto Canal Street for the big finale.

All hands were on deck performing last minute touch ups, replacing spoiled chilies, and hauling dozens of buckets of colorful beads, plastic go cups covered with chili and pineapple logos, and hand crafted dance cards adorned with buttons, ribbons and stickers. These would be the krewe throws that would be tossed to the thousand of parade watchers who were lining the New Orleans streets. Kenois and Andreah were working at the side of float, stapling up a long poster amidst a frame of chilies.

Andreah explained. "We found out too late that the theme this year for the Krewe of Muses parade is '"License to Swill,' parodying all the James Bond movies. We talked it over and decided to modify our Hot Tamale Belly theme to fit into the spirit of the parade. What do you think?" She gestured to an image that was obviously a doctored DVD cover.

Cay snorted at the vision of Pierce Brosnan wearing a ball fringed sombrero and holding a knife. She read the theme out loud. "Tamales Never Die. It's perfect for Mardi Gras."

Kenois quickly added, "But we are not letting go of the belly dancing. Fuck James Bond! We've gotten quite good at the sword dance."

Cay refrained from an almost involuntary impulse to duck her head and she moved to the front of the float where Flamenco was doing some last minute fussing over the engine of the tractor that he would drive and that would tug the float through the streets. He was dressed in colorful rainbow pants with a lacy Spanish shirt, a simple black mask pushed up temporarily on his forehead, and wore dozens of clacking colorful beads around his neck like a huge, glittery, plastic cowl neck. After a huge hug and an emotional string of Spanish that she didn't understand, Flamenco reached over to pull out a box of Kleenex that had been tucked down near the foot rest, wiped his eyes, and blew his nose quite loudly. "This is most happy day in my life." He cried. "I am in American Mardi Gras!"

Cay noticed that there were actually two boxes of tissues resting on the tractor floorboard. Mary Dan was taking good care of her friend.

Marcy's voice floated down to Cay from the main deck. "Cayenne, you better get some of this before it's all gone!"

She found the ladder at the back of the float and climbed aboard. Marcy was ladling out some delicious smelling stew from a large crock pot into bowls held by two fierce looking women in short skirts, masks, feather boas, and roller skates. Each wore a brightly colored, tight fitting tees. One said "Crescent Wenches" and the other, "Confederacy of Punches."

"Cay, come meet a couple of the Big Easy Roller Girls," Marcy said. "I met them down at the Rock N Bowl a couple weeks ago and turns out they are following us in the parade."

Marcy handed a bowl to one with dark hair and neon blue eye makeup and gestured to both of the women. "This here is Fleur d'Lethal, and Stinky Lafitte. I'm sorry, I don't know their real names. " The women nodded and Stinky extended a hand covered with sequined gloves and hard shelled plastic wrist guards. Fleur was tall and lanky and had stars on her helmet. Stinky was small and petite, but looked strong and athletic. Marcy continued. " Over there, talking to Mambozo is Lush Fatale. She's had three of his chocolate stout muffins and is trying to weasel the recipe out of him. Over there by the Hurricane Punch Bowl are Beatrix Kiddo and Bruise Springsteen."

"Nice to meet you." Cay said, slightly intimidated by the clearly athletic and fierce women. "I feel much safer with you bringing up the rear. Lots of crime in New Orleans these days."

"Will skate for food," mumbled Fleur, stuffing a dripping spoonful of something delicious in her mouth.

"These pork carnitas are certainly worth defending," Fleur d'Lethal said, nodding in the direction of Mambozo. "Though my mother would despise the fact that a chicken can cook better than me."

The float gave a sudden jerk, and Mary Dan walked down the crowded platform wielding a bull horn in her hand. "Krewe du Couture, time for Mardi Gras! The parade is beginning." In a flash, the Roller Girls turned on a dime and skated toward the stairs. "Have a great parade Party with you at the end!" They shouted as they jumped over buckets of throws and scrambled fearlessly down the stairs, back to where the rest of the Big Easy Roller Girls were lining up behind a large banner held by two members of the Storyvillians. Cay marveled that each of their skates were lit with an individual LED light, making the Roller Girls a swath of stars rolling down the dark streets.

Mambozo moved closer to where Cayenne was watching the parade stretch down the street behind the float. "I do have to say that I think Bert De Queso has an excellent chance at winning the one pot competition down at the Marriott tonight. Since we are going to miss it, I thought everyone in the krewe would enjoy a sneak peak. We call it Atchafalaya Amber Pork Carnitas."

Cay nodded. "Those Roller Girls loved it! You know, Rufus was picked to be one of the judges in that. He in one of the floats at the head of the parade. They'll drop him and the others off at the Marriott for the competition. We will be passing them by just as they are burping up the last of the entries."

Marcy replaced the lid and braced the pot against a post with a box of unopened beads. "Cool! That sounds like a good gig. I brought my Blackberry so we can keep tabs on the competition. I think the Times-Picayune is blogging it as it happens. That Ivan McNulty guy."

"When did you turn into such a gearhead?" Cay teased.

"Hey, I need this for business!" Marcy protested, waving a sleek shiny device the color of a pomegranate. "I still have eight left to sell on the Mardi Gras bus tour to Fred's this Saturday. I figure I can fill them all tonight." She shrugged and looked sheepish, " I also have a friend taking pictures of the floats ahead. I love those wild electric shoes that the Muse members are carrying down the street this year. I want to see how they look."

The Krewe of Muses started precisely at 7 p.m. and downtown New Orleans was packed for one of the most popular parades of the Carnival season. Leading the parade was a brass band and close behind was this year's Woman of Honor. Every year, the Krewe chose a woman of merit as an honorary Muse to represent their float. This year, the Honorary Muse went to hip hop artist and videographer, Kimberly River Roberts for her work on the documentary "Trouble the Waters" which documented the Hurricane Katrina and resulting flooding from the breeched levies. It was a powerful film showing the pain, destruction and abandonment of New Orleans in the time of disaster. Kimberly represented Melpomene, The Muse of Tragedy, and had the honor of riding in the head float, a large shoe with the word Muse painted on the side in sparkly, shiny letters.

And not far behind was the official Krewe of Muse float, displaying the parade's theme of "License to Swill." Many of the floats in this parade poked fun at politicians, including one that declared Mayor Ray Nagin, "The Man With the Golden Card" for his questionable purchases with the city credit card. The main Krewe of Muse float featured a shapely dancer whose shadow was seen on a screen reminiscent of many a James Bond movie trailer. The willowy silhouette wielded a hand held hairdryer and pointed it at the crowd like a gun. The parade spectators went wild. They especially treasured the beautiful hand beaded and painted shoes that were the Muses' unique throw, as well as bracelets and toe rings and of course, thousands of beads.

The Krewe du Couture float seemed to be a great hit with the parade goers as well. The krewe had worked on their throws for months, and there were hundreds of beads adorned with chilies, sombreros, pineapples, fleur-de-lis, and chickens. Mambozo was in his glory, singing out to the crowd as he nested on his perch, a Carmen Miranda style hat piled with tiny crafted marzipan fruit and a perfect fitting poncho draped over his shoulders. A string of lights lined each supporting pole of the float and outlined the large sign Kenois and Andreah had hung on the side. At the back of the float, a slightly raised platform allowed room for dancers at a time. Andreah and Dinah were back there now, dressed head to toe in flowing scarves colored scarlet and deep ocean blue, twirling their swords upon their heads in perfect synchronicity. Cay had to admit. They had gotten quite good since she had last seen them.

And Cay noticed with delight that up in the highest place of honor, the queen's roost, Jasmyn had taken residence and was throwing out tiny paper airplanes to the crowd. Her hair was a bright purple, with a stunning tiara made of huge plastic grapes and raspberries. Her gown was like that of Greek goddess, though the draping fabric was blood red and was belted at her middle with a hemp rope.

Jasmyn spotted Cay and blew a kiss, then sent a paper airplane expertly in her direction. Cay opened it up and read,

Mardi Gras is here
A collective kiss we give
To our lonely world

Jasmyn was sending haiku to the crowd.

The parade continued this way, While the loud noisy crowd and snatches of brass band music and recorded hip hop added to the never ending din. Then, as the parade continued its progress down St. Charles Avenue, Cay felt her cell phone vibrate in the discrete pocket of her harem pants. It startled her at first because she wasn't expecting anyone to call. She pulled it out and saw that she had a text from an unknown number. She punched it up.

this Curtis. friend sneak n phone. Lena really Leenah. she nutcase www.jsonline.com/archives/levandowskimurders.html

No wonder her searches came up empty. She had the first name spelled wrong. Cay didn't have internet on her phone, but she knew exactly who did.

"Marcy! Come here!"

After convincing her that this was important enough to take a break from throwing go cups to the crowd, Marcy dug out her Blackberry from her bag and punched in the address, carefully transferring the long address to her tiny keyboard.

She pushed buttons and stared intently on the screen, the glow eerily lighting her face. Then Marcy turned the screen toward Cay. "Hey, doesn't this sort of look like that chick who ripped it up on the sausage song down at Eat Beat the other night?"

Cay didn't recognize her at first, but it did resemble a younger, less sophisticated and somber looking Costanza Collens look-a-like without makeup and sans fan, in handcuffs being led away by police. Cay looked closer at the familiar backdrop in the picture.

"Hey, that's a Stuckeys! We had them back home," Cay said taking the Blackberry from Marcy for a closer look, "I loved their pecan rolls." Her stomach growled with nostalgia. Then her stomach started tying in a knot as she skimmed the article. She read aloud some of the highlights, shouting them above the noise of the crowd to Marcy, and to Mambozo who had noticed the familiar look on Cay's face when she was hot on the trail and moved toward where the women were standing.

"Leenah Levandowski had been under suspicion for four poisonings deaths when she worked as an employee for Stuckeys back in Illinois."

"Poisoning? What's that you are reading?" asked Kenois, who had moved into the group to ask Marcy if she wanted to take a turn on the dance platform. Marcy hushed her. Cay continued.

"Levandowski is suspected of putting poison in the Wisconsin cheese soup which was ordered at the popular highway stop by all four of the victims, as well as sixteen other who reported getting ill. Levandowski is currently enrolled as a chemistry major at The University of Northern Illinois and is described by fellow classmates as brilliant and engaging, though some also described her as unstable." Cay scrolled back to the top of the article for the date. Almost three years ago. Shortly before Costanza started working for Carson. She looked at the citation again. The article was from the archives of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.

Cay was tossed off balance by the jerking of the float forward speeding up again after temporarily slowing down. She recovered quickly from the sudden motion of the float but not from the jolt of the story she was reading. Her brain was racing, and she could almost feel the snap of the pieces of the puzzles being firmly connected. Seane Trudeau used to live in Milwaukee and he died eating gumbo. Maybe he recognized her from the story. Maybe that was the big story he was about to release to the New York Times. Maybe Costanza was not only stealing recipes from Rey, but was also the one who poisoned the stiff who everyone was blaming on Gusto.

And then another piece snapped clearly into place. Rufus was about to eat chow in a contest that Leenah/Costanza was organizing. Cay searched her memory for the conversation she and Costanza had shared at Food Spell. "He's a friend of yours, isn't he?" The look of her face was one of gloat."You betcha!" A truly Midwestern expression.

"Rufus is in danger!" She shouted to the tightly clustered group. "I can't explain it all right now but I have to get there and warn him." She looked up to see how far the float had come and saw that they were just few block from Canal Street. She turned quickly and pushed toward the front of the float until she could see Flamenco.

"Flamenco! Stop! Stop!" she said. He couldn't hear her over the noise of the tractor and the crowd. Cay turned around and saw the stack of go-cups Marcy had set down when she went to get her Blackberry. Cayenne grabbed the stack and started throwing them one by one at Flamenco's head until one found its mark. He turned around, startled and confused.

"Stop! Stop!" Cayenne yelled, waving her arms.

Flamenco understood and pulled the gear that slowed the tractor. As the tractor and float came to a halt, Cay ran toward the back and scooted down the stairs. Marcy and Kenois followed, their large swords bumping in the sheafs against their legs. Mambozo had tucked himself in Marcy's arms and he bounced and rattled and the duo bounced down the stairs. The stopping of the float also stopped the Big Easy Roller Girls behind it, and Fleur and Lush skated quickly skated over to see what was wrong.

"Come on! Someone is in trouble!" Marcy shouted. Immediately the women started skating behind them alternating rolling and running on the rubber tips of the skates as they dodged through the crowd, running toward the hotel. The crowd packed in tight along the uneven sidewalks and people walked slowly, drinks in hand and eyes on the parade. Cay pushed her way through the revelers and it felt like forever before she reached Canal Street, feeling like a tired salmon swimming the wrong way up a powerful stream.

The Black Pot Chef Competition tasting table was set up along the side street of the hotel, high enough for the swarming crowds to see the judges as they conducted their duties of tasting, testing, and discriminating. The crowd got denser as she got closer to the stage and Cay felt terrible pushing rudely past the crowd dressed in all manner of Mardi Gras gear. But her fear for Rufus pushed her forward. If Costanza was really Leenah from Stuckeys, then she had poisoned before and Cay knew that this would be her best opportunity to poison again in a theatrical way that would make her infamous. After seeing her on stage at Eat Beat, Cay knew the drama would appeal to Costanza and there was no time to lose.

As she reached sight of the stage, she saw that judges already had spoons raised to their lips, Rufus was still blowing on his to cool it off. Cay screamed as loud as she could, "Stop! Don't eat it, Rufus ! Don't eat it!"

Rufus took a small bite and let it roll over his tongue. Then he heard his name in the crowd and his second bite froze in midair. He peered out into the lights that glared toward the stage and saw Cay pushing her way through the crowd, closely followed by two belly dancers, two tough women on skates, and a chicken. He also saw Kenois and Marcy pull their swords from their sheafs and hold them up above the crowd. The onlookers, seeing knives drawn and pushing in the crowd, panicked. The dense wall of people parted before them, allowing them easy access to the stage. Cay led the group to the side stairs and pounded her way up to the top.

"Don't eat it!" She yelled, pushing a spoon of something steaming away from the mouth of Tom Colicchio, the celebrity chef judge from Bravo's Top Chef series, spilling the bowl of gumbo in front of him. Restaurateur Ralph Brennan, sitting right next to Tom, was already dabbing his mouth a napkin. His face darkened when he saw who had just interrupted the proceedings. "Not you again!"

"Cayenne McKenzie Del Roi, what the hell do you think you are doing?" Rufus bellowed from his seat closest to stairs.

Breathless, Cay pushed out the words "Stop! It's poisoned. Don't eat it."

Chef Tom grabbed his stomach and started coughing. Ralph Brennan looked stunned and sat motionless.

Carson Fontainbleau, dressed in a gorgeous silk suit the color of charcoal, was sitting at the farthest end of the table. He sniffed at Cay and shook off her warning. He glared at the raised swords of Kenois and Marcy, who had tumbled up the stairs right after Cay. "Rubbish! Nothing but a bunch of Middle Eastern heathens!" He lifted a spoon to his lips, his pinky extended slightly. "I despise cold food."

The judges at the table took a sharp collective intake of air. In that small moment as Carson lifted his spoon, out of Marcy's arms came a flying ball of feathers. Mambozo hurled himself in Carson's direction and aimed for his chest. He struck him dead on and Carson flipped backward in his chair and spilled to the ground, his spoon flying out of his hand. Mambozo and Carson rolled a few feet and stopped perilously close to the edge of the stage, Carson on his back and Mambozo posed on his chest. Both shook of their shock, then Mambozo leaned in close, eye ball to eye ball with the great Carson Fontainbleau. "Don't eat that, love," he said, relishing every word. "Eso es swine, amigo, mucho swine." He chuckled at his joke, then pushed his little chicken beak even closer into Carson's horrified face. "You can thank me in the morning."

Out of the corner of her eye, Cay saw movement behind the stage. She turned just in time to see Costanza slip away around the building and heading toward the side alley. "We can't let her get away!" She turned back through the group and pushed back down the stairs, taking off in the direction that Costanza had disappeared.

"I'm coming with you," Rufus yelled, but as he ran, he slipped on the gumbo that was spilled in the confusion and fell on his knee with a sickening thud. "Damn!" he yelled in pain. Cay paused for a moment, but then tore herself away. She couldn't let Costanza get away this time.

Cayenne ran as fast as her flowing harem pants and felt slippers would let her. She heard a commotion and some startled cries behind her, and she knew that the rest of the krewe was not far behind. She turned quickly down the alley and saw Costanza fumbling with the back door to the kitchen, the same one that she had passed through with Flamenco's help so long ago. She pushed herself faster and barely got her hand between the heavy metal door and the frame before it closed. There was a sharp jolt of pain as the door slammed on her hand but Cayenne ignored it and pushed the door open. Inside she spied an industrial broom against the wall and tossed it in the doorway to leave the door ajar enough to let the others in. The hall was dimly lit but she could see a flash of light ahead where Costanza had pushed her way into the hotel's kitchen. Cay tried to run even faster down the hallway, but tripped over a janitor's utility bucket and barely caught herself before she fell. She slammed against the swinging kitchen door with her shoulder and opened it up. Faces from all over the kitchen stared at her loud entrance and Cay scanned the room. Costanza had already made it halfway across the crowded kitchen and was heading for the other door.

Then she saw Carlos, cutting huge piles of carrots into perfectly formed matchsticks and tossing them into a large metal bowl. She searched her brain for the words. "Carlos! Carlos!" He looked up and spotted Cay. Cay shouted, pointing at Costanza racing his way. "ésta es la matadora!" She hoped she was remembering the right words. "Párela! Párela!" His eyes flashed and he dropped the knife in his hand and reached toward the cutting block to pull out an even longer, more frightening boning knife. "Yo le defiendo!" He pointed the weapon straight at Costanza. Costanza slammed on her brakes, grabbing on the side of the metal work benches to keep herself upright. Carlos had the look of a possessed man, saving his native land from invasion.

Cay heard the door swing open behind her and turned to see Kenois, Marcy and the two Roller Girls pile into the kitchen. She returned her eyes to where Carlos was holding Costanza at bay just in time to see Costanza grabbed the big metal bowl of carrots and swing it at Carlos's head. It caught him just over his left eye and as he put his hand to his gashed face, he dropped the knife. Costanza pushed past him, and into the service hall that led deeper into the HVAC sections of the hotel. Cayenne took off in pursuit again, this time with the rest of the krewe close behind. Carlos, bleeding profusely from his cut, felt around for where his knife had fallen, picked it up and soon followed behind.

They all pushed through the doors at the same time and saw Costanza far ahead down the straight and narrow hallway. Cayenne's heart sank. There was no way they would catch up with her now. Then she heard a slapping of hands behind her and Fleur yelled, "Let's jam!" The Roller Derby Girls took off at a terrific speed, pushing off from their rubber stoppers in tandem, raced down the hall in pursuit. Cay saw them do a perfect split and get on either side of Costanza. Then in perfect teamwork, elbows emerged and the skaters body blocked into Costanza's chest, knocking her to the floor and stunning her. The skaters expertly turned and returned quickly to the spot where she fell. Kenois and Marcy took off running, with Carlos close behind, and before Costanza could rise to her feet, she was surrounded by two scimitar wielding belly dancers, two roller derby queens who looked like they could easily go another five rounds, and a very unhappy Ecuadoran chef whose bloody cut was dripping all over Costanza's perfectly tailored but now disheveled suit.

"No Move!" Carlos growled in English, then streamed a string of passionate words in Spanish that Cay didn't understand but was certain translated into something like, "I will gut you like a pig if you ever do that again to Carlos."

Costanza/Leenah fell back to the floor, finally defeated, just as two uniformed officers charged through the swinging kitchen doors.

"Stop, Police!" They yelled, cautiously moving toward the group with guns drawn. Cay could tell that they weren't quite sure who to arrest. The circle of five were saved when yet another push through the swinging doors revealed a badly limping Rufus, his face in pain and his pants stained with greasy roux. "Officers, arrest the woman on the floor for attempted murder. " The young officers gingerly stepped around the swords, while the Roller Derby Girls high fived each other. "Awesome block, Lush." "Back at ya, Fleur ."

"Damn this city," Rufus said, leaned over, hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. "Mardi Gras gets more insane every year."

*************************************************

"Rufus said she sang like a canary, like she was proud of what she did. He said that tic is permanent in her cheek now, and that she is probably going to go away for a long time."

Cayenne stopped her story to take a big spoonful of the darkest and best tasting gumbo she had ever tasted. She was sitting in the closed restaurant of the Stew du Roux, which was packed with people she knew, like Kristy and Stan, Marcy and Rey, Brie and Bert, and of course, Mambozo who was in the kitchen with Gusto, giving him a few suggestions of how to give his famous gumbo a Cuban twist. Gusto, in his tremendous gratitude for being released from custody, had offered to cook them a meal on Mardi Gras before the evening parades, and Cay was grateful for a chance to get out of the craziness and the crowds. She was telling the group what Rufus had found out once he had taken Costanza down to the station. Rufus had done the interview himself, since most of the detectives were on call to help police the huge Mardi Gras crowds in New Orleans.

"Easiest interview I ever did, " he later told Cay in a follow up call. "She wanted to talk."

"She's a performer, that one is." He continued. "Even asked if she could tell her story to Ivan. Wanted to give him the scoop for old time sake.

"That Trudeau fellow who bit it, was digging up cold case stories for the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel and ran across the Stuckey Killings, as they were called up there. Turns out, they had Leenah Levandowski in custody for while, but she slipped away once she was on bail. Never found her and the case wasn't solved. He tracked down her movements and found out from an old roommate that she was quite the foodie and loved New Orleans. He followed the trail, did the math, and figured Food Con was where she would show up. He was freelancing for the Times by then. He followed the trail and was asking all sorts of questions of the conference organizers. Maybe he was onto Costanza, maybe not, but she claims he didn't recognize her. Costanza played the helpful conference organizer and made a reservation for him at Gusto's restaurant for a local interest story. She also supplied him with an "antacid pill" because he was always complaining that he got heartburn from the food down here. Yankee had it coming to him. Turned out to be poison. Doogan was poisoned, too."

"I told you there was something wrong with him before Gusto went after him," Cay couldn't resist adding.

"Turns out you were right," Rufus admitted. "I'm sorry for your friend and I hope you tell him that. Leenah or Costanza or whatever her name was knew that Nicholas Doogan had Carson Fontainbleau in his sights. He was writing some kind of tell-all book about Fontainbleau and was starting to investigate his finances while he was in town for the convention. Turns out that our little murderess had also been fleecing Carson all these years, skimming off the top, making a nice little nest egg for herself in some Canary Islands bank. And now that Carson's star was losing its shine, she was prepping Ivan McNulty to take his place as her private ATM. About that time, Monterey de Queso shows up with a fabulous set of recipes and not a lot of savvy, so she suggested to boyfriend Ivan that he write a cookbook about using Abita beers to break into food publishing. She began funneling Rey's recipes to him while sabotaging de Queso's chances to ever be taken seriously. Doogan was going to end this carefully concocted house of cards, so she cozied up to the sucker, slipped him her little cocktail of joy, and boom, laughed herself silly at the good luck of Gusto being blamed for both crimes.

"I don't know how you figured out the recipes were coming from Costanza, but we don't need it because she gave us a whole confession. She's really lost it. She keeps mumbling about cheese. Seems like she was beginning to decompensate again after a couple years of keeping clean and went back to her old ways. That's why she tried to poison all the judges."

"Working at Stuckeys will do that to you," Mambozo commented, as Cay finished the story. He and Gusto had come back out of the kitchen and were back sitting with the group, drinking Houma beer and eating steaming bowls of Gusto's gumbo.

"God, I love Stuckeys' pecan rolls!" Stan said. Everyone turned and stared at him. "What? I love the Cubs and once, I drove there to see them. A man's got to eat."

Cay nodded her head in agreement at the assessment, then continued. "Anyway, I guess all the judges are going to be okay. Most of them went to hospital for treatment and Ralph Brennan actually had to have his stomach pumped, but they are all going to be fine. Rufus ripped something in his knee from his fall and has to wear a brace for awhile, but he isn't even taking off work this week. Carson, of course, escaped unharmed." Cay took a drink of her Skeleton Key Lager, cool and sharp to her tongue after that spicy gumbo. "Thanks to Mambozo."

The chicken took a courtly bow. "I expect rave reviews in his next column." He said, ignoring the hoots and hollers of disbelief from the rest of the group.

Monterey spoke up in his quiet voice, his bowtie neat and proper. "I do have to say, Señor Perez. As a man who has spent his past two year working on recipes, I do hope you share your recipe for this gumbo with me. I have to say, it is really killer."

The room silenced, as if a deep menacing shadow had descended. Gusto shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Then everyone broke into laughter simultaneously. Kristina saved Rey from his unknowing blunder and embarrassment.

"Killer, indeed, Mr. De Queso. Killer indeed." She said graciously, winking at Cayenne who raised her glass of Houma in salute.