That Old Black Magic Read Free

visits to various French Quarter watering holes. Finally he stopped the pretense and didn’t even bother going in to the office.
    Around that time Ellinore had begun to quietly sell off the family antiques. After a while, unhappy with what dealers had been offering her, she decided that she could make more money having a shop of her own. Christophe hated the idea of his wife as a shopkeeper and told everyone that Ellinore ran her little antique store on Royal Street solely because she needed something to keep her occupied. All their friends found it understandable that Ellinore would need to be out of the house and busy. They thought that the loss of her only child had precipitated the foray into the world of Royal Street commerce as a way back to sanity. Ellinore didn’t disabuse anyone of that notion.
    The plantation and the solid-gold table service that had been used in the dining room while slaves fanned their owners had long ago been sold. Ellinore wondered what those knives, forks, and spoons would have fetched in today’s inflated gold market. Every time she combed the attic or wandered around the house looking for things to bring into the shop to sell, Ellinore hoped she would come across some stray gold serving piece that had somehow been missed and could be redeemed for the cold, hard cash she could so dearly use.
    Ellinore straightened her shoulders and lifted her head as she turned away from the mirror. She was doing everything she could to keep up appearances. Nobody needed to know the economic straits she faced. It would be embarrassing and shameful for people to be clucking and worrying about her. She’d rather be dead than have everyone feeling sorry for her.
    And though she knew that it wasn’t right, she pretended she had no idea that her maid was still spending most of her days and nights working and sleeping in the Duchamps mansion. By feigning ignorance of the situation, Ellinore got exactly what she wanted without looking as though she were taking advantage of Nettie. All the housework got done, and Ellinore wasn’t staying alone in the big old house at night. The only hitch was that she couldn’t call out for Nettie anytime she wanted something. Doing that would reveal her knowledge that Nettie was working unpaid and would give away her manipulation of her maid’s loyalty. As long as Nettie didn’t think Ellinore knew she was in the house, Ellinore was only too willing to let the situation continue.

Chapter 5
    M arguerite led the way out of the bakery and onto the sidewalk. She stopped at a tall wrought-iron gate immediately next to the shop and pulled a key from her apron pocket. Unlocking the black screen, she turned to Piper.
    â€œThis is your key while you’re here, Piper. It opens this gate and the door to your apartment upstairs—not that we usually lock both. One or the other is fine.”
    Piper smiled and nodded as she accepted the key from Marguerite. She was certain she’d be locking both. She was trying to be more careful about taking chances. Her father had been warning her about New Orleans crime, but Piper had written it off to the perpetual worrying of a former New York City cop. Still, she appreciated his concern for her safety. Since she’d lain paralyzed on her hotel-room floor in Florida last month after ingesting poison purposefully fed to her, Piper had been understandably feeling less invincible and more vulnerable. Anything she could do to protect herself was totally worth it.
    They climbed up the long, narrow staircase. A single door stood on the landing. It was painted a deep burgundy.
    â€œWe lived here when we first opened the bakery,” said Marguerite as she opened the door. “Then, after we bought our house in the Garden District, we rented this out for a few years. Now we keep it for guests, or once in a while Bertrand will stay here if he has a special project that keeps him working late at night and again