Retaliatory Justice (The Talionic Files #1)

by Tawa M. Witko

  “Because I don’t want a boyfriend and he’s very, I don’t know, pushy,” I reply, flustered that we are having this conversation right here and now on the biggest night of my life. “Besides, I’m not ready to date again.”

  He starts to reply but the door opens and Mr. De la Fosse steps inside. “It’s almost six o’clock, Dominique, please tell me you’re ready?” he asks all silky smooth.

  I smile. “I am Mr. De…” I stop when he gives me that look. “Phillipe, I’m ready.”

  He turns to Santiago and offers him a smile before exiting the kitchen. I glance at Santiago, he is standing there with his mouth open and all I can do is roll my eyes again. For crying out loud. He’s just a guy, albeit a good-looking guy, but a guy nonetheless. Nothing to get carried away about.

  “Get the wine, Santiago,” I say shaking my head.

  He blinks several times and grabs the ice bucket with the already open wine bottle. “Did you see his eyes, they’re freaking green. I’ve never seen a black man with green eyes.”

  “Stop it!”

  “But his eyes,” he whispers backs to me.

  “Santiago, get your act together,” I say under my breath as we come through the door.

  I walk into the dining room where Phillipe is sitting with two other people, a slim man with brown wavy hair and a woman with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. They are both impeccably dressed and I get the distinct feeling that I’ve seen them somewhere. Santiago offers them a smile as he tilts the wine in their direction to determine who will be the taster. Phillipe’s associate raises his glass. Santiago smiles and carefully pours a small sample into his glass. The man tastes the wine and proceeds to motion his hands in a way that indicated he would like Santiago to pour for the rest of them.

  “Chef Dominique, I would like to introduce you to my associates, Marshall Beauchamp and Whitney Badour,” he says, motioning to the people across from him.

  “It’s a pleasure, ma’am, sir,” I say with a slight bow.

  Marshall reaches out his hand, shaking mine and tracing his finger along my palm. “It is our pleasure, Chef Dominique. Phillipe has talked our ear off about you and I must say you are much more stunning up close,” he says before kissing my hand.

  I am a bit thrown by his remark. I am auditioning to be a chef not a model and what the heck is Phillipe saying about me to these people and what on earth does this guy mean by saying, ‘up close’. I glance at the woman and she is eyeing me as if I stepped in something disgusting. Great! The woman already hates me. I remove my hand and smile at them all, stepping back as I prepare to give my spiel.

  “I would like to thank you for allowing me this opportunity to serve you,” I begin. “We will be starting out with baked oysters,” I set the plates before them. “First we have Oysters Bienville made with shrimp, mushrooms, green onions, herbs and seasonings in a white wine sauce, second we have Oysters Kathryn made with artichoke hearts, garlic, fresh parmigiano-reggiano and extra-virgin olive oil and lastly we have Oysters Ohan made with eggplant and Andouille sausage.”

  I step back and watch them taste the oysters while Santiago goes back in the kitchen. A few moments later he brings in a cart that has their entrée's on it. He carefully removes their appetizer plates before setting a plate in front of each person.

  “Those were exceptional,” Phillipe says to me with a beaming smile, that’s full of joy.

  “Yes, very good, Chef Dominique,” Marshall adds but the woman says nothing.

  “Thank you,” I reply, stepping up to the table again. “For your entrée I have made you Roast Louisiana Quail Elzey. It is partially deboned and filled with Foie Gras Mousse and Mushroom Duxelle and then wrapped with country-smoked bacon. It is served on a bed of Truffle-infused Bordelaise Sauce with lightly seasoned Roma tomatoes and shredded yellow squash,” I state proudly.

  Santiago and I look at each other as they devour the quail. They are all smiling and whispering to each other. Even the woman, Whitney, looks pleased. I motion for Santiago to top off their wine while I go back in the kitchen to plate the desert.

  “Oh my God, Dominique, they are saying how splendid everything is. I think you got this,” he says grabbing my arm as he comes back inside the kitchen.

  My whole body is shaking as a blow out a steadying breath. “All right, one more thing.”

  He nods as we get everything together for the dessert. We then place it on the cart and head back out there as they are finishing the quail. I immediately set everything up for the Café Brûlot. Santiago removes their entrée plates and then sets their desserts in front of them while I prepare the drink.

  “For dessert I have made you a Chocolate Devastation cake with Belgian dark chocolates and espresso and it will be served with Café Brûlot which is made with coffee, lemon and orange rinds, cloves, cinnamon sticks and Orange Curacao.”

  I love making Café Brûlot because it is a sight to behold. I glance at my pot and see that the sugar is completely dissolved so I tilt the pan slightly and light the liquid, watching as it flames up beautifully. Phillipe claps immediately and tilts his head proudly as I pour the flaming liquid into coffee cups, placing a cinnamon stick on the saucer plate and an orange rind, curled to perfection in the drink itself.

  “Enjoy,” I say with a smile.

  Santiago and I walk back to the kitchen and I seriously want to pass out. Santiago holds my shaking body as I try to calm down. I am so excited. I can’t believe I did it. Suddenly, Phillipe bursts through the door, smiling brilliantly and clasping his hands together.

  “Dominique, that was exquisite. We want you. We don’t want to interview anyone else.”

  “Really?”

  He nods at me and I turn to Santiago and then back at Phillipe before running up and giving him a hug. He doesn’t waste any time as he immediately wraps his arms around me pulling me closer to him. He then moves his mouth near my ear and breathes heavily.

  “I can’t wait to work with you, Dominique.”

  3 Memories

  Valentino Masterson

  June 10th

  The week flew by. The team I assembled is perfect. They all work extremely hard and I am finding it less difficult to get along with them. So far everyone has the same goal, bringing down Carmine and Enrico. We have started an extensive chart on the white board, linking everything we know so far. Unfortunately, our preliminary report amounted to not much more than speculation that Enrico would be either setting up some form of drug ring, narrowing it down to a new strand of cocaine that is running through Europe right now or they are looking at bringing in a military style assault rifle that is currently being used by insurgents in Afghanistan and Kuwait. Anderson did a lot of head nodding as I went over everything we knew so far but somehow I don’t think he was very impressed with what we had. Not that I blame him. It was measly, to say the least, but we are still working on it. I know that we will gather more Intel over the coming weeks.

  My mind is lost in thought as I drive the winding road towards the large white house at the end. A house I spent a lot of time in as a child. The trees are full and blowing gently in the wind. Bringing my cigarette to my mouth I see that it is nothing but ash. Perfect! Flicking it out the open driver’s window, I pull into the semicircular driveway and notice several cars already parked. Looks like a full house. I light another cigarette the minute I step out of my car, leaning against the door, not ready to go inside and interact with people just yet. A moment later, I hear the front door close behind me and then the distinct clink, clink, clink of stilettos approaching. I don’t need to turn to know who it is.

  “That stuff will kill you,” Kailee says leaning up against my ride.

  “A lot of stuff will kill me.”

  I glance at her and she is truly a vision to behold, flawlessly outfitted in a dress that highlights every asset of her voluptuous figure from her ripe and full breasts to her shapely hips to her long and luscious legs accented by her four-inch stiletto heels. Her blonde ha
ir is in some sort of exquisite up-do that makes her look like a starlet from days gone by and I can’t help but think that she could give Marilyn Monroe a run for her money. She is quirking her perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me as I bring the cigarette to my lips, inhaling deeply before blowing out the smoke from the corner of my mouth. She grins, taking it out of my hand and bringing it to her ruby, red lips.

  “I thought you quit?” I ask curiously.

  “I did,” she says through a cloud of smoke. She smiles and hands it back to me. “Come on, you are fashionably late as usual.”

  “Is Lynelle upset?” I ask, pushing off the car and taking one last drag before dropping the cigarette on the ground and smashing it with my shoe.

  She links her arm with mine and laughs. “Mom could never be angry at you. Anyone else, yes, she would be livid that they were holding up her production, but not her sweet little Valentino,” she says, tapping my cheek with her free hand.

  I roll my eyes as we approach the entrance to their three-story home. I remember as a child thinking that this house was some sort of castle like the ones in the books my mom used to read to me but she said no, that Lynelle was simply accustomed to nice things. And nice this home is. It’s huge. Kailee and I spent countless hours exploring the many rooms. We were always joined at the hip, inseparable, that is until we both turned twelve. At that point she was ushered to the women and I was ushered to the men where I would find out exactly where and what my father and Joseph did whenever we spent time here.

  “Son, hold on,” my dad says as we approach the house.

  I stop and look at him. Mom stops too and then smiles as she walks inside the house to greet Lynelle and Kailee. Joseph comes barreling out with a huge smile on his face. He hugs my father and then me before kneeling slightly so that we can be at eye level.

  “Are you ready to join the exclusive ‘Four Aces’?” he asks with a wry smile.

  I look to my dad and then Joseph. “What’s that?”

  “I’ll show you,” he says, winking at my dad.

  We walk to the side of the house and down concrete steps to a locked door. I am bouncing on my feet, excited but also a little scared. I don’t understand the secrecy but my dad seems to be okay with it so it can’t be that bad. As I step through, my mouth drops. It is one huge room that spans probably the entire first floor of the house. There’s a pool table to the left, a bar to the right, darts on the back wall and a large round table with six very comfortable looking chairs around it, right smack in the center of the room. Two of my dad’s friends are already at the table. They smile and give me a head nod. My dad leads me to the table and takes a seat, then pats the chair next to him.

  I shake my head out of my thoughts and take a deep breath as we reach the front entrance and glance at Kailee. She is still smiling at her wittiness earlier. She swears that I can do no wrong in Lynelle’s eyes but I don’t think that’s true.

  “Screw you, Kailee,” I finally say, opening the door.

  She throws her head back and laughs as we step inside. “No, I’m sorry, but that right is reserved solely for my Clayton,” she says kissing me on the cheek.

  “Is Valentino here?” I hear from the dining room, but before I can retort Lynelle walks into the foyer.

  Lynelle Schell-Thompson, my godmother and entertaining extraordinaire. Her long blond hair falls past her shoulders and is curled exquisitely. She is also impeccably dressed in some sort of formal dress that comes just below her knees. She went all out for today’s engagement dinner because she is decked out in her diamonds. She’s probably wearing the equivalent of my yearly salary around her neck.

  “Valentino, son, I’m glad you could make it,” Joseph says before Lynelle embraces me.

  Joseph Thompson, my godfather and father’s best friend. He is probably the most laid back man I have ever met. He always has a smile on his face and is ever the optimist. He and my father went to school together, from Kindergarten straight through to the police academy. He is dressed nicely in a pair of slacks, button down shirt and a corduroy dinner jacket. He seems a little underdressed for one of Lynelle’s shindigs but I guess this is a pass for him.

  “You need to shave,” Lynelle says as she rubs the scruff on my face.

  I frown. “I just did the other day.”

  She giggles. “You’re like one of those, oh what’s it called, Joseph sweetheart,” she glances at him.

  “A chia pet,” Joseph offers and I roll my eyes.

  “Yes, a chia pet, except, why won’t you let this grow out?” She questions while running her hand over my head.

  I step away from her. “I like it.”

  “Oh calm down, Valentino,” she grins at what must be the frown on my face.

  Kailee comes to my defense. “Mom, leave him alone. He thinks he looks dangerous like this,” she says before winking at me. I shake my head at her, annoyed.

  Finally, Clayton emerges and walks up to me briskly. “Masterson, I need to talk to you,” he says in a serious tone as he grabs my arm and brings me into the room adjacent to the foyer.

  “What?” I ask, my face and posture hard, and ready for news I would assume relates to the case.

  He smiles. “Nothin’, just thought you needed rescuing,” he says with one of those ‘farm boy straight out of Nebraska’ smiles. All he needs is a piece of straw sticking out of his mouth.

  “Oh hell,” I punch him in the arm, feeling nothing but muscle. I then glance in the foyer to see Kailee, Lynelle and Joseph watching us. Hmm, maybe I did need rescuing. I turn back to him and give him a smile. “Thanks.”

  Joseph directs the women out of the room and glances over his shoulder to give me a wink so I know he knows what Clayton just did. I turn back to Clayton and he is fidgeting with his tie uncomfortably and I laugh as I start fiddling with it.

  “I hate this dang thing.”

  “You better get used to it, man,” I tell him with a grin. “You are marrying into money.”

  He frowns while I fix his tie. Lynelle is an heiress to the Schell fortune. She met her husband on a chance encounter on one of her shopping sprees downtown. She stumbled with her bags and he helped her. It was love at first sight or so the story goes. Of course, her family was upset that she would fall head over heels for some blue collar nobody, their words not mine, but Lynelle had always done her own thing and married Joseph despite her family’s disapproval.

  “Yeah, well, how come Joseph doesn’t have to dress like this?” Clayton asks, bringing me out of my thoughts.

  “Because Joseph is, well, Joseph,” I say tactfully.

  “What kind of answer is that?”

  I laugh. “Look, when Joseph met Lynelle he made it very clear he was not the dressing up kind of guy. He was a cop and at the time they began dating he didn’t even own a suit. Lynelle tried to play dress up with him,” I motion my hands emphasizing his own ensemble, “as I see Kailee has done with you but it never stuck. He dresses up when needed for their charity stuff but other than that what you see him in now is probably the dressiest he gets. Lynelle accepts that.”

  Clayton sighs and scrunches his lips together. “The last time I told Kailee no for something, she wouldn’t have sex with me for a week.”

  “Yeah, well, first off that’s definitely too much information and secondly, I guess you got yourself a problem there, Clayton,” I say between laughter and then tap his chest a couple of times. “Come on, man, I’m hungry.”

  ~*~

  Sitting on the recliner in the ‘Blue Sanctum’ as I have grown to call it, I sip my whiskey slowly. Today has been pretty good, overall. Lynelle outdid herself, the food and decorations were magnificent, and Kailee looked mesmerized as Clayton toasted the ‘love of his life’. But a part of me had trouble being around it all, being a part of all that happiness and mirth made me a bit uneasy so I found myself down here. I swallow the rest of my whiskey as I look at the poker table in the center of the room. I had so many wonderful memories here. Being a part
of it all with my father and Joseph by my side.

  “Read ‘em and weep fellas,” I say slapping my cards down. “You’ve just been schooled!”

  “Ah shit!” Officer Buckley says, turning his cards over.

  “Damn it!” Joseph states, dropping his cards down.

  My father laughs and begins to gather everyone’s cards as I pull the chips over to me, stacking them neatly. My dad begins to shuffle the deck as he glances at Officer Ward and nods slightly.

  “Any word on CS?” my dad asks as he continues to shuffle the cards.

  “Nothing yet, the whole lot of ‘em are as slippery as a bunch of snakes,” he replies.

  I casually stack and restack my winnings and try to decipher who they are talking about. They always talk about work down here. For as long as I can remember they have discussed cases they are investigating and have never paid attention to my presence. My father pulled me aside a few years ago and told me that I could never talk about the things I might hear in here, that the room was a sanctum of sorts, a place where they could talk freely. I feel honored to be a part of the crew, so to speak, and can’t wait until I have something worthwhile to share at the table.

  “Well, we’ll get 'em,” my dad says and they all nod their heads as he starts dealing the cards.

  “How about a game?” Joseph asks, bringing me out of my memory.

  I look up and give a small smile. “Sure.”

  Every Friday night my dad and his friends, all fellow cops and later detectives, would meet here for hours. They would play cards, drink, and talk all night. During football season, they added Sunday to the mix. Over the years I grew to know all those men and at my graduation from the academy they were quite possibly the loudest people present. I also know that my desire to be a cop stemmed from the many nights I spent here, listening to their stories of life on the beat. I never wanted to be anything else, well, until ‘it’ happened, then my priorities changed and suddenly I had a new mission in life.

  “I miss him too,” Joseph says dealing our cards.