by J. J. Cook
“No. My dad lives here. I live at the diner. I couldn’t afford this.”
He shrugged, and we walked into the elevator together.
I pressed the button for the fourth floor. “Where is she?”
“She’s been tied up in the basement area under the shopping center the whole time. We were right on top of her and didn’t realize.”
“Maybe we should call the police and an ambulance. Traffic was bad out today. They could be there before us.” I took out my cell phone. “I know you don’t like the police, but I don’t have any problem calling them. Delia could be dehydrated or something.”
“No. She’s fine. She said she’s been fed regularly, and she’s okay. We don’t have to worry.”
The elevator stopped on the fourth floor and we got out. “Still, I think I’d feel better if someone takes a look at her. There could be complications. And where is the man who kidnapped her? The police should be there in case he shows up.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Marty suggested.
Did he seem a little more nervous than usual?
It could be this setting, I thought.
I opened the door to my father’s apartment. Silence greeted me, which was good. I knew Crème Brûlée was happy if he wasn’t howling.
I put everything down on the chair by the door, glad to get it out of my arms. “I’ll call the police. I won’t mention the shelter, or you. I’d feel better knowing everyone was safe from the killer. If he doesn’t know we’ve found Delia, he could be on his way back.”
I looked at Marty as I spoke. A change came over his face. He didn’t look friendly and helpful as usual. To make matters worse, he took a large, ugly gun from his jacket pocket.
“No one is going to get hurt, Zoe, as long as you hand over that recipe.”
“Marty?” My knees felt a little weak. So much for my good/bad radar. I think it was trying to kick in, but it was too late.
I quickly reminded myself that I had been really preoccupied since I’d met him. I probably needed to pay more attention to the people around me. Usually, I did that, but perhaps I’d been slack since I opened my business. I definitely didn’t see this coming.
“Let’s not make a big deal out of this. You give me the Jefferson recipe, and I’ll leave you here for your rich daddy to find. I think that’s a fair trade.”
“But you’ve been at the shelter for years. Ollie told me so. You’re the glue that holds them together.”
“Yeah, well, it was too good a deal to pass up. Chef Art contacted me about keeping an eye on Delia, in case she and Terry were in on the theft of the recipe. I knew this was my time. I knew I could take that recipe from Terry, and sell it to Chef Art myself. Just like you’ve been planning.”
I’d forgotten for a moment that he thought I was supposedly selling the real recipe to Chef Art at the dinner tonight. It was the story I’d told everyone.
It was a good thing he wasn’t clued in on the whole plan.
At least it seemed like a good thing.
“And Delia really is under the shopping center, and she’s okay?”
“She’s fine. I had no reason to hurt her. I was even thinking she might like to leave with me once I have a million bucks in my pocket. Delia is fun.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. My mind kind of blanked out.
What was I going to do?
“So, hand it over. I’ll tie you up on one of those cushy chairs and get out of here. No reason to panic or get all bent out of shape. I promise I won’t hurt you.”
I wondered if he’d made that promise to Terry and Don. It was enough to jump-start my mind. I had to do something fast.
It didn’t matter that he took the fake recipe from me. The chances were that he’d never know the difference.
But it also meant he’d get away. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to delay for a few minutes. There was also the worry that he might not only tie me up and leave once he had the recipe.
“I don’t have it with me.”
The gun came closer to my face. “What do you mean?”
“Miguel kept it with him. He was afraid I’d lose it before we could sell it to Chef Art.”
“I knew Miguel was too good to be true. All that talk about helping people—he’s been your accomplice through the whole thing, hasn’t he?”
I thought about Miguel. Did I want to bring him into this? It seemed like my only way out. “Yes. It was all his idea.”
Marty looked unhappy about that. He rubbed his chin but kept the gun pointed squarely at me. “But you can get it, right?”
“Yes.” My mind raced ahead to all the possibilities. “One phone call. He’s supposed to bring it over later. I could ask him to bring it now.”
“Okay. Do it.”
I looked at my cell phone and regretfully erased 911. I put in Miguel’s number and waited while the phone rang.
“Put it on speaker.” Marty put the gun to my head. “Tell him to get it over here right away. That’s it. If you say anything about me, you’re dead. Got it?”
“I’ve got it.”
Miguel picked up the phone. “Hi, Zoe. What’s up?”
“Can you bring the Jefferson recipe over right away?”
“What?”
I glanced at Marty. “I need you to bring the real recipe to my dad’s apartment right away.”
“The real recipe?”
This wasn’t going to be easy. “Yes. I only have the forgery. I need the real thing. Right away.”
Before Miguel could answer, Marty took the phone from me and turned it off.
“That’s enough. We’ll wait for him to get here. Sit down over there, Zoe. I’m going to have to tie you up to keep you from trying something stupid and heroic.”
I sat in the side chair. Marty had come well prepared. He took some duct tape out of his pocket and used it like a rope to tie me to the chair. He was about to put duct tape on my mouth when I stopped him.
“How am I going to tell Miguel to come in when he gets here?”
“I’ll take care of that. You sit back and let it happen, okay?”
It didn’t seem like I had much choice. He put the duct tape across my mouth. I hoped Miguel somehow understood that I was in trouble. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to pick up on that from what I’d told him. I hoped he could.
Marty knelt on the carpet at my feet and began duct-taping my legs to the chair. I heard a sound from the bedroom door. Crème Brûlée was coming in to see what was going on.
“Shoo!” Marty tried to flick him away from the chair.
Crème Brûlée looked up at me and meowed loudly. He was probably hungry, and he didn’t like to be ignored.
“I said get away, cat.” Marty gave him a push with his hand.
That was a little too personal for Crème Brûlée. He yowled and sank his teeth into Marty’s hand. Marty slung him back on the carpet. As I was about to feel sorry for my cat, Crème Brûlée came back like a warrior.
He jumped on Marty’s back as Marty was trying to keep my legs still. For once I was glad my kitty was so fierce. Crème Brûlée bit the back of Marty’s neck and dug his claws in. Marty jumped up and down, even rolled over trying to dislodge him. He couldn’t budge Crème Brûlée.
I would’ve applauded my cat, if I’d been able to move my arms and hands.
Marty had dropped his gun on the floor as he’d tried to get Crème Brûlée off of him. He hadn’t noticed it yet. I was afraid, when he did, that Marty might shoot him.
“Get off of me, you little monster!” Marty finally managed to get Crème Brûlée off of his back and held him by the scruff of his neck. He stalked to the front door as Crème Brûlée continued to scratch at him and hiss.
Marty opened the door, ostensibly to throw Crème Brûlée out into the hall. Miguel and two police officers were standing right outside.
Forgetting for a moment that he was holding a fully loaded cat, Marty appeared stunned by the three men at the door. C
rème Brûlée took his opportunity to twist his big body over. He latched onto Marty’s arm with his teeth and claws.
Marty let out a scream. “Get this thing off of me!”
The two police officers grabbed him. At that point, Crème Brûlée dropped gracefully to the carpet. He sauntered over to where I was tied up and sat down to complain that his food bowl was empty.
Miguel rushed over and quickly got the duct tape off of me. Not a pleasant experience.
I threw my arms around his neck and thanked him repeatedly. “I didn’t know if you’d get the idea over the phone. Thanks for rescuing me.”
“I don’t think I should get the credit for that.” He glanced at Crème Brûlée. “You really need an attack cat warning sign.”
I reached down and lifted Crème Brûlée, hugging him, too. He bit my nose, licking it once after, but it was clear he was done playing around.
“He’s hungry.” I grinned at Miguel. “I’ll be right back.”
When I returned, there were more police officers, including Detective Latoure. Miguel was answering questions. Marty was gone.
“I’m glad this worked out okay,” Detective Latoure said. “I think we have the murder weapon, and enough evidence to put Marty away for a long time.”
“Thank goodness.” I told her about Delia. She dispatched a paramedic unit and a police car. “I hope he was telling the truth about where to find her.”
“He probably thought he had nothing to lose by telling you,” Patti said. “People like to brag about what they’ve done. Most of the time, they are their own worst enemies.”
“Well, I was really glad to see Miguel. I was hoping he’d understand. I couldn’t say much.”
Miguel smiled. “Since I knew I didn’t have the real recipe, and we were thinking someone could make a move on you before you could accomplish the fake sale to Chef Art, it wasn’t too hard to figure out. I’m glad you’re okay, Zoe.”
Detective Latoure shook her head. “I hope you’ve learned something from this, Zoe. Leave this kind of thing to the professionals.”
“Don’t worry. It will never happen again.”
THIRTY-ONE
Woodlands was the name of Chef Art’s mansion. It was alive with music and lights, inside and out, as I arrived. It was as splendid a sight as I’d imagined it would be.
I felt a little like Cinderella going to the ball. I didn’t plan to come home with a prince, but I was awestruck by all of it.
There were dozens of moss-covered live oaks lining the drive to the main house. Men and women from around the world, elegantly dressed, were assisted from their cars by red-jacketed footmen who invited them into the huge foyer complete with a glittering, forty-foot chandelier.
I knew all the details of the mansion. I’d read about it many times in magazines and seen it on television.
The mansion was a combination of Greek Revival and Italian styles, with huge white pillars in the front. It was said to be one of Mobile’s finest antebellum mansions.
I saw the massive double parlors and grand circular staircase for myself as I waited in the receiving line. It had been built in 1855 and had become the center of social life in the city. The mansion survived the war with very little damage because it was used as a hospital.
The double doors to the mansion were wide open. The night was mild, and the party spilled over from the house to the grounds. Outside, there were buffet tables laden with every type of food imaginable, and surrounded by a Dixieland band.
Inside were even more tables with food and drink, complimented by a string quartet. There were flowers and candles in every nook and cranny. The aromas were equal to the wonderful sights.
I had to admit I was enjoying everything—except being alone.
I knew I’d get used to life without Tommy Lee. This had been a test of my resolve. I’d almost asked Ollie to come with me. I wasn’t sure if he’d put on a tux or not. It didn’t matter anyway. He wouldn’t leave Delia’s side at the hospital.
The doctors had pronounced her fine, a little dehydrated and exhausted from her ordeal, but Marty hadn’t hurt her. I’d been so glad to see her.
“Good to see you,” Chef Art greeted me in the long line at the door to the mansion. “I’ve heard about your ordeal trying to save the Jefferson recipe for me.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. Did he think I still had the real recipe?
“Don’t worry.” He laughed. “I managed to acquire the recipe from the museum. They were looking for donations. I gave them a hefty one. Now the original is safe with me. Thank you for your help, Zoe Chase. Please enjoy yourself tonight.”
“I’m glad you got what you wanted,” I said. “You know it hurt a lot of people, though, right?”
“You can’t make a cake without breaking a few eggs.”
With that bit of callous wisdom, I was sort of pushed aside to wander into all the rooms in the mansion. Each room had a different theme in color, flowers, and food. It was a remarkable event. I could see why people paid a lot of money to be there.
I sneaked my phone camera out a few times when no one was looking. These were ideas from master chefs around the world, some of them right there, talking about their dishes. I couldn’t resist capturing the moment. Later I could peruse the pictures and guess what the ingredients were, and how they were made.
I mingled with senators, governors, and famous movie stars. It was fun, if a little lonely. Everyone but me seemed to have brought a date.
“Zoe?” My father looked surprised to see me there.
“Daddy?” I looked at him in his sharp new tux. “You look great. Did you come alone?”
He laughed a little. “No one comes alone to a thing like this, honey. Audrey is over there at the dessert table.”
I didn’t look. I knew Audrey was his woman of the month. I hadn’t met her, and wasn’t looking forward to it. After a while, they pretty much looked the same to me.
“Where’s your date?” My father glanced around the crowded room. “Did you come with Tommy Lee?”
Before I could answer, an arm slid smoothly around my waist. “She’s here with me, sir,” Miguel said.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. “I thought you said you wouldn’t come to something like this.” I admired his nicely tailored tux and white ruffled shirt. He looked like an old-time riverboat gambler.
“When the right invitation comes along, sometimes you have to go for it.” He smiled down at me. “A new friend of mine told me that. She said you have to grab your dream when you can.”
“Well, I owe that new friend a big thanks. She knows what she’s talking about.”
Suddenly a loud alarm rang. The red-coated footmen, who’d welcomed everyone into the mansion, began ushering everyone back outside.
“Is there a fire?” I asked, looking around.
At that moment, Chef Art stalked past us, a murderous expression on his face.
“I wish it was a fire, Miss Chase. It’s something far worse. Someone has managed to steal my Jefferson recipe!”
Miguel took my hand, his sherry brown gaze warm on mine. “Shall we dance?”
I put my arm around him. “Yes, please.”
RECIPES FROM THE BISCUIT BOWL
I felt like crème brûlée should be mentioned here, even though I technically didn’t make it. It was so important to the story (not to mention the name of my cat!) that I’m including it anyway.
Crème Brûlée
Crème brûlée is also known as burnt cream. It has a rich custard base with a contrasting hard layer of caramel. It is usually served cold. The custard base can be flavored with orange, chocolate, coffee, or whatever you like. I like mine best plain, as in this recipe.
6 egg yolks
6 tbsp. white sugar or sweetener
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
21/2 cups heavy cream
2 tbsp. brown sugar or brown sugar substitute
Preheat oven to 300 degrees.
Beat egg yolks, 4 tbsp. o
f white sugar, and vanilla in a bowl until thick. Set aside. Stir cream in a pot over low heat until it comes to a boil. Immediately stir cream into the egg mixture. Beat until combined. Pour the mixture into the top of a double boiler and let it heat about 3 minutes. Remove immediately and pour into shallow baking dish. Bake for 30 minutes then remove and let cool. Refrigerate for at least an hour.
Combine brown sugar and remaining white sugar. Add this mixture to the top of the set custard. For an exciting finish, use a long lighter to “burn” the sugar. Hold the lighter about 4 inches from the top and move it slowly across the sugar for a few seconds. Great drama!
If you’re not looking for drama, turn on the broiler and place the dish under it until the sugar melts. Keep track of it because it will burn if you aren’t careful. Take it out. Allow the mixture to cool again in refrigerator until custard sets again.
Ollie’s Spicy Gumbo
It took me a while watching Ollie make this so I could write it down. Here’s what I have.
1 pound dry red kidney beans
1/4 cup olive oil
1 large onion, chopped
1 large green pepper, chopped
2 tbsp. minced garlic
2 stalks celery
6 cups water
2 bay leaves
1/4 cup chopped cayenne peppers
Fresh parsley (Ollie says you know how much parsley you like)
2 tsp. fresh thyme or 1 tsp. dried thyme
1/4 tsp. dried sage or 1 tsp. fresh sage
1/2 tsp. paprika
1⁄2 tsp. oregano
1 pound andouille sausage (or spicy vegetarian sausage) cut into chunks
Salt and pepper to taste
Rice (optional)
Rinse and then cook kidney beans after soaking overnight.
Add oil to a large frying pan and sauté onion, green pepper, garlic, and celery.
Add cooked kidney beans to 6 cups of water. Stir sautéed vegetables into beans. Add bay leaves, cayenne, thyme, sage, parsley, paprika, and oregano. Allow to come to a boil then reduce heat to low and simmer for about 2 hours.
Stir sausage into the mixture and continue simmering for another 30 minutes.
