CHAPTER 3
“Go to bed,” Belle exclaimed excitedly, using an old Louisiana phrase which meant I don’t believe it. “Don, as in Don with the weird truck, found a dead body?”
“It’s true,” Valerie confirmed. “I couldn’t tell a lie. Supposedly, Don was in such a state of shock, that he passed out and ended up spending the night at the clinic.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
“Of course, he was just a little overwhelmed with everything.”
“How did it happen?”
“Dan said he isn’t sure yet, but supposedly the man didn’t have a scrap of identification on him. Can you believe it?”
“No identification? What could that mean?”
“Who knows?” Val shrugged.
“Wow, a dead body. This is just like one of my movies,” she squeaked eagerly, thinking of the plethora of horror movies she had upstairs.
“Know what I think?” Val tapped the counter with a long, varnished fingernail.
“What?”
“I think he was a drunk. Probably got lost out on the bayou and then fell in. He must have been so intoxicated that he couldn’t swim his way back out, so he drowned.”
The restaurant owner nodded. “That makes the most sense, I suppose, but it isn’t nearly as exciting as a murder would be.”
“Trust me, darling, you don’t want a murderer running around Sunken Grove. I remember there being a few murders when I was a little girl. We all lived with our doors locked and in fear for over three months until they caught him.”
“I guess I wouldn’t want that, but it’s still exciting.”
“Anyway, I have no idea how Dan is going to find out who this guy is and track down his kin to give them the body.”
“Why not?”
“No identification, honey,” Valerie reminded her.
“Oh, of course,” Belle agreed, feeling a little silly for not thinking of that. She shrugged. “Well, I guess we do get a little excitement here from time to time.”
“Don’t get too used to it,” Val told her. “As soon as that body is gone, it’ll all be the same old same old again.”
“Right, well, I better get started on that batch of pepper sauce,” she noted. “I don’t think our guests would enjoy some of our dishes without it.”
“Heck, without that sauce we may just have an uprising on our hands.” She picked up the paper bag and held it out, “but don’t forget breakfast.”
“I won’t,” Belle replied, taking the sack.
“The coffee’s nearly done. I’ll bring you back a cup.”
“Hey, I haven’t changed the posters or the marquee yet,” she said. “Do you think you could do that while I work in the kitchen?”
“You got it, honey,” she agreed. “What’s this week’s showcase?”
“House on Haunted Hill from 1959.”
“Again?”
“You know it’s my favorite, and it’s been six months since we’ve shown it.”
“Still, don’t you think people will get sick of it?”
She shook her head. “I think it will become a staple of the theater, one people can count on coming back every once in a while.”
“Whatever you say, honey.”
“Thanks,” Belle nodded, slipping through the wooden swinging door into the kitchen.
The Voodoo Drive-In and BBQ mostly showed horror films that were available to the public for free—which there seemed to be a countless number of. Using public domain movies removed most of the red tape that came from trying to get permission to show films that were still owned by a corporation.
Besides that, there was something so charming to Belle about the low-budget films that she showed. A large reason for her nostalgia around these movies was her father. He had loved old television shows and cheesy movies and had passed down his love to her.
In fact, she had dedicated the theater to him when she’d had the grand opening, showing his favorite film Night of the Living Dead from 1968 to honor his name.
She didn’t talk about her father very often, but she missed him dearly. While she had loved her mother as well, she just had a truly special connection with her dad and did many things to keep his memory alive. While she had naturally inherited her mother’s rich caramel colored skin and lush dark hair, she had dyed her locks to be like her father’s blonde hair instead. She also kept her hair trimmed to shoulder length because that had been the way he’d liked it when he was alive.
You look just like Joan-of-Arc, he used to say, despite the fact that it wasn’t possible that she looked anything like the historical woman. After all, who actually knew what Joan of Arc’s hair looked like for real?
However, Belle knew her father meant this as a compliment—since he was a bit of a medieval history buff in addition to his love of old horror movies—and she clung to the imagery of the heroic and battle-worn figure.
She even had a gothic style statue of Joan standing on the end of the bar in the restaurant, despite the fact that it didn’t match any of the other voodoo style decorations.
And she’d kept the blonde, short hair as well.
Anna had always criticized this choice, but Belle had ignored her. Her older sister had spent most of her life criticizing Belle about one thing or another.
Shaking her head, she tried to get her sister out of her mind. The last thing she wanted was the inner dialogue of overt judgments and the self-righteous attitude she’d spent most of her teen years enduring.
Anna had never shown much support for her ideas or dreams.
She felt bad for it, but a tiny part of Belle still blamed her for their parent’s death.
As she walked toward the back of the kitchen, she bit into another beignet, letting its sweet mixture of flavors bring her back down to earth. She made a mental note to ask Valerie for the recipe when she got the chance. She’d been eating Val’s delicious donut-like treats for years, but she still hadn’t incorporated it into the theater’s menu yet.
Setting the bag on the metal counter, she began pulling out the ingredients she needed to make a big batch of her famous sauce.
The kitchen connected the restaurant to the drive-in. A large service window, which was currently shuttered closed, looked out on the open parking area of the theater.
Each evening when they opened, patrons would come to eat at the restaurant, but when nightfall came, it was movie time. This was always their busiest moment. People would park their cars out back, and the shutters on the service window were opened. Orders came in, and food went out—served in the traditional red plastic baskets with paper.
The Voodoo Drive-In and BBQ was the number one place in town to catch dinner and a movie. (In fact, it was the only theater in town. If someone wanted to see a new film, they had to drive out to one of the neighboring cities.) Everyone seemed to love it, and most would come out each week to see what new movie was playing, some people—especially teens—would come out for multiple viewings.
Belle was glad it was Monday, though, which was their slowest night. This meant she had ample time to catch up on her to-do list, like making her pepper sauce.
Setting the large metal stewing pot on the stove, she added a half water and half distilled white vinegar and turned up the heat. Most people used dried peppers and ground powders in their hot sauces, but not Belle. She preferred fresh ingredients if she could help it.
Unsheathing her favorite knife, she began mincing peppers into tiny pieces—making sure to keep all the seeds in. A whole bunch of serranos, jalapenos, and aji cachucha peppers all went onto the cutting board, under her knife, and into the vinegar mix. It was tedious work, but it was worth it.
Next, she minced green onions into tiny bits along with fresh tomato and added them into the pot, and then chose multiple cloves of garlic to crush into the mixture.
Steam began to rise from the liquid, filling the kitchen with an astringent yet delightfully spicy smell. It always made Belle’s eyes water slightly.<
br />
Carefully seasoning the sauce with a little cayenne pepper, red pepper flakes, and a lot of salt, she put the lid on. The mixture would need to cook until the tiny bits of vegetable matter had turned soft, making it easy to blend into a liquid that was slightly thicker than water and poured out of the hot sauce bottles easily.
While it was simmering, Valerie came back with the cup of coffee.
“Took you long enough,” Belle teased.
“Actually, I was hoping you had enough of a break to come out front.”
“Can’t find this week’s posters?”
Val tilted her head to the side, half smiling as if she were hiding something. “No, nothing like that. Someone is here to see you.”
“We don’t open until four,” she reminded Val, taking the lid off the pot to give it a stir.
“I know that honey, but this is important.”
“Okay, okay,” she gave in. “I’ll turn the hot sauce on a low simmer for a while.”
“Good. Now hurry up and get out there, and don’t forget to bring the bag.” She pointed at the beignets.
“Sheesh, you’d think it was the mayor or something,” Belle teased, grabbing the food and following Val out to the front.
Who was so important that they needed to visit at this time in the morning? She couldn’t guess at who it could be.
CHAPTER 4
In all honesty, Anna had never seen The Voodoo Drive-In and BBQ in person. She had only heard tell of it from local friends—mostly Valerie. Now, as she stood in the dining room of the restaurant she was sincerely impressed, and even a little proud, of her baby sister.
The room had brick walls all around, and a black linoleum floor. Across from the main entrance—an alcove with a beaded curtain over the doorway—was a long bar. Behind the bar were glass shelves with various types of bottled liquor, and there was a beer tap as well.
The floor was filled with round black tables with matching chairs, the tables were draped with thin cloths colored in deep reds, purples, and blacks and decorated with suns, moons, stars, and skulls. At the center of each table were fake shrunken heads with flowers growing out of the tops.
In the very center of the room was a large fake tree trunk, making it look like it was growing right up out of the floor and into the ceiling. Moss hung from all the rafters to make patrons feel as if they were under the canopy of a tree.
On the right side of the room, in the corner, was a staircase leading up to the apartment above or possibly the projection booth, Anna wasn’t sure which.
On the left side of the room was a small stage set into the brick wall, with heavy red curtains tied open with tassels. A life-size dummy of a zombie, with a stereotypical bone in his nose and everything, stared wide eyes on the sidelines as if he were presenting the next upcoming act.
It was impressive, she had to admit. More importantly, the whole thing screamed of her sister’s personality. That pinching sensation of pride came again, and she began to realize how much she’d missed her.
She was ashamed of it, but she rarely talked to her sister. Neither of them had been very close by the time they parted, both having different visions of the world.
Anna’s only real connection to home was the occasional phone call from Val, asking how life was going and when she was planning on visiting.
Sadly enough, this was her first visit in the two years she’d been gone. It was embarrassing after all the lip-service she had given everyone, especially her sister, about doing the responsible thing and seeking a real career.
Now, she was forced to ask Belle for her help.
Anna’s was getting nervous. What if Belle completely refused to see her? What if she told her to get lost?
She shuddered to even think about it, realizing she had no other place to stay if that happened. She figured she could ask Val for help, but felt bad for doing it.
Suddenly, the door to the kitchen swung open and Belle stepped out with a huge smile on her face. As soon as she spotted Anna standing there just inside the entrance of the restaurant her smile faded.
There was an awkward pause as they looked at one another. Anna noted that her sister had the same ridiculous haircut and dye job as before, but somehow it only added to the happiness she felt upon seeing her only living family again.
Now the real question was, did Belle feel the same way?
“Hi, Belle,” Anna greeted, attempting to break the ice. “It’s sure good to see you.”
Belle didn’t respond but went on staring as if she had been paused in time.
Val had her head poked out the kitchen door, a sense of worry and anticipation written in the lines of her face.
“Anna?” Belle whispered.
“Yes?” she pressed, eager for an answer—tired of waiting in the mire of silence.
Suddenly, Belle’s smile came back ten-fold, her whole face lighting up with it. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she exclaimed, running around the counter and grabbing her sister in a tight hug.
An audible sigh of relief came from the kitchen door.
“It’s so good to see you,” she squeaked excitedly.
“It’s good to see you too,” Anna agreed, sincerely meaning it.
Letting her sister go, Belle took a step back. “What in heavens name are you doing here?” she asked. “Is it spring break or something?”
“Actually,” Anna admitted, her own smile fading slightly. “I have a favor to ask.”
CHAPTER 5
Belle couldn’t believe it. Her only sister, Miss Responsibility and Maturity, was sitting in her kitchen in her restaurant, broke as the day she was born and asking for help. Most other people might gloat, rub it in with a little salt, but that hardly seemed appropriate or productive.
She was surprised at how glad she was to see her, and how happy Anna seemed to be there. Belle refused to do anything to ruin that.
Of course, none of this meant the wounds weren’t there, or that they didn’t hurt, but those issues could be worked on later.
At this moment in time, she felt ready and willing to offer help—to be the “big sis” for once.
Anna sat on a stool and leaned on the metal counter, eating one of Val’s beignets and sipping coffee. “So, if I could just stay with you for a little while, just until I can get back on my feet, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Of course, you can stay. The couch upstairs is a pullout. I’ll have to buy some sheets for it, but it’s yours as long as you need.”
“It’s only for a little while,” Anna interjected again.
“Right,” Belle nodded, realizing that her sister may just be with her longer than either of them expected. “Well, if you need a job, you can always work here with me,” she offered.
“Oh, no, no,” Anna shook her head.
“Why not, honey?” Val asked. “I think it’s a fantastic idea. You two girls back together again and working side by side.”
“I couldn’t do that.”
“Of course, you could,” Belle pressed. “You’ll see how fun it is.” She knew her sister hated that word, fun. For some reason, she interpreted it as irresponsible and foolish.
“Really,” Anna insisted. “I’ll find a job somewhere else.”
Belle shrugged. “Alright, if you say so.” She grabbed her fourth beignet and took a bite. She knew she shouldn’t, but they were so good. “If you change your mind, you always have a job here.”
“Thanks,” she half-nodded.
“Hello, in the kitchen,” came a shout from the dining room.
“That must be Benny.” Standing up, Belle walked toward the door.
“Who’s Benny?”
“He’s the guy who helps keep our projector maintained,” Belle replied. “Come on out and meet him.”
“Oh, I’m okay.” She put up her hands up in the air.
“Come on, baby,” Val encouraged her, “If you’re going to be here for a while, you might as well get to know the new neighbors who have moved i
n since you left.”
“Neighbors?”
“This is a small town. Everyone is neighbors.”
Sighing defeatedly, she nodded. “Alright.”
Belle led the way into the next room where Benny stood—holding a big sack full of tools—with another man from town, Hank Verselets, next to him.
While Benny was an older gentleman with a gray comb over and wearing blue coveralls, Hank was much younger, with short black hair, a well-trimmed beard, and a wearing a white t-shirt so tight that it looked like his muscles might just rip through the fabric.
Belle heard her sister let in a quiet gasp at the sight of him as if his masculinity was so strong that it had taken her breath away.
“Morning, Benny,” she greeted. “I see you brought Hank along with you today.”
The portly maintenance man clapped his hands on his belly and smiled. “Yes ma’am, I did. I thought he could learn a thing or two about the projector.”
“Sounds fine,” she agreed.
“And who is this lovely woman?” he asked, nodding toward Anna.
“This is my sister Anna,” she informed them. “Anna, this is Benny Black and Hank Verselets. They are the two men who help fix things up around here.”
“Nice to meet you,” Anna greeted them, never taking her eyes off Hank the entire time.
“Well, shall we take a look at the projector?”
“Let’s go,” Belle nodded, leading the way up the side stairs and into a small hallway that led to the projection booth.
“Is it broken?” Anna asked, tagging along and acting as if she were interested in the repair.
Belle tried not to laugh. Only home for a few minutes and her sister was already falling for a man. It was her only weakness. “No, it’s just been running hot,” she replied to her sister.
Everyone crowded into the small projection booth which housed the large digital projector, a desk, a computer, and a large audio/radio device. A shelf ran along the full length of the ceiling around the room, housing various movies on disc. Another door sat on the other side of the booth.
Sisterly Screams (The Dead-End Drive-In Series Book 1) Page 2
