“Take your time. I’m going to look around,” Heaven replied. “You were great.”
Mary smiled weakly and she and the group headed down the hall toward the offices.
Heaven tried to act casual. She moseyed around the warehouse looking for just the right target. It had to be a man, of course, and preferably someone who looked like he knew what he was doing. She wanted to get a feel for how the people who worked here were taking the death of their boss. If Heaven was right and Truely was killed because of some problem in his coffee importing business, then maybe the employees had noticed something.
A man was walking on top of the burlap sacks of coffee beans, ten or twelve feet off the ground. He was tall, very dark-skinned and intent on his work. His arms rippled with muscles that didn’t come from the gym, but from hard physical work. Heaven couldn’t figure out what he was doing, though. He had a cone of metal in his hand and with the pointed end of the cone he was stabbing the sacks of beans. His back was turned to the room.
Heaven yelled up at him. “Hey, you, on top of the coffee sacks. What’s that you’re doing?”
The man swung around and looked at Heaven, not understanding the question at first. Civilians must not wander in here very often, Heaven thought as she watched the man processing the situation. “Who’re you?” he asked politely but without giving anything away.
“I’m Heaven Lee. I’m a friend of Mary and Truely’s. Mary is in the office now and I came down to keep her company.”
The man had been working all the time. He had slipped a plastic baggy out of his shirt pocket and was tilting the metal cone into the bag. Green coffee beans ran out in the bag and he locked the top of the baggy and slipped it in his other shirt pocket. “I remember you. You were here with Truely a month ago.”
“It’s the red hair. I can’t get away with anything,” Heaven said coyly, trying to loosen the man up a bit. “So what is that thing?”
“This is called a trier. You can ‘try’ the beans with it, see what’s what without opening the whole sack.” He jumped over onto a stack of bags that were marked ETHIOPIA. He pulled a sack from the middle of the pile; how, Heaven couldn’t imagine, as they were hundred-pound sacks at least. Upper-body strength. Then he stabbed the trier into the sack with a violence that gave Heaven the creeps. She got a better look at the tool and saw that the metal cone wasn’t complete. There was a quarter inch of air where the two sides didn’t meet. She could see the coffee beans inside the tube. With smooth gestures, the man tipped the cone toward the wide end and the beans ran into a baggy. Heaven noticed him pull a marker out of his hip pocket and mark the baggy “Ethiopia/Ebanks/single estate.”
“The trier closes the bag back up too, so you don’t have a hole,” the man said.
“Then what will you do with those beans that you collected?” Heaven asked in her most interested voice. She was interested, of course.
“They test them. Water content and acidity and such. So when they get to the roasting, those that do the roasting will know how long and such.”
“Where do they do the roasting?” Heaven walked along on the ground, following the man above her.
“Out in Saint Bernard Parish. They got lots of folks workin’ out there.”
“How do you like working here in the warehouse?” Heaven was starting to sound like a junior investigative reporter.
The big man jumped down right in front of Heaven, giving her a start. She wasn’t used to someone invading her personal space from above. “It’s a job,” he said with some amount of scorn in his voice, like it was the dumbest question anyone had ever asked him.
“It’s too bad about Truely isn’t it?”
“Chickens always come to roost sometime,” the man said cryptically. “Truely was all right though, not like some of ’em.”
“Any ideas who killed him? Was he ever fighting with anyone around here? I remember seeing a great big guy in Truely’s office. Who was that?”
The man just stared at her for a few seconds. Heaven could tell he thought she was an idiot. Then he shook his head. “I got to get these samples to be tested.”
As he started to walk away, Heaven called out, “I’m sorry. I didn’t ask you your name.”
The big man kept on walking.
Heaven hung up the phone. She had just talked to Hank about her mishap coming home from his relatives. She’d spent ten minutes regaling him with how wonderful everyone was, except his aunt of course. Then she told him what had happened when she left and asked him if he thought she should warn the cousins. Hank was worried about her, but thought warning the cousins was unnecessary. “After all, I’ve been around for lots of your brushes with death. No one has ever bothered me,” he said matter-of-factly.
Heaven wasn’t sure Hank was right. It still creeped her out that whoever had run her off the road had been watching and waiting outside the cousins’ offices. But what would the bad guys do, go in to a doctor’s and ask what the redhead had been doing there? Search the place for something Heaven might have left there? As far as she knew, none of these threats were toward anything but her big mouth and her inquiring mind. No one thought she was holding the crown jewels. The problem started with her being in New Orleans. That was pissing someone off.
Heaven went over and laid down on the bed, closing her eyes. The law firm would be here in a minute. She would go down and try to help Mary with her colleagues. Will had arrived twenty minutes ago and Heaven took that opportunity to go change her clothes and call Hank. She wasn’t tired or even sleepy. Her mind was going a mile a minute. This Leon Davis must be a total idiot. He was looking so good for Truely’s murder. Heaven’s eyes closed.
She must have dozed off for a minute, despite her belief that she wasn’t tired. She awoke with a start when voices from the first floor turned harsh. It was Mary and Will, not quite yelling but sharp, strident. Heaven quickly rolled off the bed and had every intention of sneaking down a floor and listening in the stairwell. But before she got to the second step, she heard a second man’s voice, followed by a woman’s. The lawyers had arrived. Will was greeting them, his voice warm again, full of compassion and southern hospitality. What a con he was, and how appealing it was. Heaven straightened her clothes, mussed her hair and went downstairs.
“That’s the last of them,” Heaven said as she walked back from the front hall. She had just seen the last three callers to the door.
It was a little past eleven. The house had been full. Not only did Mary’s legal partners come, bringing dinner from Pascale Manale’s, most of the staff of the law office came as well. Then many of the neighbors had seen all the cars and decided a full-blown home visitation was in progress and they dropped by. The house was full of cigar smoke and empty whiskey glasses. Bowls of shrimp peels from Manale’s famous barbecued shrimp were everywhere. Heaven had tried to help the staff keep up for a while, fetching drinks and taking dirty plates to the kitchen. She’d given up about an hour before. Now she started arranging all the dirty glasses she could find on the wicker library table on the enclosed porch where Will and Mary were sitting, nursing a nightcap.
“Heaven, stop that. We have extra help coming tomorrow for the next few days. I should have realized this would be a strain on the staff,” Mary said almost dreamily.
Mary readily confessed earlier that she had a prescription of something from the tranquilizer family that her doctor had given her to get her through the week. During the evening, as she watched Mary pound back gin and tonics, Heaven hadn’t bothered to mention you usually shouldn’t mix those kinds of pills with lots of alcohol. Mary was a big girl and the hospital wasn’t that far away. Heaven herself enjoyed the feeling of a Valium and a bottle of wine served together on occasion. Grownups and heartache, that was the real lethal combination.
Heaven made a quick sweep of the dining room and brought in five more empty glasses to add to her collection. She put them with the rest and joined Will and Mary. “That was certainly an evening Truely would h
ave loved. It had the flavor of an Irish wake mixed with French Catholic political intrigue.”
“Don’t forget the Germans. There’s some of those first German settlers in the mix there,” Will offered.
“Oh, they’re no fun when it comes to a funeral. Let’s forget them,” Mary said with a little hiccup.
“Well, Heaven girl, if you think that was a good wake, wait till Saturday. Boy, does Truely have something special planned for Saturday.”
Saturday. Heaven planned to be in her restaurant in Kansas City plating homemade ravioli on Saturday. She bit. “What are you referring to, Will dear?”
“That’s right. It’s in the will,” Mary said.
“What’s in the will?” Heaven asked, thinking this could easily turn into a Three Stooges routine.
Will explained. “Truely stipulates in his will how he wants his death to be celebrated. I prefer to think of it as a celebration of his life. He had a party out at the roasting facility once every few years. It was always a big blowout. Last time the theme was, ‘Will Work for Sex.’ You should have seen the costumes at that one.”
Heaven was a bit surprised. Truely seemed a little too proper to have a party with everyone tricked out like hookers. She tried to picture what Mary had worn. Her corporate suits? By some standards they would be appropriate as a uniform of someone for sale. “What did you wear, Will?”
“1970s polyester pimp suit, powder blue, with platform shoes,” Will said without hesitation.
“So Truely wants a party for his wake?” Heaven asked cautiously. She couldn’t stay through Saturday. No way.
Will went over to the library table and pulled out the drawer. He picked up a rolled-up scroll and tossed it on Heaven’s lap. “Tomorrow a couple hundred of these go out all over New Orleans.”
Heaven supposed the idea of the invitations’ design was a scroll at the gate of paradise, where Truely hopefully was. The invitation said, “In honor of Truely Whitten, Red Beans and Rice, Dress as your favorite Vice. Saturday, Eight o’clock at the roasting plant,” in elaborate gold script. Down at the bottom of the invitation it mentioned: “The Iguanas, Kermit Ruffin, Charmaine Neville will perform.” “Now don’t tell me all these famous New Orleans musicians are dropping their Saturday-night gigs to play at Truely’s wake?” Heaven said skeptically.
Mary nodded. “Truely set aside enough money to take care of it. He’d already made arrangements with the musicians’ managers and there was extra money to hire replacements for whatever gigs they were supposed to play.”
Which led Heaven to her next question. “Did Truely have some premonition he was going to be murdered?”
Mary and Will both shook their heads. “Absolutely not,” Mary said, stumbling over the word absolutely a little. “He just enjoyed organizing this part of his death. He thought it would happen when we were old. He got a kick out of the thought of a bunch of old coots dressing up like hookers and gamblers.”
“Truely had a family plot. He knew that his funeral would be at the cathedral. There wasn’t much to plan concerning his demise so he went for the party,” Will said.
“Mary, I just don’t think I can stay,” Heaven said.
“No way,” Will responded quickly.
“You have to,” Mary said.
“I need to get back to the restaurant. I missed last weekend and I shouldn’t miss next weekend.”
Mary leaned forward and sloshed her drink slightly. The liquid spilled on her foot and she stared down at her one wet shoe, a demure low-heeled pump. “Oops.” She tried to focus on Heaven. “I know this is a terrible imposition. But there’s money to pay someone to replace you.”
“That’s not the point. I just—”
“The point is I need you here. I need you to find out who was messing with the nuns. If you can find out who it is, I know it will solve Truely’s murder,” Mary pleaded.
“The police—”
Now it was Will’s turn to plead. “Heaven, honey. At least you’re gonna stay for the funeral, right?”
“Of course.”
“Then the soonest you could get home would be Thursday. I don’t, and I’m sure Mary Beth doesn’t, expect you to stay around forever until this thing is solved. But if you just stay until next Monday you could make Mary Beth feel better about the investigation. That’s just three extra days, more or less. And it would make Truely happy if we threw lots of money at you, just to cover your expenses back in Kansas City. And then you’d be here for the party.”
Heaven got up and poured herself a cognac out of a cut crystal decanter. She noticed the bottle was almost empty. Truely’s friends weren’t seeing him to the next life with punch and cookies. “I’ll have to talk to Murray and see what he thinks. If the kitchen is holding up, I’ll stay. But don’t think for a minute I’m going to figure out all these crimes.”
Will came over and gave Heaven a hug. “Just do your best, sugar. That’s all we ask.”
Mary Whitten was barely with them. She nodded at Heaven through eyes that were slits. “Thanks,” she said, slurring.
Will went over to Mary and pulled her to her feet, removing the glass from her hands as she stood up. He placed it on the library table. “Now I’m gonna get Miss Mary Beth here upstairs. I think I’ll spend the night in the guest room on the second floor. See you in the morning, Heaven.”
As the two lurched around the corner, Will only slightly more sober than Mary, Heaven started turning out lights. She was thinking about Mary Beth. Heaven couldn’t remember if Will had always called her Mary Beth, or if he was affecting Truely’s name for his wife. It sounded so foreign to Heaven’s ears, still.
The dark was comforting and, although she had intended to go right upstairs and go to bed, Heaven sat down on a big comfy wicker chaise lounge and sipped her drink. What a mess. She was homesick for Kansas City and the restaurant and the waiters and the cooks and Hank. She couldn’t think of a thing to do that would shed light on any of this. The only thing she knew for sure was that someone badly wanted her to go home and Mary needed her to stay.
Heaven didn’t know how long she’d been asleep, but all of a sudden she was wide awake, still sitting on the porch with her legs stretched out on the chaise lounge and the empty cognac snifter in her hands. She listened. Nothing. What had made her start like that? She continued to sit quietly, looking around at the windows that made up the glassed-in porch. She had to turn her head hard right to see, but she finally spotted him. The shadow of a large man was out on the gallery, right in front of the French doors. Heaven immediately knew it was the man she’d seen at the coffee warehouse. She felt it in her bones. He was jimmying the door, trying to break in. Was he Truely’s murderer, now coming to kill Mary, too?
Heaven screamed as loud as she could. The silhouette outside the door straightened up and turned quickly. She heard the thud when the big man jumped off the gallery. Heaven screamed again and got up, figuring that the intruder couldn’t possibly shoot at her as he high-tailed it down the sidewalk. She fumbled for the light on the porch, turned it on, and then went into the dining room and turned on the lights in there too. Will Tibbetts stumbled down the stairs in his boxer shorts. “Heaven, are you all right?” he called.
“Someone was trying to break in.”
“Where?” Will asked.
“The French doors on the porch. I fell asleep out there. It was the man I saw at Truely’s office last month.”
“What man?”
“Don’t you remember? Oh, never mind. I don’t know if it was him. I just know a large man, tall and heavy and strong-looking, was outside the door, trying to get into the house,” Heaven said.
Will went out on the porch and jiggled the French doors. They opened easily. He stepped out on the gallery and looked down at the door handles. “Yep. The wood’s splintered. I guess your big man didn’t have any lock picks. Some kinda amateur?”
Heaven was done. She was tired and scared and hurt by Will’s skepticism about everything she said
. “He’s not my big man, you asshole. You act like I just make this stuff up to amuse you. I’m sick of your smug attitude. I want nothing more than to go home to Kansas City. Right now I care very little about who is messing with the Sisters of the Holy Trinity and only a tiny bit more about who killed Truely. I’m going up to bed and I don’t care if someone breaks in and steals every item in this house, not that I think for a minute that it was a regular, run-of-the-mill burglar. Don’t say another thing to me.” With that Heaven swept up the stairs. Will knew not to make a peep.
“Heaven, I’m so sorry. Please tell me Will hasn’t run you off,” Mary said pleadingly.
This morning, the tranquilizers and booze from the night before had taken their toll on Mary. She looked puffy in the wrong places. She was standing in the doorway to Heaven’s room. Heaven was still in bed. Now she pulled the sheet over her face, not ready for the day.
“I lost it last night but it won’t happen again, I promise. I was so out of it on alcohol and pills, I didn’t even hear you scream.”
Heaven still didn’t speak. She could act like she was really angry and pack and leave. It might mean the end of a friendship but she and Mary hadn’t been that close since she moved to New Orleans. What the hell.
“Mary, someone needs to take me seriously. A man that I think could be the same man I saw at Truely’s office last month tried to break into your house last night.” Heaven’s voice was muffled by the covers.
“I know. Will told me. He said you were furious with him.”
“I’m just tired of all this crap. Whatever or whoever killed Truely and stole the sisters’ cross and vandalized the convent is not done yet. And I’m not admitting I think it’s the same whatever or whoever that did all these things because I’m not sure it is. Mary, you could be in danger.”
“Heaven, maybe it was you they were after. After all, you’re the one that’s been assaulted twice in the last week,” Mary pointed out.
Red Beans and Vice Page 13
