Retaliatory Justice

by Tawa M. Witko

  “We need to get into the morgue database and pull up this guy’s prints. See who he really was,” Jeff says while crossing his arms.

  “You want me to hack into the morgue database?” Zach asks incredulously.

  “Heck yeah I do, it’s not a complicated hack,” Jeff continues.

  “Do you know how many regulations we would be breaking by doing that? Anything we find we couldn’t use in court,” Zach states adamantly.

  “Move over, Boy Scout. I’ll do it,” Michelle says bumping him out of the way.

  “Masterson, it’s your call,” Zach says, nudging her away from the computer.

  “Do it!” I say watching the screen, angered that whoever killed Phillipe could have easily shot Dominique as well. All she would have had to do is move only slightly.

  “SHIT!” Zach shouts standing and bringing his hands to his hair.

  “What?” Clayton asks.

  Michelle moves in front of the monitor, frowns and lets out a few explicit words.

  “Will someone tell me what happened?” I ask annoyed.

  Michelle takes a seat and starts messing with the computer a bit. All we here is loud tapping against the keys and a few minutes later, up pops a screen on the television.

  Information Currently Unavailable

  “Damn!” Jeff says shaking his head.

  “Could Mr. De la Fosse have been an agent, undercover or something?” Zach asks to no one in particular.

  “I don’t think so but he could have been a snitch working for the agency or hell, even the bureau,” Michelle suggests. “I used to tag all my snitches like that so if they got busted their cover wouldn’t get blown.”

  “This just keeps getting better and better,” Clayton laments, shaking his head and plopping down on the sofa.

  I turn back to the screen. “I need to go back to New Orleans. I need to investigate this further and make sure that Dominique’s safe.”

  I hear some mumbling behind me and realize that I hadn’t mentioned Dominique to them before and that now they know for sure that she is the ‘she’ I was referring to before. I shouldn’t have done that but it’s too late to take it back. Shortly after, I hear Clayton not so subtly tell someone to ‘shut up’ followed by Jeff grumbling under his breath. There’s movement and someone has approached me.

  “What do you want us to focus on?” Clayton asks.

  “Follow the leads here; look into the whereabouts of Enrico’s crew, especially Tony Martin. He’s a weapons expert.” I turn to them, my face hard. “That shot required an expert. I want to know where he was.”

  “You got it, boss,” Jeff says.

  “Where are you going?” Clayton asks as I start walking to the door.

  “I need to talk to Anderson, he should be back by now,” I stick my hands in my pocket. “I need to fill him in on why we left and why we will stay gone. I’ll be back after we talk.”

  I hear a round of ‘all rights’, and when I glance back at them, they are all huddling around various computers to get started on some of their individual searches. I quickly make my way to my car and drive exceptionally fast, wanting to get this meeting with Anderson done and get back to my team. We have a lot to do before I head out.

  The minute I step out of the elevator I see Anderson marching towards me. He looks pissed already and I haven’t even had a chance to defend my actions. I know that I can be pretty impulsive, but considering the circumstances, I think it was a necessary move. Once he is front of me, I raise my hand in hopes of stopping the tirade before it begins.

  “What the hell kind of game are you playing, Agent Masterson?” he fumes.

  “Look, before you begin reprimanding me in front of everyone, I want to show you something.”

  His brows scrunch together and his face is hard, ready to explode at any minute. “What?”

  “I have a legitimate reason for my actions.”

  His eyes narrow. “And what is that?”

  I start walking towards my team room, motioning for him to follow me. When we get to the door I stop and take a breath. I glance at him and see he is still angry.

  “I need you to follow my lead on this.” Before he can answer me we are both inside. “I know I didn’t tell you about us leaving for the day but we decided we had been cooped up to the point that no one could think straight anymore. My men needed a break.”

  “Your men don’t need a break,” he hollers as I motion for him to kneel down.

  “Like hell they don’t,” I holler back as I point to the bug. His eyes widen. “We have been holed up in this room for too damn long.”

  We both stand and he places his hands on his hips. “So where the hell is everyone?”

  “In the field,” I answer coolly.

  “I’ll put you guys in a different room but that’s it, the bigger conference room is slightly more comfortable but don’t you ever pull a stunt like this again,” he says, motioning towards the door.

  “Yeah, of course,” I reply sarcastically.

  “I need to go over a budgetary issue that’s come to my attention. Meet me in my office in five minutes,” he says in a huff, slamming the door for emphasis.

  That was good. I follow him out of the room and meet him in the hall. “We discovered the bug today but I’m not sure how long it has been there.”

  He is standing with his arms across his chest, a stoic expression on his face.

  “I think Agent Adams may have placed it there.”

  “That’s a heady accusation, Masterson. Do you have proof to back that claim?”

  “No, but until I do, my team is at an undisclosed location.”

  “Oh, you better disclose it to me, damn it!”

  I hesitate for only moment before I start talking. “We are at my uncle’s house.” Before he has a chance to say anything else, I start talking quickly, “and we have discovered that one of the co-owners of Le Creole, the restaurant Mr. Beauchamp owns, was shot in broad daylight. I am going to New Orleans to investigate and… I won’t be checking in with Agent Adams while I’m there.”

  His posture softens. “Let’s talk in my office.”

  Once we enter, he closes the door and motions for me to sit down, which I do, and as he starts walking to his seat he begins talking. “I have my suspicions about Agent Adams as well but at this point they are only suspicions, which mean they go nowhere. Understand?”

  I nod and then frown at him. “That would have been good information to know,” I state annoyed. “I told him everything and he gave us nothing!” I start pacing in the room and turn to Anderson, on fire. “Is he connected to the Sicignano Family?”

  “I can’t be certain of that, which is why I want you to tread lightly with this case.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?”

  He begins tapping his fingers on the desk, glancing passed me and towards the door. “Leave tomorrow. I have no say in what my men do over the weekend. I will call his superior and schedule a Monday meeting with him. Tell them that I am sending my best man down there to look into the death of…” he glances at me.

  “Mr. De la Fosse, Mr. Beauchamp’s known accomplice.”

  “Yes, I will talk to Montgomery and tell him to have Adams available for a sit down. Adams won’t like it but he won’t be able to stop it. I am giving you until Tuesday to find something. Wednesday morning you’re on a plane back here. Regardless of what you find out because we have to pursue the connections here, in OUR city, understand?” He gives me a questioning brow.

  I nod and sigh. “Yes, I understand.”

  “You said you understood before and yet you deliberately defied me. I don’t want a repeat of that.”

  “You won’t, sir.”

  “Who will you be bringing with you?”

  I pause. I don’t want to bring anyone with me. Thoughts of seeing Dominique creep into my head and when I make eye contact with Anderson he is giving me a steely glare.

  “This isn’t a pleasure trip, Masterson. You�
�re there to work, not screw around,” he says crisply.

  I swallow thickly. I know he’s right. I turn to the window, trying to decide who to bring. If I bring Jeff, I will end up spending my time trying to keep him in line. Michelle, she’d be great, and I know this may come off as sexist, but I’m not traveling with a woman. We’d have to get separate rooms, which would be awkward. With Zach, I always feel like I’m corrupting him or something.

  “Well,” Anderson asks, bringing me out of my thoughts.

  “Hoffman, I’ll bring Hoffman,” I say reluctantly, knowing Kailee is going to be mad about that.

  “Fine, see Clara on your way out to arrange for transportation and lodging. Tell her to use the discretionary fund. She’ll know what you’re talking about. Now, who will lead the team in your absence?”

  “Agent Jones, sir,” I say without hesitation. “She’s smart and is probably the only one that can keep Paulson and O’Neal from killing each other.”

  He laughs and then nods. “I want a daily status update from you, as well as Agent Jones.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I do what I need to do with Clara and get things square for my travel and then head back to my team. When I step in, they are all busy working on various details of their assignment. They all look up to me as I take a seat, stopping what they’re doing to gather around me, waiting for instructions.

  “Well, what did he say?” Zach asks immediately.

  “He has his suspicions about Adams as well.” I turn to Clayton. “You and I are leaving tomorrow and he’s giving us until Tuesday evening to find something. We need to be back by Wednesday. He’s going to schedule a meeting with Adams on Monday, make him show us what he has.”

  They are all nodding.

  “Who’s in charge, boss?” Jeff asks with a wag of his brows.

  I motion with my thumb towards Michelle. “Jones.” I stare at both his and Zach’s shocked expressions and then Michelle who looks equally surprised. “Now tell me what you found out?”

  16 Attempt at Normalcy

  Dominique Walker

  July 28th

  I slept the entire next day after Phillipe was shot. Thankfully Santiago called the restaurant and told them I wouldn’t be in. He was then informed that the restaurant would be closed Thursday and Friday due to Phillipe’s death but would re-open on Saturday. I’m not sure I want to go back. In fact, I am leaning towards quitting. I made Santiago go to work today. I couldn’t have him staying home to babysit me. In all honesty, I’m not sure how I feel right now. The first night I cried all night. Flashes of Jonathan’s death intermixed with Phillipe’s death and then everything intermixed with Valentino. He was always on the periphery, looking in. I’m not sure what that means other than I can’t get him out of my head.

  I look up from the television that I have been staring vacantly at and glance at the door, not sure if I actually heard a knock at the door or if the sound came from Chef Robert and his crew on Restaurant: Impossible as they pound the heck out of the wall of the main dining room they are trying to fix. There is another round of knocks and I nod. That’s definitely the door. I stand and walk over there, looking out the peep hole. What the heck does he want? I pull my hair back in a ponytail and try to make myself somewhat presentable as I slowly open the door.

  “Mr. Beauchamp, what a surprise,” I say as I pull my jacket closer around me.

  “Dominique, may I come in?” he asks.

  Now my head is saying heck no but I can’t do that so I step aside, immediately uneasy as he strolls inside my home. He doesn’t say anything right away as he surveys my living room. He glances at me and gives me a smile.

  “I know that this has been difficult for you,” he says with as much kindness as I think he can muster.

  “Yes, it has.”

  “You are intending on returning to Le Creole, are you not?”

  “I’m not sure, sir.”

  “I see,” he replies slightly annoyed and quickly corrects himself. “We would like for you to stay.”

  I can’t help it; I snort and then cover my mouth with both hands. He smiles and walks up to me, lifting the pendant in his hand and arching his brow at me. What is it with this pendant? Maybe Phillipe was right and it is a talisman or something. Marshall drops it out of his hand and looks at me.

  “I know that my Whitney can be a handful at times but I promise I will keep her in line,” he says casually but I can hear the double meaning behind what he’s saying and honestly am not sure he can do what he thinks he can do. “I know that Phillipe would want you to achieve your goals, Dominique,” he says trying a different route.

  I stare at him confused. I barely knew Phillipe; how would he know what my goals were? Why do all of these people think there is something more between Phillipe and me?

  “Le Creole is on the cusp of success, we will be granted five stars in no time and that is directly related to you,” he says, taking a few steps towards my bookcase and picking up a picture of my father and me. He glances over at me. “I’d hate to have to bring on another chef before that happens and have them take the glory that is rightfully yours.”

  I breathe in deeply as he turns back around and sets that picture down. He lets his fingertips run across the tops of the frames and lands on one of me and Santiago. He picks it up and examines it. What the heck is he doing? I sigh and look to the ground. He knows me better than I would like to admit because there is no way I want someone else to take credit for what I did with Le Creole. I look up and he is watching me and I can tell by the smile on his face that he already knows what my answer is going to be.

  “Do you promise to keep Whitney away from me?” I ask.

  His smile broadens and he nods ever so slightly as he places the picture of me and Santiago on the shelf again. He walks towards me all confident and victorious and I’m already regretting this decision.

  “Of course, I will, Dominique.”

  I nod. “Okay, then I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  “Wonderful!” he says with a clasp of his hands.

  “Dominique, I know you hate take out but…” Santiago stops when he enters the room and see’s Marshall standing there.

  Marshall smiles at him as he approaches. He casually takes the bag out of his hand, placing it on the table. Santiago looks at me and I mouth ‘Marshall’ to him and his eyes widen. He turns and Marshall outstretches his hand to him. Santiago stares at it for a moment before shaking it.

  “Mr. Marshall Beauchamp, owner of Le Creole.”

  “Santiago?” he says dragging his name out in the form of a question.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Santiago. Have you and Dominique been friends long?” he asks casually.

  “Since we were little kids,” he replies uneasily.

  “So you are best friends,” he says looking between the two of us.

  He glances towards me. “Dominique, I hope it’s okay but Jackson would like to join us this evening. He said he should be here soon.” He turns back to Marshall. “His shift at the police station ended ten minutes ago,” he finishes, emphasizing the word police.

  Marshall laughs and I cringe. I know Santiago meant well but he just told him that Jackson was the one that looked into them. Please God! Don’t let anything happen to Jackson because of me. Santiago turns to me and I shake my head slightly.

  “Well, I will leave you to your meal. If I pass Jackson on my way out I will tell him to hurry along,” he says with a chuckle as his hand reaches for the doorknob. He turns slightly to face me. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dominique.”

  I nod slightly. Once he steps out, Santiago is right in front of me. He grabs my shoulders and has this look of utter shock on his face, like he is looking at some insane person.

  “What the heck, Dominique. You’re going back?”

  I cover my face in my hands and nod.

  “Are you nuts?”

  I huff and look at him. “No, I don’t know, maybe, but Le Creole is close to becom
ing a five star restaurant and I’ll be dammed if some other chef is on staff when that happens.”

  “Do you hear yourself?”

  “It’s all I’ve ever been good at, it’s the one thing that’s all mine.” I can feel tears in my eyes. “I don’t want to let it go.”

  “I understand that, Dominique, but…” he points towards the door. “That man is all kinds of creepy. I feel like I need to take a shower or something.”

  “It will be okay,” I breathe in and nod. “I can handle it.”

  He sighs and starts walking to the table to take out the containers. He knows once my mind is set there is no turning back. I walk into the kitchen and grab three plates.

  “We only need two place settings.”

  “I thought Jackson was coming to dinner?”

  He laughs. “He’s working late. I just said that so your creepy boss would leave.”

  I snort and he shrugs his shoulders.

  July 29th

  I have been out of the kitchen for three days, which is not a good thing. Luckily, I had already shopped for my specials the day before Phillipe was killed but I had been pulled out of the restaurant the day I was going to teach my line chefs what I wanted. So, I had to switch things up a bit and went with something fairly easy to do that they basically already knew how to make. For the appetizer, I decided on Mushrooms Véronique. I bake fresh mushroom caps that I stuff with grapes and Boursin cheese and encrust them in fresh Parmigiano-Reggiano. Then for the entrée, I decide on something simple yet elegant, a Petit Filet Lafitte. I stuff it with fried plump Louisiana oysters and then sauté it and serve it with our special Le Creole sauce with a side of Soufflé Potatoes. I love Soufflé Potatoes, which are fried potatoes plunged into extremely hot oil and then allowed to sit until they puff up like little balloons. I serve them with a Béarnaise Sauce. They’re wonderful and guests seem to enjoy them a great deal. For dessert, I prepare Strawberries Le Creole. I marinate fresh strawberries in port, red wine, spices and citrus and finish them off with Brocato's French vanilla ice cream. It is the perfect ending to the meal. Before we are about to open, Marshall and Whitney enter the kitchen.