4 Big Easy Hunter

by Maddie Cochere

  “He’s been working out at the YMCA,” Mom said. “We joined in the spring, and I like to swim laps while your dad gets a workout.”

  I was surprised to hear the news. My parents had always been in good shape, but they hadn’t ever worked at it before. They never ceased to amaze me.

  “We should probably go inside if we want to be sure we can all sit together,” Nate said looking around as more and more people were streaming into the restaurant.

  Everyone agreed, and we walked through the doorway. I was giddy with happiness again. I always missed my parents, but when I had an opportunity to see them, I realized just how wonderful they were, how deeply I missed them, and how much fun we always had together.

  We were seated at a corner table intended for six, and I was instantly delighted with the party atmosphere of the large room. Colorful balloons had been tied to the small lamps on each table. Musicians strolled around the room taking requests and returning lively renditions of the songs.

  Everyone at the table ordered Bloody Marys, but I asked for mine virgin. I didn’t feel like starting my day with alcohol. I did, however, go along with everyone’s choice of turtle soup. We each ordered a different brunch item, and decided we would all share, giving us a taste of everything that way. When the Bloody Marys arrived, the glasses were rimmed with Creole spices and were topped with pickled okra and a hot pepper skewered by a sugar cane spear. The drinks were appealing and delicious.

  “Well, kids,” Dad said settling back comfortably in his chair, “what kind of mischief have you set us up for today?”

  Darby laughed and said, “Earl, you’ll soon be on a shuttle and on your way to Harrah’s for an afternoon of gambling. You have five hours of winning hands of poker in front of you.”

  In typical Dad fashion, he rubbed his hands together like a kid at Christmas and said, “That’s my boy, Darby. Are you guys coming along, too.”

  “Nope,” Nate said. “We’re all taking cooking classes so we can learn to cook Cajun swamp alligator, and pickled pigs feet.”

  Mom’s eyebrows shot up as she asked, “You’re kidding, right? If you’re not, I’m going with Dad. I’ll play slot machines while you kids wrestle an alligator for your dinner.”

  I was quickly overcome with giggles. Nate was obviously teasing, and I realized Mom was, too. I swear, Mom and the two guys were like a little gaggle of girlfriends.

  Darby seemed to be amused at my lack of control. “Lilah, we’re taking cooking lessons, but it will be something good. We’re supposed to learn the secrets of cooking New Orleans cuisine.”

  “I already know the secret,” piped up Nate. “It’s adding plenty of eye of newt, toe of frog, wool of bat …” His voice dropped off as his smile faded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small bottle of oil. “Here, Lilah, put some of this behind each ear. It will protect you from the evil spirits here. You’ll need it. Trust me.”

  The look on Mom’s face went from one of confusion, to one of understanding, and she reached for the bottle. Nate had reeled her in. My outburst of laughter took everyone by surprise, and I covered my face in my hands as I struggled to regain control. I was grateful the musicians were playing loudly, and that we were seated at a corner table.

  Our food arrived, and I was able to settle down and eat. I filled Mom and Dad in on the rest of our itinerary. “Tonight, we’re all taking the Bourbon Street Walking Tour. Dad, you’re going on a golf outing tomorrow morning, while the four of us attend the Bridal Tea.

  Dad couldn’t help emitting a little snicker. I looked at him with my mouth hanging open for a moment before saying, “Dad! The Bridal Tea is for both men and women. Darby and Nate aren’t going just because they’re gay.” This brought a peal of laughter from Mom, and the musicians moved in our direction. Over the music, I expressed the last of the details. “The bachelor and bachelorette parties are tomorrow night. Darby and Nate will be going with you, Dad, to the bachelor party.” Darby and Nate both smile broadly at Dad, but Darby also took a swing with his leg to kick me under the table.

  “Ouch!” Nate yelped. “What’d you do that for?”

  I was overcome once again with giggles as Mom asked the musicians to play When the Saints Go Marching In.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Mom, you cook with Nate on that station, and I’ll cook with Darby over here,” I said as I pulled my chef’s hat onto my head.

  Darby and I wanted to learn how to cook the New Orleans Creole Gumbo, and Mom and Nate would be cooking the easier Creole Barbecue Shrimp with Cajun Rice.

  “Nate, you look so cute in your apron and your hat,” Mom told him with a smile. “I think we can cook better than those two if we put our minds to it.”

  “You look pretty great yourself, Lilah,” Nate said to Mom. “And I’ve eaten some of the mistakes those two have made. They aren’t a shoo-in for turning out something great.” Mom nodded with a big smile on her face.

  “It’s not a contest,” Darby said laughing while putting on his own chef’s hat. He was absolutely adorable and really quite sexy. If he were on the Food Network, women would be tuning in in droves to watch him cook. Men would, too, for that matter.

  “May I have your attention, please?”

  It was our class instructor, Delia, asking for our attention. We were on the property of an old family farm. The barn still looked like a barn on the outside, but the inside had been remodeled and partitioned. A beautiful, professional kitchen with ten work stations had been installed. It was very creative. Delia Despre was the owner of Cooking Creole, and three of her relatives assisted with the cooking classes. We had already watched video demonstrations of how each dish was to be made, and now we would be on our own.

  “Your recipes are on your station, and you’ll find all of your ingredients in the pantry behind you. Don’t hesitate to ask any of our helpful staff if you need help or have questions. Joyeux Cuisine!”

  We all grabbed baskets and headed back to the refrigerators and pantry. There were twenty-one ingredients in the gumbo Darby and I would be making. By the time we had everything together, Mom and Nate were already back at their station peeling and deveining shrimp.

  “We’re winning,” said Nate as Darby and I walked by. I saw a wide grin spread across Darby’s face. He enjoyed Nate’s sense of humor and was definitely entertained today.

  I was having fun. After brunch, Dad hitched a ride with some of the guys going to Harrah’s Casino, while the three of us drove down to the French Market to do a little shopping and take in the sights until it was time for our cooking class. Mom insisted upon buying beignets at Cafe Du Monde, but I only had a little nibble of Darby’s. I couldn’t believe they could eat the sweet fried dough after all of the food we had consumed at Commander’s Palace.

  The beignets were followed by a half-hour carriage ride through Jackson Square and around the French Quarter. I was amused at the mules pulling the carriages rather than horses, but the guide informed us the mules were better suited to the heat and humidity. Mom was enchanted by the beautiful cathedral in Jackson Square and would have insisted we take the tour if it hadn’t been time to leave for the cooking classes.

  The reading yesterday, the man with the knife, and even Ferg and his illicit activities didn’t bother me today. It cheered me tremendously to see Mom and Dad again, and Mick would be here tomorrow. I smiled at the thought. He would love the charm of our room and the French doors opening to the wrought-iron balcony. A little tingly feeling ran down my spine just thinking about spending a few nights in the room with him.

  “Susan, you’re falling behind,” Darby playfully admonished me. He had already peeled and deveined over half of the shrimp while I worked more slowly and daydreamed.

  “Ok. Ok. I’ll pick up the pace,” I told him with a laugh.

  And pick up the pace we did. Our shrimp was prepared, the sausage sliced, the vegetables chopped, and we were making our roux when Nate started a grease fire.

  “It’s ok, Nate,”
Mom said in a high-pitched, nervous voice. “Get a lid or find some baking soda.”

  Nate was a greenhorn around a stove, and in his panic, he must not have heard what Mom was saying. Darby grabbed a lid to rush over to help, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the employees trying to unhook a fire extinguisher from the wall, but Nate was quicker than anyone and threw a pan of boiling water on the fire.

  To say the next few minutes were a disaster would be an understatement. The fire exploded and shot high into the rafters of the barn as the greasy fire spilled out onto the stove and countertop. Towels and potholders caught on fire. It was stunning how much damage was done so quickly. Thankfully, Mom had moved back from the station before Nate threw the water, and Darby was still at our station with the lid in his hand. The employee managed to get the fire extinguisher freed from the wall clamp and promptly ran over to spray Nate before spraying the fire. Nate had smoke coming off his body, and the employee didn’t know if he was going to combust or not. By the time the fire department arrived, the employees had used several fire extinguishers and the fire was out.

  Delia was a true Southern hostess, and although she must have been horrified at what had just happened, she attempted to console and reassure Nate that she had more than adequate insurance and everything could be repaired. She seemed more concerned with his bright red face and his missing eyebrows and eyelashes.

  The entire class was canceled. The four of us ended up sitting outside at a picnic table while we watched the firemen prepare to leave. Darby threw an arm around Nate’s shoulder and said soothingly, “You’re not the first person to throw water on a grease fire. It could happen to anyone.”

  Mom started to giggle.

  “Shhh!” I hissed at her. “There’s nothing funny about this. Don’t you dare start laughing. What will these people think of us.”

  “I can’t help it,” she said struggling to hold back laughter. “You kids get yourselves in the worst kinds of mix-ups, and now Nate doesn’t have any eyebrows or eyelashes.” She was going to go full-blown laughter any minute.

  “Darby,” I said excitedly, “take mom to the car. I’ll apologize to Delia once again, and then we’ll get out of here.” I also wanted to tell Delia I would have Mick stop in and talk with her before we left the city. I was hoping he would have some contacts to help expedite the repair of the kitchen.

  The three of them high-tailed it to the car. I could hear mom’s out-of-control laughter as I entered the barn.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Let’s go to Pat O’Brien’s,” Dad said exuberantly. He was still on a high from his afternoon jaunt to Harrah’s. His poker skills had obviously not diminished, and his wallet was over $4,000 plumper than when he arrived this morning.

  I groaned a little inside. Darby looked my way and flashed a big grin.

  We were with a group of wedding party guests for the Bourbon Street Walking Tour, which included dinner and considerable roaming up and down Bourbon Street. We had already eaten dinner at Cajun Cabin and had been in and out of a couple of jazz bars. Now Dad wanted to finish the night at Pat O’Brien’s for Hurricanes.

  Mom was enthralled and repulsed at the same time by Bourbon Street. Dad had to drop back and grab her more than once as she stood standing with her mouth gaping open at some of the more seedy establishments. Occasionally, she stood staring, unable to control her laughter. Darby and Nate were getting a huge kick out of her, and Dad was only slightly worried she would wander off from the group in an effort to see something which grabbed her attention.

  I was a little more reserved than they were. The fire put a damper on my cheerfulness, and chatting with Mick in the late afternoon had left me lonely and aching for him. The unease of the psychic’s reading, the printing plate, and the man with the knife had surfaced again.

  Inside Pat O’Brien’s, Mom made her way to the front of the piano bar and scored a table for us which had just been vacated. It didn’t take long for her, Nate, and Darby to be on their feet singing along to Cheeseburger in Paradise. There was no way mom knew the lyrics, and I was pretty sure she was making up new ones. Dad ordered Hurricanes for everyone, and my head started to pound.

  I leaned over to Dad and said, “I’m going to run to the restroom.” He nodded.

  After washing my hands and splashing cold water on my face, I slipped out the front door to stand on the sidewalk and take a few deep breaths. I wanted a few minutes to myself to shake my blahs and decide if I was going to go back in and have a good time with everyone, or excuse myself and walk back to the hotel.

  As I was standing there trying to make my decision, I noticed Ferg coming down the street. He saw me, too, raised a hand to wave, and flashed a big smile at me. I waved, but I turned to go back into the bar.

  “Susan!” he yelled as he broke into a run to meet me. “Wait a minute!”

  “Hi, Ferg. Are you coming inside?” I asked him. “I can’t stay out here much longer; my family is waiting for me.”

  “This won’t take long,” he said with a mischievous smile. “I have something to show you for the wedding.”

  His exuberance and smile made it seem like something fun. I followed him down to the corner where his Hummer was parked. He opened the hatch, and as I leaned to peer in, a hand was clapped across my mouth from behind, and I was dragged to an SUV around the corner. I kicked, and I tried to scream against the hand, but it was dark, and there was no one to see or hear my abduction. I was shoved inside the car, the door slammed, and the vehicle sped off.

  There was only one other passenger in the back seat with me – the Spanish guy from the bar!

  It only took a few seconds to gather my wits about me and reach for the door handle. I was going to launch myself out onto the road if necessary, but the handle and the locks were on childproof setting, and I had no control over them.

  The Spanish guy laughed and said through a thick accent, “Relax. I have question for you.”

  “Me? What could you possibly want to ask me?” I asked trying to hold my voice steady. My mind was starting to whirl. Was I really being abducted? Or was this a quick once around the block thing? Was I in danger? Did Ferg do this to me on purpose?

  “Where is the printing plate?” he asked softly.

  I answered quickly, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You name is Susan, yes?” he asked. “You call me Rico. We will be best friends until you tell me where is the plate.”

  “What plate? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I insisted. I tried to put on a brave front, but the fear was growing exponentially.

  Rico snapped his fingers and the driver turned on the car’s video system. A moment later I was watching black and white surveillance video of me and Bogart in the basement room at LeBlond Plantation. It was clearly evident I had taken one of the $50 plates and shoved it into my purse. I was devastated my lie was so obvious, and I had no idea what Rico might do to get the plate back.

  “I don’t have it,” I told him weakly. Tears were welling up, and I was very close to breaking down in front of him.

  “Where is it?” he asked calmly.

  “I don’t have it,” I whispered. “I don’t know where it is.” It was a truthful statement.

  The driver turned down a narrow alley and pulled to a stop behind a building. Rico startled me by grabbing my hair and pulling me to him. He held a knife to my throat, and I started to let out a scream. He pulled my hair harder and pressed the knife tighter against my neck while hissing, “Shut up!”

  The car door opened, and I was jerked from the seat. A hand across my mouth kept my screams from being heard. My struggling was pointless as two men dragged me down steps to under, what I presumed to be, the bar near the post office.

  A dimly lit room with a table and a few chairs awaited me. The driver pushed me into a chair and watched as the two men tied my hands behind my back and my ankles to the chair legs. All three men left, and I was alone. Tears started to strea
m down my face.

  A few minutes later Ferg entered the room. My mouth fell open at the sight of him. How could he do this to me? What would Scotty and Dell think of him? If he hurt me, he would never get away with it and would probably go to jail for the rest of his life.

  “Ferg! What’s going on?” I asked desperately. “Help me!”

  He pulled a chair close to me and talked low as though he didn’t want anyone to overhear. “Susan, I’m sorry,” he said with anguish in his voice. “It was a terrible mistake that you found the printing plates and took off with one. These men are going to kill us both if I don’t get it back. They’ve been blackmailing me to print money for them, and if I don’t get the last shipment done by morning, they’ll kill me. Please tell me where the plate is.” His own desperation was apparent across his face and in his voice.

  My mouth fell open, and although I tried, no words would come out. My throat felt like it closed up, my chest tightened, and I couldn’t breathe. I was near a full-blown panic attack now.

  Before I could tell Ferg what happened to the plate, Rico and a few other men entered the room. He was still holding the knife, and it was the only thing I could focus on. If my voice would only work, I would scream.

  “Where is the plate?” Rico asked the question calmly but I could see his hand was clenching the knife tightly. A glance at his face showed a muscle in his jaw was twitching.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered with real fear in my voice. “It’s the truth. I don’t know where it is.”

  He was quick on his feet and had my hair in his grasp again with the knife pressed to my neck. Terror filled me, and I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out; instead, I started to cry.

  “Tell me where is the plate. This is your last chance if you no want to die!” There was no longer any calmness to Rico.

  I knew deep in my soul I couldn’t tell him what I had done with the plate. If I did, Ferg and I would be killed on the spot. “I don’t know where it is,” I blubbered.