Sugar Doll's Hurricane Blues

by Lauber, Kalua

  “Excuse me Tim, have you seen Mona this evening?”

  “No Miss Mona, I haven’t seen her today at all.” Tim said wiping down the bar glasses. “It ain’t like her to miss the grand opening. Maybe ya’ll should go to her house to check on her. It’s gotten real dangerous around here since the hurricane. Folks is desperate.” He sighed and continued wiping down the glass.

  “Remy, could you go down to the house for me? I’ll start the set and by the time you get back we can do the second set together.” Sugar Doll asked.

  “Sure honey, anything for you.” He winked and walked out the door.

  The sheriff stood at the riverbank as they pulled the large tugboat to the shore. He scratched his forehead as he looked out onto the widened mouth of the Mississippi. A lot of land had gotten eaten up in the hurricane.

  “Sheriff, the body had a wallet on it. His name was Bertrand Boudreaux.” A younger man walked over to the sheriff as he studied the contents of the wallet.

  “Bertrand Boudreaux, the owner of Beauchamp’s in the French Quarter” the sheriff said. “What in the hell was he doing down here on a damned tugboat I wonder.” The sheriff said mostly to himself.

  “Maybe he was helping out sir.” The younger man offered.

  “He was from down here alright but he was a piano man. He never did a bit of work in his life. Something’s fishy and it’s not just him.” The sheriff commented. The younger man laughed.

  “I wasn’t trying to be funny son. A man is dead. That ups my body count and I don’t like it. Search the damned boat.” The sheriff barked.

  “Right, right.” The younger man left his side and gladly joined the other officers and workmen who stood on side of the boat.

  Remy approached Mona’s darkened house and parked his car. It looked as if no one was there. A car pulled up behind him. He turned to see if it was Mona, but the brights were on and blinded him. A bullet ripped through the back windshield. Remy turned quickly and started the engine as fast as he could. He floored the accelerator and lurched forward but crashed into a street lamp. He jumped out of the car and ran. He could hear footsteps running rapidly toward him. He felt a bullet whiz by his head. He ran into an alley and realized his mistake immediately. It was a dead end.

  Chapter Twenty

  The club was standing room only. There were politicians there and a few movie stars. This was more than a Grand Re-Opening; this was a statement of defiance from the people. The government had forgotten them but the people had not. The city would return to its fun loving, carefree days, even if it killed them. There was electricity in the air. The surrounding areas were stifled by water damage and devastation but on this night everything was glamour. The jazz band was playing an upbeat tune and whiskey flowed. There was no sign of Mona. Sugar Doll paced nervously in the greenroom waiting to hear from Remy.

  “Sugar Doll, you’re on honey!” Tommy came back and interrupted her worries. “If only Bertrand was here” she whispered to herself. He was the big teddy bear of a man who eased her troubled mind. His smile and laugh made everything okay. Tonight she would step out without him as her friend, cousin and mentor.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm applause for the Crescent City’s own, Sugar Doll!” She stepped onto the stage as the emcee gave her a hug and a kiss and as she looked out into the crowd something changed in her. She felt strong and brave. “Thank you, thank you and welcome back to New Orleans!” The crowd burst into a round applause. “In honor of those who lost their lives and to our own wounded hearts I want to sing one you all know.” She turned to talk to the band.

  “Oh when the Saints go marching in, oh when the Saints go marching in…I want to be in that number, when the Saints go marching in…” As she sang the crowd stood up to second line and pulled out their white handkerchiefs. Tears streamed from faces which were smiling in spite of themselves. The night was magic and the band was on fire.

  “Why don’t you tell us where the money is and make it easy on yourself and that pretty girlfriend of yours?” Sid stood over Remy holding a gun to the temple of his head.

  “What money?” Remy asked bewildered as he glinted up into the bright light that was overhead.

  “The money you and your partner Bertrand stole from Marsalas.” Sid said gruffly.

  “I didn’t steal any money. I don’t know what you are talking about. I haven’t seen Bertrand in weeks.” Remy spat out.

  “Yeah, at least that boy is smart. He had the sense to run. What you thought you’d just hang around and spend our money?” Sid hit him over the head with the butt of the gun.

  Marsalas sat in the darkened corner studying Remy. “The kid don’t know nothing. Let him go.”

  “You sure boss?” Sid asked.

  “Yeah, I guess you were right.” Marsalas took a sip of his whiskey.

  “Get out of here kid.” Sid said.

  Remy tried to stand but felt weak in his knees.

  “Help him.” Marsalas ordered.

  Sid and one of his goons lifted Remy by his shoulders and carried him to the car. They drove him to the club and threw him out on the curb.

  “I guess I don’t have to warn you about keeping your mouth shut.” Sid growled as he pulled off and sped away. The music inside the club was pumping out to the street. A few people approached him.

  “Hey fella, you okay?” One of the people asked as he lifted him up to his feet.

  “It looks like they really worked you over. You want me to call the police?” The older man asked.

  “No, I’ll be alright, it was personal.” Remy said as he gathered strength and headed for the door. The club was jammed tight. He decided to go through the side door to cut through the back and cut into the bathroom to get a look at the damage they did to him.

  He walked into the men’s room. He caught a glimpse of his reflection. “A bit roughed up but none the worse for the wear.” He winked at his reflection as he pulled a paper towel out and wet his face to clean at the cut directly above his temple. “A quick move to the right and no more Remy.” He mused to himself. He heard the intercession music begin as the crowd became louder and more boisterous. He dried his face and made his way out of the bathroom.

  “It’s about time!” Sugar Doll stood outside of the bathroom in the hallway waiting for him.

  “Hey Sugar.” Remy said amiably.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Sugar Doll exclaimed once she saw his condition.

  “Well, apparently someone thinks I robbed Marsalas.” Remy said leaning against the hallway wall.

  “What? Why would they think that?” Sugar Doll asked.

  “They think that Bertrand and I were in on the robbery here at Mona’s.” Remy said pointing to the ceiling, as though the building was its own entity.

  “Who did this?” Sugar Doll asked.

  “Marsalas.” Remy answered simply.

  “Oh my God. Why did they let you go?” Sugar Doll asked.

  “Well dahling, I’m still waiting for you to ask me if I’m all right. I’ll try to figure out the rest later.” Remy smirked.

  “Are you all right?” Sugar Doll stepped forward and took Remy into her arms.

  “Five minutes.” Tommy the barman interrupted the kiss.

  “Five minutes.” Remy repeated and straightened out his rumpled shirt.

  “I can go on again.” Sugar Doll squeezed his arm.

  “I’ll be all right.” Remy smiled as he ambled down the narrow hallway into the crowded bar.

  The crowd cheered when he entered the room. Sugar Doll took a deep breath and followed him. They had rehearsed the old standard, “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” with a New Orleans melody underneath. Remy had taken the stage to begin the first portion of the song. She followed smoothly answering the second chorus. It was magic. The crowd murmured their approval not wanting to interrupt the moment.

  “I’m sorry that I’m a little late. I was getting roughed up by some gangsters.” Remy joked. The audience laughed
appreciatively not realizing that he was telling the truth.

  “C’mon Remy you were out with some wild girls and lost track of time.” A man in the crowd shouted. The audience laughed raucously.

  “There’s only one girl for me from now on…” Remy looked admiringly at Sugar Doll. He began to sing a ballad that he had written for her. She sat on a stool as he sang to her.

  As locals woke to the morning news of Bertrand’s death Marsalas gave a huge sigh. “Stupid nigger. What was he thinking going down into the heart of the hurricane?” He muttered to himself. The police found a briefcase full of money. He couldn’t believe his luck. “I knew it was him!” He spat out angrily. He picked up his phone to call Sid. There was a knock at the door.

  “I heard boss and I booked it right on over here.” Sid stood at his door.

  “Well, we ain’t getting that money back.” Marsalas stood at the window overlooking the business district.

  “We can get it from Mona.” Sid said.

  “Yeah, well, where is she? Your guys lost her.” Marsalas asked.

  “Whatever is lost can be found boss.” Sid replied.

  “Like my money?” Marsalas asked sarcastically.

  Sid said nothing in response.

  Sugar Doll was inconsolable. What she had feared the most was now a reality.

  “Oh Remy, why are all of these bad things happening to us?” She asked.

  “Sugar, we made it through a hurricane to sing again. Bertrand made some unwise choices and he died. I’m sorry but you can’t take all of this on yourself.” Remy tried to comfort her.

  “First Elise, then Big Ma, Kevin and now Bertrand. It’s just too much for me.” She cried.

  “I’m more worried about Mona now.” Remy reminded her. “Marsalas thinks that she was in on the robbery.”

  “Oh God, I have no idea where she is Remy. How can we help her if we don’t know where she is or if she is even still alive?” Sugar Doll cried fresh tears.

  “Now listen to me, Mona is smart. She’s gone somewhere no one can find her and she is perfectly fine. It’s us I am really worried about. If they can’t find her then maybe they’ll come looking for answers from you. They’ve already tried me.” Remy advised.

  “But I don’t know anything.” Sugar Doll answered.

  “They don’t know that and I’m afraid that it’s time for us to go to the police.”

  “What are we going to tell the police?” Sugar Doll asked.

  “Everything that we know. At least if something happens they will know who the cause of it is.” Remy responded.

  “But it’s dangerous. Marsalas knows everybody and could cause us real trouble.” Sugar Doll pleaded.

  “It’s already dangerous. Doing nothing is not going to help us.” Remy told her.

  “You know the New Orleans police department is full of crooked cops. Why should they help us?” Sugar Doll sighed.

  “Not all of them are crooked. We can get help honey. We can just tell what we know and be fine.” He soothed her. He kissed her neck gently and she responded to him feeling her shoulders relax as he held her closely.

  “Give the legal rights to my club to my daughter. She can be chief executor of my assets.” Mona spoke to her Southern California attorney. She had come to San Diego a place no one knew that she owned property in because it was under an assumed name. She knew that this was the best place for her because it was oh so close to Mexico, a haven for hideouts.

  “When will I tell her?” The attorney questioned this tactic.

  “When it’s necessary. I can’t go back there and I probably won’t be around here for long either. You know as well as I do that the Marsalas cartel will try to hang me just for the thought of my being involved even though I’m innocent.” She spoke to the attorney urgently.

  “Isn’t your daughter exposed and in danger?” He asked more worried for the girl than for the feisty Mona he had come to know.

  “No, they won’t touch her. If you’ve been watching the news the focus has been on the murders that took place. They would be asking for investigation if they were to try to harm a local celebrity in that way.” She felt satisfied with this answer.

  Late in the afternoon Sugar Doll sat in the empty club when the phone rang.

  “Hello, may I speak to Mona Bouvier?” Came the prim voice of an older woman.

  “I’m sorry ma’am but she has been gone for several weeks now. She left me in charge, I am her daughter Precious Bouvier, can I help you with anything?”

  “Why yes, it’s pertaining to your father and a few unpaid commitments on his part. Your mother was the next person I was to call.” The woman spoke as though Sugar Doll’s father had just recently died when in fact he’d passed away over twenty years ago.

  “I see, and this is?” Sugar Doll asked politely.

  “Sister May Ellen McKeckney of St. Francis’s School for Girls. I apologize for calling you at such a terrible time as your father’s death but you see he donated quite a bit to the school on your behalf and then there was a promised sum of ten thousand dollars which we already had allocated into our budget for the coming year. You mother did tell us of your father’s recent death but she said that she would honor the commitment at least for this year.” The voice trailed off.

  “Recent death,” was still resounding in Sugar Doll’s head.

  “Ma’am are you sure that you are calling the right student? My father Karl Bouvier has been deceased for over twenty years. I was on scholarship at your school during my time there.” Sugar Doll responded even though her heart rate had increased.

  “Oh, I see.” Was all the woman could manage. Sugar Doll heard the phone disconnect and the accompanying dial tone that went with it. She hung up the phone as well and rubbed her temples. Remy had not called in a few hours and since the incident she was worried about him. In her heart all of the questions came rolling back. She looked out of the open window and could smell the orange spray paint that the neighboring store had recently used for their renovations. The scent was as strong now as when they had first done the job in the morning. The aerosol cans were lined up neatly on the side of the building. “That stuff’s giving me a headache” she said mostly to herself. The owners were too cheap to buy real paint but the affect was the same on the old building. It did spruce it up a bit.

  Sugar Doll decided to take a walk by the river to clear her head. It was still early evening. The street was humming with activity. The nightmare of the hurricane was over and many had returned to the Quarters. After all of the heartache that the city had endured it was difficult to believe that things would ever get back to normal but this day seemed like it had. Everything was normal but the news that she had just received.

  “There you go making up lies again.” Sugar Doll winced at the memory of other children teasing her for not being black again. They taunted her. The only one who had always defended her was Bertrand. When children made comments about her hair or her hazel eyes he would fight them or push them away. He was the only one who seemed to believe her. The older people in her family blamed it on a recessive gene from the “slave days”. Some would cluck behind her back but they were too afraid to say anything in front of Big Ma.

  The nun had not given her a name for the father but Sugar Doll knew who she was talking about and had been afraid to say his name. The walk was refreshing and she let her mind wander to Tony. He was a handsome man. As she thought of him she tried to see any resemblance. Had she mistaken his flirting for fatherly love? She’d felt mildly repulsed when he wanted to hug her. She had seen him on his final day. Now she was determined to find out the truth. She thought angrily of Mona now. How dare she leave all of this on her shoulders without once hinting at any answers. She thought of her real father. She recalled that he loved her. He died trying to shield her. Would he do that for a child that wasn’t his? She didn’t know what to think anymore. She knew what she had to do.

  Sugar Doll was just standing on St. Charles Avenue in fr
ont of the beautiful house that looked more like a mansion to her. “Big Ma, I know that this is forbidden but I’ve got to do it. I’ve got to find out the truth.” She spoke softly up toward the sky. She crossed the median where the trolley regularly passed. She knew that once she crossed that line she would not be able to turn back. The fact that the woman she was visiting was probably her sister did not deter her. Her hazel green eyes and golden colored locks suggested something far different than being the daughter of the kind dark skinned man she had always thought of as her father. She held her breath and knocked on the beautiful carvings on the door. She was so nervous that she hit it wrong and her knuckle burned. She saw the door knocker after that and laughed to herself. She needed a little comic relief.

  “Hello,” a very young girl answered the door and appraised Sugar Doll carefully. She was no more than seven. “You look just like Auntie Celeste the girl smiled. She had never seen Celeste before but had heard of her. She was much older than Sugar Doll perhaps by ten years. She also was Tony’s only daughter.

  “Who’s at that door, Heather?” A voice came from inside the cavernous house.

  “A pretty lady.” Heather yelled back. She smiled at Sugar Doll then.

  “C’mon in…” Heather opened the door wider.

  A beautiful woman came around the corner dressed elegantly in a red tight fitting dress that looked to be designer. Her blond hair was pulled up in a French roll and had the retro look of the forties. Her make-up was impeccable and she was lovely. She was a tall woman and had the figure of a model.

  “Well, hello, can I help you honey? I’m awfully busy, things are really demanding at the boutique and I just came home to drop off my niece Heather here. How can I help you honey?