Fat Tuesday Fricassee

by J. J. Cook

  My eyes followed the walkway and located several couples who’d sneaked out together to enjoy the night. It was February. The breezes from the bay kept the temperatures pleasant. In only a few months Mobile would be hot and humid.

  On a bench immediately across from me was Death.

  You had to know Mardi Gras lore to know that Death and Folly were frequent characters during the festivities. I was never really sure why they were used so frequently or what their symbolism meant—a lack of attention on my part. I should have known.

  But there he was, slumped over as though he’d been dancing too much. Death was always dressed in black with a skeletal face and form etched on his costume. He wasn’t scary like from a horror movie. At least I’d never thought of him that way. Maybe it was because I’d grown up seeing him everywhere during carnival.

  He slumped further to the side as I watched, his head hanging at a painful angle that seemed unnatural, even for Death. I got up from the bench, becoming more alarmed, and walked across to him. “Hello? Are you okay?”

  Death didn’t reply. Instead he slipped silently to the ground at my feet.

  TWO

  I knelt down beside him. It wasn’t an easy task in my stiff gown. I had to jerk my bodice up twice before I could lean over at all. Whoever had created the gown had no breasts, I decided, as I struggled to remove Death’s hooded mask.

  I glanced around, but the garden patio was empty. Where had the couples I’d seen out here gone? I didn’t have my cell phone to call for help.

  A waiter passed. He grew very pale at the sight of the Death’s real face as I finally got the mask off. There was blood everywhere. That was when I saw the gun in the grass, close to Death’s left hand. Had he dropped it when he’d fallen off the bench?

  “Can you get some help, please?” I asked as the waiter gaped at me.

  I was pretty sure the man playing Death was really dead. He had no pulse that I could find.

  He was a good-looking young man, maybe in his twenties. Blondish hair and clean features. He was holding something in his left hand—a piece of paper with some writing on it. I couldn’t make out what it said. It looked like a piece of newspaper.

  I closed his fingers around the paper again and called for help.

  None was forthcoming, though I could hear the sounds of the party inside going loud and strong. The music had switched from quiet waltzes and easy listening to loud jazz. It had been the same way at the rest of the balls we’d attended.

  With no help in sight, I reluctantly left the Death character on the cobblestones and ran inside to alert someone to what was happening in the dimly lit garden.

  The first man I saw was another waiter. “I need help outside. I think a man playing Death is dead. Where’s a phone?”

  He stared at me like I was crazy. I felt crazy saying it.

  “Security.” He pointed to a man dressed all in black. “Maybe he can help you.”

  I was still wearing my mask—a smiling mermaid face with rosy cheeks and green curls. I threw it aside to make myself heard above the music and laughter.

  I reached the security guard and told him my story. He quickly escorted me to my father. Was I speaking in a foreign language? What was wrong with everyone?

  “I was wondering where you’d slipped off to.” My handsome, slightly inebriated father smiled and downed another Sazerac.

  “Someone needs help in the garden, Daddy. I think he may be dead. I think he was shot.”

  “King Felix,” he reminded me, puffing out his chest.

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay—King Felix. We have to call an ambulance and the police.”

  “Relax, Zoe,” he whispered so the crowd surrounding him wouldn’t hear. “I’m sure it’s all part of the act. Get a drink. Find a nice young man to make out with.”

  First of all, I had a nice young man already. Miguel couldn’t come to the ball because it was a secret. I didn’t plan to make out with anyone, as my father suggested. I’d see Miguel tomorrow.

  “Daddy, I don’t think this is an act. If you won’t call an ambulance and the police, I will.”

  Second—how could I relax when I thought there was a dead man on the patio?

  I thought I had finally penetrated his alcohol-and-dancing-induced haze. I couldn’t tell for sure, because his dragon mask covered half his face. It had slipped while he’d been dancing. I righted it and peered into his brown eyes. “Seriously, Daddy! I need your help!”

  “All right, Zoe.” He took my hand and leaned against me. “Let’s go.”

  He excused both of us to the group he’d been with. They were all wearing traditional masks—I couldn’t tell who any of them were. My mind had started working overtime after seeing the dead man in the garden. What a great place to kill someone. How would anyone know who did it in this masked crowd?

  We walked slowly outside. My father was leaning so heavily on me that I was afraid we might both fall. It was darker in the walled garden, but I could still make out the shape of Death on the ground.

  “See? I told you. Something is wrong.”

  Daddy knelt on the bricks, despite his expensive costume. He felt the man’s pulse as I had and came away with bloodied hands that I could see in the dim light from the lanterns above us. “I think you’re right, Zoe. We need to call the police. This man is dead.”

  “There’s a gun over there, too. I think he was shot.”

  “Who would do such a thing?” My father sat down hard beside the dead man, no longer able to stay on his knees. His voice sounded more sober when he spoke. “Tonight of all nights. What a mess!”

  I helped him to his feet, and we went back inside. He spoke to several people in the crowded room, no doubt the right people who could take charge of this embarrassing, and what was sure to be controversial, event. I had no idea who any of them were with their elaborate masks and costumes. I wasn’t privy to their secret meetings and activities.

  But I might have known them if they were unmasked. Many of the members of secret societies were highly thought of bankers, city officials, and even famous celebrities from Mobile.

  They were finally convinced to trudge outside and gaze upon the dead man’s face, but they didn’t recognize him. I could tell by their outraged tones that they were astounded that an outsider had crashed their secret party.

  Surely that wasn’t enough reason to kill him, and yet, here he was.

  No one had a cell phone in their fancy dress clothes. A young man with white gloves who was obviously working at the party was sent to make the call on a landline somewhere in the building.

  I waited with my father, standing against the wall while the word passed around the room. There was a slow but steady exodus toward the front door we’d come in. It seemed the only thing worse than giving away your secret party location was being found there with a dead man.

  “The police aren’t going to like that everyone is gone,” I told my father. “Who are they going to question?”

  He fumbled but finally removed his mask. “You don’t understand, Zoe. The Mistics of Time have been around since 1702. We’re one of the oldest secret societies in the city. People can’t know who our members are. It’s been that way for three hundred years. No one wants it to change.”

  I could hear the police sirens headed our way. “I hope the police are sympathetic. It’s been my experience that they don’t care much about people being uncomfortable or unhappy when it comes to murder.”

  I had hoped my friend, Detective Patti Latoure, would catch the case. Instead it was a younger man with an impatient air about him. He stalked toward us in the main ballroom, which was now mostly empty. He was flanked by several uniformed police officers.

  “Mr. Chase? I’m Dan Frolick, Mobile Police Department.” He shook hands with my father. “What happened here?”

  “I’m afraid there’s
been an accident of some kind.” My father explained about me finding the body in the garden.

  Detective Frolick turned to me. “And you are?”

  “I’m Zoe Chase. It happened pretty much like my father explained. There’s a gun on the ground near him. I didn’t touch it.”

  Detective Frolick immediately sent officers to find spotlights that would illuminate the dark garden. He walked briskly toward the walled area, and we followed.

  After spending a moment with the dead man, Detective Frolick had one of his officers start going through the bushes, as though he thought someone could be hiding there. “And where are the rest of the partygoers? I assume this is one of the secret societies? Which one is it?”

  “I’m not at liberty to answer that question,” my father told him. “My lawyer will be here shortly.”

  “Lawyer? Are you guilty of something that you need a lawyer for, Mr. Chase?” Detective Frolick stared intensely at him.

  “I have nothing else to say.” Daddy sat down on the lacey ironwork bench and folded his arms over his chest.

  “What about you?” Detective Frolick glared at me.

  I didn’t know what was wrong with my father. This wasn’t the way to handle a problem with the police. I’d been in enough situations to know.

  “I’m not bound by any secrecy to the society,” I told him. “It probably won’t do you any good to know who was here—they’d all deny it. This is the last masquerade ball of the season for the Mistics of Time. There were probably three hundred people here. They all left when they found out you were coming.”

  “Zoe!” My father’s voice was indignant. “You have no right to expose us.”

  “Thank you, Miss Chase.” Detective Frolick snickered. “What else can you tell me?”

  There wasn’t much to tell beyond what I’d already said. I was sorry I’d blurted out some of the group’s secrets. I hoped my father didn’t get in trouble because of it. But I was also hoping the rats hadn’t left the sinking ship thinking that we were going to take the fall for what had happened, either. It seemed odd to me that there were only the two of us left out of the dazzling company.

  I knew everyone in the Mistics would deny knowing anything about the young man in the garden, or even being at the ball, on the grounds of protecting their identities. Would the police take that into consideration before they bothered questioning us? Secret societies were the norm here. I was sure they’d encountered them before.

  I got my answer a moment later when the police commissioner himself joined us. He was still wearing his white tie and tails, though he had taken off his mask. He’d been at the ball—one of the first men Daddy had talked to about the situation. Now he was pretending that he just got there.

  “Frolick!” Commissioner Chadwick Sloane barked his name. “What’s going on?”

  I’d noticed the commissioner at the ball with a slender young woman in a gorgeous sea green gown. She’d been wearing a butterfly mask. He’d been wearing a very distinctive embroidered waistcoat that he hadn’t bothered to change when he’d come back for the investigation. I also recognized him by the antique watch he was wearing pinned to his chest like a medal. He’d removed his dragon mask, which had been similar to my father’s.

  Frolick immediately told him what had happened. He was visibly shocked to see his boss there. It was doubtful that the commissioner came out often for street crime.

  The detective explained that other members of the Mistics of Time had disappeared before he could question them—all except me and Daddy. “These are the only two left,” he said. “Maybe we could get a court order to get the names of the guests.”

  Commissioner Sloane’s sharp features turned toward my father after dismissing the detective to the other side of the garden. “How did you learn such a thing, Frolick? No member of a secret society in this city would give up their affiliation.”

  “I told him.” I couldn’t let Daddy get thrown out of his society. They couldn’t do anything to me. “I’m sorry, but someone is dead. I was upset. I didn’t mean to give it away.”

  My father protectively put his arm around me. “Zoe isn’t to blame.”

  Sloane pivoted toward me. “You had no right.”

  “Leave her alone. She just meant to help.”

  “Frolick!” Commissioner Sloane quickly walked away from us. “Get their statements. Find out who the dead man is. Report only to me. Do you understand? No press, for God’s sake.”

  “Yes, sir.” Frolick gestured to the other officers to let the EMS people examine the dead man.

  Sloane pointed at me. “I’ll deal with you later, young woman!”

  I wasn’t sure what he’d meant by it, but I shivered in my daringly low-cut bodice.

  My father held me tighter and whispered, “Don’t worry about a thing, Zoe. He’s all bluster. He can’t hurt you or me.”

  The commissioner left. We gave our statements to Frolick. Crime scene teams moved into the garden and began going over everything. I wondered who the dead man was behind Death’s mask. I wasn’t sure how the police would find out with all the secrecy that surrounded the event.

  Daddy’s driver was waiting out front for us when we were finished. My feet were killing me. I had passed the point of exhaustion about two hours earlier. The nap I’d taken was long gone. I just wanted to go home and forget this had ever happened.

  “Who do you think that was in the garden?” I asked Daddy as his driver smoothly navigated the empty city streets.

  “Two people in the society are chosen every year to play Death and Folly. I’m not privy to that information. The committee that sets things up would know.”

  “I saw Commissioner Sloane at the ball. He’s a member of Mistics of Time, too, huh?”

  “Don’t mention it to anyone else,” he warned. “People have been killed for giving away secrets. I don’t want you to be one of them.”

  “That sounds a little melodramatic. Don’t you think that’s over the top, even for a secret society? This isn’t the 1700s anymore.”

  Daddy put his arms around me in the back of the car. “I mean it, Zoe. Don’t tell anyone what you’ve seen and heard tonight. I can smooth things over with Chadwick. Just keep all of this to yourself. Promise me.”

  I promised, surprised by his earnest entreaty. “Maybe you shouldn’t belong to this society anymore.”

  He laughed. “Not belong? My ancestor started the Mistics. I don’t think he’d like me to abandon our heritage.”

  “All right. I won’t say anything. But let me know if you find out who that poor man was in the garden.”

  He kissed my forehead. “Forget about this, sweetheart. Pretend you didn’t see any of it. That’s what I plan to do.”

  THREE

  Tiffany Bryant, one of the PR people for Mobile Mardi Gras, was reading through a list of dos and don’ts for food truck vendors who’d been invited to take part in the festivities this year.

  I kept falling asleep.

  It wasn’t my fault. With the schedule I’d kept since last fall, and the shock from last night, I was lucky I could get out of bed that morning. Keeping up with the Biscuit Bowl, getting up five days a week at four A.M., was hard enough. Staying up half the night smiling and wearing costumes when there were events and then getting my food truck out on the street by six A.M. had been a nightmare.

  But I loved Daddy, and he’d always been there for me. I didn’t want to let him down. Now the showy secret parties were over. All I had to do was keep my food truck open most of the day, and night, for the next two weeks.

  I was going to need a vacation when it was over.

  The hectic schedule was starting to show in dark circles under my eyes, which are on the violet side of blue, and a general lack of attentiveness. I’d fallen asleep three times while working in the last week alone. Only Ollie had saved me from
going headfirst into the deep fryer.

  “Zoe?”

  I heard my name in the midst of what sounded like mumbling and perked up. “Yes?”

  “You were sleeping again.” Tiffany’s voice expressed her disappointment and frustration with me.

  I felt like I was in school again.

  “Sorry. I was at the King’s Masquerade last night until two after working all day.” I yawned. “There’s not enough caffeine to keep me awake right now.”

  That statement didn’t make Tiffany any happier. Her pretty face screwed up into a petulant frown, and her green eyes narrowed. “You know this is the chance of a lifetime and that dozens of other food truck drivers in our area would love to be in your shoes, right?” I was sure they would, too.

  When I’d signed up to be part of the big food truck rally during carnival, it had seemed like a wonderful opportunity. I remembered being excited about it at the time. But that was before dozens of balls, masquerades, and Daddy’s coronation as King Felix had taken their toll on my energy.

  I wanted to say it out loud, but I’d already caused enough trouble. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to get some extra sleep. I’ve read the instructions, if that helps. I know where I’m supposed to park and what I’m supposed to do.”

  “I suppose that’s better than nothing.” Tiffany took a deep, dramatic breath and plunged into the rest of her long recital.

  There were twelve food trucks that had been invited to take part in the carnival celebration. It would all come to a head in two weeks with Fat Tuesday and the parades and festivities across the city before Lent.

  There were bound to be thousands of people who would eat my food and remember my name later when they were looking for someplace to eat lunch. Despite my general lack of caring at that moment, I was counting on all the attention I could get while I was there. Tiffany was right—it was a fantastic opportunity.