Fat Tuesday Fricassee

by J. J. Cook

  Uncle Saul nodded as he got out the cornstarch. “That makes more sense to me than ghosts wandering around the city.”

  “You don’t believe in ghosts?” Ollie’s voice was surprised.

  “Not particularly.” Uncle Saul laughed. “I’ve never seen one. Have you?”

  “Yeah. I’ve seen my share. I saw my grandfather’s ghost when I turned thirteen. He was looking at the pocket watch he’d left me. And I saw my aunt Lavinia’s ghost. She was eating sugar at the kitchen table.”

  “How old were you when that happened?” I asked with a smile.

  “I was just a kid, but I remember it like it was yesterday. You know that disgusting green ghost in Ghostbusters who ate everything? That’s the way Aunt Lavinia’s ghost was.”

  Uncle Saul let out a hoot of laughter. “How could you tell it was her?”

  “She was wearing the same ugly flowered dress they buried her in. And I wasn’t the only one who saw her. Uncle Mattie saw her, too. He took the sugar away from her before there was none left for the rest of us.”

  “What about you, Zoe?” Uncle Saul stirred the thickening lemon filling in the big double boiler.

  “I’ve never seen a ghost, but I think it’s possible. Maybe when some people die they don’t have things finished. I could see where they could come back.”

  “I think it’s best if we don’t consider these two occurrences as supernatural—not if we want you and your daddy to live through this,” Uncle Saul said. “We understand why someone could be trying to scare you off. We just need to know who’s doing it. That’s the way to put an end to all this.”

  “There were at least two hundred guests at the ball.” I handed Ollie some chopped onions. “Any one of them could have killed Jordan. If Jordan was there to do a story about someone that was going to make the whole society look bad, I could see them ganging up to kill him.”

  “Did Tucker Phillips say what his grandson was working on?” Uncle Saul asked.

  “He said he didn’t know. I don’t know if I believe him. There was something kind of cagey about him. It seems like his son, Bennett, would know for sure.”

  “If the man came to you for help, Zoe girl, it’s a good bet he doesn’t want to get his hands dirty.”

  “I could go online and look up some past stories Jordan worked on. Maybe I could get a clue from that.” I gave Ollie more chopped onions and potatoes.

  He took out another large cast-iron skillet. “You said he was trying to impress his father and grandfather. I suppose something big and dangerous would do it. I wonder if he was with a member of the society or if he sneaked in. I’m thinking Tucker wouldn’t have needed a snitch if his family was part of the Mistics.”

  “Good thought.” I smiled at him.

  “I’ve heard stories from the past where secret society members killed people who tried to infiltrate them—usually by beheading.” Uncle Saul grinned and made a slicing motion across his throat. “You know, I could get into the Mistics of Time and check around. Ted isn’t the only Chase with a lifetime membership.”

  “I think that would be a little suspicious, don’t you?” I asked as the doorbell chimed, and Miguel joined us.

  “What would be suspicious?” He kissed me around my food chopping.

  “Uncle Saul joining the Mistics of Time after not taking part in it all his life.” I smiled but didn’t try to return his kiss. Onions didn’t make great perfume.

  Miguel was still wearing his blue suit and tie. He took off the jacket and sat on a stool at the bar beside me. “You aren’t seriously thinking about looking into what happened to Jordan Phillips, are you?”

  TEN

  Since that was the topic of conversation as we cooked, I could hardly pretend we weren’t considering it. I explained to Miguel about my meeting with Tucker and Chef Art.

  “Zoe, you have to leave this alone. You said yourself that Commissioner Sloane is involved. You aren’t a private investigator. I understand that you don’t want to leave town. But stay out of this.”

  Ollie and Uncle Saul both stared at Miguel’s harsh words and then went back to cooking. I was still cutting onions, potatoes, and tomatoes for the fricassee or I would’ve invited him into the parking lot for a private discussion.

  “I don’t see where I have much choice. No one else is doing anything,” I reminded him. “Whoever killed Jordan thinks he can scare me and Daddy off with ghosts. That’s not happening.”

  Miguel glanced at Uncle Saul and Ollie. “Will the two of you help me talk some sense into her? These secret societies can be dangerous—Jordan’s murder is an example of that.”

  “We kind of agree with Zoe,” Ollie told him. “We were just trying to figure out what we could do.”

  “Have you had some run-ins with a group?” Uncle Saul asked with a sober face.

  “No. Not me personally. But I know some people who have.” Miguel turned to me again. “What can I say to get you to leave this alone?”

  “Unless you know someone who can make Death and the ghost of Old Slac go away, I don’t know what else you can do.”

  Miguel looked a little frantic. He ran his hand through his thick dark hair and took off his blue tie that I’d bought him for our two-week anniversary.

  “Okay. I can see you’re not giving up. Let’s get the police involved.”

  “How can we when Commissioner Sloane covered it up?” I asked him.

  “You only have Tucker Phillips’s word for that,” he said. “I think we should talk to Patti Latoure. She could keep it quiet. If there’s corruption in the department, she could involve Internal Affairs.”

  “What if you tell her and she’s part of the cover-up?” Ollie asked.

  “It isn’t even her case,” Miguel said. “And I don’t believe she’d be involved. I’ve known her for years. She is a good, decent person.”

  Uncle Saul took a little lemon filling out of the double boiler. He set it on a plate to cool so he could taste it. “I think the man has a good point, Zoe. Tell Detective Latoure. If she’s mixed up in it, you’ll know right away.”

  “I think it’s a bad idea,” Ollie grumbled. “You want to get Zoe killed?”

  I smiled at Miguel. “Okay. Let’s see if we can talk to Patti.”

  - - - - - - -

  Detective Patti Latoure’s husband wasn’t happy about her agreeing to meet with us on her day off.

  “Keep it short.” She eyed her stocky husband, who was drinking lemonade at a stand in the park where we’d agreed to meet.

  She was a good cop who’d helped me out of a few jams I’d managed to get into since opening the diner. I liked her as a person, too. Her blond hair was loose on her shoulders for a change instead of tied back from her face in a ponytail. Her sharp blue eyes scanned the area, watching everyone around her.

  “I’ll be as brief as I can.” I blurted out everything that I knew about Jordan’s death.

  “That’s a pretty serious charge against Dan Frolick and Commissioner Sloane, Zoe.” She looked alarmed. “You don’t have any pictures of them with the body at the ball, do you?”

  “I didn’t have my cell phone with me.”

  She sighed heavily. “I don’t like the way this sounds. Maybe you should get out of town for a while so it can blow over.”

  I shrugged. “That’s what everyone says. But I have my food truck open for the parades. I can’t just leave, Patti. You know how it is.”

  “I know how it is when you’re dead!”

  “Can you look into it?” Miguel asked her. “I don’t want Zoe to investigate on her own—and I don’t want to help her.”

  “I don’t blame you.” She glanced at her husband. “Let me see what I can find out. Don’t do anything. In particular, don’t repeat this to anyone.”

  “We won’t,” Miguel promised. “Get back with us as soon as y
ou can, huh?”

  “I can’t promise anything. This is some serious stuff you’re throwing at me on my day off—and during carnival. I’m not even sure how to check on the commissioner, but I can ask around about Frolick. I don’t know him that well. Still, I find it hard to believe he’d move Phillips’s body away from the crime scene.”

  “I’m glad someone isn’t afraid of the Mistics of Time.” I looked at Miguel and smiled.

  “I’m not saying I’m not afraid of all the crazy secret societies. And I’m not doubting what you think happened, Zoe. I’ll take a look at it—but not at the ghost of Old Slac. I’m not a ghost hunter.”

  Patti went to join her husband, putting her arm around him. I knew he hated her being with the police department. I was sure it was for reasons like this. He was a lawyer and had expected her to be one, too. She’d confided that a friend’s death in college had changed her career path.

  “What do you think?” I asked Miguel.

  “I think she has a healthy fear of people wanting to kill her. I think you should copy her.”

  We started back to his car. I’d left Ollie and Uncle Saul cooking at the diner.

  I stopped walking and put my hand on his chest. He’d left his suit coat at the diner and was wearing a thin white shirt.

  “What’s wrong with you? You’ve acted weird ever since I told you about the ball. I can’t believe you’re that scared.”

  He took my arm, and we started walking again. “When I got out of college, a friend of mine was asked to join one of the secret societies. We both thought it would be fun. He told me he was going to an initiation of some kind. We were supposed to meet the next day and talk about it. He didn’t show. I learned later that his body was found in the bay.”

  “That’s terrible. Was it the Mistics? I hope not.”

  “I don’t know. My point is that they don’t fool around. You definitely saw something you weren’t supposed to. I don’t want them to find you in the bay, too.”

  I put my arms around him and hugged him tight. After his wife’s death, I should have realized he might be more than usually nervous that I could be killed, too.

  Not that I wasn’t worried about it. I was just more worried about what had really happened.

  “I understand. We’ve given it to Patti now. She can handle it. I need to concentrate on my food truck, anyway.”

  He kissed me. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t being supportive, Zoe. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Thanks. Let’s go back to the diner and see what’s going on with Uncle Saul and Ollie, shall we?”

  - - - - - - -

  I had no idea how much food the two men could make in the short time that we were gone. Uncle Saul had finished the lemon filling and started on some icing for the sweet biscuit bowls. Ollie was letting the pork fricassee cool before putting it in the refrigerator. He was sampling a MoonPie when we got back.

  “These are exactly the right consistency,” he called out when he saw me. “You didn’t make enough, but the ones you have are really good.”

  “It would probably be hard to make enough MoonPies for a whole day,” I reminded him as I stashed my bag in the office. “How did the fricassee turn out?”

  “I took some out for you.” He handed me a small plastic container. “Tell me what you think.”

  I tried it. It set my mouth on fire. “You added chili peppers to it?”

  “Sure. We all need some spice.” He patted his flat stomach. “It’s good for you.”

  “How did the meeting go with Detective Latoure?” Uncle Saul asked.

  “She said I should keep my mouth shut and stay out of trouble.” I summed up her response.

  “She’s looking into it,” Miguel added.

  “That’s good news!” Uncle Saul did a little happy dance behind the counter. “I hear they have a parade going on over by the cruise ship that just came in. Maybe we should head over there for a celebration.”

  “Sounds good to me!” I agreed.

  “Not me,” Ollie said. “Talk about being too touristy. That would be the worst.”

  “Okay.” Uncle Saul modified his plan. “How about some Sazerac at Jumbo’s Joint. It’s not too far from here.”

  “I have a new client,” Miguel said. “I’ll buy the first round.”

  Everyone was ready for that. Uncle Saul and Ollie finished up what they were doing. I put the pork fricassee into covered containers and shoved it in the fridge along with the lemon filling.

  I couldn’t make biscuits until morning—no one likes a soggy biscuit. I planned to leave someone else at the food truck while I baked each morning. I hoped I had enough people to make that happen.

  I went in the bathroom to check my hair and makeup before we left for the bar. The men stood around talking in the kitchen. They weren’t worried about what they looked like. I grabbed some business cards for the Biscuit Bowl. It couldn’t hurt to give some away while I was out.

  My heart felt light and happy as we watched a crown-shaped float go by on the way to a parade. I squeezed into Miguel’s car with Uncle Saul and Ollie. I didn’t even have to call shotgun—Miguel chased Ollie out of the front seat.

  We stopped at the parade by the docks. It wasn’t very big, but there were several good bands playing and sequin-costumed dancers. There were people dressed as dragons spouting fire. I could hear the oohs and aahs from the hundreds of visitors that were there with the cruise ship.

  I thought it was fun. Ollie thought it was too commercial. We had a good time arguing about it over cold shrimp cocktail and Sazerac at the bar. Miguel and Uncle Saul were in a deep discussion about whether or not parade floats should throw food as they went by. Miguel only had one drink when we first got there since he was driving.

  I admit that I’d had one or two extra Sazeracs by the time my phone rang around one A.M. I’d already decided I wasn’t sleeping that night and would make a ton of biscuits back at the diner before heading over to the Biscuit Bowl.

  We’d had a good time, and I was sure my voice sounded like it when I answered. “Hi, there. You’ve reached Zoe Chase—food truck driver and extraordinary cook.”

  “Zoe?” It was my mother, of course. “Where are you? Are you all right? You sound strange.”

  “I’m fine, Mom. Out with some friends.” I tried to sound more sober than I was.

  “Something has happened. Come to the hospital right away. Your father is in surgery.”

  ELEVEN

  “He was found by someone from one of those secret societies—the Knights of Revelry,” Mom told me. “I think that’s the group with Folly dancing on the rim of the big champagne glass.”

  We were sitting next to each other at the hospital. Uncle Saul and I had taken a taxi while Miguel took Ollie home. Daddy was in surgery after a sketchy attack of some sort. There weren’t many details. She’d told me it wasn’t that serious, but it seemed to me that anytime someone had surgery, it was serious.

  Uncle Saul came back from the snack area with Patti Latoure at his side.

  “How is Mr. Chase doing?” she asked. “What happened, ma’am?”

  My mother eyed Detective Latoure. “I think he fell or something. He was at a bar, so he was probably drunk.” She looked at me next. “Like some other people—celebrating this stupid holiday.”

  Patti took out her notebook. “I’m sorry something happened to your husband, Mrs. Chase. If you have any details from him, I’d appreciate if you’d share them with me.”

  “He’s not my husband anymore. Thank goodness. As far as details, he was unconscious when they brought him in. You can talk to that officer on the phone over there. He gave me a brief account of what he knew.”

  Patti excused herself and went to speak with the uniformed officer who was talking on the hospital phone at the nurse’s station.

 
“You don’t have any idea what happened?” Uncle Saul kept his voice low.

  “I know what happened—so does Zoe, but she’s probably too stubborn to admit it.” My mother’s voice was equally low. “It’s this crazy thing with the dead man that Zoe found at the Mistics’ ball. I told them both to leave town. I’m sure this is a message after Ted saw what he thought was the ghost of Old Slac.”

  Uncle Saul shook his head. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “The question is—is someone going to get some sense and leave before it’s too late?” Mom glared at me.

  “Don’t start that again, please. We don’t even know for sure what happened to Daddy. And I’m not going anywhere.” I thought I might as well get that in before everyone started arguing about it again.

  The doctor came out of the surgery unit, still wearing green scrubs with blood on them. “Mrs. Chase? Your husband is going to be fine. The knife missed any vital organs. The wound wasn’t very deep. We’ll keep him a day or two, but I’m sure he’ll make a full recovery.”

  There was a fine mist forming in my mother’s blue eyes. I was sure she’d never admit to crying over Daddy, but I could see she was very emotional about the doctor’s news.

  “He’s not my husband.” She took a tissue out of her bag and delicately blew her nose. “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll check on him again tomorrow.”

  “It’s okay, Mom.” I awkwardly patted her shoulder. She wasn’t the kind of person who enjoyed random hugging. “He said he’ll be fine.”

  She viciously turned on me. “And what about you? Do I have to get this call for you, too, because you won’t do the smart thing and leave Mobile for a while?”

  “Please don’t start that again.”

  “Fine! But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Mom turned on her heel and headed toward the elevators.

  “Maybe she’s right, Zoe,” Uncle Saul said. “This is definitely another warning. Your father could have been killed.”