by J. J. Cook
“I don’t know. I can’t think about it anymore. Let me call Cole for a ride and get this table cleaned off before we go.”
I took the plates and cups off the table and put them in the big stainless steel sink behind the counter. I wiped the tabletop down and then noticed a cell phone on the lumpy seat. I thought it probably belonged to one of my visitors, but when I turned it on, I realized it was Jordan’s. I put it in my pocket. I’d have to give it back to Tucker as soon as I could.
Cole was there to pick up us a few minutes later. The first thing I did was give him a hot egg-and-cheese biscuit. Then I piled five plates of food on the front seat beside him.
“Just to say thank you.” I smiled and hugged him.
“You didn’t have to do all that,” he complained. “That’s enough to feed me and my wife for the rest of the week.” He took a bite of the hot biscuit and rolled his eyes. “But I’m mighty glad you did. I love your biscuits.”
“You bring your wife and grandkids over to the Biscuit Bowl anytime. Your money is no good with me there, either, but I’ll feed you all up until you can’t walk to your car.”
He laughed at that.
Ollie had already finished filling the trunk with food. He looked up at the dark sky and shook his head. “Looks like a storm is brewing. I hope this food doesn’t go to waste.”
He had barely spoken when it started raining. I knew none of the carnival celebrations would cease because of the weather. We’d keep going at the Biscuit Bowl, too, as long as we had food.
It was pouring by the time we reached the food truck rally. Great sheets of cold rain blew in from the Gulf accompanied by high winds that threatened to blow all the carnival decorations into the streets.
The parades were still halting traffic. People waved from the sides of the streets in their rain gear and dived for throws as the floats went by. Bands still marched, and royalty from the various krewes, some masked to hide their identities, still waved from convertibles as they drove by.
Somewhere out there my father was waving and smiling as King Felix. I could hear the music, and sometimes applause, as ornate parade art passed inspection by the crowds.
But the crowds ignored the food trucks for the most part—probably sheltering in cafés and restaurants. If the day cleared, we’d be busy again, but the morning was nothing.
I called Delia and told her to enjoy the free time. Uncle Saul went to see one of his friends. Ollie stayed at the Biscuit Bowl with me, occasionally calling out orders as an intrepid customer braved the weather.
I mostly played with Crème Brûlée and looked through Jordan’s phone.
I couldn’t help myself, though I knew it was wrong. I was curious. Jordan was dead, but he still deserved his privacy. Once I’d opened the phone again—supposedly to call Tucker and let him know I had it—I couldn’t close it.
It was like being inside another person’s mind. All of his thoughts and dreams were cataloged here. His stories and ideas for stories, his calendar with notes, all of it was interesting. He didn’t use full names on anything, but it didn’t take long to figure out that L meant Lisa, G was Tucker, and E was his father, the editor. I could follow along on his good and bad days. Sometimes E would throw out a story and L would be late for an appointment.
It struck me as the morning passed that Tucker was right about Jordan. His calendar was marked and annotated into the new year. He had so many things going on in his life, so much he wanted to do. It was hard to believe he had time to think about Tiffany. I couldn’t find a single text or email to her. How much could he have cared if they never talked? He never mentioned her in his personal diary, though he mentioned Lisa.
I finally called Tucker. We talked for a while. He’d left Jordan’s phone at the diner on purpose for me to find.
“I thought if you really had a chance to look through it, Miss Chase, you’d come to the same conclusion I did.”
“I know. You’re right—and that was sneaky. Why do you care what I think about it?”
“I just feel like you and Jordan are linked in some way. You found him and were the first to raise suspicions about his death. It’s like you were meant to figure this out.”
I didn’t agree with his assessment of the situation. I suppose I didn’t want to. I’d found Jordan, but I didn’t know what else I could do to help. The medical examiner and Detective Frolick had said Jordan killed himself. Commissioner Sloane wanted to keep him, and his daughter, out of the picture. It seemed like a done deal.
“I’m sorry, Tucker. I’ll get the phone back to you as soon as I can. I wish there was something more I could do.”
“You did your best. I appreciate it. Bennett feels the same as you, unfortunately. Lisa and I plan to go and lodge a protest at the police department. We’ll see what happens then.”
“Be careful. I know you want to make this right for Jordan, but he wouldn’t want something to happen to you.”
“Thanks. We’ll watch our step. I’ll drop by the food truck rally later today, if that’s all right with you, and pick up Jordan’s phone.”
“That’s fine. I’ll see you then.”
I hit end call on the phone and thoughtfully put it back in my pocket. The rain still drummed on the metal roof. The parking lot outside the open customer window was still empty.
“Was that Tucker Phillips again?” Ollie asked.
“Yes. He thinks I have a connection to Jordan because I found him after he was killed. What do you say to a thing like that?”
“I’d say you have two choices—ignore him or believe what he says. My old granny migrated to Mobile after growing up in New Orleans. I used to love being at her house. It was filled with dried lizards, skulls, and things I couldn’t identify.”
“I’m sorry. What does that have to do with me and Tucker?”
“Nothing except she used to say the same thing. Souls who were there when you were born, or when you died, had meaning in your life. Maybe he’s right about you and Jordan.”
Before I could answer that I wasn’t with Jordan when he died, there was a sharp rap at the door and Tiffany ran into the kitchen.
“This weather is ruining our food truck rally.” She shook her poncho like a dog. “We’ve had some spot outages on electricity and some problems with gas lines. Are you all okay in here? Do you need anything?”
“We’re fine as far as I know. Thanks, anyway.”
“Have you had any customers today?”
“A few,” Ollie answered. “It won’t rain all day. My bunions don’t hurt. That’s always a sure sign that the weather is going to clear.”
Tiffany grimaced at the mention of his bunions and took a quick look at her plastic-covered clipboard. “Yes, well, let me know if you have any problems. We lost another food truck this morning. We can’t stand to lose any more or it won’t be much of a rally.”
“Thanks for letting us know.” I smiled at her even though she was a little bossy and perky for me. She had the hard job of keeping a bunch of independent foodies together for two weeks. I had it in my heart to feel sorry for her.
She fussed with her pink poncho for a moment.
“I’m sorry about Jordan,” I said quickly. “I know about the two of you. He seemed like a nice person.”
Her wet face paled, and she bit her lip. “I really can’t believe he’s gone, you know? When my father said he’d been shot, I thought—”
“You didn’t think he’d killed himself?”
“No,” she admitted. “I still don’t. But I hadn’t seen him since December. He was always working. He didn’t have time for me.”
“What about Lisa?”
“Lisa?” She looked puzzled. “I don’t know her.”
“She was his new girlfriend.” I was skeptical. What woman doesn’t know who her old boyfriend is dating?
“Oh. I didn’t know.” She he
ld up her clipboard as though it was a shield. “I have to go. Good luck today.”
“She’s kind of cute,” Ollie said when she was gone. “I wonder if she’s seeing anyone.”
“I don’t know. Maybe you should ask her out.”
He shuddered. “Still recovering from my breakup with Delia. She was the first woman I’ve been interested in for years.”
I smiled at him, knowing some of his background. Ollie’s wife had tried to kill him. Miguel said she had PTSD and was out of her head at the time. Ollie’s career with the Marines had ended that day. I understood why he was reluctant to try other relationships.
There was another knock on the back door. Ollie answered it reluctantly. “Someone needs to tell people that we have the side window open.”
It was one Mr. Carruthers. “Miss Chase.”
Why was he here? “Yes. What can I do for you?”
“I only wanted to stop by and apologize for giving you a hard time.” He managed a small smile. “I’m new at this and I really need this job. Perhaps I was trying too hard to make sure you were up to code.”
“That’s okay.” I could certainly understand wanting to make things work out right. “Would you like a biscuit or something?”
“No. I have to get back to work. Good luck with your food truck.”
“Thanks.”
“That was odd,” Ollie said as we watched Mr. Carruthers walk away.
“Maybe he was feeling guilty.”
“Yeah. I don’t buy it.”
“I don’t know what else he could hope to gain.”
“We’ll see.”
One of the other food truck drivers walked by. “You all should come out and take a look at this.” He pointed toward the sky.
Ollie and I both shrugged and followed him into the parking lot. There was a double rainbow over Mobile Bay. We stood and stared at the arches in the sky as everyone proclaimed the rainbows to be a good sign. It had stopped raining and the sun was shining again.
“Can I call it or what?” Ollie drawled. “Well, not me, but my bunions.”
There was one older man. I guessed he was from one of the food trucks, but I wasn’t sure. He stared at the sky, crossing himself a dozen times as he took in the rainbows.
“No good luck from those things,” he said. “It just means the gods are walking the earth. When did anything good ever come from that?”
TWENTY-TWO
I wasn’t sure what the double rainbows meant to anyone else, but to us they meant customers. Groups of people in ponchos, not trusting the weather, started walking through the parking lot. Some of them stopped at the Biscuit Bowl. They were hungry, too, ordering several biscuit bowls each.
We’d forgotten to put ice into the big cooler outside, so our Cokes were cool rather than cold. Most people didn’t seem to care. A few people gave Ollie a disgusted look and walked off when he told them there was no ice.
I called Uncle Saul, not knowing how much longer Miguel might be busy. He said he’d bring more ice as soon as he could.
“Your father convinced me to ride on the Mistics of Time float this morning. I’m soaking wet, and I think I’m getting a head cold.” He sneezed several times. “I’m gonna go back to the apartment and change before I come over.”
“Don’t plan on working if you don’t feel well. We can handle it.”
But by the time Uncle Saul got there with the ice, it was all Ollie and I could do to keep up with the orders. There was a long line of customers waiting in the parking lot. Uncle Saul filled the ice barrel and then stepped into the kitchen.
“Where’s Delia?” he asked. “I believe you could use a hand.”
“She’s on her way but got stuck behind a parade. She’ll get here as soon as she can. We’ll be fine until then. Go back to the apartment and get some rest.”
He grinned, put on some plastic gloves, and then grabbed some paper products for the order Ollie was barking out. “Don’t be silly. I might have a stuffy nose, but I can still help. I just won’t touch the food.”
I didn’t argue with him. I couldn’t even remember what the last three orders had been that Ollie had yelled out. “You’re going to have to write them down,” I told Ollie. “I can’t keep up with what you’re saying.” He grabbed a pencil and paper, but his handwriting was so bad I couldn’t read it. “Print, please.”
He growled and began printing the orders. Sometimes he reminded me of Crème Brûlée, except for the biting and licking.
We were moving more smoothly when Delia arrived. That extra pair of hands made a big difference. We split up into our usual jobs, but Uncle Saul helped with plates, forks, and napkins instead of making food.
It was three P.M. before I glanced up and there were no people at the window. Ollie had slumped on the counter. Delia was up front with Crème Brûlée, her head on the steering wheel. Uncle Saul was sneezing and coughing. I hugged him and told him to go back to the apartment.
“You need me, Zoe.” His voice was getting raspy. “I’m not really sick.”
“You sound sick to me. Go have a long nap. I’ll call Cole. He can drop you off and then take me to the diner to make biscuits. We’ll probably be slow again for a couple hours.”
“Okay. Fine,” he agreed. “People just use you up around here. I’ve tried to help and what do I get?”
“I’ll make you some hot garlic soup while I’m at the diner. That should pick you right up.” I gave him a hug and a kiss. “And I appreciate all your help. You know that! I just don’t want you to get worse.”
“I guess that’s fine. But you’ll call if you get busy again, right?”
“I will.”
Miguel showed up in a blue Biscuit Bowl T-shirt and jeans. He was done working for the day and wanted to help out. I told him about my plan to drop Uncle Saul at the apartment and go on to the diner. He offered the use of his car.
“Thank you so much.” I kissed him quickly and smiled. “I’m going to have to think of something special I can do for you.”
He grinned. “I’m sure I can think of something.”
Ollie and Uncle Saul both laughed at that. I could feel my cheeks turning pink. I supposed that’s what happened when you said possibly suggestive things to your boyfriend in front of relatives and co-workers.
We were all set to go. Delia was staying at the Biscuit Bowl to handle any light traffic. My phone rang, and I answered it, but there was no one there. I put it away and it rang again.
I realized then that it was Jordan’s phone that was ringing in my pocket. It gave me a creepy feeling. “Hello?”
“Jordan? I-is that you?”
I lowered my voice and coughed, trying to imitate Uncle Saul. “I have a cold. What’s up?”
“It’s Dylan. I read that you were dead, man. I mean I guess you’re not, right? Listen, this thing is getting too intense. I have to move on. Maybe get out of town or something.”
“Wait.” I coughed again and tried to gather my thoughts. This was obviously a friend of Jordan’s who might have information about him and what he was working on. I had to be careful. “We should meet. I can’t talk about this on the phone, you know?”
“I hear you. I didn’t know this would blow up. Honestly. I didn’t understand what I’d heard until later. I’m sorry I dragged you into this. We should meet and then we should both get out of town. This thing with the police commissioner is crazy, man.”
“Yeah. Really crazy.”
“Let’s meet at the Mardi Gras museum. You can buy me a drink after at Clawfoot. You owe me, man.”
“Sure. I know. I’ll be there.”
“Midnight. I’m out of here after that. I already quit the paper. I think someone has been following me. I’ll try to be careful not to lead him to you. See you then.”
That was it. The phone went dead. I tried to figu
re out what the call had meant.
“What’s wrong?” Miguel asked.
I explained about how I’d come to have Jordan’s phone. “That was someone from the newspaper. He was talking about something crazy with the police commissioner and that Jordan owed him a favor. I want to meet with him.”
“We should call the police,” Miguel said.
“I don’t think you should involve the police,” Ollie added. “They’ve made it pretty clear that they’re done with this case.”
Uncle Saul nudged him with his elbow. “Are you saying Zoe should talk to some man she’s never met? He might be a killer! How is she equipped to handle something like that?”
“I guess that’s true.” Ollie stared hard at me. “I could give her a quick course in self-defense and death moves.”
“I don’t think I need death moves,” I retorted. “But I think I should meet him—Clawfoot is that bar near the Mobile Times building, right? He works for the newspaper, like Jordan did. He might have something important to say. He said he’s leaving town.”
“At least give Patti a call.” Miguel was always a fan of doing things the “right” way. “I think she’ll help. She’ll know what we should do.”
“I don’t think I should call her. Not yet,” I disagreed. “The police aren’t interested, and it might be nothing. If I do it myself—no complications. If he doesn’t really have anything to say, I don’t have to feel bad for dragging anyone out at midnight.”
“Midnight? That’s dramatic, don’t you think?” Delia asked. “Why not when it’s sunny out?”
“I don’t think he wants anyone to see him,” I replied. “He sounds scared.”
“I should go, too,” Ollie offered. “Maybe Miguel could stay here. Or Delia. Neither one of them can look mean like I can. I could protect you.”
“I can stay,” Delia said. “But, Zoe, I think Miguel is right. This person could be a crazy killer. You can’t tell by talking to someone on the phone for two minutes.”
“I might not get another chance to talk to one of Jordan’s friends.”
She put her hand on my shoulder. “You aren’t responsible for this young man’s death. I know you found him, but that doesn’t mean you have to do anything more. I don’t want to find you dead.”
