by J. J. Cook
“I think he’s afraid of someone and is letting that person push him around,” Uncle Saul said. “I feel sure it’s Chadwick Sloane. We just have to find a way to prove it.”
“Don’t look at me,” Daddy said. “I think I’ve been through enough. I’m sorry about Jordan’s death, but I’m not doing or saying anything else that would get the commissioner riled up against me. I suggest you do the same, Zoe. Saul, you always go your own way. You do what you want.”
We were all quiet after that until we’d reached Daddy’s apartment and got out. I could hear someone playing a slow, sad trumpet not too far away and could smell hush puppies frying.
Carnival wasn’t over yet—like this whole question of what had happened to Jordan. I wasn’t sure if we were really any closer to understanding it. Bennett’s arrival as the ghost of Old Slac had completely thrown off anything I thought I knew.
We said good night to the doorman and the young man at the desk in the lobby. I was exhausted as we went up in the elevator to the apartment.
I could see Daddy was tired, too. His face was pasty-looking and his lips were colorless. I asked him if he was okay. He told me it was time for him to take a pain pill for his injuries.
Uncle Saul seemed to be himself as we unlocked the door and went into the apartment. He went to pour himself a drink.
“Save one of those for me,” I said. “I’ll be back after I help Daddy into bed and check on Crème Brûlée.”
He held up an empty glass and the almost full bottle of whiskey. “I got you covered.”
Daddy was fumbling around in his dark bedroom. I tried to help him with his jacket and tie. I couldn’t see a thing with the blinds drawn. I went to turn on the bedside lamp, but someone beat me to it.
“Surprise!”
It was my mother. In Daddy’s bed. Wearing a sexy black nightie.
Eww.
TWENTY-NINE
Seriously?
“Zoe! What are you doing here?” she demanded after she’d pulled the sheet up to cover her.
“We just got back from family Spirit Night. What are you doing here?”
“I knew all the Chase family was at the cemetery,” she said. “I’m here to help Ted change the bandage on his chest.”
“Really?” he asked as he sat on the bed.
“Dressed like that?” I couldn’t even look at her. Who knew she even possessed a sexy garment of any kind?
“I can dress however I want to,” she sharply replied. “I’ll take care of your father now. You go on to your biscuit truck or wherever.”
Uncle Saul rapped once at the door and then stuck his head in. “What’s going on in here, Zoe?” His gaze fell on my mother. “Anabelle? Why are you here?”
“Why are any of us here, Saul?” my mother asked in snarky voice. “All of you just get out.” Daddy started to leave, too. “Not you, Ted. You’re supposed to stay. What’s wrong with you people?”
“Nothing a few drinks won’t help.” I left the room.
Uncle Saul trailed behind me. “Well, that was something.” He poured himself another drink and poured one for me, too.
I steered away from the uncomfortable chair and put my feet up on the sofa. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it before, you know?”
“I understand. I’m sure it will pass. Don’t worry about it.”
I didn’t want him to worry about it, either, so I started talking about food for the next day—later that day, now. “I really like the fricassee. I think it goes well with the biscuit bowl, don’t you? And the sweets have been good. No complaints there, right?”
He smiled. “I’m fine, Zoe. Don’t worry about me. I made peace with your mother’s choice a long time ago. I don’t feel anything when I see them together. You don’t have to change the subject to save my feelings.”
I got up and hugged him. “I wish you’d find the right person for you. You deserve someone special.”
He rubbed my arm as he hugged me. “Thank you. You know, it’s not over yet. I’m sure I’m going to find the right person. Don’t you worry about me.”
The bedroom door slammed and my mother joined us. She poured herself a drink and sat in the uncomfortable chair. She was still wearing her black nightie, but it was covered by Daddy’s robe that I’d bought him for Christmas. Her very blond hair was mussed, but her makeup wasn’t even smeared.
“Someone tell me what happened at the cemetery tonight.” She looked at Uncle Saul first and then at me. “Why is Ted shaking and afraid of his own shadow?”
Uncle Saul shrugged. “Zoe?”
I blurted what had happened with Bennett and Baxter. She took it all in as she finished her drink.
“I thought this would be over by now,” she said. “What are you doing to get rid of the problem?”
“What exactly would you like us to do, Bella?”
“Whatever. Figure out who killed that young man. Zoe is good at that kind of thing.”
“As you wish.” He inclined his head.
She finished her drink and said good night, going back in the bedroom as though it was an everyday occurrence.
Before I could say anything about it, Uncle Saul also wished me a good night and went into the other guest room.
I ran into my room and closed the door before I took off my green dress and snuggled on the bed with Crème Brûlée. “There is some crazy stuff going on,” I whispered to him. “I’m glad you’re normal, anyway.”
He nibbled my chin and then licked it. I fell asleep right away and dreamed of large chocolate cakes.
- - - - - - -
I was up early the next morning. I got dressed and fed Crème Brûlée right away. We tiptoed out of the apartment before it could get any more awkward. Cole showed up when I called for a taxi.
“Morning, Miss Zoe.”
I wondered how he could always be so cheerful. “Good morning, Cole. I need to go to the diner.”
“Course you do. Gotta bake them biscuits, right? It might be dark out, but it’s the start of a new day for you.”
“That’s true. Those crazy, starving partygoers wait for no one.”
The streets were empty, rain swept, as Uncle Saul had predicted last night. Cole dropped me off and went to pick up another fare. I went inside with Crème Brûlée and switched on the lights before I called Ollie at the Biscuit Bowl to see how things were going.
“They were going just fine until you woke me up,” he complained. “What’s cookin’ today?”
He yawned loudly and I yawned, too. “You know, I never remember hoping carnival would be over quickly before.”
“That’s the price you pay for seeing the man behind the curtain—like in The Wizard of Oz, you know? Normally we just take it all for granted. Then one day, it changes. Poof!”
“That might be too profound for me this morning.” I told him about catching Bennett dressed like Old Slac last night. “I’m ready for this to be over.”
“Don’t talk like that. I’m starving. And if I’m hungry, think about all those other poor slobs out there looking for food. Get some biscuits over here, girl. What’s inside them today?”
I searched through the freezer as I spoke to him. Crème Brûlée had crept into the office and gone back to sleep. I kept expecting Mr. Carruthers to barge in even though I’d locked the front door. I hoped that was over, too.
“Looks like I’ve got some frozen apples and I’ve got a big bag of frozen shrimp, the tiny ones.”
“That doesn’t sound good even to me,” he declared. “Maybe you could make the apples by themselves with a lot of cinnamon and sweet icing. The shrimp need to be separate.”
“Oh you.” I smiled. “You know I wasn’t making apples with shrimp. But I’ve got a butt load of grits to make with the shrimp. I think that might do us for most of the day. I’ll need supplies be
fore dinner.”
“You’ll need biscuit bowls by then, too. And don’t forget the Cokes. I drank the last one during the night.”
“I won’t forget. Thanks, Ollie.”
“Hurry on over. I’m getting desperate for company.”
I thanked him again for staying the night. I knew he’d had to make special arrangements since he was supposed to be at the shelter each night. He always came through when I needed him.
Coffee was on and the shrimp were cooking when Miguel called to find out where I was. I had the apples defrosting and found a large container of cinnamon candies that I planned to put one of into each biscuit bowl as we served them.
“My day is clear, so whatever you need me to do,” he said, “I can be there in a few minutes.”
“Sounds great. I’m making some omelets with bacon and cheese.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Delia came in a few minutes later. She was dressed in jeans and a red Biscuit Bowl T-shirt. “I got this matching hat. What do you think? I know it doesn’t say Biscuit Bowl, but it’s red like the shirt.”
I looked at the visor and smiled. “It looks wonderful. I wish I had one, too.”
She produced another visor out of her bag. “I thought you might say that.” She sniffed the food cooking. “Anything I can do?”
I tried on my visor. It looked kind of cute, holding back the curls. “Thanks!”
I had her chop some shallots, and I cut the last of the celery. I was trying to think of something else to make for dinner that night. For once my brain was stumped for another kind of food.
“Maybe you should make some dumplings,” Delia said as she chopped. “I loved those little dumplings you made with the chicken a while back. It’s good weather for that, don’t you think?”
“Good idea.” I put the ingredients for chicken and dumplings on my shopping list. I hoped Miguel wouldn’t get tired of shopping before Mardi Gras.
I gave Delia the first omelet and threw on a second one for Miguel as he pulled up. I had some chopped red and green peppers by then that I added to the shrimp. I liked to slow cook my grits, so it was just coming to a boil.
We were eating and discussing plans for the day as the sun was peeking over the horizon. Chef Art’s brown BMW pulled into the parking lot. I saw him and Tucker get out and start toward the diner as I was pulling out two trays of biscuits.
“Don’t look now, but I think we have company.” Miguel nodded toward the two men.
“What now?” Delia asked. “Why don’t these people leave you in peace?”
The door chimed before I could answer. I only had two more trays of biscuits before it was time to go to the food truck rally and get set up. I had an idea of why my company was there after last night.
“Good morning, Zoe. Miss Delia. Miguel.” Chef Art inclined his head in an old-fashioned manner before he removed the straw hat that he’d added to his usual ensemble.
We all said good morning, and he sat down at the counter. “My goodness, something smells delicious. Another day at the Biscuit Bowl, eh?”
I noticed that Tucker stood off to the side by himself, his head bent as though he were studying the old tile floor. It had to be hard for him to deal with what his son had done. I wondered what he’d say.
“I just came from the hospital,” he finally said. “Bennett is in the ICU after his heart attack last night. For once words don’t seem adequate.”
“There was no way for you to know what was going on, Tucker.” I told him. “I don’t know what caused Bennett to go crazy that way, but no one was hurt. Daddy and Uncle Saul don’t believe he had anything to do with the knife attack.”
“Thank goodness for that. I don’t know what’s got into Bennett,” Tucker said. “He wasn’t conscious this morning. He left me a voice mail on my phone last night, but it didn’t explain what happened at the cemetery. Just a bunch of gibberish.”
“And, of course, Tucker filled me in,” Chef Art said. “It’s a tragedy when a man of Bennett’s stature in the community loses it. He was under a lot of pressure. I understand that. I wish he’d spoken to me.”
“What did he say to you all last night?” Tucker asked.
Everyone looked at me. The timer went off for the biscuits in the oven. I rescued them first and then explained everything.
“What kind of favor could he owe someone that would make him dress up to scare you and your father, Zoe?” Tucker shook his head. “You know, once when Bennett was in college, he had a problem with gambling. I was sure that part of his life was over twenty years ago. Maybe I was wrong.”
“Unless Commissioner Sloane had something to do with Bennett gambling, I don’t think that’s it,” I told him. “I’m sure this all relates back to what happened to Jordan. Bennett is involved somehow and can’t find a way out.”
Tucker was livid, his normally pink face turning bright red. “I don’t like to call a lady mistaken, Zoe, but to think that my son would hurt Jordan in any way is wrong. He loved that boy.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m sorry you misunderstood me. I don’t think Bennett wanted Jordan to get hurt. He’s trapped in the middle. I hope he recovers so he can explain.”
“But in the meantime,” Chef Art cleared his throat, “my friend Tucker wanted to express how deeply sorry he is that this has happened to your family, Zoe.”
“That’s true.” Tucker nodded. “That’s why I came by today. My son certainly hasn’t been himself. I’m taking over the day-to-day running of the Mobile Times, and the gloves are coming off as far as the investigation into Jordan’s death. If Commissioner Sloane and his daughter are involved, I’m going after them one hundred percent.”
I couldn’t doubt the serious intent in his voice. I wished we understood better what demons Bennett had been facing that had driven him to dress up as Old Slac. Not knowing put us at a disadvantage.
The timer went off on the last two trays of biscuits. I put them in the warming bags as Miguel held them open. The huge pot of shrimp and grits had been divided into smaller covered trays that would be easier to transport. The apples were ready to go.
“I have to get over to the food truck rally,” I told Tucker and Chef Art. “I’m so sorry about Bennett. I hope he can explain himself better to you before this goes any further.”
Tucker came up and firmly shook my hand. “If I have any notion of who he might be protecting, believe me, you’ll be the first to know. I appreciate everything you’ve tried to do for my grandson. It’s a debt I know I can never repay.”
I saw the tears in his eyes. Chef Art pushed him out the door before he got too emotional.
I looked at Miguel and Delia. “I guess it’s time to go.”
“It couldn’t be too soon for me.” Delia grabbed a few bags of hot biscuits. “Those two are starting to creep me out.”
“I’ll get the shrimp and grits,” Miguel offered.
I passed by the side window as I went to grab Crème Brûlée and put him in his car seat. Was that Mr. Carruthers’s old car I caught out of the corner of my eye leaving the parking lot?
THIRTY
I walked outside, but there was no sign of Mr. Carruthers except possibly two empty disposable coffee cups. The parking lot was littered with gum wrappers and partially eaten candy bars, not to mention soda and beer cans. Two empty coffee cups didn’t necessarily mean anything.
We brought everything out to Miguel’s car. Delia and I barely squeezed in with the supplies, and Miguel drove us to the food truck rally for another day.
Ollie was exhausted and grumpy after being up most of the night. “There were some bratty teenagers hanging out and shooting off firecrackers every few minutes. Funny how that kind of thing is cool when you’re a kid. Last night it was just irritating.”
“Go back to the shelter and get some sleep,” I told h
im. “You look ragged. We can keep the Biscuit Bowl running today. Take a break.”
“But what if you need me? It’s a long walk from the shelter.”
“I’ll send Cole or someone to get you if we need help.” I looked up into his haggard face. “Please, Ollie. We’ll be fine. Let Miguel take you back and get some sleep.”
His broad shoulders sagged. “Okay. I can do that. Will you save me some grits?”
I told him I would and then shooed him out the door. I knew he’d just hang around if he could. Miguel left to take him to the shelter a few minutes later.
Delia and I distributed the food where it belonged.
“Ollie has the biggest heart of any man I’ve ever known.” She put forks, plates, and napkins together and stacked them. “Of course he has the biggest everything of any man I’ve ever known.”
I laughed at that. “I’m sure that’s true. I’ve never met anyone like him. If he cares about you, there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you.”
Delia shook her head. “I wish it could be enough, Zoe. I really do. I know he’s wonderful—why doesn’t he want more for himself? Why doesn’t he expect anything more than to live in the shelter?”
“You know his past. He’s wounded. Maybe not physically, but emotionally. Someday he might be different.”
She sighed. “It scares me. You know my past. My father was a lot like Ollie—not as big, but good-hearted. Everyone took advantage of him. He didn’t care. He was happy to help. But when it came time to help his own family, he wasn’t able to give any more. Then he started drinking. I can’t be with a man like that.”
I hugged her. “I understand, Delia. I do. I didn’t mean anything by it. If you and Ollie can’t work it out, you can’t work it out. I know that from my parents.”
Customers started coming early. I figured the first dozen or so had been out all night. They had that partied-out look about them. I gave them each a sweet and savory biscuit bowl, and they drank some Cokes. A few of them fell asleep on a picnic table, and the police reminded them that they had to go home.
