Fat Tuesday Fricassee

by J. J. Cook

  “She’s doing fine now that she has Mama to wait on her. Thanks for asking. I think I’ll go home. But call me if you need me.”

  “Thanks, Delia. See you later.”

  I scolded Crème Brûlée on the way over to the little patch of woods. I wondered if I’d see Harry there with Balzac. It would be better if that didn’t happen. I could already see customers starting to wander into the parking lot. Some were in elaborate costumes, dressed like Marie Antoinette and other beautiful women from history. The men were in pink satin coats with knee breeches and powdered white wigs. All of them wore masks. No doubt they were from one of the krewes or secret societies.

  I put Crème Brûlée down in the leaves and pine needles. He started sniffing around right away. That was always a good sign.

  I looked up as someone else approached us. It was Tucker minus Chef Art for a change. He didn’t know what had transpired at the police station today, so he wouldn’t know to ask me about it. I felt safe.

  Not that I would’ve told him, anyway. I’d promised, after all.

  “Evening, Zoe.” He gazed around the parking lot, which was starting to get busy. “Just checking on you, making sure everything is okay.”

  “I’m fine, thanks. How is Bennett doing?”

  “He’s improving. He might be in therapy for a while. He’s having trouble walking and talking. The doctors aren’t sure yet if it’s permanent.”

  “I’m sorry. I hope he gets better soon.” I smiled at his blue suit. “I guess you were working at the newspaper today.”

  “Yes. I’ve been out of it for so long. It’s been a learning curve going back. Bennett has always done a good job. I had high hopes that Jordan would do the same or better.”

  “I know.”

  “The newspaper game has changed, anyway. I don’t know how long the paper will manage to stay open. It’s amazing to me that folks like Commissioner Sloane can do such a poor job running this city and people don’t want to read about it.”

  “I guess they’d rather hear about it on TV.”

  He looked down at Crème Brûlée. “I hear you had a meeting with the commissioner at police headquarters today. What was that all about? Did he mention Jordan?”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  How does he know?

  I guessed it was part of running a newspaper. Someone probably saw me go in there, or he had someone on the police payroll. I wasn’t fluent in how newspapers got their information, but it was like Dylan overhearing a threat against the commissioner.

  “They accused me of messing up their work and told me to stay out of it,” I said. It was the truth but not the whole truth. I hoped he’d be happy with it.

  He wasn’t.

  “I’ve heard that the commissioner’s daughter—the one who dated Jordan—has been hidden away somewhere. Anything about that?”

  “No.” I picked up Crème Brûlée. “I have to get back to the Biscuit Bowl. It’s about time to feed the masses again. I’m sorry I can’t help you more.”

  “That’s okay. I hear things. I’ll pick it up as I go along. See you later, Zoe.” He scratched behind Crème Brûlée’s ears. “Have a good one.”

  I didn’t like lying to Tucker. The commissioner should’ve been honest with him and Bennett about Jordan’s death. The police had lied from the beginning. It wasn’t right, even though I could understand why they felt they had to do it.

  Ollie was at the window taking orders after I got Crème Brûlée set up in front and had petted his belly a little. Miguel was getting plates and forks ready for the rush. Uncle Saul was frying biscuit bowls.

  I walked into the kitchen and smiled at them. “You guys are the best. I couldn’t have done this without you. It’s so wonderful to have you on my side.”

  “Never mind all that,” Ollie said. “Dish about what happened at police headquarters before we get too busy to talk.”

  “And it better make working with Ollie worthwhile,” Uncle Saul said with a grin and a wink.

  To make them happy, I told them exactly what had been said after finding out that Mr. Carruthers was guarding Tiffany and that he was a retired police officer and not a health inspector.

  “That was sneaky,” Uncle Saul said. “What are they doing with the girl now?”

  “Moving her somewhere else,” I replied. “They didn’t share that information with me.”

  “Don’t forget the part about you swearing you wouldn’t tell anyone else about what happened,” Miguel reminded me.

  “I didn’t say that. And I wasn’t talking about the people in this kitchen.” I filled two biscuit bowls with Brunswick stew. They were hot from the fryer. “I saw Tucker while I was walking Crème Brûlée and didn’t tell him anything. That was keeping my word to Commissioner Sloane.”

  Ollie grinned. “I’ll bet that was hard to do.”

  “I hated it. He and Bennett deserve the truth. It’s wrong to keep them in the dark this way.”

  “They’ll tell them the truth when it’s over and the killer is caught,” Miguel said. “That’s their job.”

  I didn’t like that answer, and I was considering telling Bennett and Tucker the truth when I saw them next. I didn’t really care that I’d promised not to. I didn’t trust the commissioner to tell them what had happened to Jordan despite his promise. It seemed to me that he’d done a lot of covering up, maybe for the Mistics of Time. Maybe just for himself.

  I didn’t have much time to think about it after that. We were so busy that it was all we could do to keep up. I thought the crowds were getting bigger as we approached the end of carnival. People were hungrier, louder, and drunker. I was glad Ollie was at the window.

  We had several cases of bad manners that night. One of them included a young man spraying the side of the Biscuit Bowl with a can of Coke after he’d shaken it. He was lucky he didn’t hit Ollie with it. I don’t think I could have stopped Ollie from going after him.

  A marching band dressed in red and gold uniforms entertained us for over an hour. They danced and encouraged others to dance with them. The parking lot was full of people dancing and singing.

  “Now that’s what I call carnival.” Ollie grinned as we all watched from the service window. “Care for a turn, Miss Zoe?”

  Because of the crowds dancing, customers had stopped eating to watch. I took his hand and we went out the back door. The music was still playing as we danced under the stars.

  “You’re a good dancer,” I yelled over the music and singing.

  “You better believe it. I’ve got it going on.”

  He twirled me, and I laughed breathlessly. Ollie did a deep dip, and I looked into his wonderful brown eyes.

  “I think this is where I cut in,” Miguel said. “You’re needed at the window, big guy.”

  Of course that meant we were all needed. Customers had decided to start eating again. Miguel and I danced for a few minutes before heading back. He took my hand in his as we finally stopped. “Do you think Ollie has a thing for you?”

  “Ollie?” I looked at the service window where he was taking an order and yelling it back at Uncle Saul. “No. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason really.” He shrugged. “Just thinking.”

  The rush was on again. Hundreds of people had danced and sang their way into being hungry and thirsty. I deep-fried so many biscuit bowls that they were actually starting to look unappetizing to me.

  I was horrified to even think of it.

  The night stretched on past midnight, and I began to worry about the food. We were almost out of biscuit bowls, and the white icing was gone. The berries kind of looked naked in the biscuit without it.

  “Almost out of stew,” Uncle Saul called out. “Want me to run and get Chinese takeout? We could fill up the biscuit bowls with it.”

  “We won’t have any biscuit bowls to fill,” I told him.
“They’ve almost eaten us out of food.”

  “Want me to shut down the window?” Ollie asked.

  “No. Let’s stay until we’re out. Then we’ll go.”

  The berries ran out first. The stew was next, followed by handing out the last biscuit bowl. There were still three people in line at the window. I told Ollie to give each of them a rain check for free biscuit bowls the next day.

  The waiting customers seemed pleased with that. Behind them was only the empty parking lot. Fireworks lit up the sky, and music filled the night.

  Ollie closed the window. “That’s it.”

  “I hope Fat Monday isn’t worse.” Uncle Saul rubbed his hands across his face. “I’m sorry, honey, but I’m beginning to hate the smell of fried biscuits.”

  I laughed. “Me, too. It must be time to go home. We’ll see what happens tomorrow.”

  Miguel took Uncle Saul and Ollie home after we’d finished cleaning. He was coming back to spend the night with me. I was forcing myself to come up with a shopping list even though the mention of food was making me gag.

  “What about eggs?” I asked Crème Brûlée as he played with his ball in the front of the food truck. “I could get a lot of eggs and sausage. Ollie could throw in some peppers. I might be able to make that last all day.”

  He meowed loudly and lumbered to his feet, pushing his head against the door.

  “You have to go out, right? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” I rubbed his head. “But you’ve been a very good boy all this time. I tell everyone else thanks for helping out, but I don’t tell you, do I?”

  He purred for a moment and then started making less pleasant sounds. I knew he really had to go. I put on his harness and leash and picked him up to take him into the wooded area.

  Behind us was the sound of the other food truck owners cleaning and getting ready for the next day. Morning would come quickly. Miguel and I would be lucky if we slept for a few hours before getting up and getting ready for Fat Monday.

  There was that old owl calling from a tree. I couldn’t see him in the dark, but I could hear him now that the music and people had left the parking lot. It seemed odd that he should be out there in the heart of the city. But nature seemed to know no bounds on sharing her wild creatures. There had been more than one report of a skunk in Mobile. I was glad it was an owl with me instead of a smelly skunk.

  Crème Brûlée started playing with some leaves that blew across the pavement. There was a gentle breeze that was moving the clouds around in the sky. It was such a peaceful night. I grabbed my cat and hugged him to me, burying my face in his soft fur.

  I turned around and looked up. I had one brief glimpse of Tucker standing in front of me, and then something hard hit me in the back of the head and I slumped to the ground.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  I woke up in the backseat of a car.

  It was still dark outside. My head hurt and my stomach was queasy.

  I felt around, but Crème Brûlée wasn’t with me. I panicked and sat up quickly. It was a regrettable decision. I almost passed out again. I felt the back of my head. There was a big goose egg there. I winced when I touched it.

  “Tucker?” I whispered. There was no dash light, but I could see there were two people in the car with me.

  “Welcome back, Zoe,” he said with a smile in his voice. “How’s the head?”

  “It hurts. What happened? Where’s Crème Brûlée?”

  “Bennett finally worked up enough courage to actually accomplish something. Your cat is still in the woods, I imagine. Unless he’s wandered off by now.”

  “I’m so sorry, Zoe.” Bennett’s voice was tearful. “I didn’t want it to come to this, believe me.”

  I put my hand to my throbbing head. “Come to what? Where are you taking me? My cat better be there when I get back.”

  Tucker chuckled. “I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands. Sit back and enjoy the ride.”

  “What do you want?” I couldn’t imagine why the two of them had done this.

  “We want to know where the commissioner’s daughter is being kept,” Tucker said. “It’s hard to kill someone when you don’t know where they are.”

  I couldn’t be hearing right. It had to be leftover confusion from being whacked in the head. “Why do you want to kill Tiffany? Have you lost your mind?”

  “I’ve tried to reason with him,” Bennett said. “He made me get out of the hospital against my doctor’s orders. He’s lost it, Zoe. He killed Jordan.”

  “That was a mistake.” Tucker’s voice was thick with emotion. “You know I didn’t mean to kill him. I thought he was Chadwick Sloane. The commissioner and I were supposed to meet that night in the garden. He was supposed to be dressed as Death. Instead, it was Jordan.”

  Tucker’s voice cracked when he said his grandson’s name. Bennett sobbed.

  “What were you trying to do that night?” I was horrified at what I heard.

  “Sloane has been involved in some shady dealings the last few years,” Tucker said. “He was willing to make a trade for the proof I had of what he’d done. I was going to be a million dollars richer.”

  “But you weren’t supposed to kill anyone,” Bennett said. “You were just supposed to get the money to cover my gambling debts. That was it, Dad. It was never supposed to end in murder.”

  “He grabbed the gun, son. I didn’t know it was Jordan. I’d only brought the gun in case Sloane tried something stupid. It was a terrible mistake.”

  “So why make it worse by killing Dylan?” I wished I had a Coke and some Tylenol. “I’m assuming you killed him.”

  “Dylan was stupid,” Tucker snarled. “He overheard Bennett and me talking but didn’t realize who we were. He was responsible for Jordan being at the ball—for getting him to look into the ‘story.’ Since the police wanted to call Jordan’s death a suicide, I decided to do the same with Dylan.”

  “And Tiffany?” I tried to focus, watching the street to figure out where we were going. “Why kill Tiffany?”

  “I’m taking away the one person Chadwick Sloane loves,” Tucker said coldly. “Just like he took away the one person I loved.”

  “What about me, Dad?” Bennett questioned. “Have you ever loved me?”

  “You were always a disappointment,” Tucker said. “Gambling. Womanizing. I’ve had to bail you out so many times. This was going to be the last time. You were supposed to retire after I paid your debts, and Jordan would have taken over the paper. He could’ve put us back on top again. Now he’s dead. I think we have to kill Tiffany just to make things even.”

  My brain was reeling, but I recognized the familiar road to the docks. I could only guess what Tucker had in store for me after I’d told him what Commissioner Sloane had said. I couldn’t tell him where they’d moved Tiffany since I had no idea.

  I guessed my suicide would have something to do with drowning.

  What could I say or do to make him change his mind? No one would even realize that Crème Brûlée was missing if Tucker killed me. He’d be out there on the streets with no one to help him. I couldn’t let that happen. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

  Maybe I could keep them talking and appeal to Bennett, who seemed to be an unwilling participant in the events.

  “Why did you decide to dress up like the ghost of Old Slac?” I asked Bennett.

  “I was trying to warn you and your father away from all this. I didn’t want anything to happen to Ted. I knew Dad was going to go after anyone who got involved. Why didn’t you pay attention, Zoe? You wouldn’t be here now if you had.”

  “Was it you who attacked my father with a knife?”

  “Are you kidding?” Tucker laughed. “I had to do it myself. I thought your father would be a problem, Zoe. I didn’t realize how much worse you’d be than him.”

  “You don’t
have to be so nasty to her, Dad!”

  “Shut up, Bennett.” Tucker parked near the docks where cargo was unloaded from ships on the bay. The lights weren’t as good here as they were near the area where they let off the cruise ship passengers. “You had no business getting in my way. You’ve always been soft and stupid. I wish Jordan had been my son. How he came from a loser like you is beyond me.”

  “Thank you for trying, anyway, Bennett.” Was it possible to play the two men off each other? “At least my dad is safe. I appreciate that.”

  Tucker turned off the engine and got out of the car. I could see the outline of the gun in his hand as he opened the back door. “Get out, Zoe.”

  “Can one of you please call Miguel and tell him to look for Crème Brûlée?” I asked as I got out. “You don’t have any reason to hurt him.”

  “That doesn’t sound unreasonable,” Bennett said as he got out. “I don’t see why we can’t do that.”

  Tucker shook his head. “We’re not alerting someone that we’ve got you, Zoe. I’ve killed two people. Do you think I care what happens to your cat?”

  He motioned with the gun, and I moved away from the car. Bennett was standing close to me. I took a step nearer to him.

  “Tell me where Tiffany is.” Tucker leveled the gun at my head.

  “Can we let her go if she tells us?” Bennett asked. “She’ll keep quiet.”

  “She won’t keep quiet,” Tucker said. “Tell us, Zoe. Where is Tiffany?”

  “You’re going to kill me, anyway. You won’t help my cat. Why should I tell you anything?” I was scared, but I knew I had to stall. I couldn’t just tell him that I didn’t know. I put my arm through Bennett’s and clung to him, whispering, “Help me, Bennett. Don’t let him kill me.”

  “Really, Dad,” Bennett began. “Have her tell you where to find the girl and then let her go. That gives her motive to tell you. You could go kill her and then come back. Zoe would be right here with me.”

  “Don’t be stupid.” Tucker’s voice was full of exasperation. “Get away from her before you get hurt. Quit fooling around, Zoe, and tell us where to find Tiffany.”