Fat Tuesday Fricassee

by J. J. Cook

  “What’s in it for me?” I asked daringly.

  “I won’t shoot you in the kneecaps before I kill you,” Tucker promised.

  “You won’t get away with more than one or two shots out here without someone showing up or calling the police,” I argued. “At least let me tell Miguel to look for Crème Brûlée. Then I’ll tell you what I know.”

  “I could call him to make sure she doesn’t say anything she shouldn’t,” Bennett pleaded. “We could at least do this one thing for her.”

  Tucker pointed the gun at his son. “I told you to shut up. We wouldn’t be here—Jordan would still be alive—if it wasn’t for you. I wish I’d killed you that night instead of him.”

  Bennett started crying again. “You don’t mean that. I’ve made some mistakes, but I’ve always done what you told me to. You don’t want me to die. I’m your only son.”

  “Then for once in your life have a backbone. Get her to tell us where Tiffany is.”

  Bennett stared at me. “I’m so sorry about this, Zoe. I wish I could help. I don’t know what to do.”

  “That’s okay.” I put my hand on his and maneuvered myself between him and the car. “I know you’ve done the best you could. Your father is crazy.”

  “Now look what you’ve done,” Tucker said. “Get her out from behind you. Do you want to see this finished or not?”

  “I do want to see it finished, Dad.” Bennett took a step toward his father. “Give me the gun. Let’s turn ourselves in to the police. No one else needs to die.”

  “Useless!” Tucker pistol-whipped his son.

  Bennett dropped to his knees with a groan, leaving me exposed again.

  “Tell me what I need to know. There are worse things than dying.” Tucker stepped toward me. I thought it was over.

  As he approached, walking close to his son, Bennett grabbed him. “Run, Zoe. Get help.”

  The two men fell to the ground wrestling for control of the gun. I knew I should run away, but I stood there watching in fascinated terror. I willed my legs to move or my hand to take out my cell phone. Nothing happened. I couldn’t look away from them.

  A shot rang out followed by another a few seconds later. I couldn’t tell in the dim light what had happened. Had Bennett shot his father? Or was it the other way around?

  Tucker and Bennett fell back on the pitted blacktop. Neither one moved.

  I ran to Bennett. He took my hand and tried to speak. His eyes closed, and his head turned to the side. He had saved my life by rebelling against his father. I cried, knowing I couldn’t help him in return. At least he was free of the demons that had ruined his life.

  I grabbed the gun from Tucker. His eyes were open but would never see again. There was a large spreading stain covering his chest.

  At that moment it was like a spell had been broken. I grabbed my cell phone from the pocket of my jeans. They hadn’t even thought to take it from me. I called 911 and then Miguel.

  “Where are you, Zoe? I’ve had security out looking for you.”

  “Never mind,” I said. “Look for Crème Brûlée. I left him in that little patch of trees down from the Biscuit Bowl. If you don’t see him right away, find Harry the hot dog vendor. He knows where I’ve been walking him.”

  “Zoe—what happened? Are you okay?”

  “Please, Miguel.” I was crying by this time. “Find Crème Brûlée. Please.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  I sat in the police car while the paramedics and police officers did their job. I held my cell phone, hoping to hear from Miguel. There was still no word.

  Patti Latoure showed up, this time accompanied by Detective Frolick. I’d already given the officers an idea of what had happened. I told the story again to the detectives.

  “Let me call someone for you, Zoe,” Patti said. “We can talk again tomorrow.”

  “I’m glad you aren’t hurt, Miss Chase,” Detective Frolick said.

  “Thanks.” I looked at my cell phone again. Still no word from Miguel.

  I spoke privately to Patti about the things Tucker had said he had against Commissioner Sloane and told her that he’d said the commissioner would pay him to keep those things quiet. She said she’d look into those allegations, though I had no real hope it would go any further than me telling her here at the docks.

  I finally called Cole. He wasn’t on duty so there was no answer. I couldn’t call Miguel for a ride. I had no choice but to call my mother.

  Ten minutes later, my mother and father were both in the parking lot near the docks. My mother took the opportunity to grill the police about what had happened and why I was involved. I left the police car to sit in the Lexus with Daddy.

  “Are you hurt, Zoe?” he asked. “Do you need a doctor?”

  “No. I’m not hurt.” But I was freezing inside, like I might never be warm again. “They were going to kill the commissioner’s daughter. They left Crème Brûlée in the woods by the food truck.”

  My mother got in the car. I was surprised that she’d been driving again. “I’ll take you back to the house, Zoe. You need somewhere to rest up and get over this. I’m sure this has been a shock to your system.”

  “Take me to the Biscuit Bowl. It’s parked at the municipal parking lot. I need to help look for Crème Brûlée.”

  Daddy nodded, and my mother drove out of the parking lot.

  “Did either of them survive?” Daddy asked her. “Tucker or Bennett?”

  “No. The police said they killed each other.” She glanced in the rearview mirror at me. “Zoe is the only one who knows what happened. They’ll need her to give a detailed statement as soon as possible.”

  I knew my parents wanted to hear what had happened before I told the police. But my mind was focused on Crème Brûlée. We got to the food truck rally, and I jumped out of the car.

  “Thanks for the ride. I’ll call you soon.”

  Miguel had organized all the food truck drivers and security officers into looking for Crème Brûlée. They’d even found large portable spotlights to illuminate the forest area.

  But there was no sign of my cat. His harness and leash were on the ground by the bench where we’d been, but Crème Brûlée was gone.

  We kept searching until it was light. Even my parents helped. I called the police. Miguel went to his office and printed up flyers that offered a reward. He’d taken a picture of Crème Brûlée from my cell phone and added it to the information about him. It was only thirty minutes before the trees and electric poles around the municipal parking lot were filled with flyers.

  The officers who’d responded to my call took my information but didn’t seem overly concerned about my missing cat. “They wander sometimes, don’t they?” the officer asked. “I’m sure your cat will show up.”

  Somehow I made it through Lundi Gras and Fat Tuesday with no word about Crème Brûlée. We served dozens of scrambled eggs with sausage and peppers in the savory biscuit bowls on Monday. On Mardi Gras, we served Ollie’s chili. The weather was cold and wet. It was the perfect meal for the end of carnival.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when it was over and we were packing up the Biscuit Bowl to take it back to the diner. Miguel and I had gone out one more time to search for Crème Brûlée with no success. There was nothing else we could do.

  Uncle Saul hugged me and introduced me again to Bonnie Tuttle, the wildlife officer from the Farmington area where they both lived. She looked so different out of uniform and wearing a nice blue skirt and sweater. Her blond hair was cut short, accentuating her high cheekbones and blue eyes.

  “I thought Bonnie might be able to help look for Crème Brûlée.” Uncle Saul winked at me. “She’s the best tracker I know.”

  Bonnie blushed appealingly. “I’d like to help, Zoe. And I’d about decided that Saul had been gone long enough. It was hard work finding someone to take car
e of Alabaster, but here I am.”

  I agreed quickly. Whatever help she could be was great. And I liked the way she looked at Uncle Saul. I had great hope for their relationship.

  Everything that had been kept secret since Jordan’s death hit the media like a firestorm. The Mobile Times went into conservatorship until the board of directors could appoint a new managing editor. The police were widely criticized, and there were even some calls for Commissioner Sloane to step down.

  I assumed Tiffany was out of hiding, although she didn’t show up at the food truck rally again. I’d given a long statement to the police about Tucker’s and Bennett’s deaths. I knew it might not be the last statement, since they were relying on me to tie up all the loose ends for them.

  I drove back to the diner and went into my makeshift bedroom that was filled with Crème Brûlée’s toys and blankets. I cried on the first day of Lent after carnival and prayed that someone would find Crème Brûlée and return him to me.

  Lost: One large tabby colored cat.

  His name tag says Crème Brûlée.

  He disappeared from the food truck rally area in the old municipal parking lot during carnival. Reward for his safe return.

  Please call Zoe Chase at the Biscuit Bowl.

  RECIPES FROM THE BISCUIT BOWL

  Sazerac

  Sazerac is a potent, alcohol-based drink that incorporates absinthe, an anise-flavored alcohol that is made from wormwood, green anise (where it gets its color), and sweet fennel. This drink was banned in the U.S. for many years because of fears that it caused hallucinations. American companies began making absinthe again in the 1990s when it was proven that the absinthe hysteria was groundless. Sazerac was a “bad” drink but never completely abandoned during carnival in New Orleans or Mobile. The green color is amazing, and so is the taste.

  2 ounces of rye whiskey

  ½ tsp. maple syrup

  3 dashes of Peychaud’s Bitters

  ½ tsp. absinthe

  Ice

  Twist of lemon

  Mix the whiskey, syrup, and bitters with ice in a shaker. The serving glass should be chilled first and then misted or coated with the absinthe. Leave what’s left in the glass if you want it stronger or toss away what’s left after coating. Strain the first mixture into the glass and add a lemon twist.

  Plum Clafouti

  Clafouti is a traditional French dessert made by pouring custard over fruit and baking. The fruit is quickly sautéed to create a flavorful syrup that sticks with the custard. You can make this dessert with any ripe fruit such as cherries, apricots, or plums.

  1 tbsp. sliced almonds

  7 tbsp. granulated sugar

  2 tbsp. unsalted butter

  3 to 5 medium red or black plums, pitted and quartered

  1 tbsp. brandy

  1 tbsp. amaretto

  ⅓ cup all-purpose flour

  ⅓ tsp. salt

  3 large eggs

  ⅓ cup whole milk

  ¼ cup heavy cream

  1 tsp. pure vanilla extract

  Confectioners’ sugar for dusting

  9-inch pie pan

  Preheat oven to 350° F.

  Toast almonds in the oven until golden, 3 to 5 minutes. Transfer them to a small bowl to cool. Stir in 1 tbsp. of granulated sugar, and set aside.

  Melt butter in a pan until bubbling and then add plums. Cook until they are soft on low heat, turning frequently. Reduce heat and sprinkle 3 tbsp. of granulated sugar over the fruit. Cook until the sugar melts into the fruit juices and becomes a syrup, about 1 to 2 minutes. Turn off the heat and stir in brandy and amaretto.

  In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, and the remaining 3 tbsp. of sugar. Whisk in the eggs until the mixture is smooth. Mix in the milk, cream, and vanilla.

  Pour the fruit and syrup into a 9-inch pie pan, spreading the fruit evenly. Pour the custard over the fruit. Bake until puffy with a set center, about 15 minutes. Sprinkle toasted almonds over the top halfway through baking.

  Allow to cool 10 to 15 minutes. The center will fall. Dust with confectioners’ sugar and serve.

  Moon Pies

  HOME RECIPE VERSION

  These chewy, delicious, handheld sweets are necessary to any party during Mardi Gras.

  MAKES ABOUT 1 DOZEN

  Graham cracker crust:

  Don’t let anyone tell you these are just chocolate cookies with marshmallow in between. You have to have the graham cracker cookies inside!

  6 oz. unsalted butter

  ¼ cup light brown sugar, firmly packed

  ¼ cup Steen’s cane syrup

  ¼ tsp. vanilla extract

  1½ cups all-purpose flour

  1¼ cups finely ground graham cracker crumbs

  ¾ tsp. kosher salt

  ½ tsp. baking powder

  ½ tsp. baking soda

  ¼ tsp. ground cinnamon

  2 tbsp. whole milk

  Cream butter, brown sugar, syrup, and vanilla for 1 minute with an electric mixer. In a separate bowl, combine dry ingredients and mix with a fork. Add dry ingredients to butter mixture and mix on low speed, slowly stirring in milk. Continue mixing until the dough forms a ball. Wrap the dough in plastic and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.

  Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Turn out chilled dough onto a flour-dusted surface. Roll until it is about ¼ inch thick. Cut cookies from dough using a 3-inch round cookie cutter. Place cookies on a parchment-lined baking sheet and bake 10 to 12 minutes. Cool.

  Marshmallow filling

  2 packages (20 ounces) marshmallows

  ½ tsp. unsalted butter

  Add marshmallows to a saucepan on low heat. Allow marshmallows to get soft and lose form. Take off heat and add unsalted butter. Whisk together until smooth.

  Lightly coat a spoon with nonstick cooking spray and place about ¼ cup of marshmallow on each cool cookie. Use the remaining cookies as tops. Gently push down until you can see the marshmallow come just to the edge. Allow cookies to chill in refrigerator for at least 15 minutes.

  Chocolate Coating

  1 lb. semisweet chocolate

  2 tbsp. vegetable oil or canola oil

  Melt chocolate in the microwave. Remove bowl, let it cool slightly. Once the chocolate is warm, slowly whisk in oil. Allow chocolate to cool at room temperature for about 5 minutes.

  Dip all of each chilled cookie in the chocolate. Use forks or tongs to gently lift the cookies out of the chocolate and onto waxed paper. Let stand until the chocolate hardens.

  J. J. Cook is the national bestselling author of the Biscuit Bowl Food Truck Mysteries (Death on Eat Street, Fry Another Day) and the Sweet Pepper Fire Brigade Mysteries (In Hot Water, Playing with Fire).

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