Red Beans And Vice Part 6

Now it was Heaven who laughed and decided it was time to change the subject. Digging around in an old woman's love life was a little too intimate. "Let's talk about the sisters for a minute. After our lunch at Antoine's, I went over to the convent again and that's when the termite incident happened. The next day I went to the television station and talked to Amelia Hart. Aside from making her mad by mentioning the fact that her aunt, the servant of slaves, owned one herself, I accomplished little. What about you?"

"I have considerable connections with the antique dealers around here. I'm one of their biggest customers. So I put out the word about the cross, not that the police hadn't done that, but I just thought I might have better luck." She paused, as if considering what to say next.

"Because you've been known to buy stolen goods?" Heaven asked, trying to keep any sense of judgment out of her voice.

"Buy 'em, sell 'em, h.e.l.l, I've even done the stealing on occasion," Nancy said with good humor. She was relieved Heaven wasn't some Goody Two-shoes.

"Nancy, I've got a problem back in Kansas City and I want to talk to you about it." Heaven was surprised that she felt like bringing up the letters. Something about this older woman made her feel safe. Maybe it was because her own mother had been dead for so many years. Maybe she missed having an older woman to talk to. She s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably in her own skin. Her mother had been a farm woman in Kansas. She would not appreciate having her daughter choose a surrogate mother who was a former madam in New Orleans. "But first, give me your honest opinion, Nancy. Do you think we're out of the woods with this big dinner? Do you think whoever stole the cross and stuff is done?"

"I wouldn't think so, honey. Why would you shoot your wad on a committee meeting of old girls when you could have four or five hundred of the city's best Catholics in your grasp? There's more to come, I believe."

"That's what I think, too."

"Now tell me about your problem in Kansas City, Heaven," Nancy said as she signaled for the check.

As they finished their coffee, Heaven told her about the unsigned letter and how it had rocked her foundation, how she didn't know how to fight this.

She felt better. No matter if Mamma O'Malley would shake her head and purse her lips up in heaven, she liked this old lady.

Heaven paid this time.

Nancy, who had been quiet while Heaven poured out her heart, asking a few questions but basically just letting the younger woman talk, took Heaven's arm for help getting up and then gave it a little squeeze as they left the table. "If we ever find out who wrote that, they better watch out. Your enemies are my enemies now, child," she said.

Sometimes unconditional support is better than logic.

Heaven called Mary at the office. "I know I said I wanted to stay here in the Quarter, but can I still see you?"

"Actually, I was going to call you. How about dinner? I told Truely I'd get a hold of you and the day just slipped away," Mary said.

"When will you be done? It's five now."

"I'm almost done. Truely said to meet him at Napoleon House at six."

"Why don't you meet me first and go with me up to the convent for a minute."

"Okay, but what for?"

"Well, I got a letter saying to please use the herbs from the convent herb garden, that it was important, historical. So I want to go see what's growing there. It won't take a minute."

"Are you sure it wasn't a scam? After what happened last month I'd be wary of anything suggesting you go to the convent," Mary said, her attorney's caution turned up on high.

"The letter didn't say wait on the corner in front of the convent with a bag of cash. And it was from Susan Spicer, on Bayona stationery. Now come on. I'm at the Provincial. I'll be in the lobby."

In a few minutes Mary and Heaven were standing in the inner courtyard of the former convent. When they'd explained Heaven was one of the chefs for the benefit, the caretaker had let them in and then Mary and Heaven had given him a tongue-las.h.i.+ng. "When you insisted that he take our drivers licenses until we came out again to the gatehouse, he looked at you like you were crazy," Heaven said.

"No wonder the cross is gone and termites ate half the staircase," Mary said disapprovingly.

"Mary, what's the deal with the herb garden?" They walked toward the river side of the courtyard, where the retaining wall was embedded with bas reliefs of saints. The sky was a gorgeous shade of blue. The sound of s.h.i.+p horns blaring on the river carried throughout this side of the Quarter.

"Oh, honey, the herb garden is part of New Orleans history. Part of the contract between the Company of the Indies and the sisters was that they'd plant an herb garden. Sister Xavier Herbert was the first woman pharmacist in North America and it was her garden. Course then it was across the street. The sisters had a big piece of the Quarter at the time. They had livestock and a vegetable garden and all." Mary bent down to pull off a twig of rosemary and held it to her nose. "What will you use? What are you fixing, by the way?"

"Two appetizers and a dessert I named Nola Pie. I'm going to make seasoned rice cakes and put a thin slice of ta.s.so ham on top, tiny cakes for pa.s.sing. I'm calling them Trinity rice cakes, named after the sisters and the trinity that's the base of so many Cajun dishes: diced onion, celery, and green pepper, which I'll use with the rice. I can use an herb in the mixture so I thought we'd see what's here." Heaven started walking slowly down the brick path. The beds were full of green plants, with climbing roses planted behind them going up the back wall. "Lemon verbena, a bunch of different basils, thyme, lavender." Heaven read off the signs stuck in the ground next to the plants. She bent down and picked a mint leaf from a large bed of mint and stuck it in her mouth. Quickly she spit it back out. "Yuk, something's wrong." She picked another sprig of mint and held it to her nose. "Let me smell that," she said as she took the rosemary out of Mary's hand. There was an acrid smell about both herbs. "Does this smell funny to you?"

"It's not quite the way rosemary usually smells. Can something smell bitter or is that just a taste thing? Heaven, what's the matter?"

Heaven bent over and retraced her steps down the row of plants, peering intently at each herb. "Do you know anything about gardening?"

"I'm a Southern wife. Of course."

Heaven pointed at something on the ground near the lavender bush. "What's that?"

Mary looked down. There were small, light-colored granules on the ground. "Something that shouldn't be here. I think it's a combination weed killer and insecticide."

Heaven turned and walked rapidly over to the side of the convent where an old stable was used for maintenance. There were several large trash cans with lids. Heaven jerked off the first lid and started poking gingerly at the trash. 'You'd think this outfit would have a Dumps ter. Mary, start looking for the weed killer."

"You don't need a Dumpster in the French Quarter, Heaven. They pick up the trash twice a day."

"And people still complain about the smell." Heaven pulled out a round canister and looked at the label. "Would 'Bug Be Gone' be it?" she asked Mary.

Mary took the canister and read quickly. "Yes, but you would never use this product around things you were going to eat."

"And why is that?" Heaven asked.

"Because it's a systemic insecticide. You sprinkle it on the ground and it's absorbed into the root system of the plant when you water. Then the plant becomes poisonous and when the bugs eat it, they die."

"My point exactly," Heaven said grimly.

"Heaven, I remain convinced this is sheer incompetency, not another part of the vast plot against the Sisters of the Holy Trinity." Will Tibbetts was starting to p.i.s.s Heaven off with his antiplot stance.

Truely, Mary, Will and Heaven had met at Napoleon House as planned, then gone around the corner to Emeril's French Quarter restaurant, NOLA, for dinner. They were drinking their second bottle of Burgundy and arguing over the herb garden situation.

"How can you say that?" Heaven retorted hotly. "The herbs are a crucial part in the story of the sisters. It would be a natural place to attack them. And now, none of the herbs can be used. In fact, the whole herb garden has to be dug up and the soil replaced before they can replant. And what if I hadn't gone over there? Every dish at that party would have contained contaminated herbs. Everyone would have gotten sick as a dog."

"You don't think any other hotshot chef would have noticed the bug killer when they went to pick herbs?" Will shot back.

Mary shook her head. "The gardens have watering systems in the ground. The caretaker said that the riverside gardens are watered in the evening, the streetside courtyard in the morning. If we hadn't been there right then, the stuff would have dissolved and probably wouldn't have been detected. There was a funny smell, but it probably would have faded when the granules dissolved."

Truely held up his hand. "Normally I wouldn't do this, but I'm gonna have to side with the girls on this one, Will, ol' buddy."

The two women didn't even give him s.h.i.+t for calling them girls. They both gave Will a thumbs up and high-fived each other across the table. "If this were the first incident over at the convent I might be able to back you," Truely continued. "But having this convenient accident with the herbs just before the big dinner?"

"All right, I know when I'm outnumbered," Will said, holding up both hands in a defensive position. "Just for that, I'll pay for dinner." The other three diners clapped.

Heaven stood up. "I hate to break this up, but for the next two days, I actually have to work. They have volunteers to help us, but still. Four hundred people is quite a few to feed. I'm going back to my hotel and my legal pad and my lists. Will you check on me tomorrow at Peristyle?"

"Yes," Will said, even though Heaven was looking at Mary. "Are you sure, in these uncertain times, that you don't need an escort back to your hotel?" he offered slyly.

Heaven pinched his cheek. "No way. Mary, Truely, it's been a joy. You too, big boy. It's my turn to pay next." She hurried out onto St. Louis Street and turned onto Chartres.

The sweet scent of magnolias filled the air, mixed with the aroma of fried fish from Johnny's Po-Boy down St. Louis. Music drifted out of bar doorways; laughing troops of conventioneers pa.s.sed Heaven on their way to the next drink. When she reached Jackson Square, she turned and headed toward the river. The square, scene of artists and fortune-tellers, pick-up bra.s.s bands and fire eaters during the day, was quiet at night, the gates of the park itself closed, the streets spa.r.s.ely littered with bits and pieces of debris from the thousands of tourists that pa.s.sed by there daily. Heaven was surprised it didn't look worse.

The prospect of going back to her hotel room actually didn't appeal to Heaven. She was upset and elated at the same time due to the incident at the convent. She was glad they had thwarted the herb garden scheme, but worried about the next crisis.

Why wouldn't anyone consider the idea of canceling the dinner? She had brought it up again tonight and the other three, Truely, Mary and Will, looked at her like she was crazy. New Orleanians have never let adversity keep them from a good meal, they told her.

Heaven crossed over Dumaine, walking by Cafe Du Monde, full as always with coffee drinkers and beignet eaters. She went up the ramp to Artillery Park, then down the steps on the other side, across the streetcar tracks to the Moonwalk. She walked a short distance in the direction of Ca.n.a.l Street and found an empty bench.

Heaven was pleasantly surprised at how many people were walking by the river. Many were couples, romantically entwined. She tried to forget about problems she couldn't do anything about and watched the Mississippi River flow by for a while. A giant freighter moved silently upstream in the night. Heaven caught a s.n.a.t.c.h of conversation coming from the darkened deck in a tongue she didn't understand or recognize. Someone turned a lantern on and off, the silhouette of a crew member appearing and disappearing. The hulk slid by. Heaven wondered if it was a Greek s.h.i.+p, or maybe Swedish. She was imagining a life cooking for sailors as her friend and employee, Sara Baxter, had done in her youth.

All of a sudden, she was jerked back to her body, adrenaline pumping. Someone was trying to strangle her. A piece of cloth, a pillowcase or a tee s.h.i.+rt, had been slipped over her head.

Heaven was borderline claustrophobic. She grabbed at her neck, trying to pull the piece of cloth loose. So far her attacker had done nothing but grunt. Heaven found a wrist and dug her nails into it, such as they were. Cooks had short nails. Now a male voice hissed near her ear. "Listen to me, b.i.t.c.h. Don't stick your nose in where it doesn't belong or you'll be sorry. Why don't you go back where you came from."

Two things happened next. Heaven started to scream and even through the cloth over her head she let out a pretty blood-curdling cry. Then two German tourists who were actually jogging down the Moonwalk at eleven at night must have seen what Heaven couldn't see because they started yelling in a mixture of English and German, "Get away from her" being the idea they were trying to get across. With the noise coming from all sides, Heaven's attacker let up the pressure on her neck for a second. Heaven threw off the makes.h.i.+ft hood, turned and ran for the streetcar tracks, all in one motion. She didn't take time to look back and see who had done this to her. The attacker's voice was still ringing in her ear and it wasn't familiar.

The riverfront streetcar ran back and forth from the French Quarter to the Riverwalk shopping mall. Heaven had never ridden it because she liked the walk, but a streetcar was coming from the lower Quarter and Heaven beat it across the tracks and hopped on, along with seven or eight other pa.s.sengers. She had a small evening bag with her and fished out the $1.50 to ride. Only then did she look out the open sides of the car toward the river. The streetcar took off as a man came jogging toward it, following in Heaven's footsteps. Heaven knew he was the one. She couldn't see much, a white guy with dark hair.

Why she got on the streetcar instead of running over to Cafe Du Monde she had no idea. Her heart was pounding. She couldn't think straight. She wanted to put s.p.a.ce between her and the attacker but maybe going to a public place and calling the police would have been a better bet. Was this the same person who had defaced the convent and all the rest? What else had Heaven stuck her nose in? The scene at the coffee warehouse popped into her head. But this wasn't the big man that she'd seen there and technically she hadn't really interfered in Truely's business. She'd only asked a couple of questions about Truely's business, inquiring innocently to Will, Truely's best friend. Heaven peered into the darkness behind the streetcar but her pursuer was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he'd given up on following and was taking a shortcut. A guy in reasonable condition could run down to the end of the line as fast as the car traveled, what with the stops. The car slowed down and they were at Riverwalk.

Heaven walked rapidly toward the doors of the shopping mall. They were locked tight, of course. "What an idiot," she said aloud to herself. She hadn't worn a watch to dinner and hadn't thought about how late it was. She hadn't taken her cell phone with her to dinner. "I'm totally unprepared for this," she muttered and looked around. She needed to get away from the front of the closed mall. It was fairly dark. But, she tried to tell herself, the chances of the guy having followed her were slim. After all, he had delivered his message. Also, even if someone wasn't chasing her, she shouldn't be standing around in the shadows of a locked shopping mall.

All of sudden, from the river side of the big building, Heaven saw him appear. He was jogging, not running, and he spotted her but didn't increase his speed. If the distance was straightened out, he was still more than a block away. Heaven turned away from the direction he was coming and started across the street. She spotted the big casino, Harrah's, on the other corner. "Perfect," she said, and ran into the sparkling gambling emporium as fast as she could.

Heaven went looking for the security office, then thought better of it. No one would make a scene in a casino. An a.s.sault here would be met with zero tolerance. Heaven spent a few minutes lurking around the front door waiting to see her attacker enter and then realized there were entrances on other streets. He could already be in the building, could have already spotted her, could be making his way toward her right now.

She looked around nervously and walked into the ocean of slot machines, bought a roll of quarters and sat down in front of a Triple Wild Cherry slot to think.

The blinking, ringing, c.h.i.n.king, the soundtrack of the casino, was soothing to Heaven. She put quarters in the machine automatically and won a few back. Maybe, if she just stayed there a few more minutes and didn't see the bad guy, she'd get a taxi back to her hotel and the whole thing would be over. The cheery bell told Heaven she'd won again, and this time twenty or thirty dollars worth of quarters must have poured down in the trough. She put them in one of the plastic cups stacked by the side of the slot machine and walked over to another set of machines.

That's when she realized she should have kept moving from the very beginning. Her red hair made her easy to spot. She sat facing a different direction, her eyes scanning. Another five minutes went by and Heaven was beginning to breath normally. She would just get up and go to the Poydras Street entrance to the casino and get a cab. It would be easy. She shoveled as many quarters as she could in her small purse, leaving the rest next to a slot machine.

At that moment, her attacker appeared on the false horizon of slot machine tops. He was in another room coming her way, moving his head slowly from side to side, like a robotic surveillance camera in a convenience store. Heaven hadn't seen him except at a distance in the dark, but there was no question in her mind that it was him. He was shorter than he'd seemed up close, more compact.

She shrank down, hoping he wouldn't see her hair. Maybe he didn't even know she had red hair. It had been fairly dark by the river. But he must have followed her to the Moonwalk. He didn't just go up to the first park bench he pa.s.sed and tell the woman sitting there to stop being nosy while strangling her. When had he started following her? When she left the convent? The restaurant?

Now, of course, Heaven wanted to kick herself for not going straight back to the hotel right after dinner. But if this guy wanted to spook her tonight, or was being paid to spook her tonight, he must have had a plan for the hotel, too. Heaven felt a trickle of sweat run down the back of her neck. She usually never broke a sweat, not even in the kitchen on a hot Sat.u.r.day night.

She made a dash for the door, looking for a security guard. There was one standing by the cash-in booths and she made for him and turned to pinpoint her man.

Heaven grabbed the guard's hand. "Thank G.o.d you're here. My ex-husband," she pointed at the attacker, who still hadn't seen her, "is here looking for me. He said he'd kill me if I gambled again. He's a religious fanatic and I'm afraid of what he'll do if he sees me. I'm leaving, but please don't let him follow me."

"Where is he?" the guard asked gruffly.

Heaven pointed. "Right over there. The one with the gray windbreaker." As Heaven pointed, she knew she'd screwed up. Her excited energy flowing toward the man made him turn in their direction. He started toward them instinctively, then saw the guard. He paused and Heaven turned and ran toward the door.

"Help me," she shouted over her shoulder in the guard's direction.

Heaven stopped just once to look over her shoulder. She saw what she had feared. The guard was standing empty-handed in the middle of the room, hands on hips, looking around. Her man, as she now thought of him, was nowhere in sight.

She slipped off her high heels and took off running down Poydras toward St. Charles, past the new W hotel, past Mother's. She wasn't a runner and by the time she got to St. Charles she thought her lungs were going to burst. The St. Charles streetcar pulled up to its stop right across the street. Heaven grabbed some of her quarters and got on.

The trip out St. Charles was painstakingly slow. At every stop, Heaven debated getting off. At every stop, Heaven was sure her man would walk up the steps and in the door of the streetcar. She looked around. There were other people with her, it wasn't just her and the driver. Most of them looked like hotel and restaurant workers going home. She wasn't sure when the last run was but she thought it was around midnight, which must be soon.

She checked her money. With what she'd had before and the quarters, she had forty-seven dollars and a credit card. She thought about getting off at Tulane University, or by the gates to Audubon Place, where Mary and Truely lived. But then she would have to get to their house and it was way down on the other end of the street. Plus it was gated and what if they'd gone back to the Napoleon House for a nightcap and the guard called and the Whittens weren't home?

The streetcar lurched on and that option was behind her in the dark New Orleans night before Heaven realized that she could just ask the guard to call the police. She was mad at herself that, with all the times she'd seen them, she hadn't asked for the business cards of the two patrol officers who always showed up at the convent. She didn't have the name of a police officer who might be familiar with the trouble she seemed to be involved in.

Heaven changed seats several times, peeking out on each side of the avenue. Now she went to the back of the car, half expecting her tormentor to be running behind the streetcar. When it slowed to turn onto South Carrollton, she decided enough was enough. She put her high heels on, pulled the buzzer and got out. Just across the street was the famous Camellia Grill. She headed for it and was about halfway there when she heard a car door slam. In the strip mall parking lot a half block from the Camellia, standing there coolly lighting a cigarette and leaning against his car, was her man. She wanted to get a good look at him. She hadn't really seen him. But as usual he was just far enough away to escape a positive identification later. She was sure he wanted her to see him, though, and for her to know that he'd followed her all the way with no problem, that she was dead meat if he wanted her to be.

The door of the grill opened and three people came out. Heaven searched the double horseshoe counter for the places they'd vacated. It was a quiet time for the grill, after dinner and before the tipsy late-night crowd hit the doors needing a pecan waffle to sober them up. There were no waiting customers and Heaven slipped onto a stool and, even scared and confused about what just happened to her, was immediately drawn, into the scene before her. African-American waiters in starched white jackets and black bowties spoke their own language with short-order grill men of amazing grace. One minute the grill was covered with a s.h.i.+mmering ma.s.s of raw eggs, the next minute that ma.s.s had been transformed into three beautiful omelettes, each with different ingredients nestled in the middle. Beside the grill, waffle irons spat pieces of batter onto the stainless-steel tables they were bolted to, great collars of built-up batter creating a crusty outline. With two grills and two waffle irons, the horseshoes of the counter created a mirrored universe: different dancers, same dance.

Heaven jumped when her name was suddenly called.

"Heaven!"

She spun around, ready for the worst. It was Will Tibbetts, grinning his charming grin as if nothing had happened since he last saw her.

"Will, you scared me to death. What are you doing here?" she demanded crossly, stealing a look outside as she spun her stool around.

Will sat down beside her. "I'll answer that question but then you better be ready to do the same. I followed Truely and Mary home for a nightcap. When I left their house, I decided I needed a piece of grilled pecan pie. Now, what about you, the one who said she just had to get home to her list-makin'?"

Heaven felt a wave of apprehension. She didn't believe him for a minute. But she couldn't help but be relieved to see him. She got up and walked outside looking up the street. Her man was gone. He was just playing with her, showing her he could keep track of her. And what, if anything, did Will have to do with it? She went back inside. "He's gone."

"Who's gone?" Will asked.

"It all started when I was walking through Jackson Square."

The waiter came and gave them gla.s.ses of water, a look of expectancy on his face.

Will smiled. "h.e.l.lo, Henry. I'll have a piece of that good pecan pie, grilled nice and warm, and a freeze. And what is it for my bride?"

Heaven smiled in spite of everything that had happened. Will was so corny with the winking and the "my bride" stuff. All of a sudden she was starved. "A hamburger with everything but onion, a piece of pecan pie, and what's a freeze?" If she was going to die, she'd be full.

Will pulled his fancy Porsche up to the locked gate at the hotel and honked. "Things sure are interesting with you around, Heaven. That was quite a story. I don't want to leave you here alone. I suggested either staying with you or taking you home with me. Those are two good offers still on the table."

Heaven shook her head. "I do still have to make prep lists for tomorrow. Now that I've survived another night here in New Orleans I'll be expected to produce some product tomorrow. Thank you for seeing me home. You still think I shouldn't call the police?"

"More trouble than it's worth, in my opinion. But talk to Mary about it in the morning." He reached over and kissed her on the lips.

She was too wrung out to give him any static and the next thing she knew she was kissing right back. She broke away finally. The concierge was standing at the open gate watching them. Without saying a word or letting Will say one, she quickly got out of the car and waved good-bye.

French Onion Soup Beignets 3 onions, sliced 2 T. olive oil 2 T. b.u.t.ter 1 T. kosher salt 1 T. sugar 8 oz. Gruyere cheese, cubed 1 cup milk 2 T. b.u.t.ter 2 tsp. dry yeast or 1 pkg. dry yeast 1 tsp. sugar 1 egg 3 cups flour grated Parmesan cheese To caramelize onions: peel and slice three onions. Heat the 2T. each b.u.t.ter and oil in a large saute pan, add onions and reduce the heat. When the onions have turned translucent, add the sugar and salt, and stir. Saute over low heat, stirring occasionally, until the onions are a caramel color, about an hour. Cool and refrigerate. This can be done a night ahead of making the beignets.

For the beignets: Scald the milk with the b.u.t.ter and let cool to lukewarm. Add yeast and sugar and let stand about five minutes, until the mixture is bubbly. Add egg and flour and mix well. Let rise about an hour. Punch down and roll out the dough on the floured surface to about inch. With a 1 inch round cutter or the top of a juice gla.s.s, cut rounds from the dough.

To a.s.semble the beignets: Cover a cube of cheese with a spoonful of onions. Put in the middle of the dough round and seal with a little warm water. You can roll these so they are round or let them be irregular. Chill for at least an hour, then fry in about an inch of medium hot peanut or canola oil. Using tongs, turn the beignets until they are brown on all sides. Drop them in a plate of grated Parmesan and roll them around. Serve warm so the cheese in the middle will be soft.