Fat Tuesday Fricassee (22 page)

Cousin Baxter was at least six-foot-six and weighed two hundred something pounds. He came up behind us as I was preparing to run. “What's that?”

The light shining on Old Slac was ghastly. It turned his face an unearthly shade of green and made his turkey feathers stand out. His dark eyes stared at us with cold conviction as he pointed at me and Uncle Saul.

“It's the ghost of Old Slac,” I whispered, starting to slowly back toward the car. “Seeing him is a death warning.”

Cousin Baxter played football for the Crimson Tide. He was in his third year at the University of Alabama where he was studying insects. I wasn't sure what career he had in mind, but he'd always loved insects—especially if he had a chance to put one on me.

The one thing celebrated about Baxter was his prowess at tackling anything that got in his way. I'd always admired
that about him. He wasn't brilliant in school, but he sure could throw down.

As I kept backing away, Baxter spit out the gum he'd been chewing and growled. “No old ghost is gonna crash Chase family Spirit Night. Look out Old Slac. I'm coming at you!”

Uncle Saul grabbed my arm as I reached to stop Baxter from attacking Old Slac.

Baxter ran full tilt into the ghost. He was hunched down, head first, like when he tackled the opposition on the football field. He grunted loudly as he tackled and then fell to the ground. The surprising thing was that Old Slac fell under him.

Uncle Saul ran toward them and I followed. Daddy saw us and asked what we were doing. I felt like I was in an episode of
Scooby-Doo
. Whoever was under Baxter (who'd inherited his girth from Grandma Chase) was trapped but still kicking his arms and legs trying to get free.

The ghost of Old Slac was painted with some kind of phosphorescent color, which was why he'd appeared green. A supersized flashlight rolled out of his reach. I felt sure if he could have, he would've smacked Baxter in the head and run.

He didn't know Baxter. Once he got them down, they stayed down.

Uncle Saul moved closer despite my plea not to go there. Daddy grabbed me and held me tight as we stayed about three feet from the ghost and Baxter.

“Let's see who we have here.” Uncle Saul reached down, and Old Slac's scary face came off in his hand.

“Bennett?” I couldn't believe it. “What in the world are you doing?”

Uncle Saul and Baxter got Bennett Phillips to his feet and pushed him toward the limo in the cemetery. I was glad they were able to do something, because Daddy was still terrified. He clung to me like a frightened child as he walked back.

The cemetery lights weren't good, but they were better
than the darkness in the trees. The Chase family gathered around to stare at the intruder. Baxter occasionally bared his teeth at him.

“It would be a good idea to tell us why you're here and dressed like that,” Uncle Saul said. “Baxter isn't known for his patience.”

Bennett struggled a little more, but there was no way he was leaving until Baxter said he could go. “I'm here because I have to be here. Let me go. I'm just a small cog.”

“I think you might be responsible for the attack on my brother,” Uncle Saul said.

“What about that newspaper reporter getting killed?” Baxter asked. “He has a murderer's face, if you ask me.”

“I didn't kill my own son,” Bennett denied. “And I didn't attack Ted with a knife, either.”

Daddy was finally able to overcome his terror and stepped up to the limo. “Bennett? Is that really you? Why would you pretend to be the ghost of Old Slac?”

“To scare you.” He struggled again. “Get this big oaf off me.”

“Is he calling me an oaf?” Baxter demanded.

“Yes.” I was struggling to understand why Bennett would be involved with this. “Why would you want to scare us off? You asked for my help solving his murder. What happened to change that?”

“I'm not saying anything else. Call the police. I'll call my lawyer. The only thing I've done is get into the carnival spirit. I haven't hurt anyone.”

Uncle Saul wasn't happy with that answer. “Who are you working for? Who sent you?”

“I'm not working for anyone. I'm doing a favor. You'd best drop it here if you know what's good for you.”

“Was that a threat?” Baxter clutched Bennett around the neck with his large fingers. “First you insult me and then you
threaten my family. I should take you in the woods, old man, and feed you to the gators.”

It was easy to see that Bennett was more afraid of whoever had sent him than he was of us. Baxter continued holding Bennett while Daddy, Uncle Saul, and I moved away from the group of curious family members who had no idea what was going on.

“I think calling the police is a waste of time,” Uncle Saul said.

I agreed with him. “But what else can we do?”

Daddy shrugged. “He hasn't done anything that we can prove except standing around looking scary. At this time of year most people would think it's part of the fun.”

“So we just let him go?”

“I think so.” Uncle Saul nodded.

“Okay.” Daddy shrugged. “But maybe we should let Baxter rough him up a bit more to make a point.”

Uncle Saul laughed. “I never realized how bloodthirsty you are, Ted.”

“We don't know for sure that he didn't attack Daddy with a knife,” I added. “He might've killed Jordan. It seems to me that he deserves a lump or two.”

Uncle Saul put his arm around my shoulders. “Let's just harass him a few more times and see if anything pops.”

“I know where an empty warehouse is over by the docks.” Daddy rubbed his hands together. “We could take him there and get some answers from him.”

Uncle Saul chuckled. “I don't think we should go quite that far, Ted. We can't prove he did anything.”

Daddy frowned. “Easy for you to say. You weren't almost killed!”

“Then I suggest we take advantage of this opportunity and get some information from him here,” Uncle Saul suggested. “Baxter will get bored soon.”

My uncle and my father stepped up like two Mafia brothers standing over their captive prey.

“Does this have something to do with Jordan's death?” Uncle Saul started in questioning Bennett again.

Bennett put his hands on his face. “Leave me alone. Or kill me. I don't care which.”

“Where can I send the bill for the suit you ruined when you attacked me?” Daddy wanted to know. “And don't think I'm not cancelling my subscription to your newspaper. Our friendship is over.”

Uncle Saul and I exchanged humorous glances behind Daddy's back.

“Did Commissioner Sloane put you up to this?” I asked. “Is he the one you owe a favor?”

Bennett started crying. In a moment, he was breathing hard as his loud sobbing filled the cemetery. “I didn't want to do any of this. I only wanted to find Jordan's killer. I'm caught in the middle like you all. It's just a big game. My son's life meant nothing.”

I felt sorry for him. He was in a bad place. He probably was sorry he'd been involved in whatever was going on. That didn't make him less responsible. Everyone is always sorry after they get caught.

He suddenly started making choking sounds and was having trouble breathing. He grabbed his left arm and held it to him.

“He's having a heart attack,” Baxter said. “Call 911 and stand back. I just finished CPR classes at school. I can handle this.”

I called emergency services as Baxter and Uncle Saul performed CPR. Daddy went to stand with the rest of the family.

The cemetery was outside the city, but the ambulance reached us in only a few minutes. They checked Bennett
before putting him on a stretcher and racing for the hospital. Baxter had been right. He'd had a heart attack.

Probably too much stress, I thought. Whoever or whatever had made him dress like the ghost of Old Slac had been too much for him. I hoped he'd survive and could answer some questions later. He might not have all the answers, but I was betting he had more than we did.

“I think that's enough excitement for Spirit Night,” Uncle Saul told everyone. “Let's get going. It feels like rain.”

Of course Great-Aunt Tildy, Granny Ginny, Cousin Dori, and Cousin Baxter all had dozens of questions as the limo returned them to their homes. I suspected even great-great-grandfather Isaiah Chase had some questions he wanted to ask, too.

I had questions, but I knew there were no answers. Not yet, anyway. I would've settled for some kind of fruity cocktail drink with a lot of rum in it. At least that would've smoothed out the rough edges.

“I don't think Bennett was the one who hurt me,” Daddy said when it was just me, him, and Uncle Saul going back to his apartment. “I've known him since we were kids. He just doesn't have it in him.”

“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.

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 before 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?