Killer Cousins (21 page)

“That’s Gerald Gibson,” she said of the bald stout one with a slim mustache. “He came that first day and never attended a meeting again.”

“I guess he decided it was too difficult to quit,” I said, giving her an out if she didn’t quit, either.

“It’s difficult but not impossible. Thousands of people quit smoking every year.”

“So you quit?”

She gave her head a brief shake that halfway resembled a nod. “Gerald came around once after that. He showed up after the meeting and wanted to know how we’d made out. He really pissed me off ’cause he stood close to all of us, and he was smoking.”

I recalled smoke coming from outside the meeting hall. Behind one of those bushes. I’d thought it was Jenna smoking. Could it have been Gerald?

“And this poor guy.” She touched the head of the other man mainly hidden by the others. “He wanted to quit smoking for his health, but something else killed him. That’s Pierce.”

“Your cousin. I tripped on him.” I slapped my hand over my mouth. Too much information sliding out.

Jenna stared at me. “I knew he died in Stevie’s yard. You tripped him?”

“No! He was already down.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“I didn’t. Promise.”

“How did you know we were cousins?”

“I read his obituary,” I said, and she nodded. “Your name was listed, but not the names of his children. That was strange.”

“Sometimes people might not want to be associated with someone.” She gave me a haughty look.

“His children didn’t want their names with their deceased father?” I asked, unable to grasp such an idea.

She stared at me, eyes hard. “Are you doing a dissertation on Pierce?”

“Oh, no. I just wondered.” I flung my gaze back to the picture, wanting to get off the topic of his family so I wouldn’t turn her off. “Wait. He’s in this picture. So is Stevie. She said she didn’t know him.” Kern Parfait also told me she and Pierce never attended a meeting together.

“This first night, all of us sat in a straight row instead of making a semicircle with the chairs like we do now. Now we can see who’s there. That first night I was so worried about having to give up my cigarettes that I sure didn’t pay attention to who else might be there.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“You have no idea what a smoker goes through to quit, do you?”

“I guess I’m fortunate that I don’t.”

“You sure are. When you’re thinking about giving up something that’s such a large part of your life, you certainly aren’t concerned about who’s around you.”

“That might explain it,” I said and reached for my aching shins.

“What’s the matter?” Jenna sounded concerned.

“My legs.” The pain intensified. I rubbed them and then hobbled toward the door. “I need to go.”

“Wait. Didn’t you want to interview me? Take my picture?”

“Right.” I turned, raised the camera, and pressed the button. Nothing. She held her pose while I quickly scanned the directions. I needed to roll that little wheel to the right until it caught. It finally did. I aimed the camera. “Say
parfait
.”

“Parfait.” Her lips spread in a nice angle. Maybe I’d start using that word instead of
cheese
.

“One more,” I said.

She turned her head in a slightly bent tilt. “Par-fait.”

I snapped three more shots. “Nice. I need to go. I’ll get back to you with more questions for the interview.”

My aching legs made me nearly fall off the bottom step. Something needed to be done about them. Those pain pills Dr. Wallo wanted to prescribe tempted me. Maybe I’d even go to an emergency room.

Driving away, I noticed the pain lessening. I didn’t think it was my position that changed the way they felt. Maybe sitting was better, and standing made them ache? At Stevie’s house I would be able to stretch out. I’d get my legs up on the sofa or my bed.

I tapped the brakes. I’d heard those noises in her house and her front door had been unlocked when I’d arrived there earlier, and she wasn’t home.

No way was I going into Stevie’s house by myself.

She was at Gil’s restaurant now. With cutie Dr. Wallo.

I didn’t know if Gil was there, but at least one good-looking man was.

Cajun Delights, here I come.

Chapter 19

I walked into Gil’s restaurant, heard familiar laughter, and spied Stevie at a table. Beside her sat brawny Dr. Wallo.

Hmm, he could help me with my leg problem. I could also look at him again. How therapeutic was that?

Waiters carried fried and boiled seafood. Their aromas kicked in. I was starving.

Actually, I only craved the food here. I’d eaten tons of fat grams since I woke up and didn’t need lots more. Just thinking about all of the entrées I desired made my waistband snug. Many of my favorite slacks had some elastic in the waistline, and I wore them with fitted shirts on top. I should have worn that instead of these slacks with a zipper and button in front.

“Hello,” the doctor said with a happy smile as I approached.

Stevie looked annoyed. She took big swallows of her icy drink.

“Nice to see y’all,” I said, half pretending to be surprised to find them here. I placed my hands on the back of the empty chair nearest Dr. Wallo.

“Nice to see you, too,” he said. “Join us. We’ve ordered, but you can eat with us.”

Heat rushed out toward me from Stevie. It was animosity and not a spell she was casting, but her anger made me yank my hands off the chair.

“That’s okay,” I told the doctor. “I’ll wait. I’m joining someone.”

Stevie gave me a pleasant nod. I gave one back while surreptitiously squeezing the hell out of my right palm.

My satisfied expression was fading.

“But we had to wait quite a while for a table,” the doctor said. “Look, there’s a long line. It seems everyone wants to try this new restaurant. I’ve heard the food is really good.”

I hadn’t noticed all the people waiting but did now. They sat on benches and stood. I’d passed lots of folks on the swings outside.

I was not going to go out there to wait now that the food tempted me. I ignored my cousin, pulled out the chair next to the doctor, and sat.

The air between Stevie and me turned frigid.

A waiter approached, and I ordered. Then looked away from my cousin.

Lots of happy folks, smiling and chatting. A trio of musicians played soft jazz. Babs, the manager, stood beyond them, checking her watch. Fawn, the shapely straw-sucker from The Quitters Group, appeared apprehensive, sucking on one now. She sat alone at a table in the right-hand corner of the room, in the place usually reserved for Gil whenever he was at his restaurants. Obviously, he wasn’t here now.

Disappointment plopped down in my chest. I tried to shrug it off. I was sitting near an extremely handsome man, and he wasn’t young enough to be my son’s classmate.

He unwrapped crackers and ate one. He didn’t slather it with butter.

Stevie did. She spread a quarter inch of butter on her crackers and crunched on them, dropping the empty wrapper on top of two she’d already opened.

Fawn again drew my attention. Only a glass of maybe iced tea sat on her table, along with her napkin, which still looked rolled, like she hadn’t taken the silverware out yet. She saw me.

I smiled and waved as though I’d known her all my life.

She pulled the straw out of her mouth and gave me a tiny wave, like she had no idea who I was. And then her gaze shifted to my side, and she smiled, jabbing her finger toward Stevie.

I touched Stevie’s arm.

“What?” she snapped, drawing her arm away.

I pointed to her friend. She and Fawn gave each other sociable waves. Stevie put her hand up to her mouth and made a motion as though she were inhaling on a cigarette.

Fawn shook her head. She held up her straw, inhaled through it, and took it out of her mouth. She pursed her lips and blew. Then pointed at Stevie, eyebrows raised.

Stevie made a big show of shaking her head, letting Fawn know she hadn’t smoked. She shoved half a cracker in her mouth. Then held up her fork, probably to show Fawn she was putting food instead of cigarettes into her mouth now.

Fawn nodded. She did a thumbs-up. A waiter served her a bowl of gumbo.

My stomach growled, wanting my own dish of gumbo.

“I’m really proud of you,” Dr. Wallo told Stevie. “I saw your friend there inhaling on her straw. She must have quit smoking, too.”

I nodded. “Yes, great job, Stevie.”

She grimaced at me, confirming I was not off the hook.

“She and that woman are in a stop-smoking group together,” I said.

“That’s great. Support really helps,” he told her.

“And I’m here to support you.” I grinned at my cousin.

She grabbed her purse. “I’d better try one of those pills now.”

“I’m glad you filled the prescription,” I said and turned from her annoyed face to the handsome doctor’s. “She’ll probably really want a cigarette right after her meal since smokers want to light up the most after meals and sex.”

He grinned. “I’ve heard that. Were you ever a smoker?”

“Uh-uh, tried it once or twice and choked.”

“You’re lucky. You were probably allergic to the smoke,” Stevie told me, “because if you’d gotten hooked, you would see how hard it is to get off of it.”

“I know. And I know you tried to quit before. I really hope it works this time.”

She opened her pill bottle and shook some pills out. Then squinted at the label, put all except one of them back, and popped the pill in her mouth. She sipped her drink.

“Good girl,” Dr. Wallo said. “It’s certainly not easy to quit. I know.”

“You do?” I said.

“I smoked for fifteen years.”

“That’s nothing,” Stevie told him.

“I guess not.” It seemed the doctor didn’t want to argue with her, especially since their meals had appeared. “Have some of this filet mignon while you’re waiting,” he told me. “Here, I’ll cut you a chunk. And you can have some of these fried yams.”

“That’s okay, I’ll wait,” I protested, but not too intensely. My hand happened to nudge my little empty dish closer to his plate. He easily sliced the steak, then placed a chunk on my saucer with a few fries. “And a little of your gravy, please,” I said, and he spooned some onto my steak.

Yum, such heavenly food at Gil’s places. I ate what the doctor gave me and eyed Stevie’s large seafood platter. She saw me and drew her plate closer to herself. Surely she could share one of her shrimp or an oyster. A tiny bit of her soft-shell crab would hit the spot in my rumbling belly.

“The Mexican Hat Dance” played. I grabbed my phone. “Sorry,” I said to those at my table, normally remembering to turn off the ringer before I went out to eat. I answered the phone.

“Gram, I’m back!” My granddaughter.

“Hey, Kat, how was your trip? Did you fall in love?”

She laughed in her cheerful tone that had been missing for so long. “Not quite. Maybe Dad did, though, while I was gone.”

“I’ll want to hear all about it.”

“Just a minute,” Kat said. “Somebody’s calling me.”

An angry exchange of voices right beyond the restaurant’s stage drew my attention. The balding night manager and striking day manager were both apparently trying to convince each other of something.

Customers between them and me quit talking. Smiles faded from the faces of seated people watching them. Babs stalked toward the exit. Jake stepped up on stage. He spoke to the trio, and they stopped playing. Jake reached the mike.

“Welcome. Thanks to all of you for being with us. I’m sorry the food seems a little slow being served tonight, but we apparently didn’t expect so many of you to want to dine with us.”

Customers applauded. I was one of them.

“Gram, what’s going on?” Kat asked me on the phone.

I missed some of what Jake said onstage but then saw a woman rushing up there.

“I think a joke contest is about to start,” I told Kat.

“Oooh, you’re with Mr. Gil. You’re at his restaurant somewhere.”

Heat struck my cheeks. I could only surmise it was because most thoughts of Gil included nudity. Maybe not great thoughts to have while talking to Kat. “No, he’s not here.”

“Yeah, right. Well you’re obviously not in Mexico where you said you were going, but wherever you are might be more interesting. A friend of mine is holding and needs to talk to me. I’ll check with you later, okay? Oh, Dad sends his love.”

“Mine back to him with kisses to both of you. Call again. Love you, sweetie.”

I shut my phone. People nearby looked grateful.

“So Boudreaux never did it again,” the woman onstage said. Patrons laughed and applauded.

I’d missed a Boudreaux and Thibodaux joke. Normally I heard those only when Gil was around and made certain to have them told for me.

I checked his table.

Nope, he wasn’t there. Only Fawn, spooning food into her mouth.

I was famished. And getting horny, thinking about Gil.

“Want some?” Dr. Wallo said. I met his eyes and matched his smile, then noticed him shoving his plate toward me.

I shook my head. Another woman went to the stage, a young mother-type this time. A tall person, she leaned to the mike.

“Boudreaux drove, with Thibodaux beside him. They were in a rush for an important meeting and couldn’t find a place to park. Boudreaux said, ‘Lord, if you help us find a parking place, I’ll give up drinking and go to church every Sunday.’ Miraculously, a parking place appeared. Boudreaux said, ‘Never mind, we found one.’”

I enjoyed my belly laugh. My waiter came with my food. I considered telling the doctor about my legs. Neither of them ached now. But he didn’t need a patient mentioning an ailment while he was eating out.

The jokes and a handsome man at my side and a crab platter approaching me made me happy I’d decided to come here. But why B and T jokes now? I broke a leg off my fried soft-shell crab and ate it, looking again at Fawn’s table.

Gil was standing beside it. Happiness danced inside my chest. He bent and spoke to Fawn. Then he saw me.

Gil strode forward, sharing intense eye contact with me. Heat welled up inside my body.

A waiter stopped him. The young man looked apprehensive.