Chapter Three: Coffee Beans and Rice
"Clear off that table, will you?" Kenois Tout-Tout hoisted up a lumpy, unwieldy garbage bag that bulged in all directions. She plunked the bag on a small café table tucked away in a windowed alcove at the Coffee Beans and Rice coffee shop, turned the bag upside down and tumbled a mound of used shoes over the table top, some spilling over the side.
Kenois grabbed a slender, pink, strappy number and held it up like an offering to the Zeus, father of them all. "Isn't this a beauty? I got just the right color of bugle bead at home and some velour rick-rack that will drive the good people of Lake Charles wild!" She dove into the tapestry bag hung over her shoulder and pulled out a small glue gun. "Come to momma, baby!" she clowned.
Kenois was the owner of The Beans, as the café was known, so she didn't care that the couple sitting at the two-top by the window, drinking mochas and munching on the shop's famous Buttermilk Scones , was openly gaping at her. Her 6'3'' tall frame dominated the room. She wore a beautifully quilted, bright red and orange jacket and a half dozen strands of variously colored Mardi Gras beads hung around her neck and clicked rhythmically as she gestured and moved.
The Beans, located just down the street from the Salvation Army from which Kenois had just returned, was the regular Friday morning meeting place of the Krewe of Muses since it had formed and decided to parade in the Krewe of Krewes Grand Parade. Kenois was the Muses' Krewe Captain, a goddess who walked the earth in paint spattered hands, brightly colored clothes and a face dusted with pastry flour. Her booming voice and imposing presence made her both compelling and scary.
Three other women who all resembled each other also sat around the table. They moved their chairs closer to the mound of shoes and started sorting amidst squeals and groans.
A pixie with short blond hair and bright blue eyes, wearing a pair of Mardi Gras beads featuring pink flamingos, picked up a khaki cloth boot that appeared to have no partner. "Darling, what were you thinking with this one?"
"Watch it, Marie Katerina!" Kenois whirled around, pointing her glue gun at her in a fake shot. "The fellas out there might want something a little more hefty. We got to think of what the people watching the parade are going to like. Maybe we can hang some little plastic soldiers off it or something."
"Where is the partner to this one?" A curly dark haired woman with similarly blue eyes held up a yellow patent leather Mary Jane. The woman was wearing a gorgeous multi-strand of beads she obviously designed herself.
"The singles were only a dime, I bought the whole lot for under fifteen bucks. I'm sure, Marie Marguerite, that you could turn any of these into a beaded treasure." Kenois lifted up a faded yellow train case. "And this little gem was just $2. It's perfect for carrying my real glue gun around."
"Hey, I think I donated these!" A wholesome looking blond in braids said, lifting up a pair of basic black pumps with worn down heels and a large scuff mark on the inside heel.
"You owe me twenty five cents then, Anna Marina." Kenois gave her a stone cold look. "I told you all to be saving these. Glue guns up, ladies and start your engines! It's Mardi Gras time. The Krewe du Lacquer may have Texas bling, but the Krewe of Muses has beaded shoes. They'll be the best throws in the parade!"
Marie Marguerite carefully picked through the mound and picked up a spiked heel shoe with a green satin covered top. She stared at it then put it down, in favor of a lower pump with a bright rhinestone buckle over a chocolate colored alligator skin. "I'm missing Penny a lot right now. She would have had a hey-day with these shoes."
Marie Marguerite continued to search for the partner for the shoe in her hand. "I think Elena wears about a six. These shall be the Queen's."
"Better wait, " Marie Katerina cautioned. "You probably won't know what size to make until the day of the ball. All our candidates for Queen keep dropping like flies."
"That's not funny!" Anna Marie scolded. "We are facing a very serious situation here!"
"Sisters! Sisters!" Kenois intervened. "Enough fighting amongst you three. I'm so glad you don't have any more sisters in the wings wanting to be in the krewe. We'd have to pass a law forbidding it." Her eye was caught by movement out on the street. "Here comes Nicolette and Bernard, with that detective we hired."
The door opened with a pleasant tinkling of a bell. As the trio poured into the warm, sweet-smelling coffee shop, escaping the cool, grey dampness of the Lake Charles morning, there were kisses and introductions all around. Kenois ordered the young man behind the counter to make three Fiesta lattes and she disappeared into the kitchen.
"Oohh, you're the detective," Marie Katerina squealed, sidling up to Cayenne. "Sit next to me. What's the bloodiest case you ever worked on? Are you moving back to New Orleans? What do you think about our little town of Lake Charles here? I heard that you went out on the swamp with Frank Estiponal. Isn't he just a dreamboat? Is your job just like the CSI people? Have any of your cases been in the paper? Have you been on that investigation show on A & E?"
Cayenne felt overwhelmed. She saw Bernard grinning in the corner shaking his head. The hub in the room was cut short by a question from Anna Marina.
"Bernard, have you heard from Elena?" The room went silent except the whoosh of the milk steamer and the conversation from the couple by the window who were talking about a trip to Houston.
"The police said they had a tip. I'm hoping to hear something this morning," Bernard mumbled.
"What did you find out about Penny?"
Cayenne had been dreading that questions. She chose her words carefully. "I checked it out and I have to say that I didn't uncover any evidence that rules against a suicide."
"Except that she wasn't suicidal," Nicolette interjected. They had been arguing about it all morning. Cay could feel a definite cooling in the group around the table. No one wanted to listen to the evidence.
She was saved by Kenois who returned with a tray holding a king cake and plopped it on the table. Dermot, the barista behind the counter, placed Fiesta lattes at everyone's place. Kenois reached back into her bag and pulled out a cheap, rhinestone tiara. "King Cake everyone. Who's gonna be our queen today?" She caught the scowl on Bernard's face. "…or, uhh, King."
Bernard held up his hand, "I'll pass."
Marie Marguerite picked out a purpley sugared piece of the flaky pastry and took a bite. No luck. Then Nicolette chose a green slice. Nope. Then on the third try, Marie Katerina selected a yellow sugared piece. As she pulled it out of the ring, everyone could see the little plastic baby dangling an arm out of the cinnamon center.
"O my God! I got the baby! I'm the queen! Oh, I love being queen!" She grabbed the tiara of the table and plopped it on her head. She turned to Marie Marguerite and declared regally, "You may call me 'Your Royal Muse.' "
"We are going to have to hear the prom queen story again, aren't we?" Marie Marguerite retorted.
"I come to this position well qualified." She said and waved enthusiastically across the coffee shop at the window side couple. "Hello, there! Hello! " When the couple looked in the direction of Marie Katerina's waving, she answered. "You may call me Queen."
"Enough, enough," Kenois boomed in a commanding voice. "Time to get down to business. On behalf of the Krewe of Muses du Lake Charles I call our Krewe meeting to order." She banged a man's black leather shoe on the table as a gavel. "Happy Carnival Season, everyone!"
Kenois looked through her half moon glasses and read from the list in front of her. "First, on the agenda, the Cajun Extravaganza and Gumbo Cook Off is coming up in a couple weekends. Who's going to be our gladiator in the competition?"
Everyone looked at Bernard, the best cook in the group. He humbly held up a hand in protest. "I think I have found someone who might be a worthy challenger on behalf of the Krewe and she is of the female persuasion which might meet your approval better than this old boy. I nominate Raven LeFleur."
There was a small uproar amongst the sisters, none of whom knew Raven. "No way," "You cook the best gumbo in Calcasieu parish." "Who is this Raven person?"
Kenois hit her shoe several times against the table. "Seems to me that we need to be the judge of that. How about inviting us over for dinner and let us all decide who is the better cook?"
"Here, here!" "That's what I'm talking about." Murmurs of assent passed around the table.
"There's a gumbo cook off at the Cajun Extravaganza? Is it open to any one to enter?" Cay inquired, thinking of Stan and Kristina Guilliams who owned the Stew du Roux in New Orleans.
"Girl, you are a Yankee," Marie Katerina squealed. "Don't even think about entering. We'd all be mortified for you since we all know that Yankees put macaroni and hamburger in their gumbo and that, well, is the saddest thing that I have ever heard." She waved her hand in the air as if to fan away a bad case of vapors and shook her head as if it was the most painful thing she had ever had to face in her life.
Cayenne protested. "Not me! I have friends from New Orleans who cook a killer gumbo. I'm trying to get them to come over for the Extravaganza and this might sweeten the pot."
Anna Marina offered. "There are so many displaced New Orleanians in town that they are having a special category just for them. Invite them to come on over!"
Marie Katerina leaned over and whispered. "Just don't help her in any way. Macaroni. It's an abomination."
Kenois agreed. "It's decided. Cook off between Raven and Bernard. The Krewe chooses the winner. No macaroni allowed. Yankees can eat but not cook."
Cay started to defend herself but was stopped by the banging of the shoe against the table to signal discussion of the next agenda item.
"Next on the agenda. The Mardi Gras Gala at the Convention and Visitors Bureau. The big ball where Police Chief Bull Fourchere picks the Queen of Queens. Where are we on this one?"
Marie Marguerite jumped right in. "We are on hold. As you know, every year the Krewe of Muses chooses one of the nine Muses to rule over the season and this year, the New Orleans Krewe of Muses has chosen Urania, the Muse of Astronomy. Elena agreed to be our 'Muse', since Penny's passing , God bless her soul. Elena's Aunt Fanny was working on a headdress incorporating stars or asteroids or some such thing. Anna Marina 's agreed to sew the Queen's gown and I'll bead it."
Marie Marguerite handed a stack of photographs to Anna Marina. "Here is some inspiration. I took these photos down at the Mardi Gras Museum where I work. There are some stunning designs that other krewes have used in the past that we might be able to incorporate." She put her finger against her lips. "Don't tell anyone. Photography is prohibited at the Museum."
Anna Marina took the pictures and nodded, "Thanks. We need all the help we can get. I heard that Star is actually dating Chief Bull. Meanwhile, our queens keep disappearing." Star Chamblee-Phipps was the captain of a rival krewe and was a relentless competitor when it came to the Queen's competition. Anna Marina continued. "I've had my ear to the ground at the casino and rumor has it that the Krewe du Lacquer has a gambling theme 'Deuces Wild.' Of course, all the Convention and Visitors people are wild over the theme because of the casinos, and the casinos, well, the Isle of Capri Casino is backing them financially. "
Marie Katerina leaned over to Cay and explained in a loud whisper. "Anna Marina works in the accounting department over at the Isle of Capri Casino. She's our mole."
Anna Marina continued her intelligence. "Rumor has it that for their throws for the parade, they are ordering dice weighted in a way to guarantee to roll two deuces. The Casino is also including coupons for five free pulls at a slot machine of your choice and a two-for-one drink ticket. The Isle has also hired a designer from Miami to work on the candidate's dress."
The Krewe of Muses all found themselves looking at the mound of smelly shoes in front of them that were going to be their throws. The Beans was their sponsor and Kenois's sponsorship included free lattes every Friday and payment of the parade's hefty entrance fee. Dresses for the queen usually started as a $15 dress from the favored Salvation Army, redesigned and sewn by Anna Marina who was the only Krewe member who owned a working sewing machine.
"We are so busted," Marie Marguerite defeatedly, tossing a shoe back on the pile.
Cay raised her hand. "I know a great designer with a terrific fabric shop in New Orleans… well, now he's working out of Metairie … who'd love to help with designing a dress. He's a little eccentric, but the regular krewe he works with is not parading this year. I bet Jacques would love to help."
Kenois pointed at Cay, then at Anna Marina. "You two get together and work on the outfit. What we don't have in resources, we'll make up for in enthusiasm." She banged her shoe against the table for emphasis.
There was a loud "harrumph" and clearing of a throat. "Aren't you going to call on me? I've had my hand up forever."
Kenois said, "I thought you were still waving at that couple going to Houston!"
"No" Marie Katerina said, her feelings hurt. "I wanted to show you the invite. It's ready to print."
Marie Katerina owned an art gallery on Sallier Street featuring local artists and was a fine artist in her own right. She opened up a manila folder and took out a piece of paper as she talked. "Remember, ladies, the Krewe du Lacquer has money and glitz, but we have art."
Everyone crowded around the table. The template for the invitation was printed on a creamy linen paper with gold lettering gracing the borders. It featured Urania beatifically gazing out at her world, her ruby lips and mystical eyes under a crown of stars, a sensually uncovered shoulder issuing an invitation to consider the sun, the moon and the stars.
"I have to say, I'm inspired," Bernard said, lustfully. Nicolette playfully swatted at him. Fortunately, Bernard was saved from a full thrashing by the ringing of his cell phone. He took the phone back into the kitchen to talk.
"I think she looks just like me," Marie Katerina, patting her crown and pushing up her breasts to emphasize them.
"Marie Katerina!" her two shocked sisters cried at the same time.
"It's beautiful!" Cay gushed.
"Thank you, Royal Subject," Marie Katerina demurred as she straightened out her crown.
Invites for Mardi Gras balls are a historical tradition, with some of the older Krewes having vast collections of gorgeous and intricate invitations, call-outs, and dance cards from the elaborate and ritualistic traditional balls. In Lake Charles, many krewes held private balls, but the grand Mardi Gras Gala, held at the Visitor and Conventions Center near the lakefront, is open to the public and to all krewes. For this ball, Chief of Police Bull Fourchere would choose the Queen of Queens from candidates presented from all the krewes. The invitations were more a formality now, but each krewe still took pride in the collectibility and beauty of each year's crafted invitation.
"Okay. Invitations are done. Let's pack the hall with supporters! " Kenois said, looking over her glasses. "Nice job, Your Highness."
Kenois banged the shoe against the table and read her list over the top of her glasses..
"Next item -- the Krewe of Krewes Parade. Marie Marguerite, you and I are in charge of throws." She waved her shoe-gavel for emphasis. "Let's make ourselves proud!"
As they continued to discuss how they could decorate the various shoes, Bernard returned to the group. His face was solemn.
"They found Elena." Nicolette rose to go to his side.
The room grew silent. Dermot came from behind the counter to listen to the news.
"They found her car in a ditch off of 190. Seemed she had spent the morning at Fred's Lounge and on her way home, her car went off the road up near Basile and landed half way in a commercial crawfish pond. It sunk deep enough so that no one spotted her for days." Bernard's voice caught. Nicolette tenderly took his hand.
"Do they suspect foul play?" Cay asked.
"The police say it's pretty clear cut. They said she lost control over the car. Found a half empty take out daiquiri cup and a drained bottle of George Dickel whiskey in her car."
"Whiskey? Elena?" Nicolette questioned. "That doesn't seem possible. The girl hardly drank a drop."
"Another potential queen has died?" Marie Marguerite said incredulously. "Yikes, Marie Katerina. You were right."
The sobering news closed the meeting. It seemed sacrilegious to get excited about beads and bangles when such horrible news about a good friend came and sat at the table next to them. Kenois closed the meeting and the group quickly scattered to return to their normal lives.
"You know what the worst thing is?" Bernard told Nicolette and Cay as they left the Beans. "The police kept calling her 'that New Orleans girl.' Like it didn't matter if she was dead. Like it was no great loss to the community. Elena was not a drinker. She loved to dance and stay out all night and have a daiquiri or two, but I've never seen her drunk. It doesn't make sense. "
Nicolette looked at Cay and said quietly, "First Penelope. Now Elena."
Cayenne tried to speak casually. "Hey, why don't I head up to Mamou and see what I can find out. I'll ask around and see if anyone saw anything." Despite her calm, her detective radar was flashing and alert. Nicolette might be right after all. "I'll head up in the afternoon and hope to talk to someone at that Fred's place when they first open up."
"Nope, better go earlier," Bernard advised. "Fred's Lounge opens at 8 a.m. on Saturday and closes at 2 p.m. Talk to my Aunt Deli. She helps out Miss Sue each week by bartending."
"8 a.m.? I can hardly read the paper let alone drink at that hour! What's the address?"
Bernard and Nicolette both started laughing. Nicolette answered reassuringly, "Mamou is small enough that you'll find it easy. Go down Main Street until you see all the motorcycles lined up along the side of the road. That's Fred's."
Bernard added, "I'll ask Francisco to drive you up there. He loves Fred's." Bernard said as he opened the car door for Nicolette. "And besides, he dances a mean two-step."
Despite two suspicious deaths and a cloudy day that was threatening to rain, Cay thought to herself as she climbed in the back seat, things were looking up.
CHAPTER FOUR: Dancing At Fred's With a Miller in Your Hand
Copyright by Aileen M. McInnis, 2006. All rights reserved. Contact the author at aileen_mcinnis@yahoo.com .
