Chapter Six: Put Some Creole Mustard On It!
As Cayenne puzzled about her troubling visit with to Star and Daphne, she absent mindedly put her key into the door and let herself into the house. She heard Raven call out from the small exercise room just off the kitchen.
"Yoooo, hoo, Cay! I'm in here."
Raven was doing her yoga and in the midst of a floor pose that had her laying on her stomach, left arm and leg extended while her right arm reached back and grasped the ankle of her right leg.
"Do you need some help?" Cay teased.
"Half Bow Pose. Good for your back and a reminder that we are the bow and the soul is the arrow." She came out of the position, and rolled over on her side before looking at Cay.
"You got a phone call from a Mr. Rufus Thibodeaux. He said he lost your cell phone number, so call him again. At work."
*****************************
Even though the voice on the other end of the line was tired and worn out, Cay was thrilled to hear it. Rufus was not a blood relative, but he was family. Cay's father and Rufus had been in the police department as partners. Cay's father had passed away several years ago, but Rufus was still active in the New Orleans Police Department and had risen to senior detective. It was a job he loved until the levies broke after Hurricane Katrina. Then it turned into a nightmare test of his men, his family, the city, the department and of himself. Rufus passed the test, staying on the job and in the city throughout the crisis of mayhem, search and rescue, abandonment, death, and heartbreak. The rest of the city, the department and his men didn't score as high.
"Hey, boo! 300 miles away, and you've found yourself trouble already!"
"Kind of fell into my lap, Uncle Rufus. I was just minding my own business and the business of State Farm when this all kind of fell into my lap. How's Anita? How are the kids?"
"Hope to get up to Baton Rouge this weekend to see them. The kids are really settled into school up there and Dominic is star of the soccer team. Anita got a job at the children's school, so it's working out well for them."
Rufus paused. Thick unspoken questions filled the miles between Lake Charles and New Orleans. Cayenne knew that Anita didn't want to return to New Orleans, and the more that the family put roots into Baton Rouge, the less likely they would return. Meanwhile, Rufus lived in a one bedroom apartment and worked too many hours. She could hear the strain in his voice when he resumed talking.
"So what's happening that you are calling on the services of New Orleans finest?"
Cayenne gave him a synopses of Elena's suspicious dive into the crawfish pond, her vist to the Daiquiri Shack, the man named Tone that no one could identify, and the clamp down at the Crime Lab against testing. She told him about the call from Joy and how the daiquiri was laced with poison but that the information couldn't be used.
"Rat poison, huh? I would avoid that little drive through if I was you."
Cay could almost feel the long gone banana daiquiri come up in her throat. "Ruf, it's like they won' listen here. Isn't it illegal to ignore evidence of a murder? Chief Fourchere is so stubborn that he refuses to believe that it's anything but self inflicted- bad behavior since it involved a New Orleans girl. But there's a whole lot more."
She filled him in on Penny's suicide, the missing shoe, and the mysterious note. She relayed her visit to Star's, the glimpse of a headdress that might have been Elena's, and Star's use of the very same phrase that was on the suicide note.
"Isn't that enough to get a warrant or something?" She wrapped up, finally giving Rufus a chance to answer.
"Well, it sure sounds might suspicious. I will try to talk to Chief Fourchere office-to-officer, but honestly, boo, New Orleans has never much been welcomed in that part of the country, and I think we get less and less welcomed every day. If Bull is not going to listen to his forensic team, he probably won't listen to some cap calling from the City. "
Cay heard him pause, then Rufus seemed to think out loud. "I think I'll approach it as our interest in an investigation of a New Orleans citizen's suspicious death in another part of the state and I'll get Grandbois to also make a courtesy call to Joy's supervisor. If we shuffle and plead a bit with our caps in our hands, maybe we can get them to move on it. If not, I'll play bad cop and threaten to send a team out there to do a real investigation. I really don't have any men to send out there, but sometimes a little alpha male posturing gets things done. I'll need a statement from you, though, about everything that you have found. Might need it for a search warrant"
His tone turned personal again, tinged with weariness. "Think you'll ever come home, boo? I miss you. This city is too quiet, too sad, and too broken. We need some young people back here." Rufus laughed sarcastically. "And the electricity turned back on."
"I promise, Ruf. New Orleans is my home now. When I finish my work here, I'll come back and move in with you. How's that?" she teased.
He laughed. "Take care, Cayenne. You might want to keep things quiet for awhile while I work behind the scenes. Tell your client you are still following up on some leads."
With the case was in Rufus's hands for now, Cayenne focused her attention back on her insurance cases. She spent the day driving around Lake Charles with her camera taking pictures and staking out across homes and business. She couldn't shake the gloom that had settled over her from listening to the fatigue in Rufus's voice.
It was close to 7 p.m. when she returned home, exhausted and depressed. She was cheered by Roux racing to her car, tail wagging and tongue lolling. She was even more cheered by the quick succession of Perro right behind Roux. Cay smiled. Francisco was here.
She opened the door with her key and walked right smack into the fiercest competition she had experienced since the call out between the Yellow Magnolias and the Marching Arrows last Mardi Gras season. She had totally forgotten. Tonight was the Bernard vs. Raven Cook Off Competition for who was going to represent the Krewe of Muses at the Cajun Extravaganza and Gumbo Cook Off. The scents in the house were intoxicating. The air was humid and filled with the aroma of simmered meat, cayenne, sassafras, onion, garlic, and green pepper, all accented by the unmistakable smell of a well tended roux.
And the musty smell of old shoes.
The living room had been turned into an impromptu sweatshop. A pile of shoes sat mounded in the middle of the room. Surrounding the pile were small folding tables cluttered with paints, beads, feathers, and glue sticks. Kenois Tout Tout was peering through glasses slung low on her nose as she glued sequins and buttons onto a black leather ballet flat. Marie Katerina, dressed in a paint smattered smock that said "FOR THIS I WENT TO COLLEGE", wielded a paintbrush and slathered yellow acrylic paint over a child's rubber boot. Marie Marguerite, also sporting glasses, focused carefully on a sewing bright green bugle beads onto the canvass of a Converse All Star Sneaker, which was already a third covered with large focus beads, buttons, and sequins. A dozen finished shoes sat on an overturned cardboard box tucked in the corner.
"Cayenne's here!" Kenois shouted, waving her glue gun. "Let's eat!" She unplugged her glue gun and took off her glasses. "Girl, I thought we were going to have to sit down without you."
Raven poked her head into the room. She was also wearing an apron and her hair pinned back in a serious looking bun. She motioned Cay toward the dining room. "We are going to settle this once and for all and since we have an even number of guests, we had to wait for you. God forbid, Yankee tastes may rule the day!"
A crowd of people pushed through the swinging door from the kitchen, like clowns pouring out of a Volkswagen. There was Nicolette and Anna Marina, Bryant and Francisco. Cay was pleased when Frank gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek and motioned her to sit next to him at the table. The group filled up the places at the table which was elegantly set and filled with fresh flowers.
Bryant sat at the head of the table and served as master of ceremonies. "I'd like to welcome you all to the Cajun Cook Off Competition between Chef Bernard and Chef Raven. Let me warn all who enter here. This is not jambalaya popularity contest here. You will find score cards at your plate and you are expected to take your job as judges seriously. Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourself for a feast. From personal observation and the occasional sneaking of a taste of which I got my hands appropriately slapped…"
His speech was interrupted by Raven's emergence once again from the kitchen with two platters piled with what looked like fluffy biscuits which she plopped down on the table.. "Shush, now Bryant, and let these good people eat."
Raven whispered into Cay's ear. "Try one of these. It is a Crawfish Beignet. Combining the best of new Orleans and the best of Calcasieu Parish."
Cayenne bit into the hot, salty concoctions. "Oh my God!" she said, tears springing to her eyes from both the heat and the pure pleasure her tongue was experiencing. "Ten! I vote ten!"
"That's what I was trying to say before I got interrupted." Bryant continued good naturedly. "Ballots are by your plate. Scale of 1 to 10, 1 being inedible and 10 being divinely inspired by the Muse herself. Vote early, vote often!"
Bernard came next through the door with a tourine of soup. "Not so fast, not so fast. Don't make your decision yet. I wanted to make my signature Turtle Soup, but I didn't want to freak Raven out ever since she told me she had a pet turtle. I used veal instead and I call it Mock Turtle Soup.
The meal proceeded in this jovial manner, with fabulous plates of food appearing from the kitchen, first begin carried in from Raven, then followed by a gorgeous presentation from Bernard. As the wine and beer was consumed, the decibel level rose, filled with much laughter, teasing and planning for the upcoming Mardi Gras festivities. Guest judges wrote down numbers, tasted carefully, then scratched out numbers and rewrote them. Cay was glad to let her ruminations get lost in the camaraderie and competition for a few hours.
"Oh chere," Nicolette waved at Cay. "Let me take a picture of you for mon frere. JeanMarc would love that." She held up her cell phone and pointed it in Cay's direction.
Cay mugged for the camera., taking a spoonful of soup with her eyes crossed. She leaned in close to Frank, so he also was compelled to mug for the camera, holding up a half eaten beignet. Let JeanMarc think what he wanted to.
Kenois clanked her spoon again the glass in front of her. "Attention, attention. As we execute our solemn duties to choose a representative for the Gumbo Cook Off, we also need to choose our next Queen candidate. To Elena and Penelope." She raised her glass solemnly. Here, here, To Elena. Bless their souls, the group murmured as they remembered their fallen friends.
"I think it's obvious. We should have Nicolette as our next candidate. A French speaking beauty who wears a size four dress and a size six shoe? She's the obvious choice."
Marie Marguerite looked at Marie Katerina in surprise. "Why, that's very generous, Marie Katerina. I was starting to suspect you of killing off the competition." She started to laugh, but the comment fell flat and uncomfortably in the room."
Marie Katerina rescued her sister's faux pas by responding graciously, "I want to win even more than I want to be queen." She raised her glass to all sitting at the table. "All in favor of Nicolette being our Queen's Candidate, say oui!"
A solid round of ouis were heard. Cay heard Francisco say softly, "Si."
Bernard bounded through the swinging door carrying a huge wooden bowl of Louisiana Sunburst Salad as the group was voting. "Are you voting me in already?"
Nicolette looked at him and said quietly, "Bernard, I have just been voted une reine …queen." She reached up and started to fuss with the silver alligator charm around her neck, as if nervously awaiting his reaction.
The diners could all see that Bernard was battling between emotions of pride and something else. Fear, Cay decided. He placed the salad bowl on the table and motioned Nicolette to join him in the kitchen.
Marie Marguerite looked at Cay. "They'll work it out. To be Queen is a great honor. Can you contact your friend in Metairie and see if he can start working on something for a delicate boned French girl?"
"Tell him the theme has got to be Urania," Kenois coached. "The Goddess of Astronomy. Have him whip up something loaded with the sun, moon and stars, and sparkles Lots of sparkles."
"Jacques loves sparkles. I'm sure he is up to the task," Cay said, then added nonchalantly. "Maybe we can still use Elena's headdress that her aunt sewed for her."
Kenois paused, putting a forkful of baby greens in her mouth. "I don't have it. I wonder it the police ever took it out of the car. Maybe Aunt Fanny still has it. Man, this salad is made with a Raspberry-Tabasco-and Cinnamon vinaigrette! Yow, this has got to be a 10. Where's my ballot tablet?"
Cay tried again to get some information without seeming to be actively questioning anyone. As she dished some of the salad onto her plate, she spoke again in a casual tone.
"Hey, guess who I met today. Star Chamblee-Phipps and her daughter Daphne. They are an interesting duo."
"Did Daphne see T…" Cay put her hand on Frank's thigh under the table and squeezed. He was caught by surprise by the gesture until he saw that Cay was shaking her head to stop his question. The rest of the table didn't notice as they fell all over themselves putting in their opinions. In the confusion, she leaned over and whispered to Frank, "Don't say anything. I'll tell you about it later."
"Daphne?" Marie Marguerite was already expressing her opinion. "As in Daphne Mae Carter from the Krewe du Lacquer? Girl, she is our most major competition for the Queen of Queen's pageant. Not as pretty as Nicolette, though…" she hastened to say.
Anna Marina put it more bluntly. "Rumor has it that her momma has been putting it out for the Chief to pave the way for her little girl."
"Her mother seems intent on winning." Cay replied, a little taken back by the bald statement.
"She is probably the one killing us all off, not me." Marie Katerina kept talking as she put a scoop of salad in her mouth.
No one commented in the room. Cay pushed a bit, laughing a bit and commenting. "Well, it's only a beauty pageant."
Raven emerged from the kitchen just as Cay spoke, carrying a large platter of something steaming and covered with sauce. "That's the best reason there is to commit murder in the South. You will never be convicted by a true jury of your peers." She placed a steaming platter on the table. "Paneéd Rabbit Over Fettuccine. My entrée." She started serving.
Marie Katerina nodded her agreement. "You got that right. Nothing is more serious than the Queen's Competition."
Marie Marguerite nodded her head, "Listen to her. She knows what she is talking about. Marie Katerina was the top contender here in Lake Charles for three years in a row. Won it once. She still has her tiara. I sometimes catch her wearing it around the house."
Marie Katerina threw a napkin at her.
"You all can't be serious. You think that Penny and Elena could be dead because of a stupid beauty pageant?"
Raven clucked her tongue and responded matter-of-factly. "Darling, you are from Chicago right? You have a competition for Stockyard Queen every spring? Surely you know that women all over the world participate in these kinds of competitions, whether the are for courts, or beef or cheese or crawfish. What you don't realize, " she said, as she dished up a plate for Bryant, "is that in a situation like this, when you have a mother who actually moved to this town in order that her darling-but-not-drop-dead-gorgeous-follow-in-momma's-footsteps daughter might be able to put Mardi Queen 2006 on her resume when looking for a future rich husband. We, my dear Northern innocent," now handing Cay a fresh plate of scallopine meat, "are competing against the most dangerous creature alive."
The thin strips of pale meat were swimming in a pool of light brown sauce that wafted enticing and alluring delicate spices. Cay could feel her knees buckle even though she was already stuffed with delicious food.
Raven said quite matter of factly once the plate was settled in front of Cay. "Darling, you have a competitor with Texas Cheerleader Mother Syndrome on your hands."
Cay snorted at the joke, She put skewered a second piece of rabbit on her fork. A ten, again, she decided. She saw Raven still looking at her, expectantly. Cay choked. "You're serious."
The seasoned therapist nodded. "It's in the Supplement. I've only seen one case in my professional career, but I have friends in Dallas who specialize in it."
"A supplement? You mean for the DSM-IV, that psychological manual that lists all the mental health diagnoses?"
"That's right, but you might not find this one in any library. It's the DSM-IV Southern Addenda. You Northerners don't know much about pageants and stuff, so that case in Texas when a mother of a cheerleader put out a contract on the competition came as a big surprise to ya'll. But here in the South, we had her pegged from the first news report."
Raven scooped herself her own plate and settled at the empty space next to Bryant. "We in the therapy community have developed our own addendum to cover some of the more common syndromes that seem peculiar to the South. The American Psychological Association hasn't approved it but we know how useful it can be. Mardi Gras Bead Compulsive Buying Syndrome ; You Don't Understand How It Is Between The Races Down Here Syndrome ; Alabama Communication Disorders -- stuff that seems adoringly regional and quirky to y'all but can cause a dysfunction in every day living."
Cay wanted to know if My Gumbo Is The Best In The World Delusional Thinking Syndrome was included in the categories, but she thought the comment might endanger her place at the table.
"What does that mean? Texas Cheerleader Syndrome?" she asked instead.
"Well, in a pecan shell, Texas Cheerleader Mother Disorder is an obsessive desire to win at any cost when it comes to your daughter in a competition against other women."
"Kind of takes the fun out of it, don't you think?"
Marie Katerina answered this time. "Au contraire! The Chase and The Competition is what it is all about. I bet Star has old Bull Fourchere wrapped around her manicured finger. Men have no defenses. They never see it coming, and before they know it they are smitten, then married, then dead." She whispered conspiratorially. "I know for a fact that Star Chamblee Phipps has been married four times."
"How do you treat something like that?" Cay asked Raven through a mouth of rabbit. "Medication? Group Therapy? Electric Shock?"
This time, it was Raven snorted, almost sending a cube of tender meat through her nose.
"When you find out, tell me and I'll share it with the others. We don't know how to treat the Disorder. All I know is that I would rather take on a tag team of Bernard and his alligators than wrestle with a high haired Texan Momma on a Beauty Pageant Mission."
As if on cure, Bernard walked in the room with his piece de resistance, followed closely by Nicolette who began distributing full plates of food. Bernard presented a specially prepared plate to Raven. She frowned at it, disapprovingly. "You think you can dress up a gator in a lemon sauce and call it gourmet? Bernard, we are not camping here."
"Alligator in Lemon and Wine Sauce, my friend. Just try it."
The participants at the table all strained to look at the plate. There was a single steak of pale tender meat, sprinkled with capers, lemon and garlic, with a garnish of fresh rosemary speared through a delicately cooked oyster wrapped in bacon as a side.
Raven looked suspicious, and carefully cut a small piece. She dipped in the wine sauce before putting it into her mouth. She paused, and the whole table could see her jaw muscles working as she took small, appreciative bites. She finished her careful chewing, then slowly put her fork back on the plate. "Damn, Bernard. This is fabulous."
Cay put a bite in her mouth from the plate Nicolette had set in front of her, hesitant at eating something that might have eaten Penelope. It's tender, lemony velvet wrapped itself seductively around Cay's tongue, then slipped down her throat. Cay immediately wanted another bite.
Bernard had been watching her. " I wrestled it myself, If you find a finger in there, it's mine."
He found the reaction he was looking for in her widened eyes. "Just kidding, Yankee. Just kidding."
The rest of the group took cautious bites of the tenderized meat prepared with garlic, pinot grigio and lemon with capers. Nicolette beamed at Bernard and put her crossed fingers in the air. A collective orgasmic sigh of pleasure rose from the dining room.
After a few glances at each other, Anna Marina wrote on her ballot and held it up for everyone to see. It was a 14 with an exclamation mark. "I vote for Bernard."
Other Krewe members looked at each other furtively, then one by one, wrote a 14 on their ballot and held it up for all to see. Even Cay apologetically raised her hand, looking sheepishly at Raven and shrugged. "Sorry. It's really, really good."
Kenois took a vote. "All in favor of Bernard representing the Krewe of Muses at the Cajun Extravaganza and Gumbo Cook Off, say aye!"
There was a resounding chorus of ayes. Francisco started clapping, and the rest of the table enthusiastically joined in.
"So be it!" Kenois declared, hitting her spoon against her wine glass.
Raven took another bite of Bernard's gator, and shook her head in disbelief again. "Damn, boy. I yield. You deserve to cook the Krewe of Muses gumbo."
Then she pointed her fork directly to the hairy grinning man at the other end of the table, "But don't even try to sneak past my Bourbon Pecan Tart. " She pointed her fork to the heavens. "When it comes to desserts, I, am touched by Urania, the Muse herself. All who eat my pie shall see stars and feel the heavens. "
"I'll vote for that," Bryant testified.
The three sisters automatically raised their hands in agreement, already looking forward to the next course.
CHAPTER SEVEN: We Don't Care How They Do It Outside
Copyright by Aileen M. McInnis, 2006. All rights reserved. Contact the author at aileen_mcinnis@yahoo.com .
