Red Beans and Vice (9 page)

“Heaven, I don’t blame you for being upset and scared. These creeps can bring a person down. And the extra added element is that you serve food. That makes it easy to start rumors and it makes you vulnerable to people’s fears about their health. All of these food safety
problems, the killer hamburgers and stuff. It’s made the public gun-shy.”

“Gun-shy. Good one,” Heaven said wryly. “Can’t you rummage around and find a profile on this type of weirdo?”

“Yes, I probably can. But you already talked to one of the top experts in the country and he gave you good advice, it sounds like, even if it was a little late. I’ll go into the FBI web site and see what I can find. Heaven, it could be anyone.”

She had to laugh. “You mean I’m universally hated?”

“Start in and move outward. Personally, it could be a spurned lover from years ago who harbors a grudge. Or it could be someone who has obsessed over you from seeing your picture in the papers and reading about your brushes with death. That can be sexually exciting to some people.”

“What’s the next circle out? My business?” Heaven picked a big slice of avocado out of the Cobb salad and popped it in her mouth.

“Yes, I would say that’s next. Someone who didn’t get a job and wanted one, or did get a job and couldn’t keep it. Someone who got bad service or had to wait for a table or thinks he got sick from the food. Someone who doesn’t like the open mike nights. Someone who personally doesn’t like one of your employees.” Bonnie waved for a waiter. “Could I have some coffee?” she asked when one hurried over. Heaven’s table was always considered VIP at the Cup.

“And then?” Heaven asked glumly.

“People who don’t like the groups mentioned in the letter. Someone who hates gays, or waiters, or cooks,” Bonnie said calmly, not feeling Heaven’s sense of doom and drama.

“What’s the largest circle?” Heaven asked.

“The poison-pen version of random violence. Someone who could have chosen any restaurant to terrorize, and you just happened to get chosen.”

Out of nowhere three desserts appeared, compliments of Charlene, who waved at them from behind the coffee counter. The two were quiet for a while as they tasted a baked apple with cinnamon ice !ream, a dense dark-chocolate brownie, and a piece of key lime pie.

“Will you do one thing for me, Bonnie?”

“You know I will within my limitations.”

Heaven polished off the last bite of the brownie. “Will you ask around the department? Maybe some other restaurant has been getting these too and we just don’t know about it. Or maybe some other kinds of businesses that hire lots of gay people have been targeted. We might be able to eliminate one or two of these possibilities.”

“Now that I can do,” Bonnie Weber said.

H
eaven rolled over on Hank again. She kissed his neck and the little hollow where his collarbone fit on his chest. She licked his shoulder, wanting to set the taste of him in her mind. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered.

Hank ran his hand through her hair. “You’re only going to be gone for a few days. Why are you acting this way?”

“I’m afraid.”

Hank pulled her down until her head was on his chest. He wrapped her up in his arms and let the beat of his heart calm her. After a few minutes he sensed that she was more relaxed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that before, that you’re afraid. What of?”

“The fact that there are people out in the world that I don’t know that may want to do me harm scares me. Whoever wrote that letter about my restaurant scares me. The person who vandalized the convent in New Orleans scares me. The fact that some or all of these things could be just random really scares me.”

Hank stroked her head. “If you know what you’re up against, you can figure out how to fight it. I know you’re a warrior, Heaven.”

“I’m a tired warrior. I feel defeated.”

“Then I’m going to take your mind to a completely different level for a minute. I have a favor to ask you.”

“Anything, as long as it doesn’t require warrioring,” Heaven said, rolling over and propping her head up with one arm so she could look at Hank.

“I have a package of little gifts and a letter that I’d like for you to take to my cousins in New Orleans. They live in a Vietnamese enclave just out of town. Its called Versailles. I think it’s very well known and shouldn’t be hard to find.”

“Of course, but why not send them UPS?”

“Because I want them to meet you, that’s why. This way there will be no embarrassment, no one has to ask the other to dinner or something that might be strained. You can deliver the package and they will get to meet you. And you them, of course.”

Heaven was touched. “Is this because your mom has told them what an evil white witch I am? You want to show them I don’t have horns?”

“I want them to see the remarkable woman that I love. That’s all.”

“Aren’t you afraid that when they see how old I am, plus being an Anglo, it will just make things worse?”

Hank laughed. “Two of my cousins are general practitioners
and run a family practice together, and a third is a dentist. They should be able to handle any geriatric medical emergencies that might occur.”

“I think I’m having one now.” Heaven grabbed Hank’s hand and put it on one of her breasts.

“A medical emergency?”

“Yes. Heart palpitations,” she whispered in his ear, and pulled him to her.

H
eaven, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were the one who caused all the trouble at the convent. Not one bad thing has happened since you’ve been gone.” Nancy Blair was teasing Heaven over lunch at Galatoire’s.

“Do you think I should have stayed home?” Heaven asked as she tasted her Pompano Almondine. “This is great. I wonder where they get the pompano.”

“Florida. But who knows what it really is? Any old flat-bodied fish, they call it pompano nowadays.”

Heaven was surprised Nancy knew about the types of fish bodies. “Are you a cook, Nancy?”

“We had great food at my houses. We were known for it. Not that I wanted our clients hanging around eating food. No, I wanted them to do their business and get out. But there is another level of customer that demands food and drink along with their romantic interludes. At first I had Antoine’s send over food and a waiter, but there is little markup in something that’s already retail, so I started providing that service myself.”

“You sound like a savvy businesswoman, Nancy. No wonder you’re rich.”

Nancy Blair ignored the compliment, lost for a moment in reverie. “Back then, on Sundays I’d cook for all the girls. They could have their children come to dinner, too. If I was in a good mood, I’d let them invite their pimps. I thought pimps were utterly useless, didn’t understand why girls that worked in a respectable house like mine still felt the need to give their money to some man, money they’d worked hard for. By the time I took mine and the pimp took his, the working girl didn’t have a chance.”

The irony of what she had just said was lost on Nancy, Heaven could see. Her exploitation had been just, while the pimp’s exploitation was unjust? “What would you cook?” Heaven asked.

“Pot food. The south has a great history of pot food, something made out of a cheap cut of meat and cooked for a long time to be tender. I made great ox tails, Jambalaya, gumbo. Sometimes I’d roast a turkey or some ducks. One of my husbands was a hunter, and we’d have venison stew.”

“Now we’re getting to the good stuff,” Heaven said with a smile. “The husbands.”

“I wish they’d been the good stuff,” Nancy Blair chuckled.

“How many times were you married?”

“Counting my present husband, six.”

Thank God she beat me, Heaven thought. “I didn’t realize you were married now. You seem like a single woman and you didn’t mention a husband when we had lunch before.”

A look of genuine pain came over Nancy’s face. Heaven wasn’t sure if she was sad or having a physical
attack. “Most people think we’re divorced. Jimmy’s been gone from New Orleans for two years now. He was considerably younger than I was.”

“Where is he?”

“I wish I knew. I sent him money about three months after he left. He was in San Diego then. I haven’t heard since. Don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”

“I know this is nosy,” Heaven said, “but was the amount of money you sent enough to tide him over for a year and a half? Maybe you’ll hear from him when he needs more.”

Nancy laughed. “I’m not that generous, Heaven. Even if he invested wisely, he’s been out of money for a year. After all, I wanted him to come back at that time. I wouldn’t give him enough rope to go and hang me with.”

“And now? Do you still want him to come back?”

“I could say no and mean it right this minute, but if he was to come through that door, I don’t have a clue what I’d do; fire my revolver at his pretty head or kiss him.”

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, hell, 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 shifted 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.

H
eaven 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-lashing. “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.