Fat Tuesday Fricassee (18 page)

Tiffany grimaced at the mention of his bunions and took a quick look at her plastic-covered clipboard. “Yes, well, let me know if you have any problems. We lost another food truck this morning. We can't stand to lose any more or it won't be much of a rally.”

“Thanks for letting us know.” I smiled at her even though she was a little bossy and perky for me. She had the hard job of keeping a bunch of independent foodies together for two weeks. I had it in my heart to feel sorry for her.

She fussed with her pink poncho for a moment.

“I'm sorry about Jordan,” I said quickly. “I know about the two of you. He seemed like a nice person.”

Her wet face paled, and she bit her lip. “I really can't believe he's gone, you know? When my father said he'd been shot, I thought—”

“You didn't think he'd killed himself?”

“No,” she admitted. “I still don't. But I hadn't seen him since December. He was always working. He didn't have time for me.”

“What about Lisa?”

“Lisa?” She looked puzzled. “I don't know her.”

“She was his new girlfriend.” I was skeptical. What woman doesn't know who her old boyfriend is dating?

“Oh. I didn't know.” She held up her clipboard as though it was a shield. “I have to go. Good luck today.”

“She's kind of cute,” Ollie said when she was gone. “I wonder if she's seeing anyone.”

“I don't know. Maybe you should ask her out.”

He shuddered. “Still recovering from my breakup with Delia. She was the first woman I've been interested in for years.”

I smiled at him, knowing some of his background. Ollie's wife had tried to kill him. Miguel said she had PTSD and was out of her head at the time. Ollie's career with the Marines had ended that day. I understood why he was reluctant to try other relationships.

There was another knock on the back door. Ollie answered it reluctantly. “Someone needs to tell people that we have the side window open.”

It was one Mr. Carruthers. “Miss Chase.”

Why was he here?
“Yes. What can I do for you?”

“I only wanted to stop by and apologize for giving you a hard time.” He managed a small smile. “I'm new at this and I really need this job. Perhaps I was trying too hard to make sure you were up to code.”

“That's okay.” I could certainly understand wanting to make things work out right. “Would you like a biscuit or something?”

“No. I have to get back to work. Good luck with your food truck.”

“Thanks.”

“That was odd,” Ollie said as we watched Mr. Carruthers walk away.

“Maybe he was feeling guilty.”

“Yeah. I don't buy it.”

“I don't know what else he could hope to gain.”

“We'll see.”

One of the other food truck drivers walked by. “You all should come out and take a look at this.” He pointed toward the sky.

Ollie and I both shrugged and followed him into the parking lot. There was a double rainbow over Mobile Bay. We stood and stared at the arches in the sky as everyone proclaimed the rainbows to be a good sign. It had stopped raining and the sun was shining again.

“Can I call it or what?” Ollie drawled. “Well, not me, but my bunions.”

There was one older man. I guessed he was from one of the food trucks, but I wasn't sure. He stared at the sky, crossing himself a dozen times as he took in the rainbows.

“No good luck from those things,” he said. “It just means the gods are walking the earth. When did anything good ever come from that?”

I wasn't sure what the double rainbows meant to anyone else, but to us they meant customers. Groups of people in ponchos, not trusting the weather, started walking through the parking lot. Some of them stopped at the Biscuit Bowl. They were hungry, too, ordering several biscuit bowls each.

We'd forgotten to put ice into the big cooler outside, so our Cokes were cool rather than cold. Most people didn't seem to care. A few people gave Ollie a disgusted look and walked off when he told them there was no ice.

I called Uncle Saul, not knowing how much longer Miguel might be busy. He said he'd bring more ice as soon as he could.

“Your father convinced me to ride on the Mistics of Time float this morning. I'm soaking wet, and I think I'm getting a head cold.” He sneezed several times. “I'm gonna go back to the apartment and change before I come over.”

“Don't plan on working if you don't feel well. We can handle it.”

But by the time Uncle Saul got there with the ice, it was all Ollie and I could do to keep up with the orders. There was a long line of customers waiting in the parking lot. Uncle Saul filled the ice barrel and then stepped into the kitchen.

“Where's Delia?” he asked. “I believe you could use a hand.”

“She's on her way but got stuck behind a parade. She'll get here as soon as she can. We'll be fine until then. Go back to the apartment and get some rest.”

He grinned, put on some plastic gloves, and then grabbed some paper products for the order Ollie was barking out. “Don't be silly. I might have a stuffy nose, but I can still help. I just won't touch the food.”

I didn't argue with him. I couldn't even remember what the last three orders had been that Ollie had yelled out. “You're going to have to write them down,” I told Ollie. “I can't keep up with what you're saying.” He grabbed a pencil and paper, but his handwriting was so bad I couldn't read it. “Print, please.”

He growled and began printing the orders. Sometimes he reminded me of Crème Brûlée, except for the biting and licking.

We were moving more smoothly when Delia arrived. That extra pair of hands made a big difference. We split up into our usual jobs, but Uncle Saul helped with plates, forks, and napkins instead of making food.

It was three
P.M.
before I glanced up and there were no people at the window. Ollie had slumped on the counter. Delia was up front with Crème Brûlée, her head on the steering wheel. Uncle Saul was sneezing and coughing. I hugged him and told him to go back to the apartment.

“You need me, Zoe.” His voice was getting raspy. “I'm not really sick.”

“You sound sick to me. Go have a long nap. I'll call Cole. He can drop you off and then take me to the diner to make biscuits. We'll probably be slow again for a couple hours.”

“Okay. Fine,” he agreed. “People just use you up around here. I've tried to help and what do I get?”

“I'll make you some hot garlic soup while I'm at the diner. That should pick you right up.” I gave him a hug and a kiss. “And I appreciate all your help. You know that! I just don't want you to get worse.”

“I guess that's fine. But you'll call if you get busy again, right?”

“I will.”

Miguel showed up in a blue Biscuit Bowl T-shirt and jeans. He was done working for the day and wanted to help out. I told him about my plan to drop Uncle Saul at the apartment and go on to the diner. He offered the use of his car.

“Thank you so much.” I kissed him quickly and smiled. “I'm going to have to think of something special I can do for you.”

He grinned. “I'm sure I can think of something.”

Ollie and Uncle Saul both laughed at that. I could feel my cheeks turning pink. I supposed that's what happened when you said possibly suggestive things to your boyfriend in front of relatives and co-workers.

We were all set to go. Delia was staying at the Biscuit Bowl to handle any light traffic. My phone rang, and I answered it, but there was no one there. I put it away and it rang again.

I realized then that it was Jordan's phone that was ringing in my pocket. It gave me a creepy feeling. “Hello?”

“Jordan? I-is that you?”

I lowered my voice and coughed, trying to imitate Uncle Saul. “I have a cold. What's up?”

“It's Dylan. I read that you were dead, man. I mean I guess you're not, right? Listen, this thing is getting too intense. I have to move on. Maybe get out of town or something.”

“Wait.” I coughed again and tried to gather my thoughts. This was obviously a friend of Jordan's who might have information about him and what he was working on. I had to be careful. “We should meet. I can't talk about this on the phone, you know?”

“I hear you. I didn't know this would blow up. Honestly. I didn't understand what I'd heard until later. I'm sorry I dragged you into this. We should meet and then we should both get out of town. This thing with the police commissioner is crazy, man.”

“Yeah. Really crazy.”

“Let's meet at the Mardi Gras museum. You can buy me a drink after at Clawfoot. You owe me, man.”

“Sure. I know. I'll be there.”

“Midnight. I'm out of here after that. I already quit the paper. I think someone has been following me. I'll try to be careful not to lead him to you. See you then.”

That was it. The phone went dead. I tried to figure out what the call had meant.

“What's wrong?” Miguel asked.

I explained about how I'd come to have Jordan's phone. “That was someone from the newspaper. He was talking about something crazy with the police commissioner and that Jordan owed him a favor. I want to meet with him.”

“We should call the police,” Miguel said.

“I don't think you should involve the police,” Ollie added. “They've made it pretty clear that they're done with this case.”

Uncle Saul nudged him with his elbow. “Are you saying Zoe should talk to some man she's never met? He might be a killer! How is she equipped to handle something like that?”

“I guess that's true.” Ollie stared hard at me. “I could give her a quick course in self-defense and death moves.”

“I don't think I need death moves,” I retorted. “But I think I should meet him—Clawfoot is that bar near the
Mobile Times
building, right? He works for the newspaper, like Jordan did. He might have something important to say. He said he's leaving town.”

“At least give Patti a call.” Miguel was always a fan of doing things the “right” way. “I think she'll help. She'll know what we should do.”

“I don't think I should call her. Not yet,” I disagreed. “The police aren't interested, and it might be nothing. If I do it myself—no complications. If he doesn't really have anything to say, I don't have to feel bad for dragging anyone out at midnight.”

“Midnight? That's dramatic, don't you think?” Delia asked. “Why not when it's sunny out?”

“I don't think he wants anyone to see him,” I replied. “He sounds scared.”

“I should go, too,” Ollie offered. “Maybe Miguel could stay here. Or Delia. Neither one of them can look mean like I can. I could protect you.”

“I can stay,” Delia said. “But, Zoe, I think Miguel is right. This person could be a crazy killer. You can't tell by talking to someone on the phone for two minutes.”

“I might not get another chance to talk to one of Jordan's friends.”

She put her hand on my shoulder. “You aren't responsible for this young man's death. I know you found him, but that doesn't mean you have to do anything more. I don't want to find you dead.”

I hugged her. “Thanks. Will you stay until six? There shouldn't be many people. Call if it gets busy.”

“Sure. But think about this, Zoe,” she said. “And get back here as soon as you can. I don't want to face a ravenous crowd of drenched parade watchers alone.”

I thanked her for being such a big help and left with Miguel and Ollie. Miguel had found an app for his phone that showed which streets were blocked off for the big parades. We avoided those areas, but it still took an extra twenty minutes to drop Uncle Saul off at Daddy's apartment on the way to the diner.

He protested between sneezes all the way. “You're gonna need me tonight, Zoe girl. Things could change suddenly and you might get hurt.”

“I'll be fine. I'm going to make biscuits and get the food ready for dinner. I won't meet with Dylan until later. I'll have Ollie and Miguel looking out for me.”

He seemed pacified by that idea and went inside the apartment building after I promised that I would call when I heard anything else.

Miguel still wasn't happy about it. “You're determined to be part of this, aren't you?”

“Not at all. Tucker and Jordan's girlfriend were both at the diner this morning. I didn't offer to help. Same thing when I called Tucker after he left the phone for me to find.”

“Why is Tucker Phillips—a millionaire and a man who has many friends in this city—turning to you for help? Have you thought about that?”

“I agree with Miguel,” Ollie said. “I don't trust that man.”

“He thinks Jordan and I are tied together because I found his body. It's a philosophy thing.”

“Maybe so, but it's a bad philosophy thing, Zoe.
He
should hire a private detective, not try to get you to figure this out for him.”

“It's going to be fine now that we know a little more,” I
assured him with a bright smile. “Dylan is Jordan's friend, a co-worker. He might know what Jordan was working on when he died. He might be able to give us insight into Jordan.”

“Or he might be the one who killed Jordan.”

“No denying that, young'un,” Ollie chimed in after being quiet for so long that I almost forgot he was in the backseat. “This could be a good thing, or it could be a trap.”

We pulled into the diner parking lot and I got out of the Mercedes.

“It's not a trap, Ollie. You should've heard his voice. He was terrified.” I had to dig around in my bag to find my keys. “This is something I was meant to do or I wouldn't have found him. You should understand that, Miguel.”

I could tell he didn't understand at all. I opened the diner and started mixing biscuits, all the while thinking about the meeting with Jordan's friend. Would he be willing to talk to me when he saw I wasn't Jordan?

Ollie was humming as he searched through my freezers. “We need something exciting for dinner tonight. Something to spice things up and make people think food truck food is the best!”

Miguel made coffee. “Is there something I can do to help?”

“I might need some things from the store.”

“Why don't I ever get to go to the store?” Ollie asked.

“You don't have a car,” I answered with a smile. “Anything exciting in the freezer?”

“You've got a huge amount of mushrooms in here. What about some mushroom chowder?”

“Mushroom chowder?”

“Like clam chowder, but with some of these fat mushrooms. You've got plenty of potatoes, too.”

“Sounds good. Do I have everything else for it?”

“Looks like you're out of fresh onion, celery, carrots, and garlic. Want to use powdered?”

“No, thanks.” I glanced at Miguel. “Would you mind?”

“Not if you'll forget about talking to Jordan's friend tonight.”

I thought he was kidding at first, but he was serious.

“Miguel, I have to find out what Dylan knows.”

“I'll go, too,” Ollie volunteered. “I'll go to the store, too, if you want.”

“Do you have a driver's license?” Miguel asked.

“No. You know I lost it with that bus thing. But I can drive everything from a motorcycle to a tank.”

“So you drove the Biscuit Bowl back here from Uncle Saul's place with no license?” I asked.

Ollie shrugged and took out the mushrooms.

“I'll go,” Miguel said. “I'm not much of a cook like you two, and our time is limited before we have to head back to the food truck rally.”

“I'll make a list.” I hoped he'd give up on the idea of convincing me not to meet with Dylan.

“I'm not kidding about this, Zoe.” Miguel was steely eyed. “This thing with Jordan has been one problem after another. It's dangerous. If you like, I'll tell Tucker he should quit bothering you with it.”

“I can handle Tucker. And I'll think about Dylan while we cook,” I promised. “Can we talk about it when you get back?”

“All right. But it has to be a serious conversation! You're taking this too lightly.”

“It will. I promise.” I kissed him and made up a quick list.

When he was gone, Ollie started peeling and chopping potatoes for the mushroom chowder. “I thought we were gonna get to mix it up, Zoe. What happens about Jordan now?”