Fat Tuesday Fricassee (21 page)

“I'm riding in another parade today.” Chef Art delicately
wiped his tiny white beard with a moist towelette. “You're welcome to join me, Zoe. You could drop flyers instead of throws.”

“I don't think people would appreciate that when they're expecting candy or beads. We're doing almost more than we can handle right now at the rally. I've given out a thousand flyers with biscuit bowls. I hope people will remember me when carnival is over.”

“I'm sure they will. If they don't remember you, they'll remember your food. That's more important, anyway.”

The bacon was frying and the peas were heating in the big pot. I chopped a mountain of onions for the bacon and pea savory. When I'd finished with that, I made a huge batch of icing for the sweet biscuit bowls. It was time to figure out what would be inside those bowls and get started making it.

“What about cheese?” I asked.

“Cheese?” Chef Art scowled. “With wine, yes. I'm not sure about in a biscuit bowl for a sweet.”

“Ricotta. Sweet cheese with some candied fruit in it,” I suggested.

“Add some rum to that and you've got a hit,” Ollie said.

Tom, my UPS driver, whistled as he walked through the door wearing his usual brown shirt and shorts. “How's it going, Miss Zoe? I got this big package for you. Maybe something good to eat, huh?”

Tom handed me the large package, and I put it down so I could hand him a warm biscuit bowl.

“That's what I love about delivering to you. See you later.”

I put aside the frozen peaches I'd been looking at and opened the box.

There was a loud popping sound, and most of the box blew apart.

Everything went quiet for a minute. I was stunned, and covered in glitter and sequins, but not hurt.

“What was that?” Chef Art asked.

“Are you okay, Zoe?” Miguel rushed to my side.

“Outside of looking like a party happened on me, I think I'm fine.” I needed to take a shower, anyway. I didn't think there was a part of me that wasn't full of glitter.

“Someone could've been hurt with that,” Ollie observed.

Chef Art frowned. “In my day we called that a surprise box. It went to people we didn't like during carnival. No one ever suspected until it was too late. My friends and I did it to dozens of people. I wonder who sent this to you, Zoe.”

“I think right now they must be standing in line with numbers.” I brushed off as many sequins as I could. “I'm going to take a shower now. You all carry on without me.”

A surprise box.

It was aptly named, I thought, as I washed off the glitter.
There were rivers of purple, gold, and green going down the drain. I hoped it didn't clog anything.

Was it supposed to be a threat or a prank? I'd never heard of it before. I guess it was old school. I'd have to ask Chef Art after I got dressed—and later, Uncle Saul.

When I got out of the shower, I still had a lot of glitter on me. I would probably have to live with it for a few days. Lucky it was time for carnival. I fit right in.

It was difficult getting dressed in the tiny bathroom. Usually, I dashed to my temporary bedroom, but with a diner full of men on the other side of the wall, that wasn't an option. I struggled into my last pair of clean jeans and a T-shirt. All my Biscuit Bowl T-shirts were dirty. I was going to have to wash clothes soon.

I brushed my wet black curls and then held my head down to fluff them up. They'd have to dry a bit before I could use gel on them. I was tempted to cover them with a colorful scarf, but I knew that would be another problem tomorrow if I did.

I went back out to the kitchen. The surprise box was on the counter. Ollie, Miguel, and Chef Art were all looking inside it.

“Did I miss something?” I asked.

“There was a note at the bottom.” Ollie handed it to me.

The next one will be real.

“What does that even mean?” I looked up at my friends.

“I believe it's a threat, Zoe,” Chef Art said. “I never heard of a surprise box with serious intent. It was just supposed to be a prank on someone you didn't care for, you know? Like filling a paper bag with dog poop and leaving it for someone to step on. Just harmless fun.”

“
Eww
.” Better glitter than dog poop. “You think someone is saying this could have been a bomb?”

“Maybe it's your friend the commissioner,” Ollie said.
“You better get a robot to open your packages in the parking lot from now on.”

Chef Art got up from his stool. “That sounds like my cue to leave. I'll see you later, Zoe. Be careful today.”

I finished defrosting and reheating my peaches with brandy sauce, but my hands were shaking. What if it had been a bomb? I wouldn't have to worry about crowds today or my future restaurant. It would all be over. The thought made me shudder.

Miguel put his hands on my shoulders. I jumped with a screech. “Sorry. Don't let Chef Art's words bother you. I'm sure no one was trying to kill you.”

Ollie made a loud humphing noise. “Someone is always trying to kill someone else. And that person is the last to know.”

I agreed with Miguel. “I think this was a stupid prank. There's no return address on the box. I'm sure one of my old friends from school sent it. Maybe even my mother, since she seems to have gone crazy.” I finished my sweet ricotta cheese with fruit filling. The biscuits were ready to go.

Ollie got a clean spoon and put some of the spicy black-eyed peas on it. “What do you think?”

“It's good. Really good.” And then the heat hit me. “Wow. That's hot. You don't think it's too hot, do you?”

“No such thing,” Ollie told me. “Customers like it hot.”

Within the next thirty minutes, we managed to get everything ready to go. We piled into Miguel's car and Cole's taxi and started toward the food truck rally. Delia called, frantic because she'd already had to turn two customers away.

“We'll be there as soon as we can,” I told her. “Just hope we don't run into any parades.”

I thought about the surprise box as we got closer to the food truck rally.

Did someone really just mean it as a prank? It seemed like it, but with everything that had been going on the last
few days, I was suspicious. I couldn't imagine Commissioner Sloane, despite his veiled threats, sending me that box. I watch TV. If I'd decided to call the police, his fingerprints and DNA would be all over it. He was smarter than that.

We managed to avoid most of the street traffic except for some small groups of people dancing. This time of year everyone made room and shared the street with dancers and musicians. We saw some elaborately decorated bicycles that looked parade-bound. They yelled and waved as we passed them.

“I'm a little disappointed with carnival this year,” I said as we parked the car close to the food truck rally. “It's not the same when you're working.”

There was still a three-block walk carrying all the food to reach the Biscuit Bowl. Ollie, Uncle Saul, and Miguel volunteered to bring what looked like a mountain of Cokes and ice after we got everything set up.

Delia was fending off customers who were giving her a hard time. She saw us come in the back door and gave a sigh of relief.

“What kind of crappy food truck is this, anyway?” The man at the window was wearing a costume—Dracula, I thought. He yelled at Delia and pounded his fist on the side of the Biscuit Bowl.

Ollie politely asked Delia to move away from the window. He stuck his mean face out at the complaining vampire. “Cut that out unless you want to end up
under
the truck. Come back or get lost. Your choice.”

The vampire quit pounding and backed away.

“Thanks, Ollie.” Delia smiled at him. “I thought my customers at the bar were bad. That man needs to go to jail for being so rude.”

“Don't worry about it. I'll handle the window.”

It was the most they'd said to each other since their breakup. Not that there had been yelling or cursing. It was
more a cold ignoring of each other as we worked each day. I hoped it would be better now.

We got all the food stowed away so the hot food stayed hot and the cold food stayed cold. Once we were settled in, Ollie and Miguel set up the Cokes. Uncle Saul took the window—though his mean face had miles to go to equal Ollie's. I wasn't going to argue with his choice of jobs.

“Could I take a break?” Delia asked. “My nerves are frayed.”

“Of course.” I hugged her. “Thanks for doing this crazy job. Next year we'll just enjoy the carnival.”

“Thanks, Zoe. You know I'm here for you. I'll be back in a few minutes.”

There was a rap on the back door. It was someone with a clipboard checking in with us.

“Everything going okay back here?” she asked.

“It's been hectic, but we're fine.” I stared at her. “Do I know you? Where's Tiffany?”

“She's out sick, I guess.” She shrugged. “They called me in this morning to take her place.”

“Oh.”

“I'm supposed to tell you that a few cruise ships are docking and we might expect an extra ten thousand people the next few days. Are you prepared for that?”

“As prepared as I can be.” I swallowed hard. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She smiled. “Tiffany had a lot of information in her notes, thank goodness. Otherwise, I don't know what I would've done. This was a big surprise when they called and wanted me to work.”

“I'm sure,” I sympathized. “What a way to ruin Mardi Gras, huh?”

“Don't I know it?” She rolled her eyes. “Have a good day.”

There were no other customers as I put away the paper products and straightened up the kitchen.

“You know, Zoe, about that surprise box—” Uncle Saul began.

I'd filled him in earlier. “Let's not talk about it. If someone really wanted to bomb my diner, there wouldn't be much I could do about it. I'll stick with the things I know I can do.” I hugged him to keep my words from sounding too harsh. “Are you going to be okay if Mom and Daddy decide to get back together?”

“That ship sailed a long time ago for me, Zoe girl.” He kissed my cheek. “I'm still young. I still have a grand romance coming my way. I don't need Ted's leftovers.”

“Good. You need to find someone new.” His words had been deep and painful. I was sorry I'd brought up the subject. I'd just been trying to get away from the gloom and doom.

For me, my parents deciding to get back together wouldn't be the end of the world. Maybe it would even be a good thing. But I'd have to see it last for more than a few days to believe it.

I stirred the peas with crumbled bacon and made sure the cheese filling was cool in the mini-fridge. The icing was ready to go. I couldn't imagine putting that much icing on sweet biscuit bowls in one day, but with cruise ship visitors it was possible.

It was dinnertime on the dot when we were set up. I saw the first group of partygoers in crazy costumes as they walked across the parking lot toward us.

“Here we go.”

- - - - - - -

The day had been warmer and the crowds were bigger, but otherwise it was a copycat of the day before. I was so glad every day wasn't like this. There was barely time to think much less time to plan and observe my customers.

The food held up, but I ran out of flyers. I'd forgotten to
make more at the diner before I left. Miguel offered to run back to his office and print some. I took him up on it without a pause. He could be back in ten minutes if traffic wasn't bad. We wouldn't miss getting out too many flyers while he was gone.

Delia came back from her break looking wonderfully relaxed and happy. She took over filling the sweet biscuit bowls as Ollie called out and wrote down orders.

I could hear the music as a parade passed close by the parking lot. It sounded noisy and fun. I wished I were standing on the sidewalk watching it go by instead of knee-deep in customers and black-eyed peas.

I was just tired, I told myself, promising a few days off when carnival was over. I hoped all this work would be worth it. The money had been good so far, but I'd also put out a bunch of money. I hadn't had time to balance my records. I wouldn't know about any growing awareness of my food until after the celebrations were finished and life went back to normal.

Thinking about everything that had happened in the last two weeks, I just hoped everything would actually go back to normal again. I was beginning to doubt it.

Ollie was spending the night at the Biscuit Bowl again.

Uncle Saul had wanted to, but he'd forgotten in all the food truck madness that it was Spirit Night. That meant a family obligation for both of us. Neither one of us was looking forward to it, but no one with family missed Spirit Night.

All of the Chase family from the 1700s forward was buried in the same cemetery, Our Lady of Perpetuity. The cemetery was put in during the 1800s, but earlier family members had been disinterred and moved there.

Every year on Spirit Night people visited with their dead loved ones leaving candy, cookies, beads, and other throws. Sometimes you'd see colorful masks on tombstones or pictures. You could leave whatever you wanted to honor the dead.

My mother's family, the Olivers, weren't from Mobile originally. Their dead were scattered from here to Atlanta.
Thank goodness!
It would've been impossible to visit with all of them on Spirit Night.

Daddy had texted me that he'd send a car for me and Uncle Saul. Miguel had dropped us off at the apartment after midnight.

Uncle Saul and I were able to get cleaned up and change clothes before we had to go to the cemetery. Looking your best was an essential part of Spirit Night.

I'd smuggled Crème Brûlée into the apartment for the night so he could get a break from the food truck, too. He'd been walking around the apartment investigating everything as though he'd never seen it before.

“How are you feeling?” I asked Uncle Saul.

“I'm okay.” He grinned. “Not a fan of Spirit Night. I'd forgotten that was one of the reasons I don't come home for carnival. How about you?”

“I'm hanging in there. I don't think there's ever been another time in my life that I wished carnival was over. Is it ever going to be Fat Tuesday?”

He laughed at that. “You're still young, Zoe. There'll be plenty of times you'll wish Mardi Gras was over.”

“Why? I can't imagine feeling that way if I wasn't working the food truck.”

“Even though there are plenty of people in the city for carnival, I used to lose most of my regulars at the Carriage House. Everybody is busy going to parties and staying out too late. It makes it hard for a small business to plan for a normal two weeks.”

“Now you tell me.” My phone buzzed—it was Daddy downstairs with the car. “They're waiting for us.”

“Then I guess we better go. I was crazy to tell your father that I was over my cold. As far as I know, being sick would've been the only thing to save me from Spirit Night.”

I took his arm and smiled at him. “Well, at least you have that awesome suit. It could be worse. You could've had to wear black.”

He looked down at his burgundy suit and purple tie, adjusting the matching hat on his head. “You're right. I'm looking good tonight. Too bad there are only our relatives and dead people to see it.”

I was wearing a bright emerald green dress that ended in a flounced ruffle mid-calf. The rest was formfitting across my curves. I had a matching green hat that I had to pin on my head. I didn't wear the pumps that went with the dress—walking in the cemetery wasn't good for shoes. Instead I wore a pair of ankle-high flowered boots.

“I'd say we make quite a spiffy pair.” Uncle Saul opened the door. “As much as I hate Spirit Night, it will be good to get away from that food truck for a while. I never want to see that many black-eyed peas again.”

“It's hard for me to believe you wouldn't open another restaurant like the Carriage House again if you had the chance.” I pushed the button for the elevator.

“I think those days are behind me, Zoe. I don't know how long I'll live out in the swamp. There's still a part of me who will always feel like Mobile is home. That part would like to live here, but what would I do?”

“You could work with Daddy at the bank.”

The elevator doors parted, and we stepped into the lobby.

“I don't think I could ever be
that
homesick,” he confided. “I said no to that when I was eighteen. I've never regretted it.”

We walked out into the cool night air. Music was playing across the city. Fireworks were creating brilliant pinwheels in the dark sky. It wasn't strictly legal to shoot fireworks during carnival. That never seemed to stop anyone.

Small impromptu parades of three or more people carrying banners and throws marched up and down the streets. The closer we got to Fat Tuesday, the later people stayed out.

Daddy's driver, Maurice, opened the back door to the white limo. I could see Great-Aunt Tildy and Granny Ginny
waving and smiling from the interior. Cousins Baxter and Dori were also in there. Daddy was in front with the driver.

“Here we go,” Uncle Saul said.

- - - - - - -

We drove to the cemetery with everyone crowded together, talking at one time. The Chase clan was a noisy, boisterous group when we got together during the year. It didn't happen often, but when it did, you had to fight to get a word in.

When I was a child and Grandma Chase, Daddy's mother, was still alive, I used to sit and listen to everyone talk. I never said a word—until one day she poked me and told me I'd better start talking.

Grandma Chase was a formidable woman, in girth and intellect. She was the only woman I'd ever seen my mother back down from.

Grandma Oliver was a short, dainty woman who'd died before I was born. I'd seen her pictures. She looked a lot like me, minus the curly hair.

Everyone in the limo, except for me and Uncle Saul, had brought something to put on the graves. Great-Aunt Tildy had brought a beautiful scarf to put on Grandma Chase's cross headstone. Grandma Chase had loved scarves. I still had a dozen she'd given me.

Uncle Saul mentioned that he didn't have anything to leave for Spirit Night. He was immediately inundated with beads, cookies, and colored bottles that Cousin Dori made for a living and sold on eBay.

I didn't say anything. Let them think I had something.

The cemetery was far from empty when we arrived. Other families were observing Spirit Night, too. Already, graves were littered with trinkets, and four-course meals, left behind for the dead.

We piled out of the limo when we reached the Chase
family plots. Right in the middle was a huge stone mausoleum where my great-great-grandfather, General Isaiah Chase, was buried. He was an important man during the Civil War. He'd died after his leg was blown off by the Union Army, but he still managed to save dozens of soldiers.

While Daddy's family was wonderfully proud of that heritage, I'd always been a little uncomfortable with it. I didn't care so much that the Confederacy lost as what they were fighting for. Grandma Chase had old photos of her great-grandfather's plantation showing the slaves at work.

A wreath was placed on the door to the mausoleum by Great-Aunt Tildy. Everyone bowed their heads and said a little prayer for the General. The rest of the time it was a free-for-all with everyone walking around the Chase graves putting items on the tombstones or on the graves themselves.

The event reminded me of the
Addams Family
movie when they played “Wake the Dead.” I was glad none of the Chases got up to answer the call.

I lingered a moment at Grandma Chase's grave, already tied with a scarf and hanging with beads. I missed her. She'd been a bright spot in my life. I felt like I'd learned more from her than from my bickering parents. I wished she could've seen me with the Biscuit Bowl. I knew she would've been proud.

I glanced up as the night breeze rustled the trees around the graves. I felt a chill go down my spine. Not surprising since I was standing in a cemetery in the middle of the night.

There was a dim light moving through the trees. It looked like someone who'd lost their way and had taken out a flashlight. The light kept moving until it was close to where my family was now taking out champagne and plastic glasses to salute the Chase dead. After that would come shrimp and beignets. Spirit Night could go on until dawn.

I kept watching the light, hoping it wasn't someone who
wanted to ask us where his family plot was located. This was the only part of the cemetery that I knew. Maybe Uncle Saul or Great-Aunt Tildy might be able to give directions.

I was getting that weird feeling that comes into the pit of your stomach right before the Frankenstein monster attacks in the movies. I kept staring—even though common sense dictated that I should move away, preferably out of the cemetery.

“Who's that?” Uncle Saul brought me a glass of champagne.

“I think it's someone lost in the cemetery.” At least I was hoping that's what it was.

The old magnolias parted slightly, and the Spanish moss swayed with the movement.

I caught my breath. “It's Old Slac again. Run!”