The Secret Brokers (13 page)

“Yes, the day shift
,
Crawford and Brewster,” Dallas told him.

Ed nodded to another black Ford Crown Victoria parked at the corner. “They’re mine. I’ll be glad when this trial is over and I’m finally free of these clowns.”

“How’s it going?” Gwen asked.

Ed shrugged. “My testimony is basically all the prosecution has. Darryl Robertson kept giving me dirty looks while I was on the stand the other day, but I didn’t care. The man is scum and needs to be sent away for a long time.” Ed glanced back at the black cars parked in front of his house. “You think they would try to look less conspicuous
…
maybe drive up in a BMW or something for a change.”

“They tend to buy American when setting up government contracts,” Dallas illuminated.

Ed stepped into the house and waved Dallas and Gwen inside. “I was told that you used to work for the FBI,” he said as Dallas entered his home.

“You never mentioned that to me,” Gwen snapped at her father.

An uncomfortable silence filled the foyer as Ed Pioth stared apprehensively at his daughter.

“I, ah, felt it wasn’t something you needed to be concerned with, Gwenie,” he finally explained as he shut the front door.

“I hadn’t realized you were checking up on me,” Dallas commented, hoping to break the tension in the air.

“Of course I was checking up on you,” Ed acknowledged as he gave a slight chuckle. “You think I would let just anybody move in with my little girl?” He put a demonstrative arm about Gwen’s waist.

Dallas could not help but notice how Gwen uncomfortably flinched as her father patted her waist. She moved quickly away from the man.

“What are we having for brunch, Dad?” she asked, moving further into the entryway.

“I ordered out from Commander’s Palace,” Ed stated as he frowned at his daughter. “You know I can’t cook.”

Near the entrance Dallas noticed a few framed family photos. He eyed the pieces on the wall, but saw only pictures of two tall, muscular men in an assortment of football uniforms, track clothes, and even hunting gear.

Dallas turned to Gwen. “Your brothers?”

She nodded. “You’ll see the house is a virtual shrine to them.”

“Gwen exaggerates,” Ed refuted. “My boys, Colin and Jackson, were sports stars in high school, so I have a good number of pictures around the house of them.” He stared at Dallas with his penetrating blue eyes. “I have pictures of Gwenie scattered about too. She was the equestrian in the family. She won two consecutive state championships in her division. Her brothers always complained I spent more time at horse shows than at football games.”

They slowly made their way into a wide foyer with a thick oak banister carved to resemble a grape vine creeping up beside a wide staircase. Above the room was a three-foot wide, nine-tiered crystal chandelier hanging from a plaster medallion decorated with grape vines. In the four corners of the ceiling were detailed faces of the Greek god of wind, Aeolus. On the pale beige wallpaper hung more photographs of Ed’s male progeny.

Dallas took in the thick Napoleon settee and bench in the foyer. As his eyes traveled to the right, he caught site of the entrance to the living room. Inside the room there was an oak mantle over the fireplace, antique mahogany furniture, and a green Oriental rug. Above the mantle, there was a very large faded discoloration on the wall. It appeared as if a family portrait or prized painting had recently been removed.

Dallas turned back to Ed. “Beautiful home,” he remarked.

Ed escorted them down a hallway to the side of the stairs. “Bought it when the kids were young, and I have spent years restoring it. Having a home in New Orleans is a full time job. Between the termites, the continual problems with sinking foundations, and the constant maintenance, you’ve got to have a real passion for one of these babies in order to be able to maintain your sanity.” He stopped at a doorway to his left and waved them inside.

Dallas walked in behind Gwen to see a long Queen Anne walnut dining table taking up most of the room. The table had been set for three with fine
,
white bone china, silver utensils, linen napkins, and crystal stemware. To the side, a matching slender walnut sideboard had several silver chafing dishes on it. Along the light yellow walls were more portraits of Ed’s sons and a few of Gwen standing next to or on top of different horses. In none of the pictures was Gwen’s face readily visible. Dallas thought it odd that he had seen similar pictures in Gwen’s home.

“Why don’t you two have a seat and I’ll get the iced tea from the fridge
?”
Ed instructed.

“Iced tea?” Dallas mouthed to Gwen.

“Ah, Dad doesn’t keep liquor in the house.”

Ed frowned. “I never drink. Sold the stuff for twenty years but never touched a drop of it.” He patted his thick hand against his wide chest. “Bad for the constitution.” He nodded to Dallas. “Dallas, I hope you like seafood.”

“Only when I’m in New Orleans,” Dallas replied with a smile.

Ed waved at the chafing dishes on the far side of the room. “Good. I got some redfish stuffed with crabmeat and fire-grilled white shrimp for you and me. And for you, Gwenie, I have blackberry and strawberry pancakes.” He winked at Gwen. “That was always your favorite whenever we when went to Commander’s Palace for brunch.”

Dallas turned to Gwen, grinning. “Didn’t realize you were a pancake fan
;
I’ll have to make you my famous lemon pancakes.”

Ed stopped in the doorway and raised his gray eyebrows to Dallas. “You cook?”

Dallas turned to Ed. “My mother was a chef. She taught me how to cook.”

“That’s not something I would go around announcing to the world if I were you,” he joked.

“Dad, Dallas is your guest. Don’t start.”

Ed frowned at his daughter. “Hey, if the guy wants to tell everyone he putters around in the kitchen like a woman…
.
” He threw up his hands and walked out of the dining room.

Dallas turned his eyes to Gwen
.

She shrugged. “Sorry. Ed is one of those Neanderthal throwbacks who believe there’s a clear line of duties delineated between the sexes. Cooking is a woman’s job.”

Dallas saw a picture behind Gwen of her two brothers beaming with pride over the corpse of a buck. “And a man’s job is to shoot and kill the food, not cook it, right?” He nodded to the photograph.

Gwen turned and studied the picture behind her. “Ed didn’t know quite what to do with a daughter, so he figured he would find me a womanly sport. When I was four he took me to Audubon Park Stables and put me on my first horse.” She turned back to Dallas. “I was terrified, but he made me stay on the animal for two hours, riding it all around the stables. The very same day he bought my first horse. After that, every hour of my life that wasn’t devoted to school, Ed expected me to spend at the stables.”

“And what did your mother say? Did she go along with that? ”

“I don’t remember. I don’t have any clear memories of her and Ed never talks about her, ever,” she admitted with a wary glance.

“So don’t bring up your mother during our meal?”

Gwen shook her head. “Not unless you want a black eye.”

Ed walked back into the room, carrying a pitcher of iced tea. “Dallas. Gwen.” He waved to the table. “Grab your plates and dig in.”

Dallas lifted a white plate from the dining room table. “Gwen was just telling me how you got her started on horses.”

“She was four and her brothers were six and seven, and already in pee wee football. I had to find something for her to do. So I took her to one of the stables close to the house and put her on a horse. She cried like a baby that first time.” Ed reached for his crystal water goblet.

“At four years old she was still a baby, Ed,” Dallas asserted.

Ed gave Dallas a cutting rebuke with his sharp eyes. “You have kids?”

Dallas shook his head. “If I did, I wouldn’t be doing what I do for a living.”

Ed began to fill his water goblet with iced tea. “Well, if you want them to grow up and be able to live in the world and not run from it, you have got to be a hard ass.”

“Dad was always a firm believer in pushing us to do our best,” Gwen commented as she picked up her plate.

“Don’t knock it,” Ed argued. “Worked on you, didn’t it? You’re tough. Taught you how to take care of yourself and defend yourself. Made you ready for the world.”

Dallas grinned. “She can certainly defend herself.” He turned to Ed. “She showed me a few of her defensive moves in the kitchen last night.”

Ed beamed with pride as he came around the table to Dallas. “Taught her to protect herself from men who wanted more than she was willing to give.”

“Dad, please,” Gwen scolded.

“What?” Ed Pioth shrugged. “Dallas knows what I’m talking about. He’s a man, even if he does cook.”

Gwen shook her head as she stepped over to the sideboard.

“Ed has a point, Gwen. Most men have only one thing on their minds,” Dallas said, winking at her.

“Except Gwenie’s husband of course,” Ed countered. “Queer as a three dollar bill, that boy.”

“Dad!”

Ed filled Dallas’s crystal water goblets with iced tea. “Didn’t you tell him about Doug?”

“I told him,” Gwen said in an aggravated voice. “But you don’t have to be so gauche about it.”

“Gauche?” Ed turned to Dallas. “One of them fancy words she uses. Probably got that from her husband, too. Gwenie picked up a lot of fancy things during the time she was married to the queer.”

Gwen slammed one of the chafing dish covers down on the sideboard with a loud thud.

Ed stepped around the table and reached for Gwen’s water goblet. “She went to all kinds of fancy parties and was constantly going to gallery openings at Greg Caston’s place. She and Doug spent a lot of time with that silly man. Not surprised he ended up the way he did.”

Dallas’s ears perked up at the mention of Greg Caston’s name. “Didn’t know Gwen was into art.”

“Neither did she until she married the queer. She began talking about art all the time and hanging out with snooty people in the local art scene. Got to where I barely recognized my daughter anymore.”

“Enough, Dad! And stop referring to Doug in that manner. He was very good to you. All the times he came over here in the middle of the night when you thought you were having a heart attack. After all those prescriptions for pain relievers he gave you, and you still call him names.”

Ed almost dropped the pitcher of iced tea in his hands. “She wasn’t supposed to tell you about any of that,” he blurted out.

Gwen and her father glared at each other for a few uncomfortable moments. Dallas looked from father to daughter.

“Am I missing something?’ he cautiously questioned.

“My father’s girlfriend, Estelle,” Gwen quickly explained as her eyes stayed focused on her father. “Dad always thought she would be a bad influence on me. He didn’t like us talking, especially about him.”

Ed Pioth seemed to relax as he finished filling her water goblet with iced tea. “Yeah, I, ah, didn’t want Estelle’s choice of career giving my daughter any ideas.”

Gwen turned to Dallas. “Estelle was a stripper.”

“Exotic dancer,” Ed corrected. He put the pitcher on the table. “She was a nice enough woman, but not the kind I wanted spending too much time around my kids.”

As Dallas came alongside of Gwen, she began placing a few pancakes smothered in berries on her plate.

“Those look really good,” he said, eyeing the pancakes in the chafing dish. “Perhaps I should try some.”

“No,” Ed spoke up as he came behind Dallas. He clapped his hand on Dallas’s shoulder as he motioned to another chafing dish. “Try the fish,” Ed insisted as he pushed back the heavy silver lid on the chafing dish next to Dallas. “Pancakes are a woman’s breakfast,” he chastised as he began scooping a fillet of redfish on to Dallas’s plate. “This is what real men eat for breakfast down here.”

Gwen rolled her eyes and took her plate of pancakes to the table.

As he sensed her escalating frustration, Dallas immediately felt sorry for Gwen. Growing up in such a testosterone driven household, without a mother around for support, must have been very difficult. Dallas could see why she ran to the first person offering her freedom from such an oppressive atmosphere.

Ed Pioth finished garnishing Dallas’s plate with generous portions of buttery new potatoes, asparagus in Hollandaise sauce, and three buttermilk biscuits.

Ed took in Dallas’s crammed plate with a look of pride. “Now that’s a manly meal.”

Dallas just nodded and kept his remark about having a heart attack after such a meal to himself. He carried his plate over to the table and sat down next to Gwen. After he slid into his seat, he gave her thigh a reassuring pat.

Gwen nodded and faintly smiled for him.

“And after brunch,” Ed announced behind them as he began to fill his plate with food, “I’ll show you the rest of my home.”

Dallas waited until Ed sat down across from them before he picked up his fork.