Red Beans And Vice Part 9

The boy's eyes lit up with pleasure. "I'm George."

"I'm Heaven, George. Nice to meet you."

A man older than Hank but with his same striking good looks came out of the back of the office and extended his hand quickly to Heaven. There were still a few people in the waiting room. "I'm so glad to meet you, Heaven. Hank has told us so much about you. I'm Tran Wing, and I guess you've already met my son, George."

"For some reason, George picked me right out of the crowd and has been my escort," Heaven said, deciding this was no time to stop using irony.

"Uncle Hank told me to look for the brightest red hair," George explained solemnly, as if he'd had several shades of redheaded women to choose from.

"My wife, who is a pediatrician, and my brother, who's a dentist, still have patients, but I've finished up. Let's go next door so you can meet our mother and George's little sister."

They stepped into another part of the offices, a big comfortable room with a small kitchen and sofas and toys. A television was humming in the background with 60 Minutes tuned in. There must have been ten people in the room; the matriarch, the spouses and the children of this branch of Hank's family. Heaven hoped she had gifts for them all. They fell silent when Heaven walked in. Very formally, Tran took Heaven up to each person and introduced her, explaining the relationship they held to Hank.

Then Heaven quickly opened up the shopping bags full of remembrances from Kansas City. There was something for everyone plus three or four gifts for relatives that hadn't been able to make it to this viewing of the girlfriend. It was a mini version of Christmas and Hank had written each person a note. From what Heaven could tell from the bits and pieces that the cousins read aloud, each note was personal and elegant, just like Hank himself. By the time this gift giving was completed, the other two doctors had joined the rest of the family in this adjunct rec room.

Tran, as the spokesperson for the family, rose and started putting the gifts back in the shopping bags to be taken home. "I'm sorry we couldn't invite you to our house. It isn't far from here but since Sunday is a very busy day in our practice, we thought we could all go next door and have some supper together and it would be more convenient."

"I don't cook on Sundays," Iran's wife said, not apologetic, just matter-of-fact. She was stretching her back, like someone who had been on their feet a long time.

"I think it's great that you have office hours on Sunday. It must help your patients a great deal."

Tran nodded. "There's still a great many shrimp boat owners in our community, that and people working in the hospitality industry of course. The shrimpers aren't home much during the week and hospitality workers have irregular hours. And many of our children go to parochial schools and don't get back here until evening. There's no time for them to go to the doctor or the dentist until the weekend."

"Yes, but that's true of most busy families all around America. Not too many professionals adjust their hours to meet the needs of their const.i.tuents," Heaven said as they all trooped out of the offices and headed for a Pho restaurant just a couple doors away.

Soon the long table at which they were seated was loaded with dishes: summer and spring rolls, crispy shrimp and sweet-potato fritters, chicken wings that had been braised in caramel sauce. Everyone had ordered a version of pho noodles in broth, some with chicken, some with duck or pork or dumplings. There were big platters of the condiments traditional with pho: basil, cilantro and mint leaves, lime wedges, bean sprouts, slices of raw jalapeno. Tran sat Heaven in the middle of one side of the table so she could interact with as many people as possible. Everyone was kind, interested in Heaven, curious about the already televised news of murder at the convent and her involvement, and generally great about making her feel comfortable. The exception to this was Tran's mother, the sister of Hank's mother. Heaven could see she absolutely couldn't bring herself to even generic politeness to Heaven out of respect for her sister. She grunted when Heaven tried to engage her in conversation and soon Heaven gave up trying. It was a lost cause.

The dining room was beginning to clear of the other diners, most of them families like this one. She glanced at her watch and saw it was after 8:30. How could she pay for dinner? Say Hank had insisted? Maybe she should just be a gracious guest. She turned to Tran. "I have to go soon. I promised my friend Mary I'd be back around nine. She is in distress, as you can imagine."

Tran nodded. "Of course, and please don't even think about paying for this-Hank said you would try. But I have a trade out with this family. We eat. They get checkups."

"Thank you. It was delicious and so was the company," Heaven said and made a general good-bye to the table, and a special one to George. "George, I expect you to come visit in Kansas City as soon as your parents think you can fly on an airplane by yourself."

"When I'm twelve," George said firmly. This obviously had already been discussed in the family.

"I'll walk you to your car," Tran said softly, taking Heaven by the elbow in a courtly gesture. "I'm sorry about my mother's unfriendliness."

"Don't think a thing of it. If I didn't know what a nice older woman I am, I wouldn't like me either."

"Well, you understand that even if she thought you were terrific, which the rest of us did, by the way, she couldn't act like it because of her sister's feeling about your relationship."

"I do understand," Heaven said, wanting to explain. "I keep telling Hank to go find someone his own age. When I see your family, your wonderful children, I think that's what Hank should have and that's something I can't give him."

"Hank understands that planning for a perfect life is worth nothing. If you love someone, you must act like that love is going to disappear tomorrow. And it can."

Heaven thought of Hank's father being shot at the end of the Vietnam War for helping the Americans. She wondered how many others in this family were victims of that time. "Hank is the wisest person I know. I really do love him," she said as she got in the car.

"And he loves you. Enjoy it," Tran said with a smile, and gently closed the car door.

Heaven gave a little wave and quickly pulled away. The tears were welling up and she certainly didn't want to start blubbering in front of Tran. She turned out on the highway choking back sobs. Meeting Hank's family had been a big drain and, even though it had gone well, Heaven felt like she'd been through the wringer.

She drove deep in thought for a few minutes, the impulse to cry dissipated, just letting the evening catch up with her, remembering as many details as she could to relate to Hank when she got home.

Then roadside signs began to catch her eye, signs that she didn't remember from the trip out. There were houses on stilts that she didn't recall either, just barely visible back from the road as her headlights. .h.i.t their outlines. It was dark out here. Each house had apparently been named something that appeared on a sign by the mailbox. Heaven slowed down and read some of the signs, TA-TA was followed by GREEN ACRES, then PAWPAW'S DREAM THEN THE OTHER WOMAN. Cute. Heaven saw the blackness of water on each side and boats overturned in the yards. These were possibly weekend houses, fishing camps as she'd heard Truely and Will call them.

She must have gone the wrong way when she left Versailles, heading into the lake country instead of back toward New Orleans proper.

Just as Heaven started to look for a place to turn around, bright lights in her rearview mirror blinded her and she felt the back of her car b.u.mped. She realized she'd been driving slowly but this was ridiculous. Bang, another b.u.mp. It was a two-lane highway and it seemed deserted. Why didn't the a.s.shole just pa.s.s her if he was in such a hurry? Heaven slowed down further to force a pa.s.s. She could tell it was a big pickup truck. She was in a smallish four-door car of some kind; she hadn't paid any attention to the make when she picked it up at Enterprise Rentals. The front of the truck loomed over the rear of Heaven's car. It was rather like a German Shepherd mounting a c.o.c.ker Spaniel. Bang. This time the two vehicles were locked together temporarily, then the truck backed off enough to disentangle itself from Heaven's car.

Heaven saw a driveway ahead with a steep slope on each side. She'd just turn into the driveway and hope that someone was home, although the chances of that didn't look good. All along the road, the houses were silent and dark, another reason she figured them for weekend places. It was Sunday night. Everyone with any sense had gone back to New Orleans, unlike Heaven, who had headed for the middle of Lake Pontchartrain or wherever she was.

She had to get away from this maniac behind her, and she turned sharply into a drive just as the truck gave her another hard b.u.mp. It was enough to send the little car straight down the side of the drive into the ditch. Heaven heard and felt the front tires sink into water. She jerked the car into reverse but it was no use. She was at an awkward angle in swampy land with her front end in a drainage ditch. The car whined and shimmied, but didn't move. Heaven turned off the ignition but left the headlights on. What difference would it make if the battery ran down?

The lights of the truck were bright behind her and it was then that Heaven realized her biggest problem might not be finding a tow truck. But she did have her cell phone with her and she reached into the backseat, grabbing for her purse. At the same time she locked her driver's side car door and made sure the other doors were locked as well. As she fished frantically through her purse for the phone, someone with something, a tire iron or a baseball bat, smashed the back windshield of the car. Gla.s.s flew in Heaven's direction because of the angle the vehicle was tilting. She ducked under the steering wheel and held her breath, waiting for the next blow. Any minute now, the window next to me is going to be smashed and some hand will come in and strangle me, she thought. Or worse, maybe that was a shotgun blast. Now they're going to finish me off.

Instead, Heaven heard the squealing of tires and the sound of the truck pulling away. It was dark suddenly, except for her car's lights pointing down the ravine. She took a while to come out of the duck-and-cover position. While she cowered, she thought over all the different scenarios. Maybe they'd left one of their crew there, out in the darkness, to finish her off and they would be back to pick him up later. No reason for that. They could have finished her off now and not have to make a second trip. Maybe someone was coming down the highway so they took off but were coming right back.

Heaven didn't hear the sound of another car speeding to her rescue. It was very quiet, dark and quiet. She finally decided not to stay huddled under the steering wheel of the car, no matter what was waiting for her. She peeked up. A pile of safety gla.s.s slid off her shoulders. She felt around her face and neck and didn't find any blood, just a couple of nicks and what would be a b.u.mp on her forehead in a few minutes where she'd banged into the steering wheel. The car wasn't as lucky. She was glad her car insurance covered rentals. Heaven resumed her rummaging for the phone, found it and dialed 911. She knew how to identify her location to the police. The signpost for this fishing camp was right in front of her car. It said, DO OR DIE.

Barbecue Shrimp 810 lbs. large shrimp, unpeeled, or heads on and unpeeled if you can find them. These should be in the 20 count per lb. size.

-1 lb. pound b.u.t.ter 1 cup olive oil juice of 2 lemons plus 3 lemons sliced thin 6 cloves of garlic, minced 1 T. Tabasco or other Louisiana hot sauce 3 T. Worcestershire sauce cup Thai sweet chili sauce or Vietnamese rooster sauce 2 tsp. paprika, sweet or hot any fresh herbs (basil or thyme or oregano would be good) kosher salt black pepper cup fresh parsley to finish the dish Heat everything but the shrimp and parsley together. Simmer a minute then cool and pour over shrimp and marinate in the refrigerator for a couple of hours, stirring occasionally so all shrimp are covered. Place shrimp in a shallow baking dish and bake at 375 degrees for about 20 minutes, turning shrimp often. The time will depend on the size of your shrimp, of course. When shrimp sh.e.l.ls have turned pink and the meat white, remove from the oven and serve in a soup bowl with parsley on top and lots of French bread to sop up the sauce. My version adds the Asian sauce, which you would never see in New Orleans, so if you are a purist, leave it out. It does offer a nice heat that is different from the Louisiana hot sauce heat.

Eight.

Heaven put down the phone. "My new best friend at Enterprise Rental says he'll pick me up in an hour. He said the last car wasn't completely totaled and they'd give me another chance. He just laughed and laughed. Only in New Orleans."

Mary looked up from her cup of coffee and smiled weakly. "What a pair we are. My husband was murdered, practically right in front of my eyes. You, for some reason, are a running target for a vendetta that keeps getting you chased. Are you sure you're okay?"

Heaven rubbed her neck. "Sore, that's all. Mary, there isn't just 'some' reason. There's a reason. Just like there's a reason that Truely was killed. We just have to figure it out. Have you heard anything from the police?"

"The detectives came and questioned me last night. They said they were still interviewing the guests and I guess all of you chefs, too. But the bottom line so far is that out of four hundred b.l.o.o.d.y people plus all the waiters and the musicians, no one saw anything of value. No one remembers Truely talking to anyone, walking away with anyone. He got up from sitting beside me to check out the explosion, said for the rest of us to stay there, and that was the last anyone saw of him. There was too much confusion."

Heaven poured herself coffee. "I hate to sound cynical, but how can anyone, and I'm talking about Will now, think that the explosion wasn't a diversion? Is there any doubt in your mind? I mean, if it weren't for the explosion everyone would have been sitting in the courtyard having sorbet. Do you think someone would have just walked up to the table and stuck my Global in Truely? Hardly."

"No, I don't think that. But there could be other explanations. Maybe someone was following Truely, looking for the chance to take him out, or maybe someone at the party had a grudge against him. When the explosion occurred they saw an opportunity and took it."

Heaven was alarmed. "Mary, did someone at that party have a grudge against Truely?"

Mary shook her head. "Not that I know of. I know what you say about the explosion makes sense. I'm just trying to find another solution that isn't so premeditated."

"Yes, I know what you mean. I don't like the idea of someone following me around town jumping on me and trying to run my car off the road every other day. That all takes planning. I guess I thought the first attack had something to do with the nuns. But last night has me puzzled. The dinner for the Sisters of the Holy Trinity is over."

"Heaven, will you help me do something?"

Heaven shuddered inwardly at the possibilities. "Yes, of course. But I'm more of an urn person myself. I don't know much about coffins and I a.s.sume as Truely was a Catholic a coffin will be involved."

Mary ducked her head, rubbing her brow. "No, I've already done that. Yesterday evening, after you left. Will told me I should get it over with and he was right, of course. But it made this whole crazy thing too real." Mary stopped and gulped, quiet for a moment. "No, Heaven, I'm asking about something else. I guess I'm the new owner of a coffee importing business. This whole thing with Leon is making me nervous. He's being very..."

"Aggressive?" Heaven suggested.

"I need to see what's up and I wondered if you'd go with me down there, for moral support. I really know very little about Truely's business. And all Truely's papers, the insurance policies and such, are in a safe at the office. I guess I could ask the office manager to send them over with someone, but I think it would be good to go there personally. They must be stunned too."

Heaven was thrilled. She had been planning to figure out an excuse to go to the coffee warehouse. Now she wouldn't have to; one had been handed to her. "I'll be glad to do that with you. But I must have a biscuit and another cup of coffee first. Mary, how are you holding up?"

"I'm still numb. I can't for the life of me figure this out. You saw Truely in action. Everyone loves him. Loved him."

Heaven got up and patted her friend on the top of the head, stacking a biscuit and a slice of ham on top of her coffee cup. "I'm going up to get my clothes on. You do the same. Then we'll go to Truely's office. Your law firm is sending over dinner tonight and several of the actual lawyers are coming to pay their respects."

"Where did you get that information?"

"From the maid, who gave me the rundown when she came up with my first cup of coffee. I guess after the way I looked when I came home last night she thought I needed a jump start."

"Please tell me again what happened," Mary insisted. "You were pretty vague last night."

"I got turned around when I left the cousins and I headed the wrong direction and someone followed me and b.u.mped the rear of my car and I drove down into a ditch and then they came over and knocked the back window out of the car and then they left. No big deal."

Mary shook her head. "I can't believe this. It's a nightmare."

Heaven headed for the door. "We'll figure this all out. Don't you worry," she said, leaving her friend sitting there, her head in her hands.

As Heaven showered, she switched from thinking about Mary's loss to thinking about saving her own skin. The truck had obviously followed her to the Vietnamese neighborhood. Then, when she left and turned the wrong way, maybe whoever it was thought she was out there doing something else. Or not. Maybe they could care less which way she drove; they were going to mess with her, east or west. Maybe they thought the stop at Hank's cousins was just a ploy. What if the bad guys went to the cousins and tortured them or something? What if Hank's aunt paid someone to kill the redheaded witch as a gift to her sister back in Kansas City? Heaven had to laugh at that one. She was getting a little paranoid. But she would feel totally responsible if anything happened to Hank's relatives because of her. She'd call Hank later and talk the whole thing through with him.

When Mary and Heaven got to the coffee warehouse, one of the secretaries was smoking a cigarette in the parking lot. She looked excited when she spotted Mary.

"Oh, Miz Whitten, you don't know how glad I am to see you. You'll never guess who showed up a few minutes ago and is in there trying to sweet-talk his way into Mr. Whitten's office. Not that anyone would let him do such a thing. But he says Mr. Whitten promised to sell him the business. Will I still have a job, Miz Whitten?"

Mary stopped. "Who are you talking about? Who's here?"

"I'm sorry, Miz Whitten. I thought you knew it was Mr. Leon Davis I was talking about."

Mary tried to smile at the young woman. "I'll take care of Mr. Davis. He's got a lot of nerve, coming over here and upsetting you like this."

Heaven marched in to do battle, Mary right behind her. She spotted a knot of workers over by the lunchroom, across the warehouse. Silently the two women joined the crowd.

Heaven took the lead. She walked up to Leon Davis and grabbed his arm roughly. She was sure she had the advantage of surprise. He didn't know her from Adam, having just seen her once or twice when he had other things on his mind. She turned him toward her and poked his stomach with her hand. "Didn't you hear a thing Mrs. Whitten said to you yesterday? b.u.t.t out."

Leon Davis stepped back and fanned his arms at Heaven as if to ward off a pest. "I don't know you," he sniffed, spotting Mary over Heaven's shoulder.

"Leon. I asked you yesterday to let me have my time to mourn my husband," Mary said in a steely voice.

"I wasn't bothering you," he countered. He clearly never dreamed Mary would show up here today.

"I just had a feeling you weren't going to respect my wishes, Leon, and sure enough, here you are, trying to get information that's none of your business. If I were to decide to sell this business, after the way you're acting, it sure wouldn't be to you."

Leon Davis flared at that. "I had an agreement with your husband. I'll sue."

"Get out, Leon, or I'll call the police and have you arrested." Mary folded her arms. The small group of workers stared at the intruder. Leon Davis started to say something, then thought better of it, turned, and walked across the warehouse and out the open doors.

Mary turned to the group. "Please don't worry about what I said to Leon. As far as I'm concerned, this company isn't for sale. Now I'm going to find my husband's insurance policy. Heaven?"

"Take your time. I'm going to look around," Heaven replied. "You were great."

Mary smiled weakly and she and the group headed down the hall toward the offices.

Heaven tried to act casual. She moseyed around the warehouse looking for just the right target. It had to be a man, of course, and preferably someone who looked like he knew what he was doing. She wanted to get a feel for how the people who worked here were taking the death of their boss. If Heaven was right and Truely was killed because of some problem in his coffee importing business, then maybe the employees had noticed something.

A man was walking on top of the burlap sacks of coffee beans, ten or twelve feet off the ground. He was tall, very dark-skinned and intent on his work. His arms rippled with muscles that didn't come from the gym, but from hard physical work. Heaven couldn't figure out what he was doing, though. He had a cone of metal in his hand and with the pointed end of the cone he was stabbing the sacks of beans. His back was turned to the room.

Heaven yelled up at him. "Hey, you, on top of the coffee sacks. What's that you're doing?"

The man swung around and looked at Heaven, not understanding the question at first. Civilians must not wander in here very often, Heaven thought as she watched the man processing the situation. "Who're you?" he asked politely but without giving anything away.

"I'm Heaven Lee. I'm a friend of Mary and Truely's. Mary is in the office now and I came down to keep her company."

The man had been working all the time. He had slipped a plastic baggy out of his shirt pocket and was tilting the metal cone into the bag. Green coffee beans ran out in the bag and he locked the top of the baggy and slipped it in his other shirt pocket. "I remember you. You were here with Truely a month ago."

"It's the red hair. I can't get away with anything," Heaven said coyly, trying to loosen the man up a bit. "So what is that thing?"

"This is called a trier. You can 'try' the beans with it, see what's what without opening the whole sack." He jumped over onto a stack of bags that were marked ETHIOPIA. He pulled a sack from the middle of the pile; how, Heaven couldn't imagine, as they were hundred-pound sacks at least. Upper-body strength. Then he stabbed the trier into the sack with a violence that gave Heaven the creeps. She got a better look at the tool and saw that the metal cone wasn't complete. There was a quarter inch of air where the two sides didn't meet. She could see the coffee beans inside the tube. With smooth gestures, the man tipped the cone toward the wide end and the beans ran into a baggy. Heaven noticed him pull a marker out of his hip pocket and mark the baggy "Ethiopia/Ebanks/single estate."

"The trier closes the bag back up too, so you don't have a hole," the man said.

"Then what will you do with those beans that you collected?" Heaven asked in her most interested voice. She was interested, of course.

"They test them. Water content and acidity and such. So when they get to the roasting, those that do the roasting will know how long and such."

"Where do they do the roasting?" Heaven walked along on the ground, following the man above her.

"Out in Saint Bernard Parish. They got lots of folks workin' out there."

"How do you like working here in the warehouse?" Heaven was starting to sound like a junior investigative reporter.

The big man jumped down right in front of Heaven, giving her a start. She wasn't used to someone invading her personal s.p.a.ce from above. "It's a job," he said with some amount of scorn in his voice, like it was the dumbest question anyone had ever asked him.

"It's too bad about Truely isn't it?"

"Chickens always come to roost sometime," the man said cryptically. "Truely was all right though, not like some of 'em."

"Any ideas who killed him? Was he ever fighting with anyone around here? I remember seeing a great big guy in Truely's office. Who was that?"

The man just stared at her for a few seconds. Heaven could tell he thought she was an idiot. Then he shook his head. "I got to get these samples to be tested."