by John Moore
I had to think fast. “She said she just became a woman, if you know what I mean.” Amanda looked at me with confused eyes. “You know, Amanda, she started the monthly lady thing.”
“Oh, that,” she said. “I’m sorry. I am a little touchy about anything that has to do with my granny.”
We excused ourselves and made a mad dash for the car. I called Detective Baker and told him what Piper and I had seen. He said Amanda and Garrett Morris were already on his short list of suspects. He obtained a search warrant and seized handwritten nursery rhymes matching the notes found on the bodies in the Quarter. Amanda confessed to the killings, explaining that life-sized voodoo dolls were better to channel her great grandmother’s spirit. She was sent to the same mental institution Bob Broussard had escaped from. Amanda was questioned about Garrett Morris’s participation in the murders, but would not implicate him. Detective Baker suspected Garrett manipulated her into committing the murders, but couldn’t tie the murders to him without her testimony. But as wacky as Amanda had become, her testimony wouldn’t have been enough anyway.
One Sunday afternoon I received a call from Susan McAllister. She said two of the ladies living at the center wanted to meet with me privately. I loved going to the center but had been too busy to spend much time there. When I arrived, Karen Durio and Adrian Guidry took me into Susan’s office. They sat across from me as if they were about to perform an acapella number just for me. They just sat and looked at me for a few minutes before Karen mustered the courage to speak.
“Alexandra,” she said. “We, that is, Dusty and I, want to open a restaurant. We’ve been working on recipes for some time now. All of the residents say it’s the best food they’ve ever eaten, and we need your help.”
“What can I do to help?” I asked.
“We want to cook organic Cajun and Creole food. We need you to supply the organic vegetables for us.”
Those two were precious, I thought. They’d been through rough times but were brimming with confidence, ready to start their business. I suggested that they use the kitchen at the center if Susan would let them and start with a catering service. They thought it was a wonderful idea, and we brought Susan in the office to ask her permission. She agreed immediately and suggested the other girls in the center could help.
The next day I told Charlotte and Jason about their idea and how proud I was of those two women. Jason said, “I’ll put up the money to open a real restaurant in the Quarter. Can you find a place?”
“Wow, Jason, that’s a fantastic idea. I’ll look for a location,” I said.
An idea was blossoming in my mind, but I thought I’d better work on it before I shared it with anyone. The building I had in mind had a lot of history, but most of it crummy. In the New Orleans French Quarter, tainted history only made a place more interesting. I negotiated a purchase agreement and presented it to Jason. He was on board immediately and would start with the renovation as soon as Karen and Dusty agreed. I went back to the center and sat down with Karen, Dusty, and Susan.
“OK, ladies, you have a decision to make. I have an investor angel who is willing to put up the money to put you in the restaurant business,” I said. “I’ve found a location and the owner signed a purchase agreement. If you agree with the location we can start the legal papers rolling to purchase the building and begin renovation.”
“Where is it?” Karen asked.
I locked eyes with Dusty before I answered. “The building is Clinton Cunningham’s club. It closed after his death and has been vacant since. It’s the perfect location for a restaurant.”
Tears flowed freely down Dusty’s face. Karen hugged her tightly and began crying too. A moment later Susan and I were also bawling our eyes out. When Karen and Dusty stopped crying, they jumped up and down telling me to get the building as soon as possible, because New Orleans was about to have some of the best food it had ever tasted.
Jason took the lead to bring our vision of transforming a strip club on the seedy end of Bourbon Street into a unique restaurant serving food for the soul, and the more about it, organic Cajun and Creole food made sense. In the days before processed food, synthetic fertilizers, and pesticides, all of it was organic. Karen’s and Dusty’s ancestors grew their own vegetables, hunted wild animals, and caught fish to feed their families. The restaurant represented a return to better days instead of a modern fad.
The restaurant opened to a huge crowd. Charlotte created the marketing campaign, and I handled the public relations. We created a buzz in the food magazines. On opening day, celebrities mixed with locals and tourists in the spacious dining area. The crowds never diminished, and dining at the Stardust Cajun and Creole Café was a must for anyone visiting New Orleans, the waiting list for a prime table long. Susan managed the catering business from the center, and it contributed enough money to adequately fund the center’s operations.
I started a volunteer organization of doctors to tend to the medical needs of the women at the center. It grew into a larger group who donate their time to care for all indigent patients. They call themselves Doctors without Boundaries, but the homeless call them Doctors without Dollars. On any given day, their vans are spotted in the Quarter helping poor people. They are an amazing group of dedicated professionals.
Detective Baker retired from the police force, and Jess Johnson retired from the Times. They travel together often, taking time to enjoy life without the twelve-hour days they were used to. Jess writes a weekly serial column for my website, and it’s followed by people from around the world. Seems like people never got tired of stories about crime in the underbelly of New Orleans.
Tom, Piper, and I love living in the Quarter. We spend most of our time there, mingling with the unique people who choose tomake it their home. We occasionally go to LaPlace or Indiana to visit our farms, but most of the time Piper and I are dedicated to our web business and getting good food to people for fair prices.
Bob Broussard hasn’t returned to the state mental hospital, and Mandy dropped out of sight but keeps in touch with Piper. Amanda was diagnosed with schizophrenia and remains locked away, and Mandy visited her until she became too sick to receive visitors.
Married life agreed with me. Tom and I grew closer with each passing day. Only one thing was missing from our relationship—until the day I found out I was pregnant. Piper and Tom converted one of the guest bedrooms into a nursery, and they teamed up to decorate it. They waited impatiently for the day the doctor could tell me the sex of the baby so they could finish the room, one wanting a girl and the other wanting a boy.
Today I went to the doctor to find out if I were having a girl or a boy. When I got home Tom and Piper were pacing the floor together, anxious to hear the news. I asked them to sit at the dining room table so I could tell them at the same time.
“You two have been dying to know if we are having a boy or a girl. Are you ready to find out?” I said.
They were both fidgeting and squirming in their chairs as I dragged the moment out, testing their patience, and waiting till they were ready to scream.
“It’s going to be a special Mardi Gras season because I am having twins . . . a boy and a girl.”
Tom claimed the girl and Piper the boy as they screamed with excitement. It was indeed a wonderful moment to share with my family. But, I wondered what these babies’ lives would be like. What would they face? I learned that there was good and evil in all of us. Some make deals with the devil, and some don’t. The battle between good and evil had existed since the first human took his first step, and it would continue until the last one could walk no more. Evil flourishes in the darkness where dirty deeds go undetected. I looked up and saw a ray of sunshine pierce the clouds, and I knew it was my mother and Sarah smiling down at me to let the light of good shine on our family, because darkness cannot exist in the light.
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