Garden of Forbidden Secrets

by Eric Wilder

  We passed art galleries, quaint cafes, and souvenir shops. The businesses gradually began to thin as we reached a part of Royal which was mostly houses. Adela showed no signs of turning around.

  “Am I wearing you out?” she asked.

  “I needed a good walk to work off some of Bertram’s breakfast. This part of Royal is more residential. We can go over a block to Bourbon Street and then work our way back toward Bertram’s.”

  “Let’s go a little further,” she said.

  Before I could reply, Adela touched her forehead and sank to her knees on the cracked sidewalk. I quickly knelt beside her, grabbing her arm to keep her from falling and hitting her head.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “My head is splitting,” she said. “Please help me up.”

  When I pulled her to her feet, she clutched her arms around me.

  “I’ll call a cab,” I said.

  “I can’t wait for that. Help me back the way we came. Please hurry.”

  I was half-carrying her down the sidewalk when a passing couple asked if they could help.

  “Could you please call a cab for us?” I said without stopping.

  The man and woman were staring at us as we walked away. The man quickly got on his cell phone, leaving me to wonder if he was calling a cab or the cops. I had little time to worry about it as Adela leaned heavily on my shoulder.

  A hundred yards from where Adela had her fainting spell, she returned to normal. When a cab pulled to the curb, I had a hard time convincing her we needed to get in.

  “Where to?” the cabbie asked.

  “Madeline’s Magic Potions,” I said. “Know where it is?”

  “You bet,” he said.

  “Are you feeling better?” I asked Adela.

  “I’m okay.”

  “What happened back there?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Where are we going?”

  “There’s someone I want you to meet. Madeline’s place isn’t far from Bertram’s.”

  Madeline’s Magic Potions was on Royal, near the intersection with Toulouse. We’d walked past it earlier. The door was locked, and I rang the bell. A woman soon opened it a crack and peered out. I could see her smile when she saw me.

  “Come in. I somehow had a feeling I would have a special visitor today.”

  Madeline Romanov had dark hair sprinkled with ample gray. She had blue eyes, a dark complexion, a hooked nose and a slight accent indicative of her Romanian heritage.

  Adela glanced at me, waiting for an introduction.

  “Madeline Romanov, this is Adela Kowalski.”

  After placing the closed sign on the door, Madeline embraced Adela as if she’d known her all her life.

  “I’m so happy to meet you, Adela. Let’s cut through the shop. I’ll fix tea, and we can sit in the courtyard.”

  We followed Madeline through her dimly lit shop which was a hodgepodge of esoteric items ranging from aromatic soap, crystal specimens, and souvenir tarot cards, to an ancient suit of armor in the corner. The old fan sitting on a display cabinet did its best to spread the aroma of peppermint incense and cover the odor of the old building’s must. A Gregorian chant emanated from a broken speaker hidden somewhere in the rafters.

  “I love your shop,” Adela said.

  “So do the tourists,” Madeline said. “My sales pay the bills, though it isn’t my primary source of income.”

  “Which is?” Adela said.

  “I do seances, read tarot cards, and occasionally use my grandmother’s crystal ball to tell the future.”

  Adela’s attention was suddenly rapt. “You can do that?”

  “Yes, dear. Like my Romanian mother and grandmother, I was born with the gift, though sometimes it proves more a punishment.”

  “Will you tell my future?” Adela asked.

  Madeline stopped in her tracks and clutched Adela’s hand.

  “More often than not the future is best left untold. I only use the crystal ball on rare occasions and then only after determining there is indeed a life or death reason to do so.”

  Adela didn’t reply as a black cat bounded off one of the display cabinets and joined us. Adela picked up Madeline’s cat and stroked it.

  “What’s your kitty’s name?”

  “Jinx,” Madeline said. “She usually doesn’t like being held. I can see you’re a special person.”

  Madeline’s cat, purring like a throaty kitten, was indeed enjoying his time in her arms. Interpreting Adela’s silence as declining to have her future read, she continued to the backdoor. Adela released Jinx and rushed past Madeline as she exited into the courtyard.

  “I love your patio,” Adela said. “It’s like a fairy tale come to life.”

  Madeline’s tiny courtyard was picturesque, complete with slate paving stones, stuccoed walls, and a central fountain filling the area with the soothing melody of dripping water. Wind chimes and hanging plants hung from the second-story balconies surrounding the courtyard. The chimes rustled in a gentle breeze, performing a symphony, along with the fountain.

  “You should see it in the spring and summer when the plants are lush, and my geraniums are in full bloom,” Madeline said. “At least the surrounding walls keep in some of the heat during our cold snaps. Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll get tea.”

  Jinx jumped back into Adela’s lap when she and I sat on the park bench near the edge of the courtyard.

  “Can Madeline really tell the future?” she asked.

  “I can attest to it. She once used tarot cards to tell mine.”

  “And?”

  “Unfortunately, she had it nailed.”

  “Unfortunately?”

  “Like Madeline said, the future is usually best left untold. What I wish she could tell us is more about your past than your future.”

  “I know all about my past,” she said.

  “Do you?”

  “I’m Adela Kowalski from Michigan.”

  “And you’re sure about that?”

  Pretty sure.”

  “Have you ever been hypnotized?” I said.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “A professional might be able to regress you, see if you really are Adela Kowalski.”

  “That’s crazy talk. Who else would I be?”

  “Someone who has a voodoo veve on her chest and doesn’t have a clue how it got there.”

  “You think I know more about the dream you had last night than I’m letting on,” she said.

  “Something like that.”

  Before we could finish our conversation, Madeline returned with a tray.

  “Such intense discussion,” she said. “Were you two arguing?”

  “Just talking,” I said.

  Madeline set the tray on a table and filled our cups.

  “Hot tea is what we all need on such a gloomy day,” she said.

  Madeline was correct, Adela displaying her first smile in many minutes as she cradled the steaming cup in her palms.

  “Jinx is here. Where’s Calpurnia?” I asked.

  “That gorgeous bird loves dreary weather and is probably soaring among the clouds high over the river right about now.”

  “Who is Calpurnia?” Adela asked.

  “A regal raven with feathers as black as the depths of a Romanian coal mine.”

  “And she’s a talker,” I said.

  “Your raven talks?” Adela asked.

  “Oh yes,” Madeline said. “Ravens are among the most intelligent birds in the world.”

  As if on cue, we heard the flapping wings of a bird circling the courtyard. As we watched, a large black bird descended quickly and landed on an ornate perch.

  “Calpurnia,” Madeline said. “You must have heard us talking about you.”

  “She’s beautiful,” Adela said.

  Calpurnia reacted instantly when she heard Adela’s voice. Flying from her perch, she landed on Adela’s shoulder, pecking her lips with her burnished beak. From the way her ta
il was moving and feathers fluffing, it was apparent she was excited.

  “Aisling, Aisling,” the big raven kept repeating.

  Chapter 19

  Eddie awoke to the sound of hammers and saws working at the restaurant. His cell phone told him it was only six A.M. and still dark outside.

  “No rest for the wicked,” he muttered beneath his breath as he crawled out of bed and got dressed.

  He had no trouble traversing the steep steps from his apartment because powerful beams of light flooded the main ballroom. The carpenters had stirred a layer of dust and it hung in the air along with the odor of sawdust and sweat. Eddie smelled something else: the aroma of bacon and eggs coming from the restaurant’s kitchen. Realizing how hungry he was, he hurried to investigate. What he found was a surprise.

  Clad in sweatpants and her blue bikini bra, Odette was cooking eggs, sausage, bacon, and flipping pancakes on the grill of a stove. One at a time, the workers approached plates in hand, awaiting their share of the hearty breakfast she was cooking. Odette didn’t disappoint, heaping their plates with the efficiency of a seasoned line cook. Odette jumped when Eddie tapped her shoulder.

  “Hope you don’t mind,” she said. “I was on my way to wake you when I heard one of the men complaining about missing breakfast because they have to leave home so early to get here by six. I decided to fix breakfast for everyone. As you can see, no one’s complaining.”

  “I’m impressed,” Eddie said. “Where did you learn how to feed thirty people?”

  “Put on an apron and help me,” she said. “I’m starting to fall behind. When the rush is over, I’ll tell you all about it.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Eddie said with a salute.

  Eddie was soon cracking eggs and mixing pancake batter. When they’d fed the last worker, Odette scooped what was left into two plates, handed them to Eddie and pointed to a table in the corner of the kitchen.

  “I’ll join you soon as I clean the grill,” she said.

  Odette brought a fresh carafe of coffee with her when she joined him.

  “Like I said, where’d you learn to cook for thirty people?”

  “Since I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth I’ve had to work my whole life for whatever I have. I had a partial scholarship at L.S.U. and I worked as a cook to make ends meet. My dad was a roughneck on offshore rigs. During summer breaks, I worked as a cook on the jack-ups. We fed hungry crews twenty-four hours a day.”

  “This food is great. What’s a college graduate doing working in a strip joint on Bourbon Street?”

  “I didn’t graduate. My dad was killed in a gas explosion on an offshore drilling rig my senior year. I had to drop out to help Mom make ends meet. The strip joint was the easiest place to make the most money. When my mom finally got her insurance settlement, I began looking for something else.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Eddie said. “I didn’t mean to pry. Where’s Mudbug?”

  “Right behind you,” she said.

  Odette had turned a box and some old rags into a dog bed. The young dog, situated near a radiator, was sleeping soundly.

  “Why didn’t you re-enroll in college?”

  “I only lacked a few hours to graduate. A required course I need isn’t offered until next spring. Though I’d decided to keep stripping until then, the lifestyle finally got to me.”

  “I can’t imagine an educated woman stripping for a living,” Eddie said.

  “Don’t be such a prude. Lots of college girls strip to earn extra money. Strip joints aren’t whorehouses, you know.”

  “Guess so,” he said. “Tell me again why you came to Oyster Island?”

  “Like I said, I was sick of stripping.”

  “So you just packed your stuff and hitched-hiked here?”

  “Something like that,” she said.

  “What else can you cook besides breakfast?”

  “My mom is the best Cajun cook on earth, and she taught me everything she knows. My major in college is restaurant management. I can cook Cajun, Creole, fusion, you name it, and I’ve taken all the business, management and accounting courses you need to run the biggest restaurant in New Orleans.”

  “I need a chef,” Eddie said. “Sounds like you’re well qualified to fill the position. You’re hired if you want the job.”

  “You’re just going to take my word about my qualifications?”

  “If it doesn’t work out, I can always fire you,” Eddie said.

  “You mean it?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I don’t want a job if I’m just going to be somebody else’s flunky,” she said.

  “You’ll be the head honcho. When the restaurant is ready to open, you’ll be responsible for hiring the cook staff. You’ll be the boss. You’re not afraid of the responsibility, are you?”

  “I relish responsibility,” she said. “How much does this gig pay?”

  “Hell, I don’t know,” Eddie said. “I’ve never owned a restaurant before though I guarantee whatever I pay you will be equivalent to any head honcho.”

  “You’re an idiot, you know? Nobody hires an ex-stripper to take on an important position.”

  “I just did,” he said.

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m never going to sleep with you.”

  “Not even if I marry you?”

  Odette grinned. “I’ll take your job. When do I start?”

  “You already did,” he said. “Consider yourself on the payroll. Until we get the place rolling, you’ll be the chief cook and bottle washer.”

  “Does that mean I do the dishes?”

  “Quick learner,” he said.

  Odette reached across the table and kissed him. “Thank you,” she said.

  “I can’t have my employee’s living in a tent on the beach. Pick out one of the empty bungalows, and we’ll put it on a contract-for-deed for you.”

  “You are an idiot,” she said. “How do you know I’m not a serial killer?”

  “I’ll take my chances,” he said.

  Odette kissed him again. “Then I have to get to work. These men will be expecting lunch in a few hours, and I need to check the pantry and see what we have available.”

  The sun was coming up over the eastern horizon when Eddie left the restaurant. The first thing he saw was two people he knew. Jack and Chief were down by the marina looking at the trawler.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Just having a look at the old trawler,” Jack Wiesinski said. “Chief and I were wondering if you’d let us take it out for a cruise.”

  “Where to?” Eddie asked.

  “Not far. Chief wants to do some diving.”

  “Have an extra tank?” Eddie asked. “I haven’t dived since I moved to Louisiana and I wouldn’t mind going with you.”

  Jack and Chief exchanged a glance.

  “You know how to dive?” Jack asked.

  “I’m certified if that’s what you mean,” Eddie said.

  “Sure,” Jack said.

  “When do you want to go?” Eddie said

  Jack looked at the bank of clouds gathering from the south. “Now. There’s another storm moving in later today.”

  “You wouldn’t be looking for Spanish gold, would you?” Eddie said.

  “What makes you ask?” Jack said.

  “A girl was camping on the beach last night. She found a piece of a Spanish doubloon while snorkeling in the surf.”

  “Oh?” Jack said.

  “She said it was kicked up by the last storm.”

  “There’s no telling what you might find out there in the surf,” Jack said.

  “She said it was from a sunken Spanish treasure ship laden with gold and emeralds.”

  Jack and Chief exchanged knowing grins. “We’ve heard that one before,” Jack said. “Who is this girl?”

  “Odette Bellefleur. She says she knows you two.”

  “Never heard of her,” Jack said.

  Chief was shaking his head. “Yes, you have.”r />
  “Says who?” Jack said. “I don’t remember no Odette Bellefleur.”

  “That’s because you were so drunk you don’t remember anything that happened that night.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Jack said.

  “Our trip to New Orleans last month. You were trying to impress this little stripper in a bar on Bourbon Street by telling her about a sunken treasure ship off the island here.”

  “I did not,” Jack said.

  “You damn sure did,” Chief said. “I had to practically drag you out of the place.”

  “So, there’s no Spanish treasure ship out there?” Eddie asked.

  “Why hell no,” Jack said. “I hope you told her there’s no camping on the beach and sent her packing.”

  “Actually, I hired her.”

  “You’re opening a strip joint on the island?”

  “I hired her as the head chef for the restaurant.”

  “You did what?” Jack said. “You hired a stripper to be your head chef? You gotta be kidding me.”

  “She’s cooked professionally for years, and she’s college educated. She was only a stripper for a short time.”

  “What’s Mr. Castellano going to say about that?” Jack asked.

  “Not your business what he says,” Eddie said. “Forget about using my boat.”

  Eddie’s quick rebuff caught Jack by surprise. Chief bumped the little man with his shoulder, as Jack stood there with his mouth open.

  “Hey, I’m sorry,” Jack said, recovering his composure. “I was out of line.”

  “Very much so,” Eddie said.

  “It won’t happen again, I promise. We have an extra wet suit and tank and would love to have you go diving with us.”

  “Then you’re not looking for a sunken galleon?”

  Jack laughed. “There ain’t no sunken Spanish treasure ship out there. I swear on a stack of Bibles.”

  “I’ll accept your apology,” Eddie said. “If you treat Odette with respect she deserves next time you see her.”

  “We would have anyway,” Chief said. “Though Jack’s a blithering idiot when he gets drunk and sticks his foot in his mouth occasionally when he’s sober, he’s usually a perfect gentleman.”

  Eddie decided to let the matter drop, and they were soon motoring out of the channel leading to the Gulf of Mexico. Jack was correct about the clouds moving in from the south, and Eddie wondered how far they’d get before the rain began falling again. Chief was somewhere on deck, Eddie in the wheelhouse with Jack.