Garden of Forbidden Secrets

by Eric Wilder

  “It’s okay. I don’t know what I’d have done without your help.”

  “It’s not okay,” she said. “You hired Wyatt and me for a specific reason. I’ve become enamored with you. I’ve shirked my duty.”

  “I’m not complaining,” he said. “You aren’t the only one who’s become enamored.”

  “It’s affecting my judgment,” she said. “We can’t let our feelings go any further.”

  “Too late for that,” Taj said.

  “Then I’m going to give your money back.”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “Let’s go to the hotel and talk about it. After we work things out, I’ll take you to the most expensive restaurant in town. You’re a woman who needs to be wined and dined.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m a simple person. Let’s go to my house. I’ll fix you the best meal you’ve ever eaten. It’s been forever since I was home and my cats will be missing me.”

  “You have cats?” Taj said.

  “You don’t like cats?

  “Didn’t say that,” he said. “Just that I’ve never been around them much.”

  “No dog or cat when you were growing up?”

  “A turtle is all,” Taj said.

  Mama grinned. “You’re not allergic are you?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “If you are, I have a potion that will fix it,” she said.

  “You sure?” he said.

  “Positive. Let’s catch a cab.”

  Taj saluted and followed the handsome woman to the curb. Mama lived in an old neighborhood near the river. It worried Taj when he saw the car on blocks in the front yard of the house across the street.

  “We’re not going to get mugged, are we?” he asked.

  “Don’t worry, Baby,” she said. “I’ll protect you.”

  Neat and freshly painted, Mama’s house stood out as the nicest home on the block. Despite December’s lower temperatures, her front porch pansies were still blooming. Ferns hanging from the rafters swayed in a chill breeze as she fumbled for her keys in the darkness.

  “Be it ever so humble. . .” Mama said as she unlocked the door and held it open.

  Within seconds, three cats, meowing as their claws scraped across the bare wood floor, came running around the corner. The tailless cat in the lead jumped straight into Mama’s awaiting arms.

  “Oh, my gorgeous babies! Did you miss your mama?”

  Taj had never particularly liked cats. Seeing the reaction between Mama and her three pets, he decided not to mention it. Mama led the three felines into the little kitchen of her Creole cottage, opened a can of cat food, and fed the hungry beggars. Taj watched, his arms tightly folded across his chest.

  “My three babies Bushy, Cliffy, and Ninja. You don’t like cats, do you?” she said.

  Taj was quick to react, a smile replacing his solemn expression and his arms dropping to his sides.

  “I’ve never been around cats. I know I’m going to like yours.”

  “How do you know that?” she asked.

  “Because I like everything about you.”

  “Good answer,” she said. “If you didn’t like my babies, I’d have to call a cab and send you back to your hotel room alone.”

  “Please don’t do that,” he said.

  Taj felt the warmth exuding from the cozy little house, and the welcoming though faint odor of herbal incense in the air. He glanced around, taking it all in.

  “I love your house,” he said, changing the subject.

  “Creole cottage,” Mama said. “I’ve done my best to restore it to the way it looked when it was built more than a century ago. I’ll admit I’ve added a few things a bit more modern.”

  One of Mama’s additions was obvious. She’d converted an entire wall into a built-in bookcase. From the number of books in the bookcase, Taj could see she was an avid reader.

  “Nice,” he said.

  “Do you read?” she asked.

  “The sports page,” he said.

  “No problem. I like you anyway.”

  “And I’m thankful for that,” he said.

  “Brr !” Mama said. “It’s a little chilly in here.” After adding wood to the pot-bellied stove in the corner of the kitchen, she made a production of lighting it. “It’ll be warm in a few minutes.”

  “I didn’t notice a chill,” he said. “Guess I’m still used to the weather in Cleveland.”

  “Then let me take your coat,” she said. “Grab that chair, and I’ll get dinner started.”

  Not realizing how tired he was, Taj collapsed in the comfortable recliner. Connected to the kitchen, the living area was part of Mama’s open floor plan.

  “Love this chair,” he said. “Never seen one quite this big.”

  “I must have had you in mind when I purchased it,” she said. “Relax, I’ll be a while.”

  Taj needed no convincing. He’d dozed off, his feet extended in the recliner when Mama returned from her bedroom dressed in a sexy turquoise-colored caftan. The creaking of the old wood floor beneath Mama’s feet aroused him from his nap.

  “I flat passed out,” he said

  “Neither of us got much sleep last night.”

  “That’s a fact,” he said. “I’m hoping we don’t get much tonight, either.”

  “Oh ho!” she said. “This isn’t Cleveland, and we do things differently here. You may not like me anymore after a few days. I don’t know about you, but I intend to proceed carefully into this relationship.”

  “New Orleans is starting to grow on me. I don’t believe I’ll have a problem with either you or this beautiful and mysterious city.”

  Mama opened a bottle of wine and put a glass on the table beside the chair.

  “Have some wine and continue with your nap,” she said. “It’ll be an hour or so before dinner is ready. I want you rested for later on tonight. Just in case I don’t toss your ass out first.”

  Taj grinned and took a drink of Mama’s wine before raising the handle on the recliner to prop up his feet.

  “Why would you do that?” he asked.

  “I don’t see a ring on your finger. That doesn’t mean you aren’t married. Are you?”

  “Never had the pleasure,” he said.

  “Steady girlfriend?”

  “Been a while since I had a steady girlfriend,” he said. “I’ve been completely single for quite some time now.”

  “Do you meet lots of chippies on your road trips?”

  “Maybe when I was younger,” he said. “Now, I mostly have a good steak, a bottle of wine and then turn in early. What about you? You’re the best-looking woman in New Orleans. Surely you have men knocking down your door.”

  “I wish,” she said.

  “What about Wyatt?”

  “We’re business associates,” she said. “We’ve somehow managed to keep it that way. Go back to your nap. I have work to do in the kitchen.”

  Taj closed his eyes, falling fast asleep. He awoke to a wonderful aroma he didn’t recognize that was wafting through the room. All three of Mama’s cats were asleep and curled up on his large chest.

  “They like you,” she said. “I’ve never seen them take to a stranger as they have to you.”

  “What smells so good?” he asked.

  “Tournedos Marchand de Vin,” she said. “My version of one of Antoine’s favorites. Hope you like steak done Creole style.”

  “I didn’t know they did Creole-style steak here,” Taj said.

  “Get used to it. When it comes to good food, there’s no better place in the world than New Orleans. You’re going to love it here.”

  “You don’t need to twist my arm,” he said. “And my little nap did the trick. I haven’t felt this alert in years.”

  “Maybe because I added a little magic to your wine,” she said.

  “It’s not going to get me in trouble with the NBA if I have to take a piss test, will it?”

  “One-hundred-percent safe and totally herbal,” she said.

&n
bsp; “What if I like the results?”

  “Then don’t play around on Mama Mulate,” she said. “I’m the only one who knows the formula.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  Mama served dinner on a table lighted only by candles in a silver candelabrum. Taj had never tasted such a combination, the steak served with Creole cornbread, baked Acadian cushaw, and broccoli pie. Afterward, he was almost in tears.

  “I have never eaten a finer meal,” he said. “Home cooked, or otherwise.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” Mama said. “I don’t cook this way every night.”

  “You kidding? I’m lucky to have experienced it once in a lifetime. What now?”

  “Let’s turn on some music. I’ll join you in the recliner.”

  Mama put a Trombone Shorty album on her outdated stereo and then sat on Taj’s lap. Barely a moment passed before they began acting like horny teens in the backseat of an old beater. Mama was the first to open her eyes.

  “You can’t be comfortable in your street clothes. There’s a robe in the bathroom that may fit you,” she said. “Try it on for size.”

  “Just the robe?”

  “You won’t need anything else,” Mama said

  “Does this mean I’m staying the night?” he asked.

  “I’m leaning in that direction,” Mama said. “Grab the robe, and we’ll talk about it.”

  Though the robe was a bit too small, neither Taj nor Mama noticed as they returned to the recliner. Flickering light from the candles in the kitchen revealed the veve on Taj’s chest when she brushed the robe open with the back of her hand.

  “What’s the matter?” Taj asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Not at all. I’m looking at the veve and once again starting to feel guilty.”

  “It’s okay. All that business can wait until tomorrow.”

  “Maybe not,” Mama said. “We haven’t heard from Wyatt and Adela all day.”

  “Call them if it’ll make you feel better,” Taj said.

  Mama Mulate extracted herself from Taj’s lap and returned to the kitchen table. After checking her phone for missed calls, she dialed Wyatt’s cell phone.

  “Now I am worried,” Mama said. “The call went straight to Wyatt’s voicemail.”

  Taj joined her at the kitchen table. “I’ll call Adela.” After a moment, he said, “Straight to voicemail.”

  “I’m wondering what this means,” Mama said.

  “Maybe they went to the movie and turned off their phones.”

  “Wyatt doesn’t go to movies.”

  “They’re adults and have taken care of themselves for years. They’re fine.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Mama said.

  Mama poured coffee from the pot warming on the stove. Opening Taj’s robe again, she rubbed the veve on his chest.

  “Why don’t we go back to the chair?” he said.

  “Not right now,” she said. “There’s something about your veve. I should have noticed it before now.”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s a Baron Samedi veve. While all veves are different depending on the person drawing it, this one is simpler.”

  “What does it mean?” Taj said.

  “Don’t know,” Mama said. “Maybe the person who drew it wasn’t a practitioner of Vodoun. Maybe it was just put there by a tattoo artist who had no appreciation of what the veve is supposed to mean.”

  “Let’s worry about it tomorrow,” Taj said. “Your comfortable chair is calling my name.”

  “You’re right,” Mama said. “The answers we seek will probably be forthcoming when we’ve had time to sleep on it.”

  “That might be the day after tomorrow,” Taj said.

  “I think you’re boasting,” Mama said. “I’m a college professor and believe in proof, not boasts.”

  “Then prepare yourself, lovely woman. There’s nothing I relish more than a friendly challenge.”

  Mama and Taj barely had time for a kiss when a knock on the door interrupted their ardor.

  Chapter 25

  A dreary day had turned even bleaker as Odette and Eddie sat in the restaurant’s kitchen drinking coffee. All the workers had gone home for the day. They were alone with only Mudbug for company. Odette glanced out the window.

  “There’s a cab pulling up out front.”

  “Must be Jack and Chief,” Eddie said.

  “It’s parked by the walkway. No one’s getting out,” Odette said.

  Eddie headed for the door. “I’d better go see what’s up.

  “Wait,” Odette said. “Take an umbrella. They’re in the rack by the front door.”

  Eddie grabbed two umbrellas on his way out. Jack opened the rear window a crack.

  “I forgot my wallet. Can you pay for the cab?”

  “No problem. Here’s an umbrella. Odette has coffee waiting in the kitchen.

  Jack and Chief huddled beneath the umbrella and hurried toward the covered walkway as Eddie paid the cab driver. The cab pulled away and started up the rise to the one-lane bridge as lightning streaked across the horizon. Odette was draping a large blanket around Chief’s shoulders as Eddie reached the kitchen.

  “Making it, Chief?” Eddie asked.

  “Thanks to you. The nurses said I’d have bled to death if you hadn’t put the tourniquet on me.”

  “Jack did his part. I wouldn’t have thought the old tub could go so fast.”

  “He’s a pretty good babysitter,” Chief said.

  Chief was savoring his coffee, though Jack hadn’t touched his. Board-straight in the chair, his arms were crossed and a frown on his face.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Eddie said.

  Odette had just placed steaming bowls of gumbo in front of them. Chief started eating. Jack continued to sit and scowl.

  “It’s not you,” Odette said. “It’s me. I’m sorry, Jack. I know you don’t want to cut anyone in on the treasure you’re looking for. Eddie and I can help you recover it. Why don’t we bury the hatchet?”

  “You wouldn’t know anything about the treasure if I hadn’t gotten drunk and opened my big mouth,” Jack said. “Chief and I have been working on it for years. It’s not fair to have to split it when we’re this far along.”

  “Seems to me without our help you have about a snowball’s chance in hell of finding your treasure,” Eddie said. “Even if I help, you can keep my share. I can’t speak for Odette.”

  “You don’t even know what it is we’re looking for,” Jack said.

  Odette reached behind a cabinet and retrieved the bottle of rum Eddie had found during the dive.

  “You mean your 1929 Dominican rum?” she said.

  “Where did you get that?” Jack asked.

  “On our dive,” Eddie said. “My guess is there are lots more where that came from.”

  “Did you find the sunken boat?” Jack asked.

  “Just a single bottle,” Eddie said.

  Odette uncapped the rum and poured some in each of their coffee cups.

  “You crazy, woman?” Jack said. “You don’t add priceless rum to coffee. It’s too good for that.”

  “There’s more where that came from,” she said.

  “You know where the sunken boat is?” Jack asked.

  “Eddie says you have the NOAA charts for this part of the Gulf. I majored in restaurant management. My minor was oceanography. Show me the charts, and I’ll tell you the most likely place to find the sunken rum boat.”

  “It just ain’t fair,” Jack said.

  “If the cache is as big as you think it is, it’s worth a small fortune. You can’t swim, and Chief’s arm is broken. Seems to me you need us more than we need you,” Eddie said.

  “You can keep fifty percent,” Chief said. “I’ll cut Odette in out of my share.”

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Jack said.

  “One hundred percent of zero is still zero,” Eddie said.

  “Pigs get fat, and hogs
get slaughtered,” Chief said.

  Jack grabbed his cup and drank some of it. “Uncle,” he said. “You and the girl help us recover the rum, and we do a four-way split.”

  “Girl?” Odette said. “I’m a woman, and my name is Odette. “Unless you start treating me as an equal, I’m not going to tell you where the treasure is.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jack said.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Odette said.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Jack said.

  “Call me by my name,” Odette said.

  “I’m sorry . . . Odette,” Jack said.

  Odette extended her hand. “Shake on it?”

  Jack, Chief, Odette, and Eddie exchanged handshakes.

  Chief had finished his gumbo and was licking his lips. “That’s the best gumbo I’ve ever eaten, Odette. Jack needs to take a few lessons from you.”

  “You’ve never complained about my chow before,” Jack said.

  “And I’m not now,” Chief said. “When it comes to cooking, you’re as good as they come. Just try a bite of the gumbo.”

  Jack took a bite, pretended he was going to spit it out, and then began to grin. “The big Indian’s right. This is the best gumbo I’ve ever eaten. Can I get the recipe from you?”

  “You know Cajuns don’t use recipes,” Odette said. “There’s a large pot simmering on the stove. Don’t be shy. I’m used to cooking for thirty at a time.”

  The storm continued outside the restaurant as Jack and Chief worked on seconds, and then third bowls of gumbo. The Dominican rum was also getting low.

  “The NOAA packet is at Chief’s teepee,” Jack said.

  “Too nasty out there,” Eddie said. “I’ll put you up here for the night. We can have a look tomorrow.”

  “No can do,” Jack said. “I’ve been away all day. I need to feed Brutus.”

  “You’ll drown going up the hill,” Eddie said.

  “Not if you let us use the ATV,” Jack said.

  “Didn’t know I had an all-terrain vehicle,” Eddie said. “Where is it?”

  “In the metal building at the end of the pier,” Jack said.

  “Unless it has a roof, you’ll still drown,” Eddie said.

  “It’s got four-wheel-drive, a ninety-horse motor, and a canvas top and sides. Seats four and there’s no place on the island, no matter what the weather, it won’t go,.”