Fine Dining

by Gale Deitch

“And what did you see, Detective, when you went into the alley?”

  Daniel’s shoulders tensed as he described the scene for the judge. “I witnessed the victim’s body lying on the ground, covered in blood. Ms. Dubois was seated next to the body with a bloody knife raised above her head. She was hysterical and screaming. When I asked her to put down the knife, she did.”

  The judge swung his gaze to Alan. “Are these facts correct, Mr. Bernstein? Was your client found as Sergeant Flowers and Detective Goldman just described?”

  “Yes, she was, Your Honor. However, witnesses also agree that Ms. Dubois was in a state of shock. The victim was her only living relative, her baby brother.” He’d emphasized those last two words and hesitated to let them sink in. “She has no prior arrests. Further, a very responsible party will be living with Ms. Dubois at her residence.”

  “And who will that be?” the judge asked. “Will the responsible party please stand and let yourself be known?”

  My heart beat wildly at the thought of speaking to the judge. I didn’t want to screw this up for May. I stood and Alan turned to me, flashing a quick smile and a nod of encouragement.

  “That would be me, your honor,” I said, making my way down the aisle to stand next to Alan.” Between May, the attorneys, the police and now me, it was getting pretty crowded up there in front of the judge.

  “Please state your name and address.”

  Uh-oh. It occurred to me that I don’t actually have an address. Which address should I use? My currently uninhabited condo that I hadn’t stepped foot into for a month? Or Daniel’s house where I spent ninety percent of my time? Or my parents’ house where I was living when I was not with Daniel? I decided the safest bet would be my parents’ address.

  “Trudie Fine. I currently live with my parents at 6581 Forest Drive, Bethesda, Maryland.”

  I glanced at Alan to see if this was the correct answer. He gave a quick wink, and I relaxed, then turned to Daniel who raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Occupation?”

  “I own a catering company, A Fine Fix, in Rockville, Maryland.”

  “And are you related to the defendant?” the judge asked.

  “No, I’m a very close friend. I went to culinary school with Ms. Dubois and she stayed with me when she first came to the Washington area.”

  “Can the court rely on you to make sure Ms. Dubois does not leave the area or be a menace to society?”

  “Absolutely.” I would have crossed my heart and put my hand on my Julia Child cookbook, if I’d had it with me.

  Judge Maynard looked from me to May and then down at the paperwork in front of him. “Since Ms. Dubois has no prior arrests, I remand her to your custody, Ms. Fine. Bail has been set at fifty thousand dollars. Please settle with the clerk.”

  I knew from Zach’s hearing the month before that only five thousand, or ten percent of the bail set by the judge, needed to be paid now and would be refunded later, whether May was found guilty or not.

  The judge banged his gavel. “Next case.”

  I put my arm around May and led her out of the courthouse to my car. Alan followed a few minutes later after taking care of the bail payment.

  “Good job, both of you,” he said when he’d caught up with us.

  “You weren’t too shabby yourself,” I said to Alan.

  “Thank you, Mr. Bernstein.” May shook Alan’s hand. She attempted a smile but couldn’t sustain it.

  “Just doing my job. I’ll let you know when a trial date is set. But we’ll need to get together to build our case. For now, May, go home and get some rest.” He opened the passenger door for May to get in.

  “Trudie.” I heard Daniel’s voice and spotted him jogging toward us. He was breathing heavily when he reached my car.

  Alan approached Daniel and held out his hand. “You’re Detective Goldman. Good to meet you. Alan Bernstein.”

  He and Daniel eyed each other as they shook hands. Their challenging glares felt as if they were about to compete in an episode of Iron Chef. When they released their grips, Alan turned to me and nodded. “I’ll be in touch.” Then he turned and walked away.

  Daniel watched Alan leave then took my hands in his. “I’m sorry, Trudie. I had to tell the judge what I saw. I had no choice.”

  “It’s okay. I understand.” I was a little resentful the way Sergeant Flowers had goaded the prosecutor to voice an objection. But that was her doing, not his. I put my hand on his cheek and kissed him.

  “When am I going to see you again?” he asked, kissing me back. “I’ll miss you tonight.”

  “Well, I do expect my escort service to follow me home from the restaurant. Okay? Just so I arrive safely at May’s house.”

  “Of course. I’ll be there at eleven to get you. But after that?”

  “Breakfast, remember? I’ll see you at seven-thirty for breakfast.” I gave him a wink and kissed him again, then drove May home.

  Chapter Eight

  May sat in the passenger seat silent, with her head down. Occasionally, at a traffic light, I would place my hand over hers, trying to provide some comfort.

  “The restaurant did well last night--a full house,” I said, attempting to lighten the mood.

  She peered at me with a weak smile. “Thank you, Trudie, for all your help.” Her voice was thin. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. You got me that wonderful lawyer. You’re overseein’ Maybelline’s, comin’ to live with me so the judge would let me out. You’re a real friend, ma chèrie. A real friend.”

  “Nothing you wouldn’t have done for me.” As I pulled into a parking space in front of her house, I glanced at her, but she was staring forward out the windshield, expressionless.

  The last time I’d been at May’s house, vibrant colors of golds and rusts in the fabrics and on the walls and the bold aroma of spices like cinnamon and cumin wafting from the kitchen assailed all my senses, announcing, “This is a home of bounty and comfort and life.”

  Today, as we entered the foyer, the light was dim and gray, and a staleness hung in the air. May put down her bag and looked around as if she’d never been there before. The house was empty, silent, lifeless.

  I realized it was up to me to breathe life back into this house, and into May. I turned on the lights and opened some windows, drawing in the delicate fragrance of the crepe myrtles with their magnificent fuchsia blossoms. Then I brought May into her kitchen, sat her down at the table and began to cook. I brewed a pot of strong, dark coffee and then, gathering all the ingredients—flour and shortening, eggs and buttermilk—made a huge stack of pancakes.

  As we slathered them with butter and drizzled syrup on top, May began to smile and then to speak. “I used to make pancakes for Micah back in N’awlins after Mama was gone and I was tryin’ to raise him on my own. Didn’t have money for much else. But he loved those pancakes. You’d think I was serving him filet mignon.”

  “I think he would’ve loved anything his big sister made for him. He always looked up to you, May. Tried to please you.”

  She shook her head. “Didn’t do much good. Trouble followed Micah wherever he went. He just couldn’t keep himself on the straight and narrow. Believe me, I tried everything I could. Things would be goin’ so well for a while and then he’d just mess it all up again.” She looked at me, her eyes welling with tears. “Trudie, ya’ think I gave up too soon?”

  “Of course not,” I said. “Micah was a grown man. He made his own choices, for the good or the bad. There wasn’t anything you could have done to change that.” I hesitated. “Tell me something I don’t know about Micah. Something you loved about him.”

  May took a bite of pancake and closed her eyes. “Comfort food. Shuga, only you would know how to soothe a grievin’ heart.”

  I waited for her to answer my question.

  She smiled. “He was a good boy. Never meant no harm to anyone. He loved life, always jumped in with both feet and started runnin’.” She shook her head. “Often without think
ing things through. I guess that’s what Micah’s problem was. He just didn’t think about the consequences. But he loved people. Loved helping people. Loved getting right into the thick of things.” She laughed. “If there was a strike or a demonstration, you’d always find Micah right in the center of the conflict standing up for his fellow human beings.”

  “I remember that about him,” I said.

  “I guess someone like that isn’t meant to live a long life,” she said, swirling the coffee in her mug and taking a sip.

  “Have you thought about a memorial service?” I asked.

  She glanced up at me. “I think I’ll close the restaurant for a couple of hours, maybe on Sunday. The staff knew him best. We’ll do somethin’ nice for him.”

  “What about funeral arrangements?”

  May held her coffee cup in both hands and peered out the window as if seeing something that wasn’t there. “When Micah first came to D.C., he was so excited to see everything—all the monuments and museums. One day we took a boat ride on the Potomac where he could see Washington in all its grandeur. He loved that boat ride.” She turned to me. “When they release his body, I’m going to have him cremated and scatter his ashes on the river. I think that would make Micah happy.”

  “Sounds like something he would want.”

  “I just wish--” She shook her head and a tear ran down her cheek.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I just wish I had a piece of Micah to hold onto. Sure, I have his things—his clothing, his possessions. I don’t know. I guess that should be enough, but I want more.”

  There is a piece of Micah out there, I thought. But I wasn’t going to tell her about Katie’s pregnancy. Who knew if the girl would really keep the baby, even though she’d said she would. Or she might opt for adoption. It’s not easy to raise a baby as a single parent with limited income. Anyway, it wasn’t up to me to tell May. That would be up to Katie.

  “I’m sure glad it’s you the judge ordered to live here, shuga.”

  “He didn’t order me to live here. I volunteered,” I mumbled, chewing a mouthful of pancake then washing it down with a swallow of coffee.

  “Still,” May said, smiling. “I’m glad it was you.”

  I WAITED UNTIL seven to go check on the restaurant. Gus and the wait staff had been doing well so far without May, so I had confidence in tonight’s dinner service. When I arrived, however, I wasn’t so sure. Most of the tables were occupied, but there was an uncomfortable buzz in the air and diners kept glancing toward the kitchen. There were no servers in sight, and customers looked up at me expectantly as I headed for the kitchen and opened the door.

  Line cooks and wait staff stood as if frozen in place while a commotion of shouts and grunts emanated from the alley. Gus was nowhere in sight.

  “What’s going on?” I asked whoever would answer.

  Katie turned to me and frowned. “It’s those men who kept bothering Micah. Now they’re out there with Gus trying to get money out of him.”

  No one seemed to know what to do. Gus was the strong one who kept everything running smoothly, and he was out in the alley facing trouble.

  Well, May had put me in charge, and I wasn’t going to let her down. “Okay, everyone back to work. Kitchen staff, you’ve got orders waiting. Wait staff, you’ve got a whole dining room full of impatient customers. Get out there and take care of them.”

  They turned to me, clearly unconvinced of my management skills. Slowly, they began to move, a shift in the mood hovering like a dish soap bubble about to burst. Then, as they felt more comfortable with me taking charge, the kitchen began to run more efficiently with orders going out to the diners.

  I turned to the situation in the alley, swallowed hard and then proceeded to the back door. I watched as the men shoved Gus around, hurling threats at him. I wondered for a moment if I should call the police, but the men were growing more aggressive toward Gus, and I felt a combination of worry about his safety and anger about the disruption of the restaurant.

  Thinking about May, I knew exactly what she would do, so I threw the same question out into the alley that I’d asked of the staff.

  “What’s going on out here?” I shouted with authority.

  Gus and the trio of thugs all turned to me at once. Closest to me was the Albino man Micah had been speaking to the other night, the one who seemed to be the ringleader. The spotlight shining down on him made his gray, metallic snakeskin suit shimmer against his ghostly skin. The other two men wore dark hooded jackets, sunglasses and neon Nikes that gave the appearance of them walking on brightly colored gummy worms. One of the men had grabbed Gus by his chef coat but now, with my appearance, shoved him backwards.

  “I asked what was going on out here.” I took a step over the threshold into the alley. What in the world was I doing? Exactly what I promised Daniel I wouldn’t do. Prickles danced up and down my spine, but I wasn’t going to back down now.

  “Gus, I need you in the kitchen. We’ve fallen behind in the dinner service, and only you can get it going again. We don’t want bad reviews on our website tomorrow.”

  I turned to the others and folded my arms in front of me. “And you three, get out of here or I’m calling the cops.” My heart pounded so hard, I could hear it beating in my ears. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Gus peering back and forth between them and me. One of the men started toward me, but I stood my ground while Mr. Albino grabbed his shoulder to keep him back. I glared at them, not moving.

  The head man brushed at his suit jacket and then turned to me and grinned. “Certainly, ma’am. We’ll be getting on our way now. Sorry to have caused so much trouble for the restaurant.” As the men began to walk away, he turned back to me. He was a large man, certainly as large as Gus. “Oh, and be sure to give my regards to Miss May, will you? Tell her LeBlanc was here for a friendly visit.” His grin was wider now as he strode backwards into the darkness, the image of his white skin hovering like the flash of a camera.

  Gus grabbed my arm, pulled me back into the kitchen and closed the back door. “What the hell, Trudie? What were you thinking? Are you crazy? You could have gotten hurt.”

  I stood frozen for a moment. “I—I guess I wasn’t. Thinking, that is. I was just reacting.” I glanced at Gus. “What did they want from you anyway?”

  “What do they always want? Protection money, of course. With Micah gone and May out of the way for a while, I was next in line.”

  “We’ve got to get the police involved,” I said. “This can’t go on.”

  Gus shook his head. “No way. That’s the worst thing you can do. They’ll come along in the middle of the night and trash the whole place. If May wants to take that chance, okay. But you can’t put her business in jeopardy like that. It’s not your decision to make.”

  I thought about this a moment before answering. “You’re right. It’s not my decision to make. But what happened tonight with the dinner service coming to a complete stop is just as detrimental to Maybelline’s, maybe even worse. The public understands vandalism resulting in a halt to business. They’re not as forgiving of bad service.”

  I turned to see if the kitchen staff was operating smoothly and delivering meals. “I’ll speak to May about this. Right now, let’s get to work. What do you need me to do?”

  “Lady, you’ve done enough for tonight. Why don’t you go in May’s office, keep out of our way and let us do our work.”

  “Oh, no. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” I turned to the line cooks who were feverishly trying to knock out the long row of paper orders that hung along the stainless prep area. I pulled the first ticket off and read, “Two Gumbo, one grilled prawn, one red snapper.” No one moved, but looked to Gus for direction.

  Gus glanced from me to his cook staff and yelled. “You heard the lady. Get moving.”

  After about a half hour, with me calling the orders and Gus working with his line cooks, we caught up and were sending out meals in a timely fashion.r />
  At eleven, Daniel arrived and poked his head into the kitchen looking for me.

  “Your ride’s here, Trudie,” Gus said.

  I hesitated. Dinner service was winding down, but there was still a lot of cleanup and closing out to do. I turned to Gus.

  “We’ll be fine,” he said. “You get going.”

  I removed my apron and, as I turned to leave, Gus stopped me. “Trudie, it was a pleasure working with you.” He put out his hand for a fist bump. “Thank you.”

  As I met his fist with mine, I knew he wasn’t referring only to my help in the kitchen.

  Chapter Nine

  I woke at six to the aroma of something wonderful baking. I showered and dressed quickly in a t-shirt and jeans, put my hair in a ponytail and went downstairs.

  May was just pulling a pan out of the oven. She wore one of her silky kaftans, this one a swirl of turquoise and peach, and large bronze hoops swung from her ears. “Mornin’, shuga. Did you sleep well?”

  As well as could be expected, I thought, without Daniel. “Like a baby,” I said, walking into the kitchen to see what she’d made. “Croissants. May, they’re gorgeous.”

  “Not just any croissants, I’ll have you know. These are from the Dubois secret family recipe.” She used a pair of tongs to extract one from the pan and put it on a plate.

  I picked it up with my fingers, and although hot to the touch, took a bite of this delicacy. “It’s heavenly. So flaky and buttery. But you didn’t need to go to so much trouble for me.”

  “Oh, yes I did. You filled my soul yesterday, ma chèrie. Now it’s my turn. And I’m puttin’ some in a bag for you to bring to Daniel for breakfast.” She smiled and winked at me. “Now run along. I’m sure he’s waitin’ for ya’.”

  I gave her a big hug, and she hung on to me as if I were her lifeline. When I pulled back, her eyes were moist.

  “I don’t need to go anywhere right now. Let’s have breakfast together. We’ll talk.”

  “No,” she protested. “’Course not. I’m gonna have lots of moments like this where I get teary-eyed. And you can’t stop livin’ every time it happens. I’ll be fine, so you go see your man.”