by Gale Deitch
I hadn’t been to May’s house in quite some time, and as I followed her through the living room, the fabrics in the furniture and draperies, awash in the colors of island spices like paprika and cumin and nutmeg, comforted me.
“What is that wonderful aroma?” I asked, following her into the kitchen.
“Just thought I’d fry up a batch of beignets. Nothin’ like sugared dough to lighten your mood.”
“May, I didn’t want you to go to any trouble for me. I just want to talk.” I plopped down at her kitchen table.
“No trouble at all, ma chèrie.” She put the puffed and sizzling beignets on a platter and sprinkled them with powdered sugar, then poured us both steaming cups of café au lait.
“You’re spoiling me, but I love it.” I took a bite, closed my eyes in rapture, and then licked the sugar off my fingers. “No one makes beignets like you.”
“Listen, shuga. Did you notice those three cars at the curb with their headlights on?” She nodded toward the window. “One’s an unmarked police car, if I’m not mistaken. They might ‘a been followin’ you.”
“They’re following me, all right.” I laughed, my exhaled breath blowing powdered sugar across the table onto May’s kaftan.
“Go on,” she said, brushing the sugar off her lap.
“That’s one of the things I want to talk to you about. But there’s much more to tell.” I gave her the whole story, starting from the Schwartz party and the murder up to my business being ransacked with me being locked in the cooler. I left out a few details, including my suspicions of who the murderer might be and Ally’s tryst with Mr. Lewis.
“Woo, girl. And I thought I had troubles.” She shook her head and patted my arm.
“My biggest problem right now, after I pay Zach’s bail and his arraignment tomorrow, is how to keep my business open. How in the world am I going to cater parties without any equipment?”
May stood and refilled our cups. “I think I can help with that one. Listen, remember Johnny Blue, you know, from Blue Fin Caterin’? Last year his place burned down to the ground. Lost everything.”
I had read about it in the newspaper, but I thought he was back on his feet now. I’d assumed his insurance took care of it.
“Johnny was in bad shape. Coulda’ lost his business, his clients, everythin’. Well, some of us from the U Street corridor—we banded together somethin’ fierce. Until Johnny got his insurance money and his place rebuilt, we each loaned him kitchen space to work in, dishes, glasses, linens, whatever he needed.”
“Didn’t that drain resources from your restaurant, though?” I asked.
May cupped both her hands over mine. “Not at all. Each one gave him a little help or space or equipment to use. No big sacrifice for any of us. And let me tell you, Johnny’s business boomed last year, even better than the year before. When he got back on his feet, he was so grateful that he makes it a point to help out strugglin’ caterers, the ones that are newly opened but can’t afford their own place yet.”
“I had no idea.”
“So don’t you fret about your business, shuga. I have plenty of equipment for you to borrow when you need it. Just concentrate on Zach, gettin’ the insurance papers filed and the place cleaned up. If I don’t have what you need, I’ll find others who can help. We’ll all pitch in until you’re back on your feet. I’ve got you taken care of.”
Tears welled up and slid down my cheeks. I dabbed at my face with a napkin and smiled at May. “I just wanted someone to talk to, but you’ve solved half my problems. How can I ever thank you?”
May waved off my appreciation. “Ma chèrie, it wasn’t long ago you saved me when I lost my home and my business to those floods in N’awlins. You took me in and helped me get started in D.C. Not somethin’ easy to forget.”
We clasped hands across the table.
May nodded toward the window. “Seems like some of your problems are still sittin’ out there.”
“Oh, yeah.” I’d almost forgotten about Daniel, Bradley, and Zach. “Between the three of them, I’m so confused. It’s all happening too fast, and I have no experience with this kind of attention from men.”
“Let’s think about this together,” said May. “Pretend that all four of you are stuck out on some desert island in the Caribbean…”
“Wait. Could you choose another location? I’d rather not be seen in a bathing suit.”
“Okay. Let’s see.” May tapped her fingernails on the white Formica top. “You’ve just returned from a long journey.”
I leaned forward and rested my elbows on the table. “How long?”
“Six weeks.” Her eyes widened. “You emerge from the train, and there they all stand: Zach, Bradley and Daniel. All smilin’ and happy to see you. Which one you gonna throw ya’ arms around?”
“They’re all happy to see me? I’m not sure.”
“Shuga, think about them one at a time. Take it slow.”
I pictured the scene in my mind. “When I think about Zach, I’m happy to see him.”
“Why?”
“Well, Zach’s always been there, like a best friend. When I’m with him, I’m usually happy because we’re working together, cooking, planning menus, shopping, that kind of thing. But I don’t want to run into his arms and kiss him.”
“And Bradley?”
I smiled. “When I first met Bradley, I couldn’t stop staring at him. He’s gorgeous. He’s perfect. When he held me, I tingled. His touch, his scent mesmerized me. But I don’t know. There’s something too perfect about him, plastic almost. He’s like artificially enriched white bread, while I’m pumpernickel.”
“Girl, if anyone’s pumpernickel around here, it’s me, or my name isn’t Maybelline Dubois. Shuga, you are whole grain bread through and through. You’re organic. You’re the real thing. Natural. No artificial ingredients. That’s why these men all like you. What’s on the label is what they get. In a world like this, there’s something very desirable about that.”
May wasn’t much older than me, but she was wise beyond her years. I knew she was right. Any man who wanted me would have to accept me, and love me, just the way I am.
“Now tell me about Daniel.”
I grinned and lowered my head. Heat rose to my face.
May put her hand out and lifted my chin, her feline-green eyes penetrating mine. She nodded. “I think you got your answer. Laissez les bon temps roulez.”
“Huh?”
“Ma chèrie, let the good times roll.”
A horn honked outside, and we both turned to the window. Daniel was flashing his headlights. I checked my watch. Nine-thirty. I’d been at May’s almost an hour.
“Gotta go.” I stood up and hugged May. “How can I ever thank you? You’ve lightened my load, puffed me up like those beignets. Of course, my hips are going to puff up after the three I just ate.”
When May opened the front door, there was Daniel getting ready to knock. “It’s about time. Are we heading home now?”
I put my hands on my hips. “I’m heading home. Nobody asked you to follow me here or anywhere else.”
Bradley approached the door and held out his arm to me, that big Cheshire cat grin on his face. “I’d be happy to escort you to your car, Miss.”
Zach stood behind them on the walkway. I sidestepped Daniel and Bradley and took Zach’s arm. Then I led my entourage all the way home and into my parking garage.
When they emerged from their cars, Daniel held up his hand to the others. “I’ve got it covered from here. You can go on home now and brush those pearly white teeth of yours, buddy,” he said to Bradley.
The only time I’d ever seen so much as a frown cross Bradley’s face was when he spoke about his father. But now his eyes narrowed at Daniel, and I could tell by the movement of his jaw that he was angry.
Daniel must have noticed it, too. “Maybe I was out of line. No harm intended. And thanks, Bradley. You saved our girl’s life today.” He extended his hand, and Bradley reciprocate
d. I knew from some of the reality cop shows that Daniel was trying to neutralize the situation before it got out of control. “I’ll walk Trudie to the door and make sure she gets in safely. Truthfully, I think she’s had enough of all of us for one day. Okay with you, Zach?”
Zach regarded me. “If it’s okay with Trudie.”
I smiled. “Of course, it’s fine. Thanks for your help today. All of you. I’m lucky to have such good friends who care about me.”
Bradley and Zach turned and got back into their cars.
Daniel escorted me upstairs, and as before, checked each room for unwanted visitors. Standing at the door, Daniel wove his fingers through my hair and brushed his lips across mine. Then he wrapped a hunk of my hair around his hand, gently tilted my head back, and planted an insistent kiss.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” he mumbled into my mouth.
I clung to him, limp and helpless, unwilling to let go. “Can’t you stay for a little while?”
“Better not,” he moaned, breaking away. “There’s no such thing as a little while if I stay a moment more. Tomorrow. I’ll meet you at the courthouse for the hearing.”
“Tomorrow,” I said.
I closed the door behind him, threw the deadlock and latched the chain. Then I headed for bed after the longest day of my life.
Chapter Eighteen
I groped for the ringing phone in the pitch dark. The clock read three-fifteen. Who would be calling me at this hour unless it was an emergency?
I finally found the receiver. “Hello?” No response. “Hello?”
“Warmed up yet, Trudie?” a voice rasped.
“What?” I propped myself up on one elbow and scanned the darkened shadows of my bedroom.
“Watch out. Don’t get too close.” With the voice masked, I couldn’t tell if it was male or female. “Next time you won’t escape.”
“Who is this?” I flicked on the bedside lamp and sat up, listening for more.
The phone went dead.
My heart thumped as if someone was pounding veal inside my chest. I picked up the receiver again to dial Daniel. No, I wasn’t going to wake him. He needed the sleep as much as I did. This could wait until tomorrow.
I turned the light off and lay down. Shivering, as if I were back in the walk-in cooler, I pulled the blanket up to my neck. I’d heard of post-traumatic stress and wondered, after my brush with death yesterday afternoon and this early morning phone call, if that was what I had. I wished Daniel had stayed over. What I wanted was to curl up into the warmth of his body and feel the comfort of his arms around me.
THE ALARM WOKE me at seven-thirty. After a quick cheese omelet to fortify myself, I dressed in my power color: a royal purple suit. Having made it through the previous day’s events and the threatening phone call during the night, I drove out into the sunlight with a renewed confidence. All I needed was a red cape flowing behind me. I was going to court to rescue Zach—pay his bail and do battle at his hearing.
I stopped at the bank and, based on Daniel’s guess, had a five thousand dollar certified check drawn up for bail money. Five thousand dollars would go a long way toward the purchase of the red Viking stove I’d been fondling on a regular basis at the appliance store. Then I remembered all of our damaged equipment we would have to replace even before we saw a cent of the insurance money. Oh, well. As they say, “Easy come, easy go.” There would be more gigs, but there was only one Zachary Cohen.
Daniel was waiting outside the courtroom when I arrived. “The hearing is about to start, a little early. I’m glad you’re here. Let’s go in.”
“But I have something important to tell you.”
“No time now. You can tell me later.” He put his hand on the small of my back and urged me through the carved mahogany double doors into the courtroom.
True to her word, Ally had procured the services of David Bernstein, attorney to the rich and powerful. Facing the judge’s bench with Zach beside him, Mr. Bernstein, in his starched white shirt, silk tie and Italian leather shoes, took charge of the bond hearing with finesse.
Zach stood erect and silent and was dressed in a suit he’d apparently pulled from the back of his closet, out-of-date and a little baggy. I wondered whether he’d been eating lately and was glad he’d had dinner at my mother’s house last night. Still, he appeared thinner, and his complexion was as gray as overcooked green beans.
The judge read the charges, formally accusing Zach of the murder of Melvin Schwartz. Knowing full well why we were here in this courtroom, listening to the judge actually say it stunned me. Sure, Daniel believed he had enough evidence to arrest Zach, but what seemed lacking was a motive. Zach didn’t know Mr. Schwartz any better than I, so why would he want to kill him? I could easily bring to mind others who might have wanted the man dead.
Wondering about this, I zoned out the legalese going on in front of me. Some phrases penetrated my consciousness like “no previous convictions” and “not a flight risk,” and I glanced at Daniel, waiting for him to dispute that and mention the tickets purchased to fly to Toronto. For whatever reason, maybe in deference to me, he didn’t bring it up.
For someone like me, obsessed with TV courtroom dramas and crime shows, it was strange that I couldn’t seem to focus on the proceedings. At this moment, only one thing mattered: getting Zach out of here. I jumped at the banging of the judge’s gavel. “Pay the bailiff,” he commanded. At that, I stood and started forward, not sure from the guards flanking the bench, which one was the bailiff.
David Bernstein approached me. “Miss Fine?” The styling of his serge suit screamed “custom-tailored.” The lawyer didn’t appear much older than me. This baby-faced young man was Mr. Schwartz’s longtime attorney?
“Yes. I’m Trudie Fine. Mr. Bernstein?”
He held out his hand. “Alan. Alan Bernstein, David’s son. My father couldn’t make it on such short notice, so he sent me. I’m a junior associate at the firm.” Dark lashes fringed his golden eyes.
I shook his hand. “Thank you for your help today, Mr. Bernstein.”
“Alan.”
“Alan, how much do I owe you?” I pulled out my checkbook and held my breath.
“Not a thing. Mrs. Schwartz covered all costs. She’s posting bond as well. I’ll make a quick visit to the bailiff over there, and Mr. Cohen is free to go.”
“Posting his bond, too?” I tried not to show my relief. I would have to visit Mrs. Schwartz later to thank her. I’d been meaning to talk to her anyway to find out what she was trying to tell me the day of the funeral. I just hoped she’d be sober.
“Well, thank you again, Mr. Bern…I mean Alan.”
“Any time, Miss Fine.”
“Trudie.”
“Trudie. Here’s my card if I can be of help in the future,” he said with a quick wink before he turned to pay the bailiff.
Daniel joined me, careful not to make any bodily contact. After all, he had been the arresting officer, and I was the defendant’s friend. He also knew I wanted to keep our relationship a secret from Zach.
“Daniel, I have to talk to you.”
His cell phone rang, and he held up his hand. “Yeah?” he said into the phone.
“Oh yeah? I’ll be right there.” He hung the phone on his belt. “Gotta go.”
“But, I have to….”
“Sorry, Trudie. I’ll call you later, okay?” Daniel headed down the aisle and out the double doors.
“But....” My voice trailed off as the doors swung shut behind him.
A minute later, Zach walked toward me, first tentative, then faster. I caught him in my arms and held him tightly. “Zach. Thank goodness.”
We grinned at each other. Then I grabbed his hand and headed for the door. “C’mon. Let’s get the halibut out of here.”
As I drove to the warehouse, Zach and I kept sneaking peeks at each other and laughing out loud. Color was already returning to his face as we grinned nonstop.
Now, talking about the hu
ge loss of supplies, we both attempted to look grave, but again broke out in smiles. I was glad he’d already seen the damage in the office and warehouse the day before, so I wouldn’t have to prepare him. It didn’t matter that we faced several days of work getting our office and warehouse back in shape. I’d brought a change of clothes with me, and we were ready to roll up our sleeves and dig in. Zach was free, and that was the only thing that mattered right now.
But when we arrived at the warehouse, I stopped the car right in the middle of the lot.
“What—?” I couldn’t finish my question.
Parked in front of our building were several vehicles—cars, SUVs, trucks. I double-parked, blocking a pick-up that sat in front our office entrance, flung open my door and sprang from the car. In an instant, Zach was beside me. The overhead garage door stood open and people bustled around inside.
Zach and I approached the entrance, wide-eyed and speechless.
Not only had the glass been completely swept from the floor, the metal shelves had all been righted and stood half filled with new dishes and glassware.
“Hey, shuga. Hey, Zach.” May came over and put her arms around us both in a group hug.
“Wh—what’s all this?” I clung to her thin frame as if she were a life preserver.
“I told ya’ we were goin’ to help, so here we are. Ain’t nothin’ goin’ on come Monday, caterin’-wise. Everyone was available.”
She swept her arm out, releasing us, and we stood back to survey the unreality of it all. “You know Johnny, don’t ya’?” May asked. “We spoke about him last night.”
A lanky man with skin the color of dusty mahogany nodded our way and tipped his hat.
“And this is Michelle Dupree from The Creperie and Andrew Wong, who has the Only Dim Sum food truck in Chinatown.”
They both waved and then went back to stacking plates on the shelving units.
“We brought our extra supplies—labeled the shelves so ya’d know where to return them once y’all are back on your feet.”