Heaven stepped through the door, put her basket of goodies down and followed a hallway toward noise. It wasn’t the raucous noise of the party, but the businesslike hum of machinery and human voices calling out instructions to others. Heaven was surprised that the plant was operating tonight. Surely Mary had invited all the employees to this blast. But maybe a small crew was keeping the roasters going.
Heaven started to walk into the room where the noise was coming from, but she found the door at that end of the hall locked. The hall dead-ended there but there was light shining from an opening down the wall. It seemed like another large room was on the other side, probably similar to the one the band was set up in. She walked down the wall and found a large opening covered with strips of heavy plastic, like the ones they used to cover walk-in refrigerator doors, in cold-storage facilities. Light and activity were in there but now Heaven was cautious. Something about that locked door had activated her adrenaline. She stood at the very edge of the opening and pushed aside one of the plastic flaps just a tiny bit.
The place was a beehive of activity. There were two women stuffing something into smaller burlap coffee bean bags, about a twenty-pound size, Heaven figured. One man was sewing the tops of the filled bags with some coarse string threaded in a big needle. He was very good at this, fingers and string flying. It took the man about a minute to close up the tops of the bags, which he tossed on the floor beside him. Two other people, a man and a woman, were packing one of the smaller bags inside a larger burlap bag, like the ones in which the coffee beans arrived at the Magazine Street warehouse. Then those two held the bags under a big funnel-like device, pulled a handle and the bag filled up with roasted coffee beans. When the larger bags were loaded, they sewed the tops shut, one holding the bag upright, the other sewing quickly. Then they stacked them on a pallet. On the outer side of the building there was a loading dock with a truck backed up to the opening. And there, heaving those hundred-pound sacks into the truck like they were Styrofoam packing peanuts, was Durant la Pointe.
Heaven was excited. This was it. Truely hadn’t been smuggling something into the country. He’d been smuggling something out of New Orleans in bags of roasted coffee beans, with the help of that creepy Durant. She just couldn’t figure out what it was.
Heaven moved away from the doorway so she wouldn’t cast an accidental shadow and scooted to the other side of the opening, closer to the small bags. When she peeked in from the opposite edge of the door, it was just in time to see Will and Mary, arms around each other, enter the room through the locked door Heaven had tried earlier. It took a minute for the scene to sink in.
Two things stuck out. Although Will and Mary were normally affectionate with each other, it had seemed more like brother and sister affection. Not tonight. This didn’t look like platonic friendship anymore to Heaven. Will’s hand wandered all over Mary’s body as he talked with la Pointe. At one point, he leaned into her and kissed her neck.
They were lovers, there was no doubt about it. Mary’s face was a mass of contradictions. One moment she looked radiantly happy. The next minute she looked panic-stricken. But her eyes never left Will. Heaven didn’t know if she’d just been blind to it all the time or if it was a recent development. Maybe they’d sought solace in each other after Truely died. Or maybe before.
The second thing that stuck out wasn’t a puzzle like how long Mary and Will had been lovers. It was now obvious that the two of them were well aware of Truely’s scheme, whatever it was, and had taken it on as their own.
What was the scheme? Heaven stepped nearer to the opening and poked her head a little farther into the room. Will had asked the workers to come over to where he and Mary were standing, and the women packing the little bags left their work as well. Will gave each person several hundred-dollar bills and shook hands with them in turn. A little voice in Heaven’s head said Will looked too comfortable, too much in charge. Maybe this scheme wasn’t Truely’s after all.
Heaven turned her attention back to the little bags and squinted, trying to decipher what they said. The writing on the small packages they were putting in the burlap bags said pseudoephedrine. Heaven’s mind was so full of new information that she drew a blank for a minute. Then she remembered. It was an ingredient for cold medicine—and for methamphetamine. They weren’t manufacturing meth, they were just providing the key ingredient. Clever. It was like that operation that Murray had told her about over the phone, the one in Los Angeles.
Heaven look over at the happy couple and realized that Mary didn’t have her cigarette girl costume on anymore. She was dressed in one of her lawyer suits, very businesslike. It was the last thing she noticed before the world went black.
When Heaven woke up she was being carried over someone’s shoulder like a sack of coffee beans. Her vision was swimming for a minute as she tried to focus her eyes. Pain at the back of her head indicated the spot where she must have been hit. She tried to remain relaxed so her captor wouldn’t know she had regained consciousness. But when she realized her hands were bound together at the wrists she instinctively stiffened and a strong hand reached over and steadied her mid-section. “Be still now,” a voice said. Even though she’d talked to him only twice, Heaven was sure it was Durant la Pointe carrying her. She grabbed at his belt with her bound hands and yelled, “Help,” as loud as she could.
Durant stopped walking and swung her down to the ground roughly. It was then she realized her feet were bound as well. This was not a good situation.
“We’re around the bend from the plant. With all that music, no one can hear you, Missy. You can either settle down and be carried or I’ll drag you on the ground by your feet. It don’t make no difference to me.”Durant spoke dispassionately, looking down at Heaven.
“I’ll take being carried. What girl wouldn’t?” Heaven said lightly, still trying to assess the situation. He hefted her back up on his shoulder and resumed walking. “So, did Will and Mary find out about your little scheme and you had to cut them in?”
Silence from Durant. She tried again.
“Do you by any chance have a pickup truck? Did you follow me and run me off the road? Shoot at me?”
“For all the good it did,” Durant muttered. ‘You still sticking your nose in things.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“For a little dip.”
Heaven couldn’t believe it. Surely her friends didn’t know what Durant was doing. She just couldn’t believe they’d want her to be tossed in the Mississippi River.
“I hate the water,” Heaven noted from her upside-down position.
“That’s what Mary said,” Durant said flatly.
“Where is Mary? I know if I could just talk to her we could work this out.”
“They’re gone.”
“Gone, like left the party?”
“Gone for good,” Durant said and reached over, pulled Heaven off his shoulder, and stood her up. She stumbled but regained her footing. She couldn’t make a real step, but could hobble forward slightly. Durant turned her toward the river. They were on a concrete lookout perch up on a slight rise right by the river. There were no hills in New Orleans since the whole place was under sea level, but this artificial rise must have served some purpose for the Corps of Engineers, Heaven thought. The water must be fifteen feet below. Just the thought of being dropped in the dark toward the treacherous Mississippi made Heaven almost black out. She stumbled and fell down.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, borderline hysterical.
“It’s my job,” Durant said as he lifted Heaven up on a metal rail. With little effort he sent her over the side. Heaven fell in the darkness, frantically trying to free her hands as she hit the water. The river was warm and she could feel a current pulling at her legs. She tried kicking as best she could and her head broke the surface. She shrieked “help” once then realized she couldn’t afford the energy that took. She tried to tell herself what her childhood swimming teacher had told her. “U
se your lungs as a flotation device,” he used to say. “Full lungs, float. Empty lungs, kick.” Heaven filled her lungs and tried to get her bearings. She wasn’t far from the rocky shore, but it might as well be the length of the English Channel as far as her ability to get there was concerned.
It was true that Heaven didn’t like water, and she couldn’t believe Mary remembered that. She must have been very vocal about it. She’d taken swimming lessons with all the other kids, but she never felt comfortable in the water. It scared her. If she ever got out of this river, she’d have to remember to not mention her fear anymore. Who knew when an old friend would use the knowledge to try to knock her off?
Heaven expelled her breath, kicking furiously and trying to scream. It was silent above and she thought Durant had left, unconcerned about watching her drown, confident the river would have her soon. She filled her lungs with air again and tried to calm down. In the meantime she was being drawn farther from shore.
All of a sudden, a strong blast of light shone down from the riverbank. “Yell for me once more,” someone commanded.
“Here. Over here,” Heaven yelled with all her might. “I’m throwing you a round preserver. Here it comes,” the voice said. Heaven heard the splash but the preserver wasn’t within her reach. She expelled air and quickly filled her lungs again. Full lungs, float, she said silently as a mantra. The flashlight or lantern played over the water and finally landed on the bright orange ring.
“I see it,” Heaven yelled impulsively and felt herself being pulled under the water. She pulled her head up and tried frogging toward the life preserver. The light hit her again and she felt hope.
“Just go easy now, it’s just a few feet,” the voice said, playing the flashlight back and forth between Heaven and the preserver.
The life preserver was almost in her grasp, if she’d been able to grasp. And then she felt its slippery, rubbery surface and threw her arms on top of it, hooking herself around it as best she could with her hands tied together. “I got it,” she yelled, triumphant.
“Hold on now. I’m going to pull you in.”
Heaven was amazed how close she was to the riverbank. In just a minute she banged up against the rocks that were piled there. She couldn’t let go of the life preserver and she heard a high-pitched wail that she thought was coming from her.
“Easy now. You’re just fine. Take my hand,” the voice said.
“No. Can’t let go,” she stammered. A strong arm grabbed her by the elbow and jerked her half out of the water.
“Help me here. Use your legs to help get you up on the bank,” the voice commanded.
Heaven wiggled her knees into the rocks, feeling the sharpness. Pain shot through her legs as her knees were cut on the rocks. It felt so good she could hardly stand it. She was now two-thirds out of the water, still clutching the preserver.
The arm pulled her another few feet. Now her whole body was on the rocks but because of her bindings, she resembled a trussed chicken, unable to scramble up the bank. The flashlight beam caught her right in the face. She smiled what must have been a ghoulish smile.
“Let’s untie your hands. Then you can help crawl up here. I don’t want to get too far down there and fall in myself,” the voice explained. The flashlight was placed on the ground and the man bent close to Heaven to untie her hands.
When Heaven saw who had pulled her out of the drink, she reacted so violently that she almost pitched herself back in the water. Her rescuer was the big man.
She fainted.
Beignets
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 T. baking powder
1 T. sugar
1 tsp. kosher salt
1 cup plus a little milk
2 T. canola oil
1 large egg
canola oil for frying
powdered sugar
Although many beignet recipes call for yeast, this version is great for those afraid of yeast breads and the time they take, and it’s still delicious. If you have a New Orleans-style brunch, you will need one person assigned to making beignets as they will disappear as fast as you make them. In a large mixing bowl, combine everything with 1/2 cup of milk, either with an electric mixer or by hand. When you get the lumps out of the batter, it will be stiff; add the rest of the milk to get a thick pancake batter consistency. Let stand at room temperature for an hour or make the night before and bring to room temperature.
In a heavy skillet, heat about 2 inches of oil to a medium temperature. Carefully drop a spoonful of batter at a time in the oil, turning with tongs until they are brown on all sides. Be careful not to heat the oil too hot or you’ll have a raw middle in your beignet. You should do a trial run or two. They don’t have to have a consistent shape. When they are browned and beautiful, drain them quickly on a paper towel and drop them in a bowl of confectioner’s sugar and roll them around. The idea is to get the sugar on while they are still hot.
Twelve
Heaven was lying on an examining table in the first aid station of the plant. Someone had brought her one of the white disposable hazmat jumpsuits that factory workers sometimes wear and she’d slipped it on over wet underwear. Her costume was wadded up on the floor. Her high heels were at the bottom of the river. Policemen were milling around but so far they hadn’t located Durant la Pointe. “So let me get this straight. Truely hired you to investigate his own business?”
The big man, whose name was Sam Delgado, nodded. He insisted on staying with her, only stepping out of the room for her to change clothes. “Truely knew something was up. He was missing coffee, not enough to be financially damaging, but the losses were steady and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what was happening. So he hired me to do some spying.”
“And you’re a PI?” Heaven was pretty sure she’d ask him all of this before but it was taking a while for it to sink in.
“Yes, ma’am. Licensed by the good state of Louisiana. Truely would not believe me when I told him what was going on, that people close to him were involved. He said he had to see for himself. Didn’t know a thing about meth. It was the death of him. He should have just let me turn them in right then. He thought he could talk to them, stop the whole thing.”
“Stop Durant la Pointe, you mean?”
Sam looked at her like she was dense and shook his head. “No, his wife and that so-called friend, Tompkins Tibbets. Durant just worked for them.”
“So when Durant said to me they were gone for good, he didn’t kill them?”
Sam chuckled. “No, tonight was their last shipment, I reckon. They planned this big shindig as their going-away party, not Truely’s. They were taking off for Brazil, as it turns out. I bet we’ll find out Mary, with her international law background, stashed some assets in those off-shore banking countries.”
“How will we find out? Isn’t Brazil one of those places without extradition?”
“Well, it used to be. The laws are a little different now. But it don’t make any difference ‘cause the plane they chartered had to stop in Miami. A little trouble with one of the ailerons sticking. Otherwise I guess they’d be in the Cayman Islands by now, picking up some cash. My friends at NOPD alerted all the airport police in coastal towns. Mr. Tibbets and Ms. Whitten are in Dade County lockup.”
“Can they be charged with Truely’s murder?” All of a sudden, Heaven wanted blood. She had been so flimflammed by those two!
Sam ducked his head. “Be hard to do that. The boy you thought was Mr. Whitten’s killer is dead, of course. Person who did him seemed like a professional, what with the two shots at the base of the brain like that. The cops have no clues on that. My idea is that Mr. Tibbetts and, uh, Miz Whitten kept the kid somewhere, told him they would get him out of town soon if he would just lay low. They probably took him to another rental property that Mr. Tibbetts owned. It was easy to send a second guy, probably from out of town, to clean up the loose ends.”
Heaven felt her face turn hot. She knew she was blushing from th
e embarrassment of being so fooled. “So what can they be charged with?”
“Conspiracy to distribute methamphetamine, which is a pretty good federal rap. Hard to beat, under the circumstances. Even if la Pointe doesn’t testify against them, the other workers didn’t make enough to lay down for Tibbets and, eh, your friend.”
Heaven sat up on the side of the table, her legs dangling over the side. “Some friend.” She gingerly felt the back of her head and her knees, which were a mess, skinned and caked with dried blood. “I have two more questions, then I have to go home, I mean to Truely’s. After Truely was killed, why did you stay on the case and what were you doing trying to break into Truely’s house?”
“Well, Truely had given me a big retainer when I started working on this. He still had five K credit and in my book, he still needed my help, even if it was posthumously. I never thought anyone would be downstairs that night after Truely died. I was just going to take a look in his library. Didn’t really know what I was looking for. You were there, asleep on the porch. I didn’t spot you until you screamed.”
All of a sudden Heaven felt dizzy. She ached all over. “Sam, I have my car here but would you follow me home? Back to Truely’s, I mean, not Kansas City.”
Sam held her arm. “Why don’t you let me drive you? You’re not in such good shape.”
“Because tomorrow I don’t want to have to come back here for that rental car. I want to drive it right to the airport and go home, where I belong.”
Nancy Blair and Amelia Hart were standing in the doorway. Heaven didn’t know how long they’d been there.
“Heaven, honey. You go with this nice investigator,” Nancy ordered. “Amelia and I will see to your car and bring it to you in the morning. But not too early. You go rest now, you hear?”
Red Beans and Vice Page 21