Thursday Club Mysteries: All 7 stories

by Sheila Hudson

  It was dawn before I got any sleep. I don’t know how long I cried into the pillow and tried to remember every detail that Howard or Tom said about the business trip taking them into Metairie and Avondale. The telephone next to the bed rang and I jumped straight up.

  “Sorry to wake you, but we are downstairs if you want to join us for brunch,” Amy said.

  “Is everyone there but me?” I asked.

  “Pretty much. Do you want me to order for you?”

  “I’ll be down in a few minutes. Just order coffee. I don’t know if I can eat,” I said.

  “All of us are the same. Still the buffet is tempting,” Amy answered. “Neal wants us all here when he unveils his plan to get back out guys. I knew you wouldn’t want to miss it.”

  ~10~

  Never have I ever been so glad to see anyone as I was to see Neal arrive. He has been our rescuer in so many situations. And I was desperate to find Tom and Howard. I took the quickest shower I’d ever done and slipped on my velvet jogging suit. Neal, Tony, and the girls were around a giant table with a lazy Susan in the center. Who knew? We had our own personal buffet. Amy patted the chair next to her indicating my place at the table. A waiter promptly poured the coffee, asked around to see if there were any other needs, and promptly left us alone.

  I sipped while Neal opened up his notebook and began what I hoped would be a simple explanation of how to extricate my husband from a dangerous situation. It was not simple and involved a crew of undercover agents, but right now that wasn’t my concern.

  Hattie seemed calm. No doubt Neal was the one who had accomplished that. Tony and Suzy were comforting one another and kept looking at me as though I might explode. It was surreal – I kept hoping I would wake up and find it all a nightmare. It was indeed but not of the dream type.

  Neal mentioned places and names I wasn’t familiar with. So when he finished it was time for questions. I had many of them, but I waited my turn.

  “Neal, how could Howard Saunders a 100% blue blood American be mixed up with this Matranga family or the Marcellos?”

  “A great question,” Neal answered. “The Matrangas, the Marcellos, along with the Carollos, and others intermarried and ran different parts of their organization. Eventually the younger generations moved into other regions and married into other gene pools. That’s where Howard comes in. His mother was part of the Charles Harrelson family who were connected to the JFK murder. Woody Harrelson, the actor was Charles’ son.”

  “Lisa Harrelson married Lawrence Saunders and moved to New York where they began a new life away from the crime syndicates. Lisa obviously made it a point to never share her past with Howard or his sister, Naomi. But back in New Orleans there was a feud going over some misplaced “funds” which Harrelson was responsible for. Charles had been convicted of another murder and died in prison. But where was the money? It didn’t take long to trace it back to Howard’s mother and thus to Howard.”

  “Do you think he has any idea what’s going on?” Hattie asked. “Is that how financed the Somewhere Bar?”

  “No I don’t think Howard has anything to do with all of this,” Neal assured her. “From what I’ve been able to gather from Howard’s financials he is a legitimate businessman who has made some investments which paid off. He has no connection with this bunch of wanna-be Mafia types.”

  “Well that’s a relief,” I said. “I love Howard and was already accepting him as a family member.”

  “Us too,” Suzy and Amy said in unison.

  Tony, who had been silent throughout this entire spoke up, “Howard spoke to me in private and offered to help me set up my business in Athena. He seems like a stand-up guy to me. I don’t think he’s guilty of any wrong doing.”

  Suzy smiled and said, “I didn’t know that.”

  “He didn’t want me to say anything, but I think now’s the time,” Tony replied.

  Clara sat stirring her oatmeal and finally looked up. A tear slid down her cheek.

  “Let’s get the bastards,” she said.

  ~11~

  We were all stunned by our normally demure Clara, but still in agreement. The rest of our meeting time Neal explained about what he legally could and could not do. However, I could tell from the rapport between he and Hattie that ‘legal’ was a suggestion not a mandate.

  Debra called and talked to Hattie for a while then she asked to speak to me.

  “Hey Sis. I guess Hattie told you all about our situation. We don’t know much. A courier came with a photograph of Tom and Howard. They don’t look hurt just distressed. I wish you were here for me and Hattie. We are at our wit’s end.”

  Debra asked about notifying the authorities. I explained about Neal. She had only heard us speak of Nelle and Neal so wasn’t aware of his far reaching effect when it came to bringing criminals to justice.

  We didn’t speak long since an overseas call is an expensive undertaking. Still I appreciated her concern. She sounded like her old self and loving her bake shop.

  When I got off the telephone, I went over to Hattie. She was in a rocking chair crying softly into a lace handkerchief. I patted her and shed a few tears myself. This was going to be a Christmas we’d never forget.

  Tony needed to return to Athena for his grand opening. He was in angst over this until Neal assured him of Tom and Howard’s safe return. Hattie gave her blessing. Suzy insisted on staying so Tony would be traveling home alone and she would return with the rest of us.

  “Call as soon as you know anything,” Tony said as the last suitcase went into their Ford Explorer.

  “We will. Promise,” Suzy said as we said our last goodbyes with hugs all around.

  “Don’t say anything about this to the church just yet,” I said. “I want to wait until we have a happy ending.”

  “Of course,” Tony said. “Mum’s the word.”

  Meanwhile, we wait. Neal took the photograph to the local crime lab to test for prints and possible clues as to where they were being held. As yet, no ransom demands were made. I guess the theory of buried treasure was what they were after.

  Neal insisted that we treat ourselves to a nice restaurant and shopping at the Riverwalk. We enjoyed a foot massage and pedicure. Anything to kill time and momentarily forget that our loved ones were in peril. We visited Victoria’s Secret, the Gap, and some independent stores. We had coffee at the Café du Monde at the mall location.

  Clara suggested a cruise on the Steamboat Natchez. It was a wonderful diversion to board a 100-year-old steam boat in perfect working order. We enjoyed a light lunch with a jazz concert entertaining us. In spite of all our wonderful surroundings, the group was glad to get back to the hotel and retrieve the latest from Neal.

  When we arrived at the Hilton Riverfront, police cars and an ambulance greeted us. People were gathered around the entrance and only after showing our hotel key were we granted entrance. With Hattie in her wheelchair we were able to push through the crowded lobby and up to the concierge counter.

  “What’s going on?” Hattie shouted over the confusion.

  “It’s Papa Noel,” he responded.

  “What?” Hattie said.

  “You know Papa Noel, Father Christmas,” he tried again.

  “So. What about him?” Hattie answered.

  “He’s dead.”

  “Dead.” We said in unison. Who would kill the symbol of Christmas for the world?

  The concierge seemed to be in shock as well. He continued, “Papa Noel or whoever he really was came into the lobby and handed me a package addressed to you. He sat down in a chair near the Christmas tree and ate a handful of something. He slumped in the chair and collapsed under the Christmas tree. I called 911 but they said he was already dead. Something about a delayed reaction. Sorry I have to tend to the other guests. The other hotel clerks left and I have to answer the phone. . . “

  He continued saying something but all of us stopped listening. Who was underneath the Father Christmas costume? What was in the package? An
d did this have anything to do with us?

  The crowd surrounding the corpse under the Christmas tree parted and Neal came through the middle. He whispered something to Hattie and an entourage surrounded us as we made our way to the elevators. When we reached our floor, one of the secret service men opened Hattie’s door. We entered and when they had searched the room, Neal’s men left.

  “Well that was something else,” I said as I removed my coat and headed to the kitchenette to make coffee.

  “Indeed it was,” Amy said. “What did Neal say to you, Hattie?”

  “Neal said that he would join us as soon as he could and for all of us to stay together until then,” Hattie answered. “But I intended for us to do that anyway. Thank you Clara.”

  Clara assisted Hattie in removing her cape and hat. Hattie transported herself into an easy chair that faced a window. Wisps of snow blew by. She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief that she always carried. I wanted to comfort her but no words came. Fear gripped my own heart and I found it difficult to breathe. When would this nightmare end?

  I was serving coffee when Neal joined us. He carried yet another the mysterious package that dead Papa Noel delivered. It seemed a little bulkier than the last. Neal sat next to Hattie, took her hand and kissed it.

  “I can’t imagine how hard this is. First you lose your first love and now this,” Neal said.

  “Neal, darling. Let’s just focus on getting Howard back where he belongs. I’m rethinking all of my decisions. Saying ‘no’ to his proposal of marriage may have been a huge mistake. I just want the opportunity of finding out,” Hattie replied and turned back to the window. The wisps had turned into flakes and were sticking to the ground. It might be a snowy white holiday after all.

  “Oh my I’ve lost track of the days. Is today Christmas Eve?” Amy said. “With Papa Noel dead in the lobby, my Christmas spirit is nil.”

  “I know what you mean,” Clara answered. “I haven’t done any shopping either. It didn’t seem appropriate. I think the best gift we can have is getting Tom and Howard back.”

  “Well we are closing in on that. My sources have tracked the GPS on Howard’s phone as far as the Garden District. That’s where this comes in.” He emptied the contents of the envelope that the ill-fated Father Christmas delivered. It contained one of Hattie’s monogrammed handkerchiefs, two tickets to a ballet, and another photograph of Tom and Howard. This time they looked more haggard and there were stains on Howard’s shirt. Could that be blood?

  Clara and Amy scrutinized the picture. Clara started to say something but caught my eye. I shook my head ‘no’ – as if that would stop a smart cookie like Hattie from guessing what the stain was from.

  Clara finally said, “So that means they never made it to Metairie and the first appointment. Someone intercepted them before they got that far. If the Mafia is involved won’t they be upset? The property that was once a gangster hide-out/restaurant was in Metairie. So maybe we are looking at this the wrong way.”

  “I recognize the embroidered handkerchief as belonging to Hattie,” Suzy said. “But what’s up with the ballet theatre tickets?”

  “Those are mine. Tom and I had a tradition of seeing the Nutcracker every Christmas. I guess he was planning on us going to the ballet here,” I said.

  Meanwhile Neal had his head buried in his notebook with his cell phone in his ear.

  “Brilliant,” Neal shouted. He jumped up and ran out the door presumably to get his men working on another scenario.

  “Neal amazes me sometimes. He is as dear as a son,” Hattie chuckled. “Now would someone make me an Irish Coffee. It’s cold over here by the window.”

  ~12~

  “Roxy, can you stay with Hattie today while Amy and I check out New Orleans Public Library? I want to do some research on these families that Neal spoke of. I’ll bet the locals know a lot since they were racketeering right here in good old NOLA,” Clara said.

  “Of course. But you have to promise to keep me posted,” I said.

  Hattie was sipping her ‘vacation coffee’ and staring out at the snow.

  “Do you think she and Howard will get married? I mean if everything turns out all right,” Clara asked.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised. Things like this have a way of bringing people together. I know I will never take Tom for granted again if he just comes back to me safe and sound,” I answered knowing that I couldn’t keep that promise even though I wanted to.

  I went back to my room for my knitting. It always calms me when I need to be busy doing something. Right now it was a scarf for Tom is various shades of brown. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea after all. I’ll just pretend it’s for someone else – just in case. I said to myself Roxy Thibideaux – do not think that way. Tom will be just fine. Where is your faith? What about your example to the others? So what if this is the worst thing you’ve ever faced. God is still with you. He is your best friend, your confidant, your rescuer. I took the time to confess my fears and ask for forgiveness and strength. Only then could I face Hattie and the news we might have to bear together.

  I put on my best fake smile and went back to Hattie’s room, which by the way was guarded by some sort of secret service. I never asked Neal who he worked for, because I thought it best to be ignorant on some things.

  Hattie was still at the window. “You know I was just thinking about the Thursday Club rules,” she said.

  “Oh yes,” I replied. “I don’t think we’ve made any lately.”

  “That’s just it. I think we should,” she said.

  “They were:

  No pictures before hair and make-up.

  Calories don’t count on vacation.

  Never mention a Korean spa.

  There’s a hat for every occasion.

  “I added that one”, Hattie said. “I wonder what hat is appropriate for this occasion?”

  What happens in Vegas. . .

  But that’s where it ends. We didn’t come up with one for the Arsenic and Old Lace fiasco.

  “What about: Elderberry wine can be hazardous to your health?” I suggested.

  “Yes that’s a good one,” Hattie almost smiled. She closed her eyes and I hoped a nap was forthcoming. None of us had slept or hardly eaten. We could survive a little deprivation but Hattie’s health was more fragile. Still, she had weathered a lot of storms. I was hoping this was one of them.

  When I heard soft snores, I covered Hattie with an afghan and tip toed out of the room. She needed the rest and I needed to think. If Tom added the ‘remember the Alamo’ phrase he definitely intended for me to decipher it. Think Roxy think!

  It’s coming back to me. Wasn’t it something we joked about on a vacation – not on vacation. It was on our honeymoon. Got it. The Alamo was a ratty motel that we took refuge in when the hotel lost our reservation. The city was having some kind of festival and it was all we could get at the last minute. At the time it seemed like a disaster, but after a few years we began to use the phrase, ‘remember the Alamo’ to convey the thought ‘it could be worse.’

  We hadn’t used the phrase much since the kids have grown and left home. It was a rallying cry whenever someone was whining about a condition that we were unable to control.

  The motel was named the Alamo Plaza in the tiny town of Niceville, Florida. The ants were about to take us away until we tracked them to an open sugar bowl in the cabinet. Ants. Sugar. Sugar Bowl. New Orleans.

  Tom had sent me a message in code. I needed to phone Neal right away. I slipped back into the room with Hattie, eased her cell phone out of her bag, and found Neal in her contacts. After our conversation I alerted the girls and asked them to pray. Maybe we were about to finally catch a break.

  ~13~

  Neal answered the phone. He sounded worried when he heard my voice. I assured him that his Aunt Hattie was resting and that I might have a clue.

  “I can’t believe they were so close all the time,” I said.

  “Well we can’t be sure Tom�
��s clue means what you think. Also remember that since he sent it, they could have moved them to another location,” Neal reminded.

  “Oh yeah, I didn’t think of that,” I gave myself a verbal head slap.

  “Thanks for the heads up. I’ll check it out,” Neal said. “We will find them if it’s the last thing I do. No one hurts Aunt Hattie if I’m around.”

  I hung up the telephone and remembered that since today was Christmas Eve, many citizens would be planning their Reveillon dinner. I don’t suppose we’ll be doing any celebrating, but this tradition had been revived.

  Devoted Catholics, as most of Louisiana were originally, would gather all of their relatives and attend Midnight Mass. Preparations for Christmas Day took most of the women’s energy so no regular meals were served on Christmas Eve. But after mass there was a virtual feast. A typical Reveillon menu would be compared to a huge breakfast with egg dishes, breads, puddings, soups, oysters, and veal. They would accompany this with wines, cordials and other fortified drinks. This tradition was revived in the 1990’s and now New Orleans’ most prominent restaurants offer Reveillon dinners. Tom and I had talked about booking the Hotel St. Marie who offered a four course meal starting with seafood gumbo and ending with Louisiana pecan pie.

  With a lot of people at midnight mass, it was a perfect time to move the kidnapped prisoners to another location. Around 1 p.m. everyone would be heading to their home or to their favorite restaurant for the repast. If Tom’s clue was correct, Neal’s team needed to intercept them at the Sugar Bowl which was where the Superdome was located.

  Hold on Baby. I got your clue. I wanted to telepathically send Tom a message that help is on the way. Reveillon might be a little late but it was worth the wait. Nothing was more important than seeing this through to its conclusion – no matter what it might be.

  Hattie stirred in the next room. She awoke and smiled at me.