Oyster Bay Limbo is my new book, number 4 in the Oyster Bay Mystery Series set on a magical island off the coast of Louisiana in the Gulf of Mexico. The action begins with an early-morning duck hunt culminating in the siting of a band of ghostly pirates. The action heats up when Amani LeClair, a beautiful and mysterious woman, appears on the beach in an old Volkswagen van. Who is Amani, and what is she looking for? Why is a coven of witches coming to the island? Will Louisiana mob boss Frankie Castellano prevail in his lawsuit and boot the island's quirky inhabitants out of their happy homes? Limbo is here.
Chapter 1
Dawn was hours away when John Pierre Saucier banged on Jack Wiesenski’s
door. J.P. was six feet tall with dark hair and eyes and had
the good looks of a movie star and the self-confidence to go with it. He’d
spent over twenty years as a deputy with the police department and had wanted
to retire for years and start a dog training academy. When his captain fired
him, he had no further reasons to procrastinate.
Lucky, J.P.’s chocolate Labrador retriever, waited for Jack to let them in. The footsteps
padding toward the door preceded someone opening a crack and peering out.
Seeing it was J.P. and Lucky, Jack, dressed in a blue nightshirt, motioned them to enter,
then padded into his little galley as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. Jack was short, probably no taller than five-six or seven. He
was wiry, closely shaven, with brown hair buzzed almost to his scalp. From the
odd shape of his mouth, It was hard to tell if he was smiling or frowning.
“What the hell, J.P.? It’s not even five yet.”
J.P. and Lucky
followed Jack to the plank table in his little kitchen he called his galley.
“Surely, you didn’t forget our duck hunt?” he said.
“I thought you were kidding,” Jack said.
“You said you wanted to go,” J.P. said.
“You didn’t tell me we were leaving in the middle of the
night,” Jack said.
“We have to set our decoys out and be in the blind before the
sun comes up,” J.P. said. “You coming or not?”
“My brain doesn’t work without coffee. I need a cup,” Jack
said.
“I have a thermos in the truck,” J.P. said. “Where’s Chief?”
“I think he thought you were kidding,” Jack said.
“Get your clothes on, your shotgun, and let’s move it. We
don’t have much time,” J.P. said.
“Hell, J.P.! I don’t even have a shotgun.”
J.P. shook his head.
“This ain’t Massachusetts. If you live in Louisiana, you have to hunt ducks.
Don’t you know anything?”
“I’m a fisherman, not a hunter,” Jack said.
Grogan ‘Chief’ La Tortue entered the front door, followed by
his two dogs, Coco, a chihuahua, and Old Joe, a German shepherd.
Chief was an imposing man of American Indian descent. He
hadn’t bothered combing his shoulder-length gray hair, and it looked like he’d
slept in his chinos, moccasins, and blue work shirt. J.P. was at least six inches shorter than the big Atakapa Indian. After
propping his shotgun against the wall, Chief went to Jack’s coffee pot, finding
it empty.
“What the hell?” he said. “You swearing off coffee these
days?”
“It’s not even five o’clock yet,” Jack said. “I’m an early
riser. This is ridiculous.”
“I have an extra shotgun you can use,” J.P. said. “Get your clothes on. Chief and I will start the pot.”
Jack grumbled as he disappeared into his bedroom. Dressed in
camouflaged fatigues, J.P.’s duck call hung around his neck from a leather strap. Chief found Jack’s
bottle of Dominican rum and poured some into a mug as the coffee pot began
perking.
“I haven’t hunted ducks in ten years,” Chief said. “Today’s
the first day of duck season. What’s your hurry?”
“Lucky holds the gold medal as the best duck-hunting dog in
St. Bernard Parish. The competition is coming up next week. We’ve barely had a
chance to practice with everything happening on the island. The two of us need
this hunt,” J.P. said.
“Hell, J.P., Coco, and Old Joe are raring to go. Maybe Lucky can teach them a thing or two.”
J.P. was grinning as
he poured himself a shot of Jack’s rum and topped it with the brewing coffee.
“Hope Jack doesn’t want to take Oscar,” he said. “Bulldogs
can’t swim.”
“That’s a fact,” Chief said. “Doesn’t matter. I doubt we’ll
get out of the door without him.”
Chief and J.P. turned when
someone said, “Or us.”
It was Odette Mouton and her two dogs, Mudbug and Bruiser. Mudbug was small, and Bruiser large. Odette was a former
Bourbon Street stripper, short, barely five feet tall, her wind-swept blond
hair contrasting with her dark Cajun eyes. She’d hitchhiked to Oyster Island
after meeting Jack and Chief at Rockies, a Bourbon Street strip club, and was
now part owner of the Oyster Island Dog Training Facility.
“What are you doing here?” J.P. asked.
“I like hunting ducks,” Odette said.”
“You can’t go. There’s not enough room in my
duck blind.”
“Maybe you should have built a bigger blind,”
Odette said.
“Odette can take my place,” Jack said. “I’m
not into hunting.”
“You’re into drinking, aren’t you? That’s
half the fun of a hunting trip,” J.P. said.
“I like to drink,” Odette said.
“Okay,” J.P. said. “The only dog that needs to go is Lucky. The rest
can stay here.”
“I’ll stay with them,” Jack said. “You can
tell me about the trip when you return.”
“Me too,” Chief said. I never liked wasting
time sitting in an uncomfortable duck blind.”
J.P. was
frowning when he glanced at Odette.
“I don’t know about this,” he said.
“You look like twins dressed in matching
camouflage fatigues,” Jack said. “Get out of here and have fun.”
Odette and J.P. grumbled as they loaded their shotguns and ice chests
into the back of the island’s awaiting all-terrain vehicle. Anticipating the
hunting trip, Lucky was the only happy member of the diminished group. J.P. continued
grumbling when Odette beat him to the driver’s seat.
“You don’t even know where we’re going,” he
said.
“I take directions,” she said.
“Fine. You know where Drusy Lake is on the island's
backside?”
“Bruiser, Mudbug, and I have a swimming spot
there.”
“You never told me that,” J.P. said.
“Lots of things I never told you,” Odette
said.
“You ever hunted ducks?” J.P. asked.
“Since I was about three years old,” Odette
said. “Cajuns invented duck hunting; my mama could make the best duck gumbo you
ever tasted.”
“Yum,” J.P. said. “Can’t remember the last time I had duck gumbo.”
“Me either,” Odette said. “Isaac has promised
to cook us a pot if we bring him some ducks.”
Isaac was the chef at the Majestic Hotel and
Casino, the main attraction on Oyster Island, the barrier island off the coast
of Louisiana and situated about fifty miles from New Orleans in the Gulf of
Mexico.
“That shotgun of yours is bigger than you are,”
J.P. said.
“You ever shot it?”
“Trust me when I tell you I can shoot a
shotgun as good as you. Don’t underestimate me.”
“Get your panties out of a wad,” J.P. said. “My mama
could shoot better than my daddy could. It’s different with me because I’m a
trained professional.”
J.P. grinned
when Odette said, “Trained asshole.”
Drusy Lake encompassed no more than forty
acres, the tops of dead trees protruding from the water. Even in the darkness,
Odette could see the shadow of J.P.’s duck blind. She parked the ATV near an open boat with
a small motor attached to its backside. Lucky jumped out of the little electric
vehicle, headed straight for the boat, and climbed aboard.
“I put out the decoys yesterday,” J.P. said. “We just
need to get situated in the blind before sunup.”
J.P.
grabbed the ice chest, and Odette followed him to the little boat. The duck
blind was a permanent structure constructed of treated wooden planks. J.P. had covered the frame
with grass panels, which looked like a thatch of brush in the swampy lake. He piloted
the boat beneath the blind and turned off the little electric motor.
“Did you build this blind?” Odette asked.
“Worked on it over the summer,” J.P. said.
J.P.’s head swelled when Odette said, “You did a wonderful job.”
“Thanks. At least it’s blocking the north wind blowing across
the lake.”
“Mid-forties isn’t bad,” Odette said. “We’ll forget about the
chill in the air when the ducks start arriving.”
“In an hour or so,” he said. “How about a shot of rum until
then?”
Got any coffee in your thermos to go with it?”
“You bet I do. Hot and black,” J.P. said.
“Just the way I like it,” Odette said.
“I even brought water for Lucky.”
“He’s a beautiful animal. You’re fortunate to have him.”
“Getting fired this past year and starting a new career has
been tough. Lucky has helped me keep my sanity,” J.P. said.
“Dogs are the best,” Odette said. “Don’t know what I’d do
without Mudbug and Bruiser.”
Odette cradled the steaming cup in her palms. Letting the
warm vapor waft over her face, she waited until he’d laced it with rum before
taking a drink.
“Perfect,” she said. “Just what I needed to chase the chill
away.”
“How’s your new job?” J.P. asked.
“Beyond my wildest dreams, Eddie has become a better boss
than I thought he’d be. He’s letting me make tough decisions, and we’re both
learning as we go.”
“I'm Glad to hear it,” J.P. said. The training facility is doing well. If things go as planned, we’ll
have our next big sale soon. There is only one possible fly in the ointment.”
“Only one?” Odette said.
J.P. nodded. “Frankie Castellano’s lawsuit. If he wins, it’s back
to square one for all of us,” he said. “What else?”
“Eddie’s finances. He ate through his profits while the film
crew was on the island. He’s now into his savings.”
Odette laughed when J.P. said, “Does he have enough to weather the storm until business turns
around?”
“Eddie has never saved a penny; the severance package the
government gave him when they let him go was all the money he had, and that is
all but gone.”
“How do you know all of this?” J.P. asked.
“I do the books for the Majestic.”
“Yeah, but how do you know about Eddie’s finances?”
“I got worried when he sold his Porsche 911,” Odette said. “He loved that car.”
“He told me he wanted something bigger,” J.P. said.
“A ten-year-old Chevy sedan? The tires are even worn out,”
Odette said.
“Shit!” J.P. said. “You just ruined my day. Have you talked to Eddie
about it?”
Odette shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“We’re living on an island ten miles from Chalmette. We can
barely find enough people to run the hotel, much less to pay to stay here.”
“I grew up sprinkling Louisiana hot sauce on practically
everything I eat,” J.P. said. “Now, I’m eating antacids like candy. You gave me
another reason to buy an extra bottle next time I visit the grocery store.”
“I hear that,” Odette said. “Our world rests on Eddie’s work
in the courtroom. He’s going broke and hasn’t sobered up in six months. I’m scared
shitless.”
“Feels like we’re tightrope walking without a net.”
“I know,” Odette said. “What else could go wrong?”
“I don’t even want to think about it. Let’s enjoy this duck
hunt and worry about everything else later.”
The sun was rising on the eastern horizon, an early morning
glow cast upon the lake's calm surface. Odette’s expression was perplexed as
she stared out at the far bank.
“Hear that?” she asked.
J.P. nodded. They both heard the haunting melody carried on the
breeze. It was as if the wind was whispering secrets from the past.
“What the hell?” J.P. said.
Something was moving on the lake’s edge. Odette also saw it.
Clutching J.P.’s elbow with one hand, she silenced him with the other. The
grass panes of the blind camouflaged them from view. Lucky couldn’t see the
lake for the mats. It didn’t matter. A guttural growl emanated from deep in his
chest as he lay prone on the wooden planks.
The temperature inside the enclosed duck blind had dropped at
least ten degrees as a procession of ethereal figures began emerging from the
undergrowth, moving toward the other side. The group looked like a band of spirits
dressed in the garb of a past century. They could have been historical
reenactors, except they weren’t real, their luminescent bodies glowing with a
pale light amid the early morning mist rising from the lake.
The dozen or so spirits, their clothes tattered and their
hair unkempt, were dressed as sailors from another century. Two men were
carrying a wooden chest. The group crossed the lake, their boots skipping
across the water like solid ground. When they reached the bank, the person in
charge motioned for them to halt.
The imposing man wore black breeches and a flowing silk shirt
beneath a black leather vest. His hair was dark, as were his eyes and mustache.
The hat of a pirate’s captain topped his regal head. The two men carrying the
wooden chest set it beside him on the bank. Others in the group began digging a
hole in the ground.
Not all of the spirits were men. An attractive woman in a ruby-colored
velvet dress stood beside the pirate captain. The woman’s skin color, a shade
of café au lait, suggested she was of mixed heritage. Her flowing black hair
and green eyes seemed to emphasize that conclusion. She had a roll of paper in
her hand.
When the sweating sailors had buried the chest, the woman
handed the paper and a quill pen to the pirate captain. He made a mark on the form
and returned it to the woman.
Odette and J.P. hadn’t moved,
transfixed by what they were witnessing. So intent were they on watching the
eerie scene unfold that they hadn’t noticed the flock of ducks that had landed
in the water in front of the blind. When Lucky sprang to his feet and began to
bark, the ethereal figures melted away. As they did, the ducks flew up and away
from the lake.
Lucky was still barking when J.P. said, “What the hell did we just see?”
“I don’t know,” Odette said. I do know that Isaac’s duck gumbo will have to wait a while.”
Chapter 2
Eddie Toledo owned and operated the Majestic Hotel and Casino, the
Prohibition-Era resort on Oyster Island. He lived on the top floor, and his veranda
had the best view of the Gulf of Mexico. Yesterday’s rain had finally moved
north as the early morning sun peeked through the cloudy sky. Not wanting to go
downstairs for breakfast, he nibbled on crackers, his bare feet propped up on
the railing surrounding the deck.
Eddie was a forty-something bachelor from New Jersey who’d
lived and worked in New Orleans most of his adult life. A respected lawyer,
he’d graduated valedictorian from the University of Virginia Law School. He was
also the previous Assistant Federal District Attorney in the Big Easy.
Eddie had brown wavy hair, which he’d worn too long for his
position with the Department of Justice. He was good-looking and knew it.
Gorgeous women were his fatal flaw and why he was now working and living on
Oyster Island instead of enjoying the country club life in New Orleans’ Garden
District.
Following a torrid love affair with the beautiful daughter of
southern mob figure Frankie Castellano, Eddie was asked to resign. The
situation became even direr when he jilted Frankie’s daughter, leaving her
waiting at the altar.
Eddie’s suite, in the center of the building and on its
highest level, afforded him a fantastic view of the beach. The past few days
had been stressful, and he’d gone without much sleep. He was about to nod off
in the chair when a cool breeze blowing in from the Gulf caused him to open his
eyes.
He went to his apartment to get a sweater. When he returned
to the deck, the faint glow of a campfire on the beach cutting through the dim
morning haze caught his attention. He decided to investigate and pulled on pants,
tennis shoes, and a sweater over his L.S.U. tee shirt.
The three-story Majestic Hotel and Casino had no elevator. It
did have lighting and electricity installed courtesy of a film crew filming a
vampire movie on the island. The hotel was empty following the departure of the
film crew. As Eddie descended the stairs, he felt a ghostly presence. It made
him wonder how many people had died in the old hotel and casino and how many
spirits resided there. He let the thought pass as he strolled across the
covered walkway to shore.
Though the rain had passed, a cold morning mist hung in the
air as he shuffled across the sand toward the beach. The odor of salty air and
the sound of waves crashing into the shore, a freshly painted red and white
Volkswagen camper van was parked in the sand, a fire burning, and no one was
there to watch it.
A backpack mounted on an aluminum frame sat near the van. The
camper had spread a yellow blanket on the sand in front of the tent, a speargun
cocked and loaded lying atop it. As Eddie watched from the ground fog floating
up from the sand, someone emerged from the water and walked toward the fire.
The person dressed in a black wetsuit approached him. When
they removed their mask, Eddie saw it was a young woman. She pulled off the
rubber piece protecting her head from the cold, letting her long black hair cascade
to her shoulders.
Consumed by voyeuristic attraction, Eddie remained locked in
place as the young woman sat on the blanket and wrestled off her rubber pants
to reveal a yellow bikini bottom. When she removed the rubber top, he saw she
was naked from the waist up. A branch cracked when he stepped backward. He had
little time to react as she dived for the speargun on the towel beside her.
“I see you, and you’re about to get skewered. Step into the
light.”
Eddie complied with the woman’s request and said, “Don’t
shoot me. I surrender.”
“Stop right there. You get your eyes full?”
Eddie couldn’t help but grin as the woman pointing the
menacing speargun at him hadn’t bothered covering her half-nude body.
“If I didn’t, I have now,” he said. “Why don’t you put that
fish sticker down before you hurt somebody?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she said.
“I’m not a mad rapist. I’m Eddie Toledo, the owner of the
Majestic Hotel. I saw your fire from my window and came to investigate. Can I
lower my arms?”
The woman pulled the trigger on the speargun, the spear lodging
in the sand beside her. She dropped the weapon and patted the knife sheathed on
her waist.
“My knife is sharp as a razor. Make one false move, and I’ll
cut your balls off.”
“Whoa!” Eddie said, lowering his arms. “I’m a good guy. Not
here to rape anyone.”
The woman took her hand off the knife's hilt. The night was
chilly, and goosebumps popped up on her chest and arms. She disappeared into
the van, returning dressed in sweatpants and a light blue cotton sweater.
“Who are you?”
“Like I said, I’m Eddie Toledo. And you?”
“Amani LeClair.”
“Pleased to meet you, Amani. You have a lovely accent. Where
are you from?”
“Jamaica,” she said.
Amani’s arms were clasped tightly around her chest. “I thought
Louisiana was supposed to be warm.”
“Not in January,” Eddie said. “I’m from New Jersey, though
I’ve lived in New Orleans for the past decade.”
“Doing what?” she asked.
“Government prosecutor.”
“Figures,” she said. “Every lawyer I ever met was kind of
kinky.”
“Why do you think I’m kinky?” he asked.
“You were standing in the shadows, peeping on me. I’d call
that kinky. You a peeping tom?”
“I have my foibles.”
Amani smiled and said, “We all do.”
Amani had dried her long hair with a towel, and it was
beginning to curl tightly.
“Did you see something you like?” she asked.
“I'm sorry,” he said. “It isn’t often I see a beautiful
half-naked girl emerge from the sea.”
Amani reached into her duffel bag, tossing him a silver flask
she’d fished out.
“You’re a ballsy sort, even for a lawyer. Have a drink.”
Eddie unscrewed the cap of the flask and took a drink.
“Jamaican rum,” he said. “Pretty damn good!”
“You’ve tasted better?”
“Way better,” he said. “Try some of mine.”
Eddie fished his flask from his pocket and tossed it to
Amani, watching as she took a drink.
“Best rum I’ve ever tasted,” she said. “What Jamaican
distillery does it come from?”
“Not Jamaican. It’s Dominican Rum.”
“No way,” Amani said. “Show me the bottle.”
“Come back to the hotel with me, and I will,” Eddie said.
“I need socks and shoes. Wait for me?”
“You bet,” Eddie said.
Eddie waited by the little fire as Amani disappeared into her
Volkswagen camping van. She was gone for fifteen minutes. When she returned, a
colorful skirt and ruffled blouse had replaced her sweatpants.
Amani was still wearing the sweater and had a potted plant in
her arms. The plant’s vivid green leaves were attached to a vine that wound up
a tall trellis, beautiful yellow flowers blooming.
“I need to water my plant before we go. Mind waiting?”
“Take your time,” Eddie said. “I’m in no hurry.”
Amani filled a copper pot from the nearby pump to water the
flowering vine.
“Your plant is gorgeous. I’ve never seen anything like it.
What is it?”
Amani smiled. “A cerasee vine. It grows everywhere in
Jamaica. Locals use the leaves and stems to make cerasee tea. It has medicinal
properties. I brought it with me from Jamaica.”
“It’s lovely, just like you,” Eddie said.
Ignoring Eddie’s blatant flirtation, Amani said, “I’m starving.
Does your hotel have a restaurant?”
“Of course,” he said.
“I’ll buy your breakfast, and you can show me your bottle of
Dominican rum.”
“You’re on,” Eddie said with a smile.
“Shall I drive us?” Amani asked.
“It’s not far. Let’s walk. Along the way, you can tell me why
you’re visiting Oyster Island.”
“Are visitors discouraged?”
“Course not. It’s just that you are off the beaten path. Few
people even know about Oyster Island.”
“I purchased the Volkswagen camper in New Orleans. The
salesman informed me the island has awesome beaches.”
“Did he now?” Eddie said.
“He didn’t tell me it was too cold to swim without a wetsuit.
I had to buy warm clothes.”
“In Chalmette?” Eddie asked.
Amani nodded. “A nice town.”
Good prosecutors always seem to know when someone is evading
the truth. Eddie wasn’t just good. He’d been among the best. He decided not to
worry about why Amani was on the island.
“I parked the van near the public toilets and bathhouse,” she
said.
“Good choice,” Eddie said. “This was a public beach in the
thirties. The WPA drilled a well and installed the bathhouse and toilets. The
well still works, and so do the bathrooms. There is no hot water, but the showers
work. Are you planning on staying awhile?”
“I’m on no particular timeline.”
“Looking for a job?” Eddie asked.
“I have money and not indigent if that’s what you mean,”
Amani said.
“I wasn’t suggesting you are,” Eddie said. “I’m always
looking for help at the Majestic.”
“What kind of help?” Amani asked.
“Waitresses, assistant chefs, bartenders, room service,
maintenance. The list goes on.”
“Doesn’t appear you have much of a labor pool on the island,”
Amani said.
“Right about that,” Eddie said. “I’m a desperate man. Do any
of the positions I named attract you?”
“I can do all of them, though I’m not looking for a job.”
“Perfect,” Eddie said. “What’s that in your hand?”
“Spanish doubloon,” Amani said.
“Find it in the surf?”
“A lucky piece,” Amani said.
“Heavy objects float to the beach’s surface after a storm,”
Eddie said. “There’s another storm coming tomorrow.”
“Maybe a sunken Spanish treasure ship laden with a fortune in gold and emeralds lies in the depths near
the island.”
“There
are rumors,” Eddie said. “You know something I don’t?”
Amani
clutched Eddie’s hand. “We only just met,” she said. “I can’t tell you all of
my secrets.”
“Nor
would I want you to,” Eddie said.
Cloudy
skies covered the Majestic as Eddie and Amani followed the wooden plankway to
the Hotel’s front door. Eddie had given Odette the day off to go duck hunting.
Meika smiled when Eddie and Amani pulled up stools in the dark little bar and joined
her.
“Meika,”
Eddie said. “This beautiful lady is Amani LeClair. She’s visiting the island
and is from Jamaica.”
Meika
was a Cajun beauty with long black hair, dark eyes, and a winsome smile.
“I
miss the film crews and thought I was going to be alone again today,” she said.
“What
you miss is their big tips. Is Isaac in?” Eddie asked.
“You
know he is,” Meika said. “He told me he is making something special tonight for
dinner.”
“Like
what?” Eddie said.
“He
didn’t say,” Meika said.
As
they spoke, a little man came out of the kitchen. “My ears are burning.
Somebody talking about me?”
“Guilty
as charged,” Eddie said. “Amani LeClair, this is Isaac Guillot, the Majestic’s
incomparable chef.”
Isaac
was a bald little man no taller than five-six or seven. He looked to be in his
mid-sixties but could be much older. His dark eyes had faded, though not his
smile. Isaac was smiling when he shook Amani’s hand.
“Hope
you’re staying for dinner. I’m cooking something special,” he said.
“What?”
Eddie asked.
“Duck
gumbo,” he said.
“Where’d
you get the ducks?” Eddie asked.
“Odette
went duck hunting this morning with J.P. and the boys. They should be here any
minute with the wild game.”
“Sounds
wonderful,” Amani said. “Right now, I’m more interested in breakfast. In
Jamaica, I would order Callaloo with saltfish and fried dumplings.”
“I’d
love to exchange recipes with you,” Isaac said. “Many people’s favorite here in
Louisiana is eggs Sardou.”
“Which
is?” Amani asked.
“Poached eggs and creamed spinach on artichoke
bottoms with hollandaise sauce. Interested?”
Isaac smiled and nodded when Amani said, “Sounds
lovely.”
Eddie and Amani were soon feasting on Isaac’s egg
Sardou.
“How is it?” Isaac asked.
“Wonderful,” Amani said. “Eddie is a lucky man to
have you as his chef.”
“Glad you like it. I’d love to try your callaloo with
saltfish and fried dumplings.”
Amani
beamed Isaac her biggest smile and said, “I’ll drop by tomorrow morning and
show you. Right now, I have business to attend to.”
“Don’t
go,” Eddie said. “You haven’t seen my bottle of Dominican rum yet.”
“Show
me,” she said.
Eddie fetched a bottle of rum and topped up their
coffee cups.
“I
must admit that this is the best rum I’ve ever tasted,” Amani said. “I can’t
believe it isn’t Jamaican.”
Odette
and J.P. entered the bar
as Eddie and Amani discussed Dominican rum. Isaac had a quick question.
“Where
are the ducks?” he said.
“No
ducks,” Odette said. “Sorry.”
“Not
even a single duck?” Isaac said. “What happened?”
“You
won’t believe us if we tell you,” Odette said.
Odette
and J.P. were still
dressed in camouflaged fatigues and sat at the bar on the other side of Eddie.
When Eddie introduced them to Amani, they both did a doubletake.
Neither
Odette nor J.P. responded when
Amani said, “Pleased. Thanks for your hospitality, Eddie. I have work to do.
Perhaps I’ll see you later?”
“I
certainly hope so,” he said.
Meika
poured rum for J.P., Odette, and
Eddie as they watched Amani leave the bar.
“What’s
up?” she said. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I
think we just did,” J.P.
said.
Chapter 3
As Isaac served
breakfast on the polished oak counter, Odette and J.P. forgot about
Amani. Meika topped up their coffee cups with rum as they ate. Isaac gave them
a look when Odette placed her fork on her empty plate and dabbed her mouth with
a napkin.
“Well?”
he said.
“What?”
she said.
“I
can’t believe the two best duck hunters in St. Bernard Parish didn’t return with a
single duck. There are thousands of ducks in Louisiana now. Surely, you saw at
least one.”
“Something
happened,” Odette said.
“Like
what?” Isaac said.
“An
apparition,” J.P. said.
Eddie
had turned his back to the conversation as he drank his rum-laced coffee.
Hearing J.P.’s pronouncement,
he wheeled around on the bar stool.
“You
saw a ghost?” he asked.
“More
than one,” Odette said.
“Tell
us about it,” Eddie said.
“It
was almost dawn,” J.P. said. Odette,
Lucky, and I were in the blind. The decoys were set, and the morning fog was
floating off the lake as the sun came up. I heard something coming through the
trees surrounding the lake. Odette heard it, and so did Lucky.”
“What?”
Meika asked.
“More
rum, please,” J.P. said.
Meika
poured them more rum and said, “Whatever!”
“J.P. isn’t
exaggerating,” Odette said. “Something came toward us through the underbrush.”
“Like
what?” Isaac asked.
“A
band of pirates,” Odette said.
“Get
out of here!” Isaac said. “There are no pirates in the Gulf of Mexico.”
“Maybe
not now,” Odette said. “There used to be.”
“These
were ghost pirates,” J.P. said. “They
were carrying a treasure chest.”
“How
do you know they were ghosts?” Meika asked.
“Because
they walked across the lake like it was solid ground. They dug a hole on the
other side of the lake and buried the treasure chest.”
Basil
Doles had walked in on the conversation. He didn’t interrupt as he took a seat
at the bar. Meika poured him a cup of coffee.
“Continue
with your story,” he said.
“There
was a woman with the pirates,” Odette said. “She wore a red velvet dress and looked
exactly like Amani.”
“You
must be hallucinating,” Eddie said.
“Odette
wasn’t hallucinating, and neither was I,” J.P. said. “The woman we saw didn’t just
look like Amani; she was Amani.”
Eddie
chuckled and shook his head. “You were a law officer for years. You’re
suffering from group hysteria.”
“Bullshit!”
J.P. said. “Odette
and I saw what we saw.”
“Your
brains were compromised when you met Amani. Your memories can’t be trusted,”
Eddie said.
“We
saw her,” Odette said.
J.P. took a deep
breath, drank from his coffee cup, and patted Odette’s hand.
“Eddie
could be right,” he said. “I’ve seen this syndrome play out for years. I’ve
just never been on this end of the stick.”
“You’re
doubting what we saw?” Odette asked.
“Our
brains are powerful organs,” J.P. said. “They’re fully capable of playing tricks on
us.”
“My
turn to say bullshit!” Odette said. “We saw what we saw. You know we did.”
“We
saw a woman with dark hair, eyes, and coffee-colored skin. When we met Amani,
our brains connected the dots.”
“I’m
not buying it,” Odette said. “Amani is the woman we saw.”
Odette
and J.P. continued to
bicker as Eddie went to the bar to talk with Basil.
Basil
was reading the Chalmette newspaper. He dropped it on the bar when Eddie sat on
the stool beside him.
J.P. and Odette
looked at Basil when he said, “Could one of the pirates have been Jean
Lafitte?”
“Don’t
know,” J.P. said. “Maybe.
Why do you ask?”
“The
Chalmette newspaper ran an article last week about the treasure map I found in
the hotel safe.”
Eddie
grabbed the paper and began reading the article. “I didn’t show the map to
anyone. Did you?”
“Nope,”
Basil said.
“Then
who did?” Eddie asked.
“Don’t
know,” Basil said. “Can we speak in private?”
“Let’s
go to your office,” Eddie said.
Basil
Doles was the son of the wealthiest man in St. Bernard Parish. He’d recently completed
his law degree from L.S.U. and was helping
Eddie with his lawsuit against Frankie Castellano. He and Heather, his new
bride, had lived on the island until recently. They’d bought a starter home in
Chalmette, and Basil commuted to the island daily to help Eddie with the
lawsuit.
A
movie had just been filmed on the island. The studio’s construction crew had
modernized the complex and fitted it with computers, printers, and phones. The
filming crew was gone, and the offices were empty except for Eddie, Odette, and
Basil. Eddie followed Basil down the short hallway to the complex.
“What’s
so important that you need to talk to me privately?” Eddie asked.
“We
had a break-in last night,” Basil said.
“Was
something stolen?”
“Not
that I can tell,” Basil said.
Eddie
gazed around the complex. “Nothing appears out of place. How do you know
someone was in here?”
Basil
opened his office door, grabbed a sheet of paper from the top of his desk, and
showed it to Eddie.
“What
is it?” he asked.
“A
copy of the treasure map we found in the old safe when the film crew’s
construction manager opened it for us. It was jammed in the copier when I tried
to use it earlier this morning.”
Eddie
stared at the copy of the map. “Who even knew it was in the safe?”
“You,
me, and everyone who read the article,” Basil said.
“Then
the person who broke in was probably from around here.”
“Not
necessarily. The article was republished on the Internet and has made the
rounds on all the major social networks. No telling who read it,” Basil said.
“Damn!”
Eddie said. “How did they get in?”
“When
I got here this morning, the front door was locked. No one has keys to the
complex except Odette and us. They must have picked the locks. I guess they
found the treasure map in the safe, made a copy, put it back in the safe, and
left.”
“If
they didn’t want anyone to know they were here, why didn’t they clear the jam?”
Eddie said.
Basil
grinned and said, “They did. The problem is there were two sheets jammed in the
copier. Whoever did this got the first copy without realizing another sheet was
also stuck.”
“Damn!”
Eddie said. “Any ideas?”
“I’m
clueless,” Basil said.
“I’ll
talk to J.P. about it. Maybe
he’ll have some ideas.”
“There’s
something else we need to discuss.”
“Like
what?”
“I
can’t keep working for you,” Basil said. “Marriage and impending fatherhood
have altered my perspectives on life. I need a real job and to move on with a
paying job.”
Basil
nodded when Eddie said, “Heather’s pregnant?”
“It’s
changed my perspectives,” Basil said.
“I
have money. I can pay you,” Eddie said.
Basil
raised a hand and shook his head. “No, you don’t.”
“You
know something I don’t?” Eddie said.
“Have
you talked to Odette lately?” Basil asked.
“Every
day. Tell me what she said.”
Basil
had an empty box beside his desk and was beginning to pack his belongings into
it.
“Maybe
you’d better ask her,” Basil said.
“Are
you leaving me? We have a hearing in three days.”
“Sorry,”
Basil said.
“You’re
killing me here.”
“Wish
I had a choice,” Basil said. “I don’t.”
When
Eddie returned to the bar, he found Odette talking with Meika and Isaac.
“How’s
Heather?” she asked.
“Pregnant,”
Eddie said.
“Seriously?”
she said.
“His
asshole is puckered so tight he can hardly breathe.”
“He’ll
make a wonderful papa,” Meika said.
Odette
slid off her stool. “I’m calling Heather. We need to plan the baby shower.”
Isaac
said, “Since we have no ducks, we’ll have to cook up something else.”
“Wait,”
Odette said. “I’ll drive up the road and buy some ducks. Everybody and their
brother went hunting today.”
“You
can’t do that,” J.P. said.
“Why
not?” Odette asked.
“It’s
illegal. You’ll spend the next ten years in a federal prison,” J.P. said.
Odette
looked at Eddie and said, “Is he making this up?”
“Nope,”
Eddie said. “The Migratory Bird
Treaty Act of 1918
prohibits the capturing, selling, trading, and transporting of protected
migratory bird species. Don’t even think about it.”
“Damn it!” Odette said. “I had my heart set on
a bowl of Isaac’s duck gumbo.”
“Doesn’t even sound good to me,” Eddie said.
“Why is duck gumbo better than gumbo with oysters, crawfish, or shrimp?”
“Have you ever eaten wild game?” J.P. asked.
“Wipe that smarmy smile off of your face,”
Odette said. “We’re talking about food and not some sexual escapade you once fantasized
about.”
“Odette isn’t lying,” J.P. said. “Duck gumbo prepared by a Cajun cook is wonderful.
You’ll never taste anything quite like it.”
“I’m intrigued,” Eddie said.
“How do restaurants sell duck gumbo if they
can’t buy the ducks?” Odette asked.
Eddie shook his head and said, “They don’t.”
“Come to think of it, I’ve never seen it on the
menu anywhere,” Odette said.
“Go hunting again tomorrow,” Eddie said. “Duck
season has just begun.”
“I can’t,” J.P. said. “I have other things to do.”
“Me
either,” Odette said.
“Then
we’ll all have to wait on Isaac’s duck gumbo,” Eddie said.
One
of Eddie’s new employees was Alex Pavlovich. Alex had been a conscripted Russian
army officer during the Ukraine invasion. He’d fled with Renata Yatsenko, now
the Oyster Bay Canine Training Center’s veterinarian.
Separated
at the Mexican border, Alex and Renata were reunited on Oyster Island after he
and J.P. rescued
Renata’s mom and daughter from Ukraine. Alex was shorter than Eddie, his
receding hair dark and his pate shiny. His shoulders beneath a red floral Hawaiian
shirt were broad, his knees exposed by his shorts knobby. Alex grabbed a stool
beside Eddie.
“Morning,”
Eddie said. “You aren’t dressed for a chilly January day.”
“The
weather here is like summer in Russia,” Alex said.
Everything
okay?”
“Fine,”
he said. “I forgot something and need to return to my room.”
J.P. took the stool
Alex had vacated.
“Is
he okay?” Eddie asked.
“Confused,”
J.P. said.
“About
what?” Eddie asked.
“Renata.”
“He’s
getting mixed signals?”
“More
like no signals at all,” J.P. said.
“Renata’s
daughter and mother are crazy about Alex.”
“Sveta
and Iryna don’t make Renata’s decisions,” J.P. said. “I advised him to forget her and
find someone else.”
Eddie
chuckled. “With who? Odette or Meika?”
“I
was trying to be kind,” J.P. said.
“He
could move to Chalmette.”
“You
tell him.”
“Hard
to worry about Alex when I have problems of my own,” Eddie said.
“Don’t
we all,” J.P. said.
You
two are close,” Eddie said. “Take him to Pauline’s.”
Pauline’s
was a truck stop house of prostitution in rural St. Bernard Parish.
“Don’t
tell Heather about Pauline’s. Now that she’s pregnant, she thinks Basil’s
playing around,” J.P. said.
“He’s
the last person I would ever expect to play around,” Eddie said.
“Doesn’t
matter,” J.P. said. “It’s
hard fighting raging hormones.”
When
Eddie and Odette were alone at the bar, he said, “Can we talk?’
“Sure,”
Odette said. “What’s up?”
“Can
we go to your office?” he asked.
“You
bet,” she said.
When
they reached the complex, they entered Odette’s office, Eddie shutting the door
behind them.
“Basil’s
leaving me. He said it’s partially because you told him I’m running out of
money.”
“I’m
a competent bookkeeper, Eddie. I can read the numbers and know what they mean.
I think you do, too.”
“Maybe
hearing you tell me will help it sink in,” Eddie said.
“There’s
barely enough money to get us through the end of the month. Unless something
changes radically, we’ll have to shut the doors of the Majestic and let
everyone go.”
“Is
it that bad already?” Eddie asked.
“I
think you already know the answer.”
“I
thought things would turn around. It’s like Elvis said, ‘You never know how
short a month is until you have a Cadillac payment.’”
“Never
heard that one,” Odette said.
“It’s
true. It’s been three months since the film crew left the island, and the
overhead is eating my lunch. Have any suggestions?”
“A
convention would be perfect, though there’s no easy way to get a large group of
people from the airport to the island and back again.”
“And
not enough nightlife to interest a group of rowdy conventioneers. I know; I’ve
attended a few memorable conventions,” Eddie said.
“I’ll
bet you have,” Odette said, “I love my job and don’t want to lose it. We’ll
think of something.”
“This
place is starting to grow on me,” Eddie said. “Will you stay with me until I
come up with an answer?”
“I
own part of the Oyster Bay Canine Training Facility, and we’re about to
graduate our first students. Jack, Chief, J.P., and I will have enough money to help
you. None of us can afford to lose the island.”
“That’s
a problem,” Eddie said. “Basil just quit me. He’s packing to leave. The
situation was touch and go with him. Without him, I’m toast.”
“Damn
it!” Odette said.
“Don’t
panic,” Eddie said. “I can keep the wolves at bay until our cash flow
increases.”
“Then
what?” Odette asked.
“Don’t
ask,” he said.
“I’ll have a powwow with Jack, chief, and J.P.,” Odette said. “Maybe we can staunch the blood until our luck turns. Right now, I have books to keep.”
###
