Sweet Mystery (11 page)

“Hey, I’ve been cleaning up some. You should
have seen it four days ago.” Rae stood in the middle of the large
room with both hands on her hips.

The old juke joint had definitely seen better
days. The sign with ‘Rockin’ Good Times’ in red letters was propped
against one of the walls. Rae had brought it inside after finding
it hanging, lopsided over the front door. The bar was along one
wall of the main room. Tables were within a few feet of it. Then
the dance floor took up a good part of the space, with a raised
bandstand opposite the bar. Windows let in light from the bright
morning sun. Through a door just past the end of the bar was a hall
that led to the restrooms. Another short hall led to a kitchen. The
equipment looked to be in need of repair or replacement. There were
two other rooms; one for storage and the other an office.

“This place is bigger than I thought.”
Marcelle flipped a light switch. “Hey, you got lights!”

“Guess who paid for it?” Rae took out her
notepad and reviewed everything she needed to have done.

“Your mama,” Marcelle said promptly.

“Yeah, Mama thinks this is a real bad idea,
but said she didn’t want me to break my neck stumbling in the dark.
Mr. George says he wants him a good party spot.” Rae gave a short
laugh. “He’s something.”

“Mr. George is a sweet man. And he’s crazy
‘bout Miss Aletha, too.” Marcelle stacked up some glasses in a box
that needed washing. “I mean no disrespect to your daddy.”

“Don’t be silly. I love him for making Mama
happy.” Rae paused in writing down the items. “Daddy pushed Mama
away. Seems he poured all his energy into this place and the
past.”

“What does Neville think?” Marcelle took a
large bottle of liquid cleaner and sprayed the tiled bar top.

“Well, I talked to him on the phone about
possibly selling the land. He’s coming over this weekend.” Rae
glanced at Marcelle. “I was surprised. He wasn’t too keen on
selling to a St. Cyr.”

“Uh-hum. Even Neville, who’s been preaching
that you should unload all this, has doubts.” Marcelle eyed her old
pal. “You got that old look about you these days.”

“What are you talking about?” Rae put down
the pad. She began to remove the tattered remains of curtains from
the windows.

“The time you stalked Celeste Gravier for
calling you trash, you had that same look.”

Rae finished one window and started another.
“I did not stalk Celeste. And what look? This is my normal
look.”

“Your ‘I’m up to something that’s gonna blow
your mind’ look! Just like with Celeste.”

“No way!” Rae smiled despite her protest.
“Wonder how old Celeste is?”

“You made that girl’s life hell for a week at
school. First a dead rat in her gym bag and then dirty pictures in
her desk for the teacher to find. She’d jump every time you walked
by.” Marcelle giggled. “You were terrible. Didn’t we have some
times?”

“Yeah, until the priest made you reform. Then
all you did was preach to me how I was going straight to hell.” Rae
shook her head. “How did we stay friends when we were so
different?”

“You were my adopted sister.” Marcelle packed
the last glasses away. “I couldn’t give up on you.”

“I almost gave up on myself.” Rae thought of
those fast-lane days with the wisdom of maturity. “With all those
folks telling me I was no good, I believed it. I was living up to
the Dalcour legend.”

“Bon Dieu! Remember when you and Charles
Malveaux almost got arrested racing his car on top the levee?
Honey, I had my hands full tryin’ to set you straight.”

“I must have been out of my mind. It’s a
wonder I’m not in prison or dead, some of the stuff I did.” Rae
shook her head slowly.

Marcelle walked up to her. “So what are you
up to now?”

“Marcelle, I’m not that fifteen-year-old girl
anymore. I’m here, trying to start a business. That’s all.” Rae
lifted her chin.

“There, you see. That’s part of the truth,
but not all of it. What did you promise Mr. Lucien?” Marcelle
plopped down in a chair. She fanned herself with an old piece of
cardboard. “Give it up.”

Rae turned and started pulling down another
rotting curtain. “Just that I wouldn’t let the house or this place
fall down.”

“And..?” Marcelle’s sharp question jabbed
through the air.

Rae could hold it in no longer. She never
kept secrets from her best friend. “And I’m going to try to get at
the truth about Pawpaw Vincent. I’m hiring LaMar Zeno.” She sat
down in a chair across the table from Marcelle.

Her friend stared with her mouth hanging
open. “Quit lyin’, girl!”

“If I’m lyin’, I’m flyin’, as we used to say.
I got him coming over tomorrow.” Rae tapped the table top before
jumped again. She spoke over her shoulder as she moved to the next
window, “He’s going to find out the truth, Marcelle. I can just
feel it.”

“Well, if anybody can, it’s LaMar Zeno. He’s
the best black private detective around, they say. He even helps
some major corporations with industrial spying. Freddie told me
that.”

“Just hope he won’t refuse when I tell him
he’s looking for two people who vanished fifty years ago.” Rae
frowned. “I’ll convince him though. I hear he loves solving a good
puzzle.”

“Then he’ll jump at the chance to take this
case.” Marcelle was silent for a while. “Then there’s you and Simon
St. Cyr. Heard y’all were mighty cozy at lunch.”

“Man, I’d forgotten how fast news travels in
this place.” Rae dodged the implied question.

“Keepin’ in with other folks business is a
major sport around here.” Marcelle fixed her with a steady gaze.
“But the point is you were gettin’ along very well with Simon.”

“He’s a nice person. Why shouldn’t we get
along?”

“Raenette Marie Dalcour, don’t play with me.”
Marcelle got up and yanked on her blouse. “Tell me this instant!”
With a firm hand, she led Rae back to the chair. “Sit your butt
down and don’t move until I know everything.”

“Nothing much to tell. We had lunch, talked
some, and we’re going out tonight for dinner.” Rae laughed at the
effect of her words on her friend.

“Quit lyin’!” Marcelle’s eyes were round and
her mouth fell open this time.

Rae winked. “He’s picking me up in a few
short hours. So let’s get to work. I’ll need time to look my best
by six.”

Marcelle became serious. “Rae, I know we’ve
been jokin’ around about the old days and stuff, but....”

“But what?”

“Messin’ with them Joves is like teasin’ a
yard full of pit bulls.”

“They don’t run this town and they sure as
hell don’t run me. Rae ripped a curtain in half and stuffed it into
a garbage bag with force.

“Just remindin’ you how Toya can be, cher.
Now, when she finds out about you an’ Simon, pooh-ya!” Marcelle
said.

Rae faced her with a daring grin. “You know
me, sugar. I don’t take crap.”

“Simon is a sexy guy and nice, too.” Marcelle
went back to cleaning the bar. “You’ll make a good pair.”

“Wait a minute. Simon St. Cyr hasn’t bowled
me over with his charm. I don’t dance to anybody’s tune but my
own,” Rae said with heat.

“Like you said, I know you. Simon has made
more of an impression on you than you think, or maybe wanna admit.”
Marcelle gazed at her across the space between them.

“No way! Look, so he’s nice, but he’s not
exactly my speed.” Rae affected an off-hand tone.

Rae turned her back to avoid the other
woman’s probing look. She did not want to feel this racing
sensation in her veins when she thought of seeing Simon tonight, or
remember the tingle on her skin when he touched her.

“I hope you know what you’re doing with the
investigation and Simon St. Cyr.” Marcelle scrubbed at the tiles.
“Remember what my grandmama says, ‘Keep it up, Missy, an’ you gonna
get more than you bargained for.’”

“Don’t go getting all spooky on me, girl.
Whew, we’ve done enough for today. It’s time for you to go get
little Felicia anyway,” Rae said.

Rae and Marcelle chattered about other things
as they packed up to leave. Rae wanted to distract her friend from
any more talk of Simon. Yet a cloud now hung over the bright
afternoon that was not in the sky overhead.

Marcelle’s grandmother had a reputation for
having ‘the gift.’ More than seeing the future, Monmon Perrine
could look below the surface of present events and human behavior,
advising others of what they should do. Rae tried to tame the
creeping anxiety that Marcelle’s words brought on. She would not
let old superstitions rule her.

* * *

Everything had been going just fine, until
they played that song. The sound of the guitar wrapped around the
room in a slow, bluesy strain. Now Rae found herself fighting a
feeling she’d sworn would not overtake her. Simon’s cheek resting
against hers made it so hard though.

From the moment he’d picked her up, Rae was
comfortable. She resumed her confident demeanor, determined that
she would set the pace for whatever developed between them. Dinner
went well. They went to Pat’s, a large seafood restaurant right on
the water near Henderson Swamp. The Creole dishes were spicy, and
Rae added her cocky humor to the flavor of Tabasco.

Simon contrasted his conventional childhood
to hers. He even seemed to enjoy her gentle teasing about his staid
lifestyle; what’s more, he made a few jokes about himself. Rae felt
on firm ground. Now this pounding in her heart that reached down to
her hips, making her want to press closer to him, would not be
reasoned away.

The singer stretched out the words to the old
blues melody ‘I Need Your Love,’ as though he was alone with his
lover. His voice had a clear, slinky smoothness, perfect for
singing the blues.

After a time, Rae forgot to fight the
feeling. The words to the song echoed a poignant note that found a
responsive chord in her. For too long she’d been without a special
someone. She not only thought this someone was not a necessity in
her life, but something she did not want. In fact, Rae distrusted
the head-over-heels kind of love. In her experience, that kind led
to misery and betrayal. Now this blues singer was making her
believe she’d been the one kidding herself.

“Rae, maybe we better sit down,” Simon
murmured in her ear. He made no move to take his arms from around
her. His body still swayed.

“Hum?” Rae’s eyes were closed, her face
resting against his shoulder. “Why?” She was enjoying a weightless
feeling of serenity.

Simon chuckled. “Because the band is taking a
break.”

“Oh.” With great effort, Rae shook herself
free of the spell. She looked around to find the other dancers
going back to their seats. “Yeah, I knew that.”

“Sure.” Simon looked down at her with
amusement. “Some song, eh?”

Rae was annoyed by the smug look on his face.
“It was okay.” Her attempt at nonchalance missed the mark, even to
her ears. Still she put on a strong front.

Simon ordered them two more drinks and waited
until the waiter had gone before speaking. “So tell me about your
band. You haven’t talked about your career much.”

“Let’s see… Three of us met in school. Jamal
and Wes were in the music department with me at Southern
University. We were all on scholarships.”

“Really? I thought...” Simon faltered. “I
didn’t mean–”

“You thought I barely got out of high school,
from the stories about what a crazy teenager I was, right?”

Simon looked abashed. “Gossip does get
exaggerated. I should have known better.”

“It’s okay. In this case, most of the stories
you probably heard had a lot of truth to them.” Rae wiggled her
eyebrows at him comically.

Simon laughed. “Stop that. Now tell me about
the band.”

“Not much to tell. Me and the guys hooked up
about a year after graduation. We worked the club circuit and
college concerts hard. It paid off.”

“You’ve got two great recordings and made a
couple of national charts. I’d say you have reason to be proud.”
Simon looked at her with genuine admiration in his sepia eyes.

Rae returned his gaze. “Thanks.” She looked
away after a while, feeling awkward for the first time.

“And you’re going to give up the excitement
of a successful career to settle back in Belle Rose?”

“Weird, huh? Like I missed the place.” Rae
shook her head.

“Not at all. It just means you loved your
father deeply. You have a sense of family.” Simon nodded when she
looked at him. “So you’re goin’ to open the dance hall?”

“Hey, before you nominate me for sainthood,
you need to know something.” Rae smiled at him. “I’m going to play
my guitar every chance I get. So I’m not giving up my career.

“Sounds great.”

“Yeah, Wes and I even talked about setting up
a recording studio of our own.” Rae sat forward.

“Even better.”

“Sure. We’ve got friends who would love to
have a good place to make their own recordings. Wes even has some
investors interested.”

“That would be good for the local economy.
You could bring in jobs. But, just as important, more sales tax if
visitors spend money while in town.” Simon rubbed his jaw in
thought.

“Yeah, I hate that all the new jobs come from
the petrochemical plants. We’re too dependent on them. Besides,
most of the real poor folks don’t benefit. The way drugs have
gotten to the kids, even around the bayou, just breaks my heart,”
Rae said. “We need something better in our community.”

“Careful now, you’ll spoil that bad girl
image you enjoy so much.” Simon wore a grin.

“Nah, not me.” Rae giggled.

“But won’t you miss the thrill of
traveling?”

“Truth is being on the road all the time was
getting old. When Daddy asked me to consider coming home four years
ago, I thought he was nuts. But now I want more than just moving
from one booking to the next, you know?”