Page 7 of Killer Moonshine

“Fucking traffic,” growled Miller.

“Mmm,” nodded Trak.

“Never used to be this bad.”

“Katrina,” said Trak flatly. Miller nodded.

It was true. Since Katrina, the population of Baton Rouge had doubled, industry was booming, and it was the new hot spot to live. Thriving nightlife, restaurants, and hotels dotted the entire landscape.

Having the state capitol and two major universities in the city, LSU and Southern, also made it more popular. They loved visiting, but neither wanted to live there.

Parking their car was another pain in the ass. Although there was designated parking for the capital building, as well as street metered parking, it was like finding a golden ticket. Finally giving up, they parked five blocks away and walked the distance.

Entering the massive thirty-four-floor building, they signed into the visitors’ desk, showing the security officer their IDs.

“Fourteenth floor,” he said, nodding toward the elevators.

They stood in front of the elevator bank, waiting for one to open, and smiled at the holes in the marble walls. Almost a hundred years ago, Huey P. Long, a Senator for Louisiana, was shot and killed in this very lobby. The bullets had been entombed in the marble. Once dug out, the decision was made that they would leave the holes as a historic reminder of what happened.

As the elevator doors opened, five men got off with a woman and walked quickly across the lobby. Trak and Miller stepped on and hit the fourteenth-floor button. When they exited, they found themselves on an entire floor dedicated to the ATF.

“Can I help you?” asked a young woman at a reception desk.

“We have an appointment with Ms. Beauchamp,” said Miller.

“Oh, you’re her nine o’clock,” she said sadly. “I’m sorry, she had to run out for an emergency, but she said she’d be back here by one and could see you then if you could come back.”

“Damn,” muttered Miller, looking at Trak. He shrugged his shoulders.

“We’re here. Might as well.”

“Alright,” said Miller. “We’ll be back at one. Thanks.”

Taking the elevator back down, they walked back to their car and sat there a moment before looking at one another.

“Well, we’re here. Let’s go see some things,” said Miller.

Driving along the river, they parked near the LSU campus, walking the beautiful walkways and streets lined with Magnolia and Live Oak trees. There were dozens of coffee shops and restaurants, plus an entire massive enclosure holding a live tiger, Mike, the LSU mascot.

“Don’t tell Mama about this,” frowned Miller. “She’d be pissed and coming up here to get him.” Trak smirked.

“He looks happy and well cared for,” said Trak. “I’m hungry.”

“Me too,” said Miller. He saw a few guys walking toward them from the football stadium and stopped them. “Excuse me, we’re looking for a good place to eat. Anything nearby that you would recommend?”

“It’s not close but a few miles away. Mexican and Cajun fusion. Best shit ever. Sir,” smiled the young man.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

After following the directions given by the young man, they found themselves inside a beautiful, stylish restaurant that smelled like heaven. Mestizo’s was exactly what the kid had described. Mexican food with a Cajun twist.

Crawfish tamales, shrimp and crab queso, crawfish enchiladas, and so much more. They each ordered appetizers, then two entrees, and actually had room for dessert. If they hadn’t been working, they would have indulged in one of the many varieties of margaritas.

“Did you gentlemen enjoy your meal?” asked a man standing beside the table.

“Brother, it was delicious,” said Miller. “I thought my Mama knew every way to cook seafood, but you’ve given me ideas to take home to her.”

“That’s a great compliment, thank you. I’m Jim. I own this place,” he said, shaking their hand.

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