Page 71 of The House on Prytania
Jaxson excused himself to take a call. I spotted a battered black leather briefcase that sat on the floor behind Jaxson’s vacated chair. Bernie saw me looking at it and patted my hand on the table. “Don’t worry. We’ll get to it. As my beautiful bride always reminds me, business can wait.”
“I was hoping she’d come with you today, since we missed meeting her last time.”
He took a sip of his bourbon and nodded. “She would have loved to meet y’all, too, but she hates to go out. Always insists she can make a better meal for half the price.” He leaned forward and in a conspiratorial whisper said, “She’s probably right, but there’s something to be said for food being brought to the table for you and someone else being responsible for the cleanup.”
“Unless you live with someone who prefers to do all of it even though your offers to help are sincere.” I eyed Jolene.
“If I thought you knew how to boil an egg or the difference between sterling and stainless, I’d be happier than a tick on a fat dog. We all have our talents, and that’s just not yours, bless your heart.” She winked to take the sting out of her last words.
Jaxson returned, his expression not exactly grim but definitely not giving off happy vibes. “Everything all right?” I asked.
“Yeah. That was Carly. She was supposed to meet me after lunch to check out the exhibit on the history of Mardi Gras at the Presbytère, but she says something’s come up at work and she needs to deal with it. I bought the tickets weeks ago.”
“Well, as Bernie’s wife says, business can wait.”
Jaxson looked at me oddly while Bernie stared down at his plate.
“I mean, I believe in working hard, but everybody needs a break now and then.”
“You should tell that to Mom and Dad,” Sarah said. “They make me do my homework the second I come home. They’re ruthless.”
I sent my sister a side-glance. “Jolene has been dying to see the exhibit. Sarah and I have plans for after lunch, but maybe you could bring Jolene. I can call an Uber when Sarah and I are ready to head home.”
Jaxson turned to Jolene. “Would that be all right with you?”
“I’d hate for your tickets to go to waste, and I have been wanting to see the exhibit.” She smiled sweetly at me. “Only if Nola really doesn’t mind taking an Uber. Or I could give you Bubba’s keys and Jaxson could bring me home.”
“Please, no,” Sarah shouted before I could say anything.
“She means to say that I only have my permit and I can’t drive by myself yet. Although if I could, I might take the opportunity to drop my sister off in the middle of the Causeway and tell her to find her own way back.”
“Uber it is,” Jaxson said, grinning broadly. “And Uncle Bernie’s poker buddy Frank is supposed to pick up Uncle Bernie after lunch, so he’s all set.”
“Is Frank a younger friend?” I asked cautiously.
Bernie slapped his hands on the table, making the silverware rattle, and laughed loudly enough that people at neighboring tables craned their necks to see. “Frank’s my age, and can barely see over the steering wheel, but he’s got a big car, so people know to stay out of his way.”
“Jolene says the same thing,” Sarah said, reaching over to high-five Bernie’s upheld palm.
Our food came, and with it another round of waters and a bourbon on the rocks for Bernie. My crepes were heavenly, and I had fully intended to take home half of my meal, but it was so good I couldn’t stop eating. I would just sit at Café du Monde and not eat any beignets myself, ignoring Melanie’s voice in my head telling me that there’s always room for one more doughnut.
Bernie ordered two desserts, but I didn’t panic over the bill this time, as I thought about the two wads of cash from my parents. Assuming anyone took cash anymore. As Bernie dug into his flourless chocolate cake, Jaxson opened up the tattered briefcase and pulled out Jeanne Broussard’s clientele book and handed it to me.
I took it, then looked over at Sarah, who was watching us with large, interested eyes.
“Why don’t you and Jolene head on over to Café du Monde now? I can meet you there when I’m finished talking to Uncle Bernie.”
“That’s a great idea,” Jaxson said, already standing. “I’ll go, too. Text me when you’re done, and I’ll come get him and bring him outside to wait with him until Frank arrives. If that’s all right with everyone?”
We all agreed, Jolene a little more enthusiastically than everyone else.
When they had left, I turned to Uncle Bernie. “So, did you find anything?”
My excitement dimmed at Bernie’s expression. “I used every bit of my training and knowledge as a detective to search for anything that might be a clue as to why this book was so important that someone had to keep it hidden. I even got some help from some of my poker buddies—don’t panic; I didn’t tell them why—to look up every single person in that entire book.”
He took another bite of his cake, and I waited impatiently for him to finish chewing and then take another sip of his drink. He was already shaking his head before he put the glass back on the table. “The addresses were a big help, since they could be cross-referenced with marriage and birth records and obituaries. Unfortunately, the people we could find had long since passed or were too old to remember anything. My buddy Frank is really into that genealogy thing, and he and his lady friend at the library spent hours trying to find any connection between the Broussards and the people in the book. There was absolutely nothing. Nothing.”
He sat back in his chair and thrummed his large fingers on the edge of the table. “I hope it’s all right, but I did make copies of the pages so we could keep looking. Because there’s a reason why Beau’s daddy hid that book. It’s important. I’m sticking by the ABC rules of a good detective and won’t rest until we’ve exhausted every lead.”
