Page 21 of Witch
One would think that you’d support your child’s passions, but not his parents. Mother tried. A debutante originally from Atlanta, she would say things like, ‘bless your heart,’ or ‘you’re a special boy.’ He didn’t realize until he was older that those were southern ways of telling you that you were stupid!
Maybe his mother was a witch. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought of that. Maybe she was the one who poisoned father against him.
None of it mattered any longer. They were both gone and had cut him from what was truly his. It wouldn’t sway him. He would continue this fight, even if this one was his last.
When the soup was placed in front of him, he frowned, realizing that he would need to curb his lifestyle. The first thing would be to find a cheaper place to stay in New Orleans. He couldn’t continue his work here if he stayed in the high-profile, luxury hotel.
“Anything else I can get you, sir?”
“No. Wait, yes. Do you know the Robicheaux family?” he asked. Every person in the restaurant turned and stared at him.
“The Robicheaux family?” chuckled the waiter. “Sir, they’re the most prominent, well-known family in all of New Orleans, maybe in all of Louisiana. Dozens of the finest human beings on this planet. You’d be hard-pressed to find someone who wasn’t touched by them in some way.”
“Touched? They hurt you?” he frowned, ready to pounce.
“Hurt?” he laughed. The restaurant laughed with him, an elderly woman leaning toward his table.
“Son, you obviously don’t know them at all. If they touch you, you are blessed, not hurt.”
“They’ve never hurt anyone?” he asked in exasperation. The waiter stared at him, smirking.
“Only those that deserved it.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Gaspar? Roget called from Brennan’s. Apparently, our boy has been asking questions about the family,” said Sly. “Everyone in the damn restaurant set him straight, but Roget said that he got a call from someone, and it was rather heated. All about money, or a lack of, and when he ordered, he only ordered soup.”
“Interesting,” smirked Gaspar. “Sara? Do you mind putting together a beautiful gift basket of pralines, banana bread, maybe some soups that could be warmed up, a few bottles of wine, and some other things?”
“Of course. Where am I sending it?” she asked.
“Wherever Mr. Hopkins is staying,” he smirked. Sara laughed, shaking her head at him.
“That’s evil,” she chuckled, “but I love it. Chances are pretty good he’ll throw it out.”
“Not if you put a note card from Rachel Brommer,” said Ace. “She’s the latest victim found in upstate New York. She was last seen with him eight weeks ago, but her body was only found two days ago. He’s wanted for questioning in her death. I’m going to bet if you sent a beautifully written card, in the handwriting of a woman, our friend would be rightfully freaked the fuck out.”
“Ace, you have an evil side that impresses me every damn day,” said Gaspar. “Alright, do it.”
Sara happily made plans to send one of the largest food baskets they’d ever sent to anyone. She would fill it with all her favorites, as well as some not-so-tasty treats. A few pickled chicken livers and frogs’ legs should do the trick.
“Other than this colossal mess, how many cases do we need to close out before we’re done?” asked Ian.
“Five. Five damn cases, and we can truly, finally relax. I have to say, Ian, I don’t think I ever thought I’d be happy for that, but I am.”
“I know what you mean, brother. It was like we suddenly all took a deep breath and said, ‘I’m done.’ That was it. For the first few months, I just want to learn to sleep past 0500. Maybe have a cup of coffeeafterthe sun rises. I’d love to hold my wife’s hand and walk down any street in the world and not look over my shoulder.”
“Well, I admire your optimism, but I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with that one yet. The after 0500, that I can live with,” he smirked. “Alexandra deserves more. Hell, they all deserve more than we’ve given them. I’m not sure what we’ll be doing, but I’m sure we’ll be busy.”
“You will be,” said Matthew, suddenly appearing in front of them. Both men jumped, gripping their chests. His boys would soon learn that Trak would not be the only man giving others heart attacks, startling them with sudden appearances.
“Shit, that’s gonna take some getting used to,” smirked Ian. Matthew only laughed.
“What do you mean we will be, Pops?” asked Gaspar.
“Gaspar, all the things I did before need to be continued, and all of you will help with that. With so many of you retiring, we will have a greater impact on our community, on the city, and, quite possibly, the state.”
“What kinds of things, Pops?” asked Gaspar.
