Cajun Justice(21)

He grabbed the picture and marveled at it. In the photo, he wore his naval service dress whites, and Claire beamed with angelic beauty in her lace wedding dress. They were staged in front of St. Louis Cathedral, across from Jackson Square in the French Quarter of New Orleans. He and Claire had been hugging and flirting, to the frustration of the cameraman trying to capture their perfect moments.

I remember that day like it was yesterday. Claire Bear told me it was bad luck to see the bride on her wedding day, but I convinced her that was antiquated foolishness. He closed his eyes and immediately went back to that occasion.

They had secretly met up that morning right before sunrise at Café du Monde, which was open for business twenty-four hours a day. Foghorns blasted through the air as ships navigated the Mississippi River. They heard the chatter and footsteps of a few nearby tourists making their way back to hotels after staying up all night exploring the dark side of New Orleans. They took in the aroma of coffee percolating and the smell of sugar. They snacked on beignets—fresh ones right out of the fryer and doused with powdered sugar. When Claire laughed, her hair blew in the wind, and he’d catch a hint of her shampoo. They had dreams. Dreams to start a family and grow old together.

“I hope I can fit into my wedding dress after eating these little devils,” Claire had joked.

He had kissed her comfortably. “I will always love you.” He was completely in love with her—and had been, from the moment Bonnie first introduced them.

“Promise?”

“To the day I die, and beyond.”

Cain opened his eyes. He found one of the boxes on the floor, the one labeled MUSIC, and pulled out his old record player. When he plugged it in, a light turned on. Great! It still works. He returned to the box and rummaged through the records. He grabbed one of their favorites. He slid the record out of its protective sheath and gently placed it on the player.

A few seconds later, the bass-baritone voice of Johnny Cash singing “You Are My Sunshine” sounded throughout his home.

Cain found himself singing the words and slowly moving to the beat. He went into the kitchen and fetched bowls from the cabinet.

I should have done this a long time ago. He started making shortcut beignets and brewing chicory coffee. Whenever the song reached its end, he’d go back and start it over again. He never grew tired of that song.

He picked the beignets out of the fryer and placed them on a plate, then sprinkled powdered sugar on them. He was supposed to let them cool for a few minutes, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He quickly devoured his beignets, even burning his tongue on the hot doughy sweetness.

He was recovering from his sugar rush and sipping on his black coffee when his cell phone rang. The caller ID said it was Jill, an agent he’d known for just over a year. She worked on the vice president’s security detail. Cain figured he should take the call.

“Hello, friend. It’s good to hear your voice,” she said.

“Yours, too.”

“The rumors are flying around the office.”

“I’m sure they are. Nothing we do is secret, apparently.”

“Surely not even you would think that getting into a fight at a Secret Service hangout was going to stay quiet?”

“I lost my composure today. Tom brought out the worst in me.”

“He brings out the worst in anyone within ten feet of him. He’s completely toxic. All that creep thinks about is himself.”

“Thanks for calling, Jill. But I’m not in the mood to talk about Tom.”

“I want to help, Cain. Let me help you.”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“Would you like to at least talk about it?”

Cain chuckled. “Now you sound like the agency’s shrink.”

“I could cook you dinner. When was the last time you had a home-cooked meal?”

Cain felt a smile forming. “You’re always so thoughtful, Jill. But I’m all set for tonight—I just swallowed a bunch of beignets.”

“Beignets? What’s that?”

“A New Orleans doughnut sprinkled with enough powdered sugar to make you forget your worries. They were just what the doctor ordered. They hit the spot.”

“They sound delicious. Maybe you can make me some sometime.”

There was a slight pause as Cain stumbled to find a response. He’d never even considered sharing beignets with anyone since Claire. “Sure,” he replied.

“How about a run tomorrow?” Jill asked. “You can burn off those doughnuts, and I can—”

“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow.”

“I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything, especially a little rain.”

“I’m worried about it messing up my hair.”

Jill laughed. Cain never put product in his hair.

“But I’m game if you are,” he said.

“Great! It’s a date,” she said.

“I’ll see you at the mall at six.”

“I look forward to seeing you,” Jill said.

“Have a good night,” Cain said.

“Sweet dreams,” Jill said softly before hanging up.





Chapter 19



Under a gray canopy of clouds, early-morning runners had already started their exercise around the National Mall. The landscaped park was full of joggers, people playing soccer, and others throwing Frisbees. Unlike Cain’s native Louisiana, this place seemed to prioritize fitness. He always chalked that up to the stress of the jobs in the nation’s capital, as well as all the ambitious interns and type A personalities that were attracted to high-paced jobs for government movers and shakers. His hometown embraced the Big Easy lifestyle, where everything took on a slower pace and centered around good food and cold drinks.