Page 15 of Fearless Encounter
“That’s doubtful,” Gabriel said. “Although for a long time I felt that I should have.” He shifted the subject before he said too much. “If you’re willing to jog another block or so, we can grab an espresso and a muffin at The Rink. Although I’m sure the pastry isn’t up to your standards.”
Brooke laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Who doesn’t like a good muffin? But will the café be open yet?”
“Yep, I’ve tested that many a Sunday morning,” Gabriel said. “They open just about now, for the early morning crowd.”
They headed for the coffee shop. Brooke’s life had been disrupted by a criminal act, like what he’d dedicated his career to fighting. He intended to help her navigate the danger, then she could return to life as usual. Yet this type of situation tended to change a person, so he doubted that things would be the same. He’d seen plenty of crime in his years with the forceand learned to err on the side of caution. There were too many occasions when that made all the difference—or it could have.
The café had just opened. They sipped expresso from tiny paper cups and munched blueberry muffins. “I have to go to work,” Brooke said. “Sunday isn’t a day off in the restaurant business.”
“When you’re done with that muffin, we’ll jog back,” Gabriel said. “For now, I’d like to drop you at Jasper’s and pick you up later. Is that agreeable?”
“Sure, but do you have any plans this evening?” Brooke said.
“What would you like to do?”
“My older sister, Genevieve, sings at various venues in the French District,” she said. “She’s performed at Paradigm Gardens, the Broadside, and a lot of other places. Tonight, she will be at the Carousel.”
“That bar on Royal Street?”
Brooke nodded. “I haven’t told her about what I witnessed. I prefer to share that in person. We can sit in the lounge and listen to her sing—which is amazing, I must say. When she comes over to our table, I can talk to her.” She smiled. “I’ll introduce you.”
*****
After dropping Brooke at the restaurant, Gabriel drove to his office on St. Charles in the central business district. Office space was pricey, but he managed to afford a fourth-floor office in a corner high rise. He’d set up shop to go after crime, so his firm handled work for criminal law firms, along with a caseload of process service, skip trace, background checks, and more. He rarely took infidelity cases. It went against his nature to chase after spouses and get involved in messy divorces.
It was Sunday, so the office was quiet. Occasionally, Gabriel met his daughter for brunch on Sunday morning, but that was getting less frequent. Amalie was likely out with her friends, and same for Weston. His partner normally took weekends off, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to show up in the office to catch up on cases. Since they’d opened, their caseload had filled up, and Gabriel had considered hiring another investigator. Amalie had objected because she was studying to get her PI license. She did a great job with social media investigations and had every intention of developing a career as a PI.
For a while, Gabriel plowed through client emails, then he made coffee and got down to business. There must be some clue about what happened on Friday night. During carnival season, law enforcement patrolled the streets, but they couldn’t watch every corner and back alley. Tapping into his resources, Gabriel spent hours searching. Friday’s parade was the first of the season. The list of crimes in the city reported for that day included armed robbery, auto theft, assault, and more. He followed up on the details but was unable to find any reference to a crime in the exact location where Brooke had witnessed the abduction.
No missing person reports connected to that parade had been filed. Undaunted, Gabriel kept searching. He scanned drug crimes, domestic disputes, and rapes, since he didn’t know yet what the intent of the abductor was. Searching was frustrating, since he wasn’t getting anywhere. It hadn’t been forty-eight hours yet. In many cases, that was a bit soon for a person to be missed.
When he couldn’t ignore his hunger, Gabriel locked up and went to the deli for lunch. That would give him time to think. Maybe he’d come up with an idea.
Halfway through his corned beef on rye, Abe texted about meeting the following morning at the scene. He wanted to check something out. That was encouraging, and more than Gabriel had come up with. He replied, confirming the time to meet.
The afternoon didn’t prove any more productive than the morning had. He wrapped up his searches, finished some work for a client, then headed for the restaurant. He’d dropped Brooke pretty early so she could get ahead on her pastry creation. She’d mentioned that she was off on Monday and Tuesday, which would give her a chance to focus on her situation with the hope of moving past it. Gabriel didn’t know about that, but he didn’t object to being with her.
When Gabriel arrived, a waiter informed him that Brooke was creating a cake and seated him at a table to wait. By the time she emerged from the kitchen, he’d finished one appetizer and had ordered another. He didn’t feel right about taking a table without paying, even if he did have a good reason to be there. It was likely to be an uneventful wait, although Gabriel preferred watching who came and went. But there was no one out of the ordinary, no one who wasn’t enraptured with the food. Diners were smiling and talking—which was a good thing.
The swinging door to the kitchen opened and Brooke stepped out, motioning for Gabriel to come to the kitchen. When he hesitated, she walked across the dining room. “Don’t worry about the check. I’ll cover that for you,” she said. “I appreciate your waiting. I want to show my creation to you.”
Gabriel followed her to the workstation and gazed at the multi-layered cake with flowers sculpted into the frosting. “Amazing… What is it?”
“This,” Brooke said with a grin, “is one of the greatest confections New Orleans has to offer. It’s based on a Hungariantorte, an absolute delight. It’s made of thin layers of buttermilk cake with lemon custard between each.”
Jasper came over. “No one makes a better torte. That will please the customers tonight.”
Gabriel recognized the restaurant owner from earlier visits, but Brooke took the chance to introduce him. “My boss and co-conspirator in food pleasures.” Then she slipped her arm through that of a petite blonde wearing a white chef’s jacket. “And I’d like you to meet Lisle Garnier, my best friend and our renowned chef.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Lisle said. “Save a piece of that for me.”
“The staff are my greatest fans,” Brooke said, then stepped toward the door. “Shall we?”
On the way out, Gabriel scanned the restaurant but had no cause for concern. Once they were on the way to the lounge to see Genevieve, he said, “Tell me more about your sister. It’s impressive that she performs. I guess because I lack creative talent, I admire anyone who does.”
“She’s a singer/songwriter,” Brooke said. “She covers well-known artists plus performs her own songs, blues mostly. She also plays the piano and the ukulele.”
“Well, I’m even more impressed.”