Bury The Past: A French Quarter Mystery (The French Quarter Mysteries Book 4) by Jen Pitts

Author:Jen Pitts [Pitts, Jen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jen Pitts
Published: 2022-04-25T16:00:00+00:00

23

“Beau said she left a while ago.” I shoved my phone in my pocket. I’d tried the hotel after Verity didn’t answer her cell phone.

After we left Tabby’s shop, we walked back toward the streetcar to return to the French Quarter. Sissy agreed that we’d save Commander’s Palace for a day when we could enjoy a leisurely lunch. Also, she understood how badly I wanted to find Verity. While I only learned a little about Nicole’s and Verity’s relationship from Tabby, it just confirmed my theory that there was more to their desire to leave New Orleans.

“Maybe she’s visiting her mother. Should we go to Ruby’s shop?” Sissy asked after we settled into our seats. “It’s somewhere on Decatur. Have you been?”

“No, I don’t know if Ruby would even let me inside.” I laughed. “But let’s go by and see if Verity is there.”

“But first, food. I’m starving. If we’re not having a fancy lunch, let’s have some down-home cooking.”

We got off the streetcar and walked down Decatur Street to Coop’s. I had written it off as just a bar with gambling machines. Sissy enjoyed introducing me to new restaurants, and when I took my first bite of fried chicken, I realized she might have saved the best for last.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Sissy. This is incredible.” I put down the chicken breast and wiped my lips with a napkin from a stack on the table.

“Everyone has a favorite fried chicken place. Rob actually likes the chicken from a corner store in the Marigny.” Sissy picked up her fork. “But you need jambalaya with your chicken, and I love this one.”

“Can’t say I’ve had rabbit and sausage jambalaya before.” I took a bite of the delicious rice dish. “Connor keeps telling me he’ll teach me how to cook, but I rather like having him cook for me.”

“You’re a smart woman.” Sissy laughed. “He’s a keeper. How’s his music career going these days?”

Recently, Connor quit his job as a restaurant manager to devote himself full-time to his music. I told her about Connor’s latest gigs as a substitute trumpeter for a few bands playing at the bars on Frenchman Street. He’d also joined a few groups along Royal Street for some impromptu sessions. Fortunately, he’d saved most of his management salary since budding musicians made little money. And it didn’t hurt that his parents owned the building he lived in, either.

After lunch, Sissy and I went to see if Ruby was in her shop. Neither of us had been there before. I would have known it was Ruby’s place even without the weather-worn wood sign hand-painted with the business name Virtuous Spiritual Services. Statues of Egyptian gods and goddesses of varying shapes and sizes filled the window along with displays of crystal necklaces.

“Those must be Cleopatra and Nefertiti.” Sissy pointed to a pair of cat statues. “Cats have always been important to her, it appears.”

“And so has Verity.” There was a faded sign in the right corner of the window.

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