Free Fat Tuesday Fricassee by J. J. Cook

lift of his eyebrows.
    â€œHey, what’s this all about?” Uncle Saul stepped away from his brother. “Looks like someone died.”
    â€œSomeone died all right.” My father sniffled. “And then Zoe found his body and led me to him.”
    Uncle Saul laughed. “Zoe, honey, you must be half bloodhound, girl. You’re gonna get a reputation.”
    â€œThat’s not the half of it.” My father proceeded to fill Uncle Saul in on the masquerade ball, Jordan Phillips’s death, and Old Slac.
    Uncle Saul poured himself some of what my father was drinking—it smelled like old whiskey. “That’s a pickle. And you say the ghost of Old Slac warned you to get out of town, Ted?”
    â€œThat’s right. I saw him as clearly as I see you. I’m going to pack a bag and get Zoe out of here.”
    â€œThe ghost of Old Slac hasn’t been seen around here for a hundred years.” Uncle Saul downed the whiskey. “Why would he come back now?”
    â€œTo warn me! He knows what happened.”
    It was nonsensical that Daddy was approached by a ghost—no doubt it was his own guilty conscience. I wouldn’tbe able to convince him of that notion, but there was a lot at stake for me.
    â€œI’m not going anywhere. The Biscuit Bowl is set up to be at all the parades for the next two weeks. I plan to make enough money to get work done at the diner and pull in a thousand new customers.”
    â€œWe’re talking about your life,” my father reminded me. “There’s always next year. Or maybe you could hire that big fella with the tattooed head to run your food truck.”
    â€œI’m already down a worker, Daddy. I can’t run from this. And who’s to say it will be any better when I get back. It’s not like that reporter is going to come back to life. I’ll still know he was murdered at the ball. I don’t want that on my conscience, do you?”
    â€œZoe’s right, Ted,” Uncle Saul said. “If the Mistics are after her, they’re not gonna stop because Mardi Gras is over. We have to do something.”
    â€œLike what?” my father demanded. “This is real, just like the ghost of Old Slac. I thought you’d understand, Saul.”
    â€œI understand. But you can’t run forever. You shouldn’t have got yourself all involved with those Mistics fanatics.”
    My father gulped down more whiskey. “
Now
you decide someone can’t run away from their problems? You’ve done it your whole life. First it was about Daddy and working at the bank. Then it was college. You ran away from the restaurant. You know all about running.”
    Uncle Saul shot to his feet and shook my father. “That’s right. I know all about running. I’m telling you that this isn’t the answer for you and Zoe. Running is only good if you don’t plan on coming back.”
    Daddy calmed down and sat on the sofa. “I don’t know what else to do to protect her. She’s all I have.”
    I felt like crying when he said it. I went to his side and hugged him. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”
    â€œAs much as it pains me to say it, I think you all should go to the police with this.” Uncle Saul sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs and shook his head.
    I knew that was a hard thing for him to admit. Uncle Saul hated anything to do with the establishment or any large institutions. For him to tell us we should go to the police would be like me deciding I didn’t want to make food again.
    â€œThat’s exactly what Old Slac warned me against,” Daddy said. “He said the Mistics of Time would surely have it out for us then.”
    Uncle Saul stared at my father. “Don’t you think it’s more likely that someone dressed up like the ghost of Old Slac just to make you afraid, Ted?”
    As my father was considering the idea, the next