Bourre Brouhaha, page 23
Bourre Brouhaha
The Big Uneasy 8
The Big Uneasy
Book Eight
Pauline Baird Jones
To Kasha and Josh.
Thank you. ❤️
Contents
What’s Bourre and a brouhaha
About Bourre Brouhaha
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Also by Pauline Baird Jones
About the Author
What’s Bourre and a brouhaha
About Bourre Brouhaha
Catch the fire… in the eighth installment of the popular and exciting Big Uneasy series!
Eddie Baker is a firefighter with one major issue… he’s ready to fall in love, but doesn’t know it yet. That may be a good thing with all the obstacles standing in his way! He just needs to find the right woman who can light his fire!
Audrey Goodheart may play a fortune teller in her working life, but she knows trouble when she sees it. After all, she is the daughter of an arsonist. All she wants is a good man to love and a criminal-free life. That isn’t an easy wish to fulfill with her beloved father and his criminal friends always hanging around!
If life wasn’t difficult enough, Audrey also needs to discover who is after her. Can a firefighter and the daughter of an arsonist defeat the bad guys before they burn Audrey’s life down or will the match made in heaven burn like hell?
Chapter One
Audrey Goodheart gave a relieved sigh as she exited the casino. The humidity was down and so were temperatures, giving the air a silken feel against her skin. It was a relief to be out of the controlled and frigid air conditioning.
She loved this time of year in New Orleans. Autumn wasn’t typical, at least not schoolbook typical. But the end-of-summer scents were lush and almost seemed to amp up the always-present spices drifting in the air from the various restaurants dotted along St. Charles.
She saw the streetcar a few blocks away and picked up the pace without the usual sweat pushback. She felt lighter than usual, instead of soggy and weighted down.
She thrived in cooler air, which begged the question, why was she still here? There were cooler climes and now that her father had begun his prison sentence her only reason for being here was gone.
Well, her only other reason.
She probably had enough for a bus ticket out of town, but then what? What she really needed was a circus to run away and join. Did they even exist anymore? And would she fare any better?
She could still hear her manager’s despair ringing in her ears.
“People don’t pay to hear the truth, they pay to be told their future is bright and they are going to find true love.” Antoine had heaved a familiar sigh. “Why can’t you be more like your father?”
“He sets things on fire,” she’d pointed out.
“But Ferdy lies beautifully.”
It was true. Ferdinand Goodheart lied to everyone, including himself.
“He found my inability to be dishonest a puzzle, too,” Audrey told him. Ferdy would never question his wife’s loyalty, but she’d heard him wonder if Audrey was a changeling. “At least you know I’m not stealing money.”
Fortune telling didn’t pay much, so she also counted money for the casino. She pretty much hated it. She felt like Bob Cratchit counting Scrooge’s piles of money. It was truly obscene how much money flowed through a casino.
“No,” Antoine had to agree with her on that one.
Since he and Ferdy had been friends for a very long time, she knew his feelings about her were complicated. She also knew he wished he could help her find work elsewhere. She wished he could, too, even though it might leave her in an even more precarious financial position.
The problem was, Guido Calvino owned the casino and he probably owned Antoine, too. And she knew he’d told Antoine to hire her.
She had a feeling that her father’s latest incarceration was somehow linked to Calvino, though she tried not to dwell on it.
Her father was in jail. Calvino wasn’t.
And she had two, parsimonious jobs that didn’t look in any way, shape, or form, like a payoff to the authorities. The authorities had looked hard enough, but Calvino could—and probably had—made the claim he was just trying to help her out.
Maybe Calvino believed her sad pay was helping. That her dad had the main payoff stashed somewhere, she didn’t doubt. He liked to think of himself as a fond parent, possibly even a great parent, but he’d need something when he got out. Yes, he still believed he’d get out despite that three strikes law.
As she’d previously noted, he lied to himself a lot.
And as long as she kept her mouth shut on these hard realities, she’d get to keep on living. She paused, struck by the thought that this was the one truth her father had told her.
People who talked about the mob died. Wow.
She waited for the streetcar, noting without being obvious about it, that the locals waiting there took careful steps back from her. Part of it, she knew, was because of Calvino, but most of it was because they thought she was a witch. Not a voodoo queen, mind you. Just a garden variety witch.
She wasn’t psychic or even magical. She was just very good at reading body language. That wouldn’t have been a problem if she didn’t let the truth of what she saw pop out of her mouth. She was getting better at not blurting things out, particularly around Calvino.
She wasn’t stupid or ready to die.
Inside the casino, she tried to keep a mental dampening cloak in place, but once she stepped out the doors, it was as if her mind and her spirit shook themselves like a dog and expanded back to their normal range.
She might have been more careful with her neighbors if she’d thought they kill her, but mostly they just tried to avoid her.
She climbed on the streetcar and took a seat behind the driver. His shoulders twitched but he couldn’t change seats. As if unconsciously following the herd, even the tourists took seats with some buffer between her and them.
Audrey kept her head down. She didn’t actually want to see their secrets. As soon as the streetcar jolted into motion, she turned so she could watch the street outside. She loved this ride. It was as much a balm to her soul as the cooler air.
The car stopped at the next corner to let a few people off and a man on. Audrey shot him a discreet look and wished she could full-on stare at him. He was a nicely put together bundle of bones and sinews. If there were “truths” to be blurted out, well, he probably already knew he was pretty hot.
He was casually dressed in jeans and a tee shirt and a pair of sunglasses hid his eyes. His brown hair was lightly tossed by the breeze that had helped dissipate some of the heat and humidity.
He also wasn’t a tourist. He was too familiar with the ways of the streetcar as he dropped his money in the slot. He was tall and moved with an assurance that told her he was someone who protected others. Not a cop, she knew the look of them all too well.
She gave a half frown because he did seem familiar in some way, only she knew she’d never seen him before.
She considered him through her lowered lashes as he made his way to a seat just down from hers. The sound of a fire engine siren broke through the rattle of the streetcar and his head came up.
Firefighter?
When he lifted his cell phone to his ear, she was certain.
She knew a lot about them, too, but only as shadowy figures in protective gear. Not too surprisingly, they weren’t fans of Ferdy either.
She pulled her legs back against the bench, certain he was going disembark again, but he didn’t. He did seem to have noticed her movement however.
His head turned her direction. She couldn’t see his eyes, so there was no way to know for sure, but she thought she felt his gaze, his attention.
Now he glanced around. Did he notice the small buffer zone between her and the other passengers? She thought he had, because he rose, holding the rail to steady himself against the lurching, and then stopped by her.
“May I?” he asked, gesturing at the seat next to her.
Did he think she’d scared everyone off? “Please,” she said. “I’m not contagious or anything.”
He sank down and removed his sunglasses, allowing her to see his clear, steady gaze. She felt the goodness of him right to her core and smiled.
She had a sense he wanted to ask and because she liked him—her instincts were never wrong on this score—she told him. “They think I’m a witch.”
His brows rose and humor lightened his gaze even more. “Voodoo?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t think they’d be afraid of that.”
His lips quirked into a somewhat suppressed smile. “I suppose not.”
“I’m very good at reading body language and not as tactful as I should be,” she admitted.
“That’s probably more frightening than a witch,” he said. His smile came back and he held out a hand. “Eddie Baker.”
Baker. Of course, now she placed him. His brother, Ben, had presented Ferdy with more than one search warrant. Interesting he had a firefighter brother. She returned the smile and slid her hand into his. “Audrey Goodheart.”
She felt the jolt of her name as his hand clenched. A firefighter would for sure recognize it. But he didn’t pull back. He was a gentleman. He could tactfully run away at the next stop.
“Goodheart.” He didn’t make a question of it as he released her hand and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.
It wasn’t a defensive move, she decided. The rest of his body was too relaxed as it swayed with the streetcar.
“My father.” She made a face.
“You can’t pick your relatives,” Eddie said. There was a hint of wry to the words that told her he understood about relatives.
She chuckled and shook her head.
“Audrey?” he asked next.
“I was named for the man-eating plant.” It was best to get it out of the way up front. She’d have preferred to be named for Audrey Hepburn.
Who wouldn’t? But according to her mother, her father had thought it would make her a force to be reckoned with. Yeah. That had turned out well.
He laughed outright then and Audrey felt a funny twinge in the region of her heart. It was a pity. She couldn’t see how a Baker could ever spend personal time with a Goodheart.
Captain Eddie Baker wondered why Ben had never mentioned Audrey when he and the law-keeping contingent of the family had discussed the Goodheart case. Ben was usually quick to appreciate a beautiful woman, though there was no question the father cast a big shadow—or generated a big smoke screen?
His lips twitched at the contrast with his daughter.
He could see at a glance that Audrey wasn’t cut from the same cloth. He managed to pull up a mental image of Goodheart’s face and almost winced. All her genes must come from her mother.
Her looks were exotic enough, that he could see how she might pick up the witch tag. Her hair was witch-black, as were her eyes, which were large and uncomfortably piercing. It felt like she saw right down to his soul, but if her smile was any indication, his soul came up clean.
Besides, he liked the hint of humor he found in her gaze.
He realized he was staring and cleared his throat, looking away. But then his gaze was drawn back to hers. He couldn’t seem to help himself.
Maybe she was a witch.
His lips twitched again.
And her full lips widened into a smile that could be called magical.
To take his mind off her magic, he asked, “How long did he get this time?”
“Three strikes. He probably isn’t coming out, though he seems to think he will. He’s always been strangely optimistic.”
He saw her gaze move past him and something that might have been regret come into her eyes.
“This is my stop.”
Eddie rose, holding out a hand to pull her up as the streetcar lurched to a messy stop.
Eddie wanted to ask for her number, or even ask her out for a drink, but his throat dried up as she eased past him, the exotic scent of her clouding his brain.
She extracted her hand from his and gave a smile that was sad on the edges. “It’s better this way,” she said.
And then she’d turned away and jumped lightly down. Even the rough surface she had to navigate didn’t affect the sultry sway of her hips as she walked away.
She was probably right that it was better this way. He was a fireman. She was a Goodheart.
He just wished it didn’t feel so wrong to see her leave.
Chapter Two
Audrey let herself into the small house owned by yet another slightly dodgy family friend, Madame Hortense.
It was a made-up name, Audrey knew because her dad had slipped once and called her Fern.
Of all the dramatic names open to Madame, Audrey couldn’t understand why she’d picked Hortense. Perhaps she had a secret affinity for turtles?
Madame had taught Audrey how to fake fortune tell, even while insisting that she herself was truly psychic.
Audrey felt that had Madame truly been able to see the future, she’d have turned Ferdy away at the door. Of course, Audrey knew—without being a psychic—why Madame let them stay.
Ferdy might be a fire bug, but he was a charming fire bug.
Audrey was grateful not to find herself out on the street now that Ferdy was in jail.
Madame told her at least once a week that it was a pity that Audrey was so distressingly honest. She might hold the distinction of being Hortense’s only honest friend.
Most of the people in Madame’s world walked a wavering line between sort of honest and definitely dodgy. They tended to disappear for brief periods when they wandered too far into dodgy, but would reappear claiming to be refreshed by their “vacation.”
There were times when Audrey agreed with Madame. It would have been so much easier to just go with the family flow. Or the friend flow. Honest opportunities were limited among her dad’s circle of friends.
She knew her name—and her father’s reputation—had cost her honest employment opportunities more than once.
But her front seat view of Ferdy’s choices, and those of his friends, also provided her with a clear vision of the consequences of those choices.
They might be pragmatic about their jail time, but Audrey had no desire to earn “street creds.”
Even honest work could be challenging when she was too honest at the wrong moment. It shouldn’t be a surprise that a boss didn’t want her noticing they were cheating on their spouse, or dipping into the company money.
She was almost a walking lie detector and it was no fun at all.
“That you, Audrey?” Madame called out from her “boudoir.” It was just the front room of the small, shotgun house, but it was where Madame lived most of her life.
“I brought food,” Audrey said, knowing that was Madame’s real question. She stepped into the claustrophobic room, crowded with furniture that was too big for the space, not to mention the detritus of Madame’s life, and held up two paper bags.
“Bless you, dear.”
Madame was a stereotype of a fortune teller, but this was by choice.
“Always give the customer what they expect, dear,” she’d told her more than once. “It makes life easier.”
Audrey did try and she had gotten better at not blurting out all she “saw” to a customer. But she couldn’t lie.
Maybe she was a changeling.
“There was a call for you,” Madame said, handing her a scrap of paper with a name and number on it.
For one wild moment, she wondered if it was Eddie. It’s not like she’d be hard to track down.
She looked down and felt her breath catch.
Blue Bayou Catering.
Could it be?
“She said something about a job,” Madame said, through the food in her mouth.
Her stomach clenched with hope.
Madame eyed Audrey’s unopened food sack.
“Aren’t you going to eat that, dear?”
Audrey held out the bag almost absently. Was an actual legitimate company going to offer her a job? She was afraid to hope.
Eddie got off the streetcar and turned away from St. Charles, taking a small side street toward his dad’s house. It was his first day off shift. Somehow it had turned into a habit to stop by and check in with his dad before he headed for his own digs and some welcome solitude.
He’d made himself continue the practice after Zach’s sudden marriage. Otherwise Zach would grill him about having “issues.” He hadn’t known Zach was on speaking terms with “issues” but there it was. Marriage did change a man.
He saw Dan’s motorcycle in the driveway and stopped in surprise. Dan hadn’t been around much, at least not where Eddie ran into him. He tried to figure out how long, but his on and off again schedule meant a lot of hit-and-miss with all his siblings.
