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HUTCH THOUGHT ABOUT supper at Beazell’s On The Bayou all day today. This particular restaurant was her and Mike’s favorite place to eat ever since they started dating. She could taste the barbecue shrimp appetizer and their famous Bloody Mary already.
The drive to the restaurant was breathtaking with the glimmer of raindrops clinging to the trees, reluctant to fall into the puddles below. A rainbow gracefully arched across the sky.
Beazell’s On The Bayou had hit its stride here in New Orleans with food and service far superior to other restaurants here. The food here was transcendent. The chef delivered delicious flavors and artistically composed plates from a menu that changed daily with everything being fresh. Dinner had an energy that Grace loved. She wasn’t sure if it was the happy buzz of diners or the knockout view of the bayou.
As they made their way through the crowded restaurant that buzzed with lively conversation and laughter to their table, Hutch looked around at the various decors. The hominess of the restaurant was one reason it had become so popular. The food was not only outstanding, but the atmosphere was reminiscent of several hunting camps here in South Louisiana. Whoever decorated the restaurant kept it authentic to the area. They even took the time and care to bring the outdoors inside. As you looked over the bayou, it felt as if you were part of the breathtaking scenery.
As the waiter handed them their menus, Hutch looked over at Mike and smiled. Damn, this man made her heart stop. The clothes he wore tonight emphasized his broad shoulders, trim waist, lean hips and powerful thighs. The women of New Orleans had to be upset with her for taking him off the market.
He reached across the small intimate table to take her hand in his. She felt the heat emanating from his body. When she caught a whiff of his cologne, her pulse quickened. A ravenous hunger coursed through her. They might have to take the dessert home tonight if he kept looking at her that way. Every pore in her body tingled, thirsty for his touch.
A young woman appeared before them with a pad and pen in hand, “Hi, I’m Emily. Would y’all like something from the bar?”
Mike looked up at her, “I would like a beer.”
Hutch told her, “I have been dying for one of your famous Bloody Marys.”
The waitress asked, “Would you like an appetizer to go with your drinks?”
Mike nodded his head, “An order of the Beazell’s Barbecue Shrimp, please.”
“Very good, sir. Have you decided what you want for dinner or do you need a few more minutes?”
Mike perused the menu one more time, “I would like the Crawfish Acadian, but can I please have the catfish blackened in your seasoning instead of fried?”
“Yes sir, you sure can. And you miss?”
Hutch handed her the menu, already knowing what she wanted. “I would like a bowl of your seafood gumbo, the house potato salad and some of your homemade French bread, please.”
“That’s an excellent choice. I had a sample of the gumbo earlier, and it is excellent tonight.”
Hutch just looked up at the waitress and smiled. She knew what she wanted before they even arrived. Even with so many excellent items to choose from, she’d craved gumbo lately.
The waitress collected their menus, “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
As Hutch broke open one of the fresh rolls placed on the table, a thin mist snaked through Hutch’s vision. Hutch squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to ward off this vision. This wasn’t the place she wanted to see a serial killer’s victims.
Instead of dissipating though, the mist moved over her; it grew thicker and darker. It slowly consumed the light around her. The noise from the restaurant buzzing around her fell silent, and even the warmth of the air turned bitterly cold. There was nothing left for her to see except the thick gray fog and the cold emptiness it created. Through the fog, a light appeared in the center. The light became larger as it took shape. Standing in the middle of the mist was Rayne Simoneaud, and she wasn’t alone. All around her were the ghosts of the serial killer’s victims.
It made more sense to Hutch now. Rayne found these victims and sent them to her for help. The vision before her changed as it played out like an old silent movie. A man dressed in black waited in a dark alley. Hands reached out and grabbed the unsuspecting woman. Before she had a chance to scream, the knife sliced her throat from ear to ear. He dragged the body over to a waiting car.
Hutch watched in horror as he dropped the body in the trunk. As he closed the trunk, she caught a glimpse of a sign on top of the car. The killer was driving a taxi. This was how he found his victims. Most of these poor women got in the car willingly with him, trusting him to take them where they needed to go. It may be the first break they had in the case. The biggest problem would be finding this particular taxi in the city.
The images faded, and the mist whirled away, as if blown away by a gentle breeze. Hutch looked up to see Mike holding her hand. She forgot where she was. She pressed her fingers to her aching temples in an attempt to find some relief from the beginnings of this migraine headache. This was her first vision out in the open. It left her shivering and weak. She tried to focus on her surroundings.
Hutch glanced around as the conversation hummed at the nearby tables. No one stared at her or even noticed she had zoned out, except for Mike. He asked, “Are you okay?”
She nodded her head, “Yes. I know now how he finds his victims. He drives a taxi.”
“Did he kill another?”
She shook her head, “I don’t think so. Rayne Simoneaud was in the dream. She learned something from one victim and chose this moment to show me.”
Mike asked, “Do you want to leave?”
While she wanted to leave, she was also terrified her legs wouldn’t hold her up, “No, let’s stay and enjoy our meal.”
With trembling hands, she picked up her Bloody Mary and took a sip of the zingy concoction. The drink seemed to help, and she continued to sip it. She felt stronger with each sip; although, it could be the alcohol helping her.
As the dizziness faded away, the waitress arrived with their appetizers. The smell of the food helped lighten her mood. She watched as the steam floated upwards and dissipated. This may be just what she needed to comfort her. Unable to resist the tempting smells, she dove into the barbecue shrimp.
The rich, buttery sauce coated her tongue as the spices came alive in her mouth. The shrimp were plump and tender. She moaned in ecstasy as she ate.
Mike laughed as she enjoyed her food. The sound of his laughter made her insides nice and warm.
They talked throughout dinner. As they walked back to the car, he placed his hand on the small of her back. Just this simple gesture meant so much to her. It made her feel special and protected.