I thought I’d share this scene which was cut from the final draft of Ultimate Justice A Trey Fontaine Mystery. This scene shows the relationship between Trey Fontaine and his mother Georgia. I hope you enjoy it.
Trey changed into loose-fitting black jeans and a black tee-shirt, pulled his boots back on and headed out the door. He’d promised to meet his mom at her house. Looking at his watch, he was pretty sure of what she had in mind.
As he drove, he considered what might have happened to Samantha Warren. Assuming she ran a legitimate business and hadn’t done anything wrong, she might have learned of her daughter’s disappearance and decided to come looking for her. Or she might have met Prince Charming and decided never to return to her life as it had been.
He pulled up the long dirt drive to the front of the house and turned off the engine but didn’t move, his mind still working on the possible fate of the missing girls.
Trey looked at his mother’s home, the one she’d bought a few years ago. The perfectly groomed yard and white siding with black wood trim. That was the way he liked things. Black and white. And that was why he didn’t look forward to this visit. The only thing about Georgia Fontaine that was black and white was the outside of her home.
Trey’s mom was not the ordinary cop’s widow. She’d never re-married and he’d never even seen her with another man. As far as Trey knew, she’d never worked outside the home and for as long as he could remember, there had been a woman who came three times a week to keep the house in order.
Trey had called her Tuesday and told her he was in town on a case.
He found the door key on his ring and started to slip it into the knob. What if she’s not alone? The thought slowed him, but didn’t stop him. Whatever he found inside, he would deal with. He always had.
To his surprise, what he found was his mother standing at the sink, smoking a cigarette and gazing out the window. She wore a shiny bright blue tank top with thin straps over the shoulders and a close-fitting creme skirt that hit just above the knee. Her almost platinum hair was short style, with every hair in place. Made up to perfection. That was Mom.
“Well, it’s about time you got here. I’m starved,” she said, turning on the facet, dousing her cigarette. “Are you ready for some lunch?”
He knew what that meant. Crawdads. She slipped her feet into gold lame sandals with rhinestone-covered straps and wound her arm through his.
Georgia drove her red 57 T-Bird convertible to Willie’s Crab Shack. Trey smelled the crawfish before they reached the parking lot. His mom left the windows down and the car unlocked and they walked arm-in-arm to the dining room, the screen door slamming behind them as they entered.
There was nothing like Willie’s. Hardwood floors painted dark brown. Trey pulled out a mis-matched chair for his mom. He looked through the screen walls at the river, the water flowing gently toward the gulf.
Ceiling fans circling lazily overhead. Condiments consisting of Louisiana Hot Sauce, Reuben Peppers and Wasabi.
“Miller Lite,” his mother said.
“Hey, you’re driving,” Trey complained.
His mother unhooked the long decorative key chain from her belt loop and tossed it to him.
“Iced tea for me.” Crawfish and iced tea. Oh, well.
The waitress placed the bottle of beer, the mason jar of tea and two bowls of clarified butter on the plastic red and white checkered tablecloth. She returned with two bibs, two hand towels and a plastic tarp covered with boiled crawfish.
Both of them dug in, twisting and separating the tail from the head. Trey peeled the shell off in a circular motion to get to the sweet meat. Hot, tender and delicious. Then he pinched the tail, pulling the meat from it and discarding the shells on one side of the table. Juice ran down his arms to his elbows and puddled on the checkered plastic. His mother matched his efforts.
Despite the comfort of being back at Willie’s, he couldn’t keep his mind from returning to the missing girls. If he didn’t find something soon, this project would go back on the shelf. Not one shred of evidence had turned up to indicate foul play. Which probably meant there was nothing to find.
His mom wiped her face and took a long pull of beer, then grabbed another crawfish and repeated the shelling procedure. The beer made his mouth water but not enough to drink and drive. He swigged his tea and dug into the pile.
Shifting in his seat caused pain to shoot in all directions, but his mom didn’t know about his being wounded and he intended to keep it that way so he masked his moan of pain with closed eyes and noisy chewing. Even as good as Willie’s mudbugs were, they didn’t make him forget the sting.
Now that he’d spent some time with his mom, he could leave town without guilt and go back to New Orleans. A few more days of searching for the first piece of evidence in a possible case. With each new bit of information, Trey felt more sure there was really nothing to investigate. This assignment was a compromise to allow him to be on duty and not sit at a desk. It was the only way he could return to work.
Was there a killer on the loose, abducting young women, making them disappear? Or had Trey been sent on the proverbial wild goose chase to re-direct his energies and get his mind off the old case that occasionally tore open his soul?