Read Online Red Beans and Vice by Lou Jane Temple - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lou Jane Temple
Ads: Link
desserts, on them. Murray told him about how he was writing again on a part-time basis. Everyone was happy to have Jack back, safe and seemingly much more sound.
“I don’t want to accuse you of ulterior motives, but you don’t invite us to dinner at your restaurant on the house every day. Is something wrong?” Rabbi Michael Zedek and his wife were enjoying their dessert and coffee, having polished off a lamb shank and some hot, hacked chicken.
Heaven sat down at an empty chair at their table. “Patently transparent, eh? I love having you in the restaurant but, yes, I wanted to ask you something. I know that guy who got the genius grant and tracks the hate-crime people is your friend.”
“Howard Yukon, yes.”
“And I know that he keeps a very low profile because he gets death threats and all that stuff. I didn’t even try to look him up in the phone book. I just assumed he wouldn’t be listed.”
“No, he even keeps his residence as much of a secretas possible. It’s a classic case of killing the messenger. These groups see him on some national television show explaining that there are
x
amount of white supremacists in Missouri and
y
amount in Idaho, and they think he’s told the government their secret locations,” Rabbi Zedek said.
“Do you think you could arrange it so I could talk to him? Even over the phone would be fine. He could call me. I wouldn’t have to know his number. I could promise not to look at the caller ID. Or, we could meet in person. Whatever you think is best.”
“Will you tell me why you want to speak to him? I assure you it won’t leave this table,” the rabbi said, and his wife nodded in agreement.
“Oh, I trust you. It’s just, well, someone has written a vicious unsigned letter about Cafe Heaven and sent it around town. So far I’ve gotten one, and the health department and the
Kansas City Star
each got one too, all the same text.”
“Any ideas who sent it?”
“Haven’t a clue. That’s why I thought if I spoke to the expert, maybe he could help me figure it out.”
Rabbi Zedek shook his head. “I’m so sorry this has happened to you. The reputation of a restaurant is so delicate. Even for someone to claim they got food poisoning at a cafe can be damaging. I think Howard will want to talk to you. I’m not sure he can solve the mystery, however.”
“Have you ever been through this yourself?”
“Many times. I get vicious E-mails and snail mail all the time. Because I’m on that radio show with Father Tom and Reverend Hill, I’m the Jew that killed Christ in many people’s minds.”
“Do you ever find out who writes them?”
“E-mails are rarely rerouted, so I know where they come from. The snail mail is too much trouble to trace. Occasionally someone will become so fixated, they want you to know who they are and they confront you physically or start signing their sick work. But you should talk to Howard. He and I have a conference call with someone in California tomorrow at two. Why don’t I arrange for him to call you after that. Will you be here?”
“If Howard is calling, I’ll be here. Just let me know if for some reason he can’t. I’ll be back here in the restaurant by two if I go out to run any errands.” Heaven stood. “Have a good Passover and thanks for the help. Don’t forget you’re coming to my house on Easter.”
“We’ll be there, and thanks for dinner,” the rabbi said as he turned his attention back to the dessert plates.
H eaven was in the office when Howard Yukon called, wrangling the invoices into some semblance of order for the part-time bookkeeper.
“Cafe Heaven.”
“Heaven, this is Howard Yukon. I’m here in Michael’s office and he said you’ve been the beneficiary of some unsigned mail.”
“Oh, Mr. Yukon, thank you so much for taking the time. This really is very disturbing because a restaurant just can’t have bad press.”
“Pardon me,” the voice on the other end said. “But didn’t
“I don’t want to accuse you of ulterior motives, but you don’t invite us to dinner at your restaurant on the house every day. Is something wrong?” Rabbi Michael Zedek and his wife were enjoying their dessert and coffee, having polished off a lamb shank and some hot, hacked chicken.
Heaven sat down at an empty chair at their table. “Patently transparent, eh? I love having you in the restaurant but, yes, I wanted to ask you something. I know that guy who got the genius grant and tracks the hate-crime people is your friend.”
“Howard Yukon, yes.”
“And I know that he keeps a very low profile because he gets death threats and all that stuff. I didn’t even try to look him up in the phone book. I just assumed he wouldn’t be listed.”
“No, he even keeps his residence as much of a secretas possible. It’s a classic case of killing the messenger. These groups see him on some national television show explaining that there are
x
amount of white supremacists in Missouri and
y
amount in Idaho, and they think he’s told the government their secret locations,” Rabbi Zedek said.
“Do you think you could arrange it so I could talk to him? Even over the phone would be fine. He could call me. I wouldn’t have to know his number. I could promise not to look at the caller ID. Or, we could meet in person. Whatever you think is best.”
“Will you tell me why you want to speak to him? I assure you it won’t leave this table,” the rabbi said, and his wife nodded in agreement.
“Oh, I trust you. It’s just, well, someone has written a vicious unsigned letter about Cafe Heaven and sent it around town. So far I’ve gotten one, and the health department and the
Kansas City Star
each got one too, all the same text.”
“Any ideas who sent it?”
“Haven’t a clue. That’s why I thought if I spoke to the expert, maybe he could help me figure it out.”
Rabbi Zedek shook his head. “I’m so sorry this has happened to you. The reputation of a restaurant is so delicate. Even for someone to claim they got food poisoning at a cafe can be damaging. I think Howard will want to talk to you. I’m not sure he can solve the mystery, however.”
“Have you ever been through this yourself?”
“Many times. I get vicious E-mails and snail mail all the time. Because I’m on that radio show with Father Tom and Reverend Hill, I’m the Jew that killed Christ in many people’s minds.”
“Do you ever find out who writes them?”
“E-mails are rarely rerouted, so I know where they come from. The snail mail is too much trouble to trace. Occasionally someone will become so fixated, they want you to know who they are and they confront you physically or start signing their sick work. But you should talk to Howard. He and I have a conference call with someone in California tomorrow at two. Why don’t I arrange for him to call you after that. Will you be here?”
“If Howard is calling, I’ll be here. Just let me know if for some reason he can’t. I’ll be back here in the restaurant by two if I go out to run any errands.” Heaven stood. “Have a good Passover and thanks for the help. Don’t forget you’re coming to my house on Easter.”
“We’ll be there, and thanks for dinner,” the rabbi said as he turned his attention back to the dessert plates.
H eaven was in the office when Howard Yukon called, wrangling the invoices into some semblance of order for the part-time bookkeeper.
“Cafe Heaven.”
“Heaven, this is Howard Yukon. I’m here in Michael’s office and he said you’ve been the beneficiary of some unsigned mail.”
“Oh, Mr. Yukon, thank you so much for taking the time. This really is very disturbing because a restaurant just can’t have bad press.”
“Pardon me,” the voice on the other end said. “But didn’t
Similar Books
