Copyright ©2011 by Creole Gaudet. All rights reserved.
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Vieux Carré is the continuous story of John Montenet, the last descendant of an extremely wealthy and influential New Orleans Creole family whose origins trace back to West Africa by way of Haiti, is a middle-aged former Detective of the New Orleans Police Department.
Rotting with guilt and haunted by a broken promise he’d made to his dying wife, John, with an unrelenting fervor and determination, has set out to avenge the brutal and vicious murder of his teen daughter by a mysterious serial killer.
PROLOGUE
APRIL 8, 2006
SHULMAN’S COMMUNITY FOOD MARKET – 4:16 p.m.
She moved instinctively and efficiently as she dragged the items one by one from the humming conveyor, slowing only for the audible confirmation of the laser scanner before sliding them onto the holding shelf for bagging.
In her slim-fit blue denims and black running shoes, she stood nearly five feet five.
Her curvy hips and bulging breasts beneath her smock gave only a slight intimation as to her shapely figure.
Her cherry red lips, puffed and pillowed, were a Palicourea elata in bloom. Below her thick, naturally arched eyebrows were a pair of penetrating but soft and inviting green eyes that contrasted beautifully with her light brown skin.
Reflecting brightly off the rows of neon tubes filling the ceiling was the glossy white acrylic name tag pinned to her left lapel. Etched in black below the company’s pale green scripted logo was the name Darlene.
Shuleman’s Community Food Market was established in the early twentieth century by Ansel Shulman and his wife, Claudia, who were the children of German immigrants who had come to New Orleans.
It was built as a box-type construction at the corner of St. Claude and Elysian Fields Avenues, just on the edge between the city’s seventh and eighth wards.
Started as a mom and pop grocery store, it’d grown into a small supermarket, unfailingly stocked with fresh meats, rows of can goods, rice, beans, fresh fruits, vegetables, and baked breads of all sorts.
In the late sixties, the addition of air conditioning was a pleasant change, as were the sliding glass doors to the front and rear entrances, along with the paved parking lot out back.
They’d even installed a deli with seating. Over the years, this had become a lunch-time custom of the laborers who worked in the area.
With the coming of the civil rights movement and the integration of public schools on the horizon, the Shulmans, like so many other families of means, had moved into a two-story brick home in an all-white suburb west of the city called Metairie.
In an effort to save face, they’d hired and maintained black managers, but only of Creole descent. Because of their complexion, some were often mistaken for white; they were a perfect homogeneity for the mixed race community.
Non-Creole blacks were just as educated, ambitious, and well-spoken, but could not make as easy a transition into the mainstream.
The store was now run by fifth generation, Randy Shulman Jr. His father had retired in 2005, just after the devastation of Hurricane Katrina. He was too far in age to try and rebuild the family business, so he’d left it up to his son to continue.
However, Randy was different. He didn’t have the same work ethic of the Shulmans before him or an interest in the day-to-day commitment required of a business owner. He’d hired Ronald Stevens, Mr. Ron as he was called by the employees, as the manager.
Mr. Ron was a very short, pear-shaped man who’d developed strabismus at the age of three. He also suffered from chronic halitosis and seborrhoeic dermatitis of the scalp that blanketed his shoulders with large flaky deposits from his graying, wavy hair.
He maintained a body odor that was reined in only by the heavy scent of deodorant on the verge of breach. His teeth were a cheesy yellow with a dense calculus accumulation and inflamed gingiva. His face was peppered with blackheads; the majority embedded in the tip of his nose and along the rim of his lips.
Being found guilty of professional malpractice along with ethics violations, Ronald Stevens had lost his CPA license.
It was a perfect partnership for him and Randy. With Ronald cooking the books, Randy was able to shave profits from his parents and avoid paying actual taxes due.
In exchange, Mr. Ron was given total control of the store, which he took full advantage of.
Darlene was born Darlene Oubre and had grown up in the neighborhood. She’d been employed at Shulman’s for three years since graduating from high school.
She was extra jubilant. It was her twenty-first birthday and she was anxious to see what her husband Warren had for her at home.
The year before, Warren had unexpectedly surprised her with a bouquet of flowers. She was at the register when he’d arrived with them, causing quite a stir.
Warren Goins stood six feet two with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. He was medium brown, handsome and sported a neat Ivy League.
The ladies had circled around the couple, congratulating Darlene and giving Warren flirtatious looks.
There was plenty of witty commentary and slight sexual overtures along with light fingertip touches to Warren’s forearms and biceps.
Darlene was terribly embarrassed but loved the attention.
This did not sit well with Mr. Ron. It was his first time seeing Warren, and it had stopped him in his tracks.
He’d watched the scene, leering with a resentful discontent. He turned away, made a half step, stopped, looked again, then stormed off into his office, slamming the door behind him.
Creole Gaudet
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