Read Quint Mitchell 01 - Matanzas Bay for Free Online Page A

puckey, then leaned in to me, placing a wrinkled hand on my arm. “But you better not let Jeffrey hear you talkin’ like that. He’s totally against this project and against Kurtis Laurance. You don’t want to be sent home without your supper, do you?”
    “Actually, he knows where I stand. He agrees the Matanzas Bay project probably makes good economic sense for the city, but, of course, not with a contemporary high rise.”
    “It will suck the character right out of this city,” Poe yelled from the kitchen.
    I didn’t realize he’d been listening. Attempting to change the subject, I raised my voice and asked Poe, “Do you have any new digs coming up, doc?”
    “A small excavation at Trinity Episcopal Parish next week. I could use another hand.”
    From my previous visits, I knew Poe preferred for his guests to leave him alone while he cooked, but the mouth-watering aroma wafting over us pulled me into the kitchen. “Count me in for a few days,” I said, referring to the dig. “God, that smells good. What is it?”
    He muscled an oversized cast-iron skillet from the stove to a side table holding four cream-colored bowls. “Gail’s Jambalaya. It’s the most fantastic thing you ever put in your mouth,” he said, spooning steaming heaps into the bowls. “Do me a favor and herd the others into the dining room while I finish what I’m doing.”
    While I did the herding, Eleanor returned, the smell of smoke trailing after her. “You’re just in time,” Henderson said. “Our master’s voice is beckoning us to dinner.”
    It turned out to be a New Orleans-themed meal including red beans and rice with beer bread topped off with strawberry beignets and chicory coffee.
    After dinner, as we nursed our coffee, I asked Poe if he’d dug up anything interesting lately. Poe’s downtown office overflowed with artifacts waiting to be catalogued, and he had a habit of carrying some of the better ones home so they wouldn’t be lost or damaged.
    Poe’s eyes glittered with excitement as he jumped to his feet. “You won’t believe what we found.”
    “Oh, God, Jeffrey. I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night.” Eleanor used Poe’s arm to pull herself to her feet. “You’re a dear for inviting me, but this old broad needs her rest.”
    “Are you sure?” Poe asked.
    “The meal was delicious. You boys have fun.” Eleanor winked at me. “And you, sonny …” She searched for a name. “I’m sorry, my memory isn’t what it used to be.”
    “Quint,” I said.
    “Quint. Yes. Quint, if I was thirty years younger, I’d be all over your bones.” She leaned over and planted a soggy kiss on my lips before departing, looking like a geriatric version of Mrs. Robinson.
    Everyone got a charge out of that.
    Poe jumped in to help me out. “Do you want to see my new find or not?”
    We followed Poe into a spare bedroom lined with wide shelves. The shelves held an assortment of labeled boxes as well as a patchwork of earthenware bowls, buckles, and twisted iron spikes. A warped and scarred workbench stacked with boxes and trays of artifacts dominated the middle of the room. Laid out on the table were pieces of glazed dishes in varying patterns and colors as well as a remarkably intact rust-colored cook pot. Poe put his hand on the pot and beamed.
    “We found this at the San Juan del Puerto mission site. Isn’t it a beauty?”
    Everyone agreed.
    Henderson waved his arm at the table full of artifacts. “If I didn’t know better, Jeffrey, I’d say you’re almost as big a packrat as I am.” He’d been drinking heavily the entire evening and his words came out as Isay yolmos asbigga packra’ as I’m .
    The old poet leaned on his cane with one hand and with the other reached toward a second box nearly toppling it from the table. “Hey, this ‘ould commin handy for filletin’ catfish,” he slurred.
    Grimes and Poe moved in unison. Grimes grabbed the box before it tumbled to the floor. Poe snatched a