Burning Angel (Dave Robicheaux 8)
Page 32
My palms felt damp on the arms of the chair. I could feel a balloon of heat rising from my stomach into my throat.
”I never enjoyed the role of pin cushion,“ I said.
”You're being treated unfairly?“
I wiped my palms on my thighs and folded them in my lap. I looked out the window at the fronds on a palm tree lifting in the breeze.
”Somebody killed all her animals. You knew about it but you didn't report it and you went after Sweet Pea Chaisson on your own,“ he said.
”Yes, sir, that's correct.“
”Why?“
”Because some shitheads set her up for blackmail purposes.“
He brushed at the corner of his eye with his fingertip.
”I have a feeling they didn't catch her in the sack with a boyfriend,“
he said.
”The subject's closed for me, Sheriff.“
”Closed? Interesting. No, amazing.“ He swiveled his chair sideways, rocked back in it, pushing against his paunch with his stiffened fingers. ”Maybe you ought to have a little more faith in the people you work for.“
”She sent some inquiries through the federal computer. Somebody doesn't want her to pursue it,“ I said.
His eyes rested on the flowered teapot he used to water his plants, then they seemed to refocus on another concern. ”I've got the FBI bugging me about Sonny Marsallus. What's their interest in a Canal Street gum ball
“I don't know.”
“They know a lot about him and I don't think it's off a rap sheet.
Maybe he got loose from the witness protection program.”
“Sonny's not a snitch,” I said.
“Great character reference, Dave. I bet he took his grandmother to Mass, too.”
I rose from the chair. “Are you going to tell Helen about our conversation?”
“I don't know. Probably not. Just don't try to take me over the hurdles again. Were you ever mixed up in army intelligence?”
“No, why?”
“This whole thing stinks of the federal government. Can you tell me why they have to track their shit into a town that's so small it used to be between two Burma-Shave signs?”
I sat back down. “I want to get a warrant to search Sweet Pea Chaisson's car.”
“What for?”
“There's dried blood on the back floor.”
“How do you know?”
“Clete and I were inside it … Clete salted the shaft but the Lafayette cops didn't find what they were supposed to.”
“I don't believe what you're telling me.”