A Morning for Flamingos (Dave Robicheaux 4)

"I have to go to the doctor's at ten tomorrow morning to get my stitches out. Have somebody at his office." I gave him the address.

"Then that's about it for right now," he said.

"Minos, there's one other thing that bothers me. Maybe I imagine it."

"What?"

"Sometimes it's like he knows I'm still a cop. Like maybe he wants to take a fall."

"Who knows? A guy who shoots speed into his arm made a contract to destroy himself a long time ago. They all flame out one way or another. Who cares how they do it? Hang loose," he said, and hung up.

That night I was watching television on sun porch with Tony and Paul when the phone rang in the kitchen and the Negro houseman told me that I had a call. I picked the receiver up off the Formica counter. sat down on a stool, and put it to my ear. The counter gave onto the porch, and I could see Tony's and Paul's faces in the illumination of the television screen.

"Hello," I said.

"Dave, it's Clete. Are you where you can talk?"

"We're watching television."

"I dig you. Just listen, then. That redheaded broad just called me at the club. From what I get, somebody beat the shit out of her. She wants to see you, but she doesn't want Cardo to know about it."

"Uh-huh," I said.

"She wouldn't tell me much. She sounds like one scared broad. She's staying at a friend's place out in Metairie. I've got the address."

"I see."

"Cardo's right there?"

"That's right."

"Look, pick me up at the bar, and we'll drive out there tonight. Tell Tony you're lending me some money, I'm having trouble meeting the vig with one of his shylocks. He'll buy that. I owe those fuckers five large."

"All right, Cletus. I'll see what I can do."

I hung up the receiver and sat back down in front of the television set. I brushed at my pants leg distractedly.

"What's the trouble?" Tony said.

"Oh, nothing, really. Clete's having some money problems. He gets a little strung out sometimes. I guess I'd better go see him. Would it bother you if I came in late?"

"No, here's the house key. Just tell the guys at the gate you'll be back late so they won't think it's somebody else, you know what I mean?"

"I'll be quiet coming in."

"Sure, don't worry about it. Somebody's squeezing your friend?"

"A little problem with the vigorish."

"Tell him to come see me about it. Maybe I can work it out."

"That's good of you, Tony."

It took me a half hour to drive to the bar on Decatur. Clete was waiting for me under the colonnade. It had started to mist, and he wore a brown raincoat over his sports jacket. I pulled to the curb, and he jumped in the truck. He read me the address in Metairie off a folded piece of paper, and I headed out of the Quarter toward Interstate 10.

"Who beat her up?" I said.

"She wouldn't say."