A Morning for Flamingos (Dave Robicheaux 4)

"Why didn't she want Tony to know about it?"

"I didn't ask her. Dave, are you making it with her?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I told you no."

"You didn't have just one flop in the hay with her?"

"You heard what I said, Clete."

"Yeah, well, usually broads like that get remodeled after they let the wrong guy in the bread box. She called for you, not Cardo. What should I conclude on that, Streak? Or am I just full of shit?"

"I didn't talk to her. I don't know what happened. And you're pissing me off."

We were silent in the cab of the truck. It started to rain harder, and I turned on the windshield wipers.

"I'm just trying to help, believe it or not," he said.

"I know that, Clete."

"I'm backing your play, and I don't care if I get paid for it or not."

"What do you mean?" I looked over at him. Rainy patterns of light ran down his face.

"I didn't get any bucks from the DEA this week. I called Dautrieve, and he said I was terminated."

"Are you kidding?"

"Wait a minute, don't get heated up. He said some other guys made the decision. He didn't have any control over it."

"He should have told me."

"Maybe he didn't have a chance to. Fuck it. Look, there's our exit up there. Welcome to Metairie, the only town in the United States to elect a Ku Klux Klansman and American Nazi as its state representative. What a depressing shithole. This place makes you think maybe the white race ought to be picking the cotton."

"I've got to have a talk with Minos."

"Talk all you want to. When you deal with the feds, you're dealing with people whose thought patterns are printed on computer chips. Besides, they all smell like mouthwash. Did you ever trust a guy who smells like mouthwash?"

She opened the apartment door on the night chain. She had on a short-sleeved terry cloth robe. Her right eye was a purple knot, and there was still a crust of dried blood in one nostril. She slipped the chain loose and opened the door wide. Her arms were streaked with yellow and purple bruises, the kind that a man's clenched hand leaves. I could smell the Mentholatum that she had smeared on her skin. She closed the door and locked it again as soon as we were inside.

"I thought maybe you wouldn't come," she said.

"Why?" I said.

"I don't know, it was just what I thought." She talked carefully, as though the inside of her mouth were hurt. "There's some beer and pop in the refrigerator if you want some."

"Who did it, Kim?" I said.

"Jimmie Lee Boggs."

"When?"

"This morning. Just after I got up. I opened the door to get the newspaper and he hit me in the face and knocked me back inside the room. I never had anybody hit me like that. I didn't believe anyone could hit that hard."

I could hear the humiliation in her voice, see the shame in her face. I had seen the same look of debasement in victims of violence many times, and it was almost impossible to convince them that they were not deserving of their fate. I could feel Clete's awkwardness next to me.