A Morning for Flamingos (Dave Robicheaux 4)

"Clete?"

"Yeah, he says to call him

at the bar."

"Thank you."

"Dad said we all might go to a movie tonight," Paul said.

"Well, I'm supposed to have dinner with a friend tonight."

"Oh."

"How about tomorrow night, maybe?" I said.

"Sure," he said, but I could see the disappointment in his face.

Jess wheeled him up the ramp into the house, and I used the phone in the kitchen to call Clete.

"Where are you?" Clete said.

"At Tony's."

"Can you talk, or do you want to call me back from somewhere else?"

"What is it?"

"Nate Baxter's in the bar."

"I see."

"He says he's here if you want to talk to him."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know Nate. Always looking inside his pants to make sure of his gender."

"If it makes him happy, tell him I'll be looking him up one of these days."

"He said one thing, though, that's a little bothersome. He said, 'Tell Robicheaux I know he's got the broad stashed.'"

The house was quiet except for the sound of shower water in the bathroom that adjoined Tony's bedroom.

"You there, Dave?" Clete said.

"Yes."

"It sounds like our man knows a little more than he should."

"What's he doing now?"

"Drinking at the bar."

"I'll be there in a half hour."

I told Tony that I had to run a couple of errands downtown, then I was going to Bootsie's for supper.

"Was that Bootsie on the phone?" he asked. He stood in his bedroom door, with a towel wrapped around his waist, raking the water out of his hair with a comb.