A Morning for Flamingos (Dave Robicheaux 4)

"Get me out of here, man. The tide's coming in," he said.

I climbed hurriedly up the steps, got the jack and a three-battery flashlight out of the equipment box in the bed of my truck, made my way back across the footbridge, and climbed back down into the engine room. I clicked on the flashlight and balanced it on a step so that the beam struck the hull above where Boggs was pinned. His skin looked bone-white against the blackness of the water.

I wedged the base of the jack between the tilted floor and the side of the hull and fitted the handle into the ratchet socket. I snugged the top of the jack against the engine block and started pumping the handle.

"Come on, Boggs, talk to me. It's not a time to hold back," I said.

He strained his chin upward to keep it out of the water.

"The colored kid didn't kill the redbone. Fuck, man, get the sonofabitch off me," he said.

"Who did?"

"The woman did."

"Which woman?"

"Mama Goula. Who do you think, man?"

"How do you know this, Jimmie Lee?"

"I was out there. The redbone was under the bus, banging on the brake drums, yelling at the kid. The bus fell on him and the kid took off running. Come on, man, I'm busted up inside."

"Keep talking to me, Jimmie Lee."

"Mama Goula had brought some chippies out to the camp. She found the redbone and poked the rag down his throat with her thumb."

I felt the engine block move slightly; then the jack handle slipped out of the socket and my knuckles raked against the hull. Boggs pushed with both hands against the block, his neck cording with the strain.

"Hang on," I said, and reset the jack flush against the hull with the other end inserted against the engine's crankshaft. I jacked the handle slowly with both hands, a notch at a time, to try to move the engine's weight back on Boggs's legs so he could sit up higher out of the water.

"Why did she want to kill Hipolyte?" I said.

"She didn't want to split the action. It was a perfect chance to clip the redbone. She knew everybody would blame the kid. Fuck, hurry up, man."

"Why would they blame Tee Beau?"

"The redbone was queer for him. He wanted to make the kid his punk."

I eased the jack up another notch, saw it shift the block perhaps a half inch, and then I clicked it up another notch. It popped loose from the crankshaft with such force that it broke through the water's surface like a spring. Boggs's mouth opened breathlessly.

"You sonofabitch, you're gonna tear my insides out," he said.

"Listen, I've got to find a piece of hose or some pipe."

"What?" His eyes were filled with fright.

"I've got to get you something to breathe through."

"No! You get that jack under the block."

I held it up in my hand.

"It's stripped, Boggs," I said.

"Oh man, don't tell me that."

"Come on, we're not finished yet. I'll be ri