Black Cherry Blues (Dave Robicheaux 3)

“How come?”

“It’s a waste of time.”

“Sometime you gotta try, yeah.”

“There weren’t any identifiable prints on the package except yours and mine.”

I could see in his face that he didn’t understand.

“There’s nothing to tell the FBI,” I said. “I would only create paperwork for them and irritate them. It wouldn’t accomplish anything. There’s nothing I can do.”

“So you want get mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you. Listen—”

“What?”

“I want her to stay with you tonight. I’ll pick her up in the morning and take her to school.”

“What you gonna do, you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I been knowing you a long time, Dave. Don’t tell me that.”

“I’ll tell Clarise to pack her school clothes and her pajamas and toothbrush. There’s still one boat out. Lock up as soon as it comes in.”

“Dave—”

But I was already walking up toward the house in the light, sun-spangled rain, in the purple shadows, in the breeze that smelled of wet moss and blooming four-o’clocks.

It was cool and stil

l light when I stopped on the outskirts of Lafayette and called Dixie Lee at the hospital from a pay phone. I asked him where Vidrine and Mapes were staying.

“What for?” he said.

“It doesn’t matter what for. Where are they?”

“It matters to me.”

“Listen, Dixie, you brought me into this. It’s gotten real serious in the last two days. Don’t start being clever with me.”

“All right, the Magnolia. It’s off Pinhook, down toward the river. Look, Dave, don’t mess with them. I’m about to go bond and get out of here. It’s time to ease off.”

“You sound like you’ve found a new confidence.”

“So I got friends. So I got alternatives. Fuck Vidrine and Mapes.”

The sun was red and swollen on the western horizon. Far to the south I could see rain falling.

“How far out are these guys willing to go?” I said.

He was quiet a moment.

“What are you talking about?” he said.

“You heard me.”