Pegasus Descending (Dave Robicheaux 15)

“I can’t talk here.”

“Do you have a car?”

“No, sir.”

“I’ll come over there. Where do you want to meet?”

He didn’t reply immediately. “I just thought I should pass it on.”

“I understand that. You’re doing the right thing, partner. Just tell me where you want to meet.”

“You know the UL campus?”

“I went to school there.”

“I’ll be between Cypress Lake and the music building.”

I checked out an unmarked car, clamped a magnetized flasher on the roof, and was at the campus in under thirty minutes. I pulled into a driveway between a cypress-dotted lake and the old brick music building known as Burke Hall. I saw a kid squatted down on the bank, tossing crumbs from a hot dog bun to a school of perch that popped and roiled the surface when they took the bread. His brown hair grew on his neck and hung in his eyes, and he wore a T-shirt that was washed so thin it looked like cheesecloth hanging on his shoulders.

He rose to greet me but didn’t shake hands. Instead, he looked over his shoulder at the elevated walkway that led into the Student Union.

“You going to summer school, J.J.?” I said.

“Yeah, but I work in the cafeteria, too. A lot of guys take off for the summer, but I want to get through premed early so’s I can go on to Tulane. I got a scholarship through the Naval ROTC program there.”

He had clean features and brown eyes that were too large for his face and a pronounced Cajun accent. He looked back over his shoulder again. Through the cypress trees I could see kids walking in and out of the building.

“No one is paying any attention to us, J.J. Want to tell me what this is about? My boss doesn’t want me gone from the office too long.” I tried to smile.

“I was studying across the hallway from Slim and Tony’s room the day Tony got murdered. Our doors were open and I could hear them talking about the guy who was run over on the road. Slim kept calling him ‘the wino.’ He said the wino died ’cause he walked out in front of a car.”

“Tony’s car?”

J.J. thought about it. “No, he said ‘a car.’ Slim said winos walked out in front of cars all the time and got killed and nobody cared. Then Tony said, ‘That’s not what happened, Slim.’”

He blew out his breath.

“What else did they say?”

“Nothing. Slim closed the door. Slim’s a rough guy. He’s not supposed to have the top room, but nobody says anything about it.”

I gave him my business card. “If you remember anything else, call me again, will you? But right now it’s important to remember you did the right thing. You don’t have any reason to feel guilty or ashamed or afraid. Do you know where Slim Bruxal is now?”

“He was back at the house this morning. He said he’d been in New Orleans with a girl.”

“Slim’s at the house now?”

“Far as I know. Am I going to have to testify in court?”

“I’m not sure. Would you be willing to do that?”

He cleared his throat and didn’t answer.

“Did you know Yvonne Darbonne?” I asked.

“She came to the house with Tony once or twice. At least I think it was with Tony. I really didn’t know her.” He looked at me briefly, then his eyes left mine. The wind was cool blowing through the cypress trees on the lake, but his skin was flushed, his forehead shiny with perspiration.

“What are you not telling me?” I said.