The room was silent, the air-conditioning almost frigid. The sunlight through the slatted blinds was eye-watering.
"All right, forget the suspension and IA stuff. See me before you go into St. Mary Parish again. In the meantime, you find out why Cisco Flynn thinks he can bring his pet sewer rats into Iberia Parish… Helen, you depersonalize your attitude toward the perps, if that's possible."
"The sewer rats?" I said.
He filled his pipe bowl from a leather pouch and didn't bother to look up until we were out of the room.
THAT EVENING CLETE PURCEL parked his Cadillac convertible under the shade trees in front of my house and walked down to the bait shop. He wore a summer suit and a lavender shirt with a white tie. He went to the cooler and opened a bottle of strawberry soda.
"What, I look funny or something?" he said.
"You look sharp."
He drank out of the pop bottle and watched a boat out on the bayou.
"I'll treat y'all to dinner at the Patio in Loreauville," he said.
"I'd better work."
He nodded, then looked at the newscast on the television set that sat above the counter.
"Thought I'd ask," he said.
"Who you going to dinner with?"
"Megan Flynn."
"Another time."
He sat down at the counter and drank from his soda. He drew a finger through a wet ring on the wood.
"I'm only supposed to go out with strippers and junkies?" he said.
"Did I say anything?"
"You hide your feelings like a cat in a spin dryer."
"So she's stand-up. But why's she back in New Iberia? We're Paris on the Teche?"
"She was born here. Her brother has a house here."
"Yeah, he's carrying weight for a psychopath, too. Why you think that is, Clete? Because Cisco likes to rehabilitate shank artists?"
"I hear Helen be
at the shit out of Boxleiter with a slapjack. Maybe he's got the message and he'll get out of town."
I mopped down the counter and tossed the rag on top of a case of empty beer bottles.
"You won't change your mind?" he said.
"Come back tomorrow. We'll entertain the bass."
He made a clicking sound with his mouth and walked out the door and into the twilight.
AFTER SUPPER I DROVE over to Mout' Broussard's house on the west side of town. Cool Breeze came out on the gallery and sat down on the swing. He had removed the bandage from his cheek, and the wound he had gotten at the jail looked like a long piece of pink string inset in his skin.
"Doctor said I ain't gonna have no scar."