Sunset Limited (Dave Robicheaux 10)

I picked up the photo and looked at it again. "Where's the material on the other guy?" I asked.

"We don't know who he is. Mr. Robicheaux, I'm sorry for having given you a bad time in some of our earlier conversations."

"I'll survive," I said, and tried to smile.

"My father was killed in Korea while people like Jack Flynn were working for the Communist Party."

"Flynn wasn't a Red. He was a Wobbly."

"You could fool me. He was lucky a House committee didn't have him shipped to Russia."

Then she realized she had said too much, that she had admitted looking at his file, that she was probably committed forever to being the advocate for people whose deeds were indefensible.

"You ever sit down and talk with Megan? Maybe y'all are on the same side," I said.

"You're too personal, sir."

I raised my hands by way of apology.

She smiled slightly, then hung her bag from her shoulder and walked out of the office, her eyes already assuming new purpose, as though she were burning away all the antithetical thoughts that were like a thumbtack in her brow.

AT EIGHT-THIRTY THAT NIGHT Bootsie and I were washing the dishes in the kitchen when the phone rang on the counter.

"This is what you've done, asshole. My reputation's ruined. My job is gone. My wife has left me. You want to hear more?" the voice said.

"Guidry?" I said.

"There's a rumor going around I'm the father of a halfwit mulatto I sold to a cathouse in Morgan City. The guy who told me that said he heard it from your buddy Clete Purcel."

"Either you're in a bar or you've become irrational. Either way, don't call my home again."

"Here it is. I'll give you the evidence on Flynn's murder. I said evidence, not just information. I'll give you the shooters who did the two brothers, I'll give you the guys who almost drowned Megan Flynn, I'll give you the guy who's been writing the checks. What's on your end of the table?"

"The Iberia prosecutor will go along with aiding and abetting. We'll work with St. Mary Parish. It's a good deal. You'd better grab it."

He was quiet a long time. Outside, the heat lightning looked like silver plate through the trees.

"Are you there?" I said.

"Scruggs threatened to kill me. You got to bring this guy in."

"Give us the handle to do it."

"It was under your feet the whole time and you never saw it, you arrogant shithead."

I waited silently. The receiver felt warm and moist in my hand.

"Go to the barn where Flynn died. I'll be there in forty-five minutes. Leave the muff diver at home," he said.

"You don't make the rules, Guidry. Another thing, call her that again and I'm going to break your wagon."

I hung up, then dialed Helen's home number.

"You don't want to check in with the St. Mary sheriff's office first?" she said.

"They'll get in the way. Are you cool on this?" I said.

"What do you mean?"