Clete opened the top on his grill and let a cloud of white smoke rise into the trees. He pulled a longneck from a tub full of half-melted ice and twisted the cap off and set it on the picnic table. “Sit down. I’m going to fix you a sandwich. Dave Robicheaux told me he went to see you. Why don’t you talk to him?”
“He’s a policeman.”
“Axel Devereaux beat you up?”
“You ain’t hearing me.” She sat at the table and put her hands over her face. “Don’t nobody hear me. Don’t nobody know what it’s like when you’re on your own against the world.”
Clete picked up the longneck and touched her arm with it. “Drink it.”
Her hand was shaking when she lifted the bottle; the beer spilled out of her mouth. He handed her a paper towel. “Who’s this guy getting in your head?”
She wiped her chin. “I only went to the ninth grade.”
“So?”
“I know what I’m t’inking is the troot, except I cain’t find the right words for it. When I’m wit’ him, I got no power. I get weak all over. The way he touches me and talks in my ear and looks in my eyes like no man done before. It’s like he’s putting pictures in my head that ain’t supposed to be there, and it makes me scared. I cain’t sleep, no.”
“Is this a white or a black man?”
“A black man might hit you, but he don’t mess up your head.”
“He’s not a pimp?”
“No, he ain’t nothing like that.”
Clete sliced the roast and layered two pieces of French bread on a paper plate with meat and sauce and tomatoes and lettuce and onions and set it in front of her.
“I ain’t hungry,” she said.
“Eat it anyway.”
“You ain’t gonna he’p, are you.”
“Tell me the guy’s name, and we might get somewhere.”
“He tole me I ain’t supposed to do that. He held my chin wit’ his fingers and looked into my eyes when he said it.”
“This guy sounds like a real piece of shit. Tell me who he is and I’ll dial him up.”
“He said I’m a chalice. I got to be pure ’cause I’m chosen. Chosen for what?”
“Did you ask him that?”
“I was afraid.”
“Listen to me, Miss Hilary. You’re giving me half the story and not trusting me with the other half.”
He waited for her to speak. She took a small bite from her sandwich and chewed as though it were cardboard. Then she took the food out of her mouth and put it on the plate. “I’m gonna be sick.”
“Is he a client?”
“Not in a reg’lar way.”
“You don’t get it on with him?”
“He gives me money and t’ings. Once he axed me to rub his back.”
“Where did you meet this guy?”