Robicheaux (Dave Robicheaux 21)

“You’re an intelligent, educated man, Dave. But you don’t listen. Jimmy Nightingale is going to cause a lot of harm in the world.”

“You should know. The guy in the backseat gave him his start in politics.”

“Well, Tony doesn’t feel that way now.”

“Quit lying to yourself,” I said. “Lie to yourself and you’re never the same again.”

“Say anything of me you wish. I’m going to bring Nightingale down.”

“What you’re doing is serving a diseased fat slob with a penis for a brain.”

“What was that?” Tony said.

“I’m glad you dropped by,” I replied. “I’ve had a problem of conscience about you.”

His face looked like a bowl of mashed potatoes. He took a hit from his oxygen cup. Rowena sat next to him, obviously embarrassed. A movie star whose name I won’t use sat in the shadows, a champagne glass balanced on his knee. He was handsome in the way that superficial people are, his jaw firm, his teeth capped, his manner easy and detached, as though a greater world awaited his presence.

“What’s this about conscience?” Tony said.

“I think you’re in danger,” I said. “I think the guy who took out Maximo and JuJu and Pookie Domingue has you on his list.”

“People love me. Why’s this guy want to hurt me?”

“Why’d he want to clip Maximo and JuJu?” I said.

“They had enemies. I’m not the only guy they worked for.”

“The killer has a fifty-caliber sniper rifle, Tony. It has a box magazine that holds ten rounds. It’s accurate for a mile. I’d stay indoors if I were you.”

“Hey, Levon, let’s get out of here,” Tony said. “This guy is nuts.”

“Nightingale is behind this, Dave,” Levon said.

“Yeah, I heard he invented original sin, too,” I replied.

“Good line,” he said. “Check with you later.”

“Alafair made a choice against my wishes,” I said. “Treat her right.”

Levon tried to smile and let the remark pass, but there was no hiding the injury in his eyes.

One hour later, he was back in our yard on foot, drunk, his coat gone, his sleeves rolled. “You don’t think I’d treat Alafair right?” he said. “Where do you get off with that?”

I turned on the gallery light and went down the steps. Alafair stood in the doorway.

“Lose the attitude,” I said.

“You’re accusing me of dishonorable conduct.”

“This isn’t about you. It’s about my daughter.”

“She’s a grown woman.”

“Not for me. Not for any father. This isn’t 1865. Pull your head out of your ass.”

“You’re wrong,” he said.

“Wrong about what?”