Robicheaux (Dave Robicheaux 21)

“Is that a gun?”

“A .357.”

“You’re the cleaner, aren’t you.”

Chester didn’t answer.

“I’m not tied up with anybody,” Spade said. “You got no beef with me.”

“You’ve done bad things.”

“Who sent you? Just tell me. I’ll square it.”

“You sent me.”

“You’re talking in riddles. I didn’t do anything to anybody. You’re operating on wrong information.”

Chester set his sandwich on the nightstand with a napkin or magazine under it. “These index cards have drawings on them. They show what you made the colored ladies do.”

“What colored ladies?” Spade said.

“The ones you were cruel to.”

“Somebody’s been lying. Look, we’ve got to talk this out.”

“I have to give you the chance.”

“Chance for what?”

“To say you’re sorry.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“So you don’t want to say you’re sorry?”

“I’m ready to work with you on that. Don’t point that at me, man. Come on, you got the wrong guy. I get along with black people. I was undercover in Liberty City.”

“You made one of the ladies put her baby in the freezer. You left him in there till she agreed to do that bad thing.”

“I never did any such thing. Put down the piece.”

“You’re sure about that? Think hard. Don’t make a mistake.”

“I smoked some skunk with angel dust on it. It makes you crazy. Don’t cock that. Please.”

“Take the pillowcase off the pillow.”

“Do what?”

“Put the pillowcase over your head.”

“I’m forgetting this ever happened. I’m leaving town. I already made up my mind before you came in. Nobody will ever see me again.”

“I’m going to shoot you in the stomach unless you do what you’re told,” Chester said.

“I got a feeling you had a bad childhood, kind of like me. I grew up in the Iberville. That’s in New Orleans. My old man was a guard with the Big Stripes in Angola. He was meaner than hell to us kids.”

“I was born in New Or-yuns. The boys in the Iberville made fun of me.”