“I want to fingerprint his wife. I think she may have been an accomplice.”
“I’m not convinced Levon is guilty, much less his wife.” I could feel her resentment coming through the phone. I tried again. “What makes you suspicious about his wife?”
“Her general attitude. I think she needs a flashlight shined up her ass.”
How about that?
“Did you hear me?” she said.
“Absolutely.”
“Absolutely what?”
“That I heard you,” I said.
“What’s your problem?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Are you pissed off because of Clete and me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“We called it off. That’s why you’ve got your tally whacker in the hay baler?”
“I’ll talk with Levon, Ms. Picard.”
“Detective Picard.”
I softly replaced the receiver in the cradle.
* * *
THE PHONE RANG three minutes later. I thought she was calling back. I felt embarrassed as I picked up the receiver and wished I hadn’t hung up on her. Surprise time.
“I heard you used to live in New Or-yuns,” a voice said. “You were a police officer in the Quarter.”
I sat up in my chair. “That’s right.”
“I had an artist friend who knew you. He painted people’s pictures in Jackson Square. He said you were an honest police officer.”
I waved my arm at a cop in uniform passing in the hallway. He looked through the glass. I pointed at the receiver. He nodded and disappeared down the hallway.
“What’s your name?” I said. “I’ll help you if I can.”
“I think you know who I am.”
“Not for sure. Are you visiting in New Iberia?”
“Some people call me Smiley.”
“That doesn’t ring bells.”
“I want to ask you a question.”
“Yes, sir, go right ahead.”
Helen was at the glass in my door now. I mouthed the word “Smiley.”