Robicheaux (Dave Robicheaux 21)

“Sex,” she said. “When somebody does a number like that on a woman, it’s sex.”

I drove to the camp up the road where the little girl was waiting for me with her mother on a screened-in gallery. Their clothes were damp from the mist blowing through the screen.

“Can we go inside?” I said.

“Yes, suh, we just didn’t want to miss you,” the mother said. She was overweight and wore a dress and a man’s shirt with cutoff sleeves.

We went inside the small living room. The owners were gone.

“What happened to your employer?” I asked.

“Mr. Vidrine was upset,” the woman replied. “He said this ain’t suppose to be happening down here.”

I asked the little girl her name, then asked her to describe the man who carried a gun.

“His mouth was real red,” she said. “His name was Smiley.”

“What did his rifle look like?”

“It had a telescope on top and a can on the front.”

“What’d he say to you?”

“He told me the story of where flying fish come from. Sharks was always chasing and eating them, then a magic lady under the sea gave them wings so they could pop out of the waves and fly away.”

“That’s a pretty good story,” I said.

“It wasn’t him killed them people, huh?” she said.

“We’re not sure, Loretta. Did Smiley tell you where he was going or where he lives?”

“No, suh.”

“What kind of car did he have?”

“It was blue.”

I asked about the license and the model, but these were not the kinds of things a child her age would take note of.

“Maybe the man in the car that passed him might know,” she said.

“Which man? What car?”

“It was purple,” she said. “What do you call them kind? The top is like canvas.”

“A convertible.”

“I seen Smiley drive up the road in his li’l blue car. The convertible drove down to the point. Then the convertible come back up the road and I didn’t see it no more.”

“Think hard, Loretta. What did the man in the convertible look like?”

“I couldn’t see good. It was raining,” she replied. “He was big and had on a li’l hat.”

I stared at the mist and fog rolling off the bay, the bolts of lightning that flickered like snakes’ tongues in the clouds. What in God’s name are you doing, Clete? I thought.

“Can we go, suh?” the mother said. “I got to go home and fix supper.”

“Yes, y’all have been very helpful. Thank you,” I said.