Creole Belle (Dave Robicheaux 19)

Though my description of that peculiar moment in my career as a police officer is probably not of much significance now, I must add a caveat. If one loses his life at the hands of another, he would like to believe his sacrifice is in the service of a greater cause. He would like to believe that he has left the world a better place, that because of his death at least one other person, perhaps a member of his family, will be spared, that his grave will reside in a green arbor where others will visit him. He does not want to believe that his life was made forfeit because he offended someone’s vanity and that his passing, like that of almost all who die in wars, means absolutely nothing.

One day after Clete’s visit, Alafair, my adopted daughter, brought me the mail and fresh flowers for the vase in my window. My wife, Molly, had stopped at the administrative office for reasons I wasn’t aware of. Alafair’s hair was thick and black and cut short on her neck and had a lustrous quality that made people want to touch it. “We’ve got a surprise for you,” she said.

“You going to take me sac-a-lait fishing?”

“Dr. Bonin thinks you can go home next week. He’s cutting down your meds today.”

“Which meds?” I said, trying to hold my smile in place.

“All of them.”

She saw me blink. “You think you still need them?” she said.

“Not really.”

She held her eyes on mine, not letting me see her thoughts. “Clete called,” she said.

“What about?”

“He says you told him Tee Jolie Melton came to see you at two in the morning.”

“He told you right. She left me this iPod.”

“Dave, some people think Tee Jolie is dead.”

“Based on what?”

“Nobody has seen her in months. She had a way of going off with men who told her they knew movie or recording people. She believed anything anyone told her.”

I picked up the iPod off the nightstand and handed it to Alafair. “This doesn’t belong to the nurses or the attendant or any of the physicians here. Tee Jolie bought it for me and downloaded music that I like and gave it to me as a present. She put three of her songs on there. Put the headphones on and listen.”

Alafair turned on the iPod and tapped on its face when it lit up. “What are the names of the songs?”

“I don’t remember.”

“What are they categorized as?”

“I’m not up on that stuff. The songs are in there. I listened to them,” I said.

The headphones were askew on her ears so she could listen to the iPod and talk to me at the same time. “I can’t find them, Dave.”

“Don’t worry about it. Maybe I messed up the iPod.”

She set it back on the nightstand and placed the headphones carefully on top of it, her hands moving slowly, her eyes veiled. “It’ll be good having you home again.”

“We’ll go fishing, too. As soon as we get back,” I said.

“That depends on what Dr. Bonin says.”

“What do these guys know?”

I saw Molly smiling in the doorway. “You just got eighty-sixed,” she said.

“Today?” I asked.

“I’ll bring the car around to the side entrance,” she said.

I tried to think before I spoke, but I wasn’t sure what I was trying to think about. “My meds are in the top drawer,” I said.