Creole Belle (Dave Robicheaux 19)

“Why doesn’t she want to do something about it?”

“Because sometimes neither she nor I trust Clete’s perceptions. Because you don’t give up your friends, no matter what they do.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

“You’re still going to the movies with her?”

“Gretchen is waiting for me at the motor court. She’s pretty angry at Clete.”

“What for?”

“Something about Varina Leboeuf. Clete was driving down to Cypremort Point to see her tonight.”

“Do you have any aspirin?” I asked.

“In the glove box. Is Gretchen involved somehow with the Dupree family?”

“It’s possible.”

“You believe Gretchen will give you a lead into the disappearance of Tee Jolie Melton and the death of her sister, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“If y’all are still in the backyard later, can I invite Gretchen to join us?”

“I don’t think that’s a real good idea.”

“I don’t believe she’s a killer. I think she has no friends and she’s lived a hard life and she feels betrayed because Clete is seeing Varina Leboeuf. Is that the kind of person our family shuts the door on? Look me in the face and tell me that, Dave. When did we start being afraid of someone who is friendless and alone?”

I felt sorry for the litigators who would have to face Alafair in a courtroom.

IN THE DARKNESS of the theater, Gretchen Horowitz sat totally still, enraptured by every detail of the film from the opening scene until the fade-out, never taking her eyes off the screen. Alafair had never seen anyone watch a film with such intensity. Even when the credits had finishing rolling, Gretchen waited until the trademark of the studio and the date of production had trailed off the screen before she allowed herself to detach. The film was Pirates of the Caribbean.

“Do you know what John Dillinger’s last words were?” she asked.

“No,” Alafair replied.

“It was in Chicago, at the Biograph Theater. He had just come out of seeing Manhattan Melodrama with the two prostitutes who sold him out to the feds. You’ve heard about the lady in red, right? Actually, she was wearing orange. Anyway, John Dillinger said, ‘Now, that’s what I call a movie.’ Did you see Public Enemies? Johnny Depp played Dillinger. God, he was great. The critics didn’t understand what the film was about, though. That’s because a lot of them are stupid. It’s a really a love story, see. John Dillinger’s girlfriend was an Indian named Billie Frechette. She was beautiful. In the last scene, the fed who shot Dillinger goes to see Billie in jail and tells her that Johnny’s last words were ‘Tell Billie bye-bye blackbird.’ That scene made me cry.”

“Why were you holding your cell phone all during the movie?” Alafair asked. “You expecting a call?”

“A guy I know in Florida is making a nuisance of himself. Did you hear what I said about Dillinger and Billie Frechette?”

“Yeah, sure.”

They were outside the theater now, not far from one of the bridges over the Teche. The air had cooled and smelled of the bayou, and on the horizon giant clouds of smoke were rising from the sugar refinery, which was lit as brightly as a battleship. “You like it here?” Gretchen asked.

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“It’s where I grew up,” Alafair said. “I was born in El Salvador. But I don’t remember much of life there, except a massacre I saw in my village.”

Gretchen stopped walking and looked at her. “No shit. You saw something like that?”

“A Maryknoll priest flew my mother and me into the country. We crashed by Southwest Pass. Somebody had put a bomb on board. My mother was killed. Dave dove down without enough air in his tank and pulled me from the wreck.”

“Is that in your book, the one that’s about to come out?”

“Some of it.”