Creole Belle (Dave Robicheaux 19)

“That’s right, you did mention something about Railroad Avenue. Leboeuf got into it with somebody?”

“You could say that. A new black pimp was working the corner wit’ a couple of rock queens. They were both white. Leboeuf t’ought he’d straighten him out.”

“No kidding?”

“A kid wit’ a slingshot fired a marble into the back of Leboeuf’s head.”

“It couldn’t happen to a more deserving guy.”

“You know what I t’ink?”

“What’s that, Wally?”

“Pretty sad, an old man full of hate like that, carrying it around all these years.”

“Don’t waste your sympathies.”

“He had a t’row-down on him.”

I stopped. “Say again?”

“He was carrying a drop. He’s retired. He don’t have no business doing that. He don’t like you, Dave. I wouldn’t want a man like that mad at me, no.”

I went to my office and called Varina at her father’s home on Cypremort Point.

“Oh, you again. How nice of you to call,” she said.

“Your father is obviously having some kind of breakdown. Either get him under control or we’ll lock him up,” I said.

“He’s taking a nap now and he’s fine, no thanks to you.”

“I saw him earlier today in Lafayette. I think he was following me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. He had a medical appointment there,” she said.

“Think back, Varina. My family and I have done nothing to harm you. I tried to be your friend. Alafair popped you in the mouth, but only after you verbally abused her friend. Isn’t it time to man up, or woman up, or whatever you want to call it, and stop blaming others for your problems?”

“I can’t express how I feel about you,” she replied.

So much for the Aquinian advice about erring on the side of charity, I thought.

HELEN CALLED ME from outside the IC unit in Shreveport where her half sister was hospitalized and asked how everything was going in the department. Obviously, she was asking how everything was going with me and Clete and Gretchen Horowitz and my circular and unproductive investigation into the murder of Blue Melton. I didn’t know what to tell her. I didn’t want to deceive her, nor did I want to add to her troubles while she was already dealing with her half sister’s near-fatal injuries. “We’re doing okay,” I said. “When do you think you might be coming back?”

“Two or three days, I think. I get the sense you want to ask me or tell me something.”

“Jesse Leboeuf has been on a drunk and might try to square an old beef or two.”

“If you have to, put him in the jail ward at Iberia General. I’ll have a talk with him when I get back.”

“The situation with Gretchen Horowitz has gotten a little more complicated.”

“In what way?”

“She told Clete she was given a contract on me and Alafair. She was also told to clip Clete.”

“You and Clete clean this shit up, Pops. I don’t want to hear that girl’s name again.”

“Clean it up how?”