A Private Cathedral (Dave Robicheaux 23)
“Cried? With tears?”
“He said he could never make up for what he did to me. That was when he reached out his hand. It looked like a claw. It had scales on it. The nails were pointed. I could smell him. The odor was like mold.”
“Did anyone else see him?”
“No one. You don’t believe me?”
“You bet I do.”
“He said something that’s really crazy—that I’m already part of his world. He said I leave my body in the dark hours, but I have no memory of the deeds I do. He said eventually, my body will go with my spirit, and then I’ll be gone entirely.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I can’t leave. That I have Elizabeth to take care of. That’s when I called you.”
Her cell phone chimed inside her wash-faded jeans. She worked it out of her pocket and opened it. “You want to take it or not?” she said.
* * *
I WALKED DOWN TO the water with the phone to my ear. “Is that you, Mr. Robicheaux?” Gideon said.
“You’re scaring the hell out of a nice lady, bud.”
“That’s not my intention.”
“My friend Clete Purcel may be in a lot of trouble for busting up a guy you dragged into our lives.”
“Mr. Bottoms?”
“Correct,” I said.
“He’s no longer a problem for either you or Mr. Purcel.”
“What did you do to him?”
“He’s not your business any longer. The Jewish woman is. She’s halfway between my world and yours. It was she who saved Mr. Purcel’s life.”
“You cut this stuff out. I don’t want to hear it anymore. Father Julian may have had LSD in his icebox. Did you have anything to do with that?”
“I’m his friend.”
“I don’t think he would see it that way.”
“The problem you have, Mr. Robicheaux, is your lack of belief. You do not trust your eyes or ears. That’s going to change.”
“How?” I said.
“I will prove to you how all this is real. On Bayou Teche there is a special place where an event occurred with your father and you many years ago. You have never told anyone else about either the place or the event, have you?”
“No.”
“Go there at eleven o’clock tonight.”
“Hold on.”
“What is it?”
“Are you from hell?”