The Sound and the Furry (21 page)

Henry turned to the cop in the next-fanciest uniform. “Get an ambulance down here.
Find out what the barista downstairs has to say. The rest of you clear out.”

The cops cleared out. The second-fanciest one got on her phone. The rest of us—me,
Bernie, Henry—stepped into the empty hall, me arriving first after only a slight confusion.

Henry—a real big dude, in case I haven’t made that clear—gazed down at Bernie, not
something many dudes can do. “Private eyes working in my territory make me nervous,”
he said. Kind of a puzzler: nervous humans give off a sharp scent you can’t miss,
and I wasn’t detecting the least whiff coming off Henry.

“Don’t blame you,” Bernie said. “I’d be the same. But this turned out to be a detour.
We’ve been hired by some people in St. Roch to find a missing family member.”

Henry jabbed his thumb at the closed door to Mack’s room. “Not him?”

Bernie shook his head. “His best buddy.”

“Get a decent retainer?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Case doesn’t look too promising from this angle, is all,” Henry said. “Missing guy
have a name?”

“Ralph Boutette.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” Humans often said that, whether bells were ringing or not.
At the moment, I heard only two: a church bell in the distance, and one of those tinkly
bicycle bells only a few streets away. There was also a mouse in the wall, but that
went without mentioning. “Who’s your client?” Henry said.

“Sorry, Henry,” said Bernie.

Henry’s eyes didn’t look quite as friendly now. “Hoping the deceased would lead you
to Boutette?”

“That was the idea.”

“How’d you track him here?”

“On a tip.”

“From his supplier?”

“No,” Bernie said.

“Because if you can ID the dealer, I need to know,” Henry said. “Otherwise no harm
no foul, no reason for further NOPD involvement. You and I can go down something nice
and cold and rehash old times.”

“Sounds great,” said Bernie. “Have to take a rain check.” Rain check: that had confused
me so many times back home in the Valley, but now in this place made complete sense.
A breakthrough: I loved that feeling! Was I now on the way to understanding every
single thing in the whole wide world? I couldn’t think of even one tiny reason why
not. Chet the Jet!

“Sure thing,” Henry said. “But you haven’t answered the question—can you ID the scumbag
who sold that little dude in there his last fix or not?”

Bernie looked Henry in the eye and said nothing. Henry stared back at him so long
I started to get nervous myself. He shook his head.

“Hope you know what you’re doing, Bernie. Lot of crazy muthas down there on the bayou.”

“I’m learning that,” Bernie said.

They shook hands and we started walking toward the stairs.

“Better learn quick,” Henry called after us. “I’m talking about crazy swamp muthas
who still write their own rules.” He raised his voice; it followed us onto the stairs,
sort of blowing down our backs. “Where bodies get lost real, real easy. Easier than
not—hear me, you pig-headed son of a bitch?”

Downstairs the second-fanciest cop was leaning on the bar in a tired sort of way and
writing in her notebook, no one else around. She glanced over at us.

“Wish I had a dog sometimes,” she said.

“Plenty of rescues available.”

“But it’s a big responsibility.”

“I’ve never actually thought about that,” Bernie said.

The cop looked surprised. Maybe she didn’t know we were alike in some ways, me and
Bernie: some things never cross our minds.

“The captain sure seems sold on you,” she said.

“His judgment is sound in other ways,” Bernie told her. She laughed. “Find out anything
from the barista?”

“Nada,” the cop said.

“Who owns this place?”

“It’s in receivership. She thought the whole upstairs was closed off, had no clue
anyone was living up there, got pretty upset. I sent her home.” The cop took another
look at me. “What’s his name, again?”

“Chet.”

“Short for Chester?”

Whoa. Not the first time someone had run that one by us. What was wrong with plain
old Chet, pure and simple?

We got in the car, roof up, no rain. “A lot to think about, big guy,” Bernie said.

Really? I hadn’t realized that, searched my mind for a thought. After a while I found
one, a happy thought about snacks and how nice it would be if a snack or two came
into my life real soon.

“But I’d say Mack’s fear of needles would be number one, meaning a follow-up with
Cleotis in on the agenda. How about we swing by Duke’s little club on the way, maybe
check out his menu?”

Menu? Something about a menu? How could you complain in this life?

We were parking in front of the Fishhead’s sign when out the door strolled Duke, carrying
something wrapped in foil. Not just something, but steak tips cooked teriyaki style.
Smelling right through aluminum foil? It can be done. And what was this? He had a
smudge or two of what looked like teriyaki sauce on his goatee? I took that for a
good sign, no telling why.

He saw us, took a quick step forward like he was going to zoom off down the street,
then stopped and backed toward the door. We hopped out, moved toward him, the two
of us spread out a bit, just one of our techniques. Duke looked at Bernie, then me,
and back to Bernie. Which right there was why this particular technique was so much
fun: Duke couldn’t look at both of us at the same time! Meaning that while his eyes
were on Bernie, I could grab him by the pant leg before he could say Jackie Robinson,
Bernie’s favorite ballplayer, although not something I’d ever heard a perp actually
say.

“Ch—et?” Bernie said.

At that moment, I found that somehow I’d gotten close to Duke’s ankle and also that
my mouth was open pretty wide. Funny how you can be in one spot and then another,
so fast. What happens in between? A total blank! Maybe not you, speed-wise; no offense.
But when Bernie says my name like that it means whoa, so even though my teeth had
this feeling of wanting to press down on something real, real bad, a hard to describe
feeling that just won’t go away until—

“CHET!”

I backed off, even got my mouth closed, maybe not totally.

“What the hell’s with him?” Duke said.

“Nothing,” Bernie said. “What’s with you?”

“Uh, same,” said Duke. “Nothin’ much, keep on keepin’ on, like that.”

“You don’t seem happy to see us.”

A sort of smile made a wavery appearance on Duke’s face. “No, no, I’m real happy,
couldn’t be happier. Just a bit pressed for time, is all.”

Bernie gestured at the foil package. “Grub for your brother?”

“Yup.”

“Which one?”

“Huh?”

“Which brother.”

“Lord, of course,” Duke said. He shot Bernie a quick glance. “What’re you gettin’
at?”

Bernie didn’t answer right away. Duke watched him, his smile wavering away to nothing.

“Tell you what,” Bernie said. “We’ll help you.”

“Help me what?” Duke said.

“With your delivery.”

“Don’t need no help.”

“It’ll be our pleasure,” Bernie said. “But first there’s something I want you to see.”
He stepped over to the Porsche, reached under the seat, took out the thick pipe-like
gizmo we’d found in Mack’s drawer at the stilt house. “Look familiar?”

Duke eyed it and nodded. “The contraption I told you about, the one I seen on my last
visit to Ralph’s.”

“You mentioned he showed you two, very similar.”

“Yeah, but one was a piece of crap.”

“This one?”

“Beats me.”

“Take your time.”

“Huh?”

Bernie handed him the gizmo. “Give it some attention.”

“Think it’s important?” Duke said.

“I wouldn’t be subjecting my—” Bernie cut himself off. “That’s what I’m trying to
find out.”

“Okeydoke,” Duke said, turning the gizmo in his hands, peering inside. “Nope.”

“Nope what?” Bernie said.

“Nope, I can’t say which one,” Duke said. “Hey! But where’d you get it anyways?”

“Turned up in the course of the investigation,” Bernie said, taking back the gizmo.
“What else did Ralph say that day?”

“Besides being pissed that one was crap?”

“Yeah.”

Duke wrinkled up his forehead, thought for a bit. “Talked about the weather, ’member
that distinctly. Ralph said it was gonna clear up, but I said it weren’t, not with
the wind outta the east, and he said it weren’t outta the east at all, but outta—”

Bernie did the stop sign thing. “Did he say anything more
about the two pieces of equipment, such as their purpose, for example?”

“Don’t need to shout,” Duke said. “I hear pretty good, especially the left ear. Right’s
another story, all those years standing next to the drummer, back when I played bass
in a Lynyrd Skynyrd cover ba—” He caught a look in Bernie’s eye. “Nope. Nothin’ about
their purpose, nothin’ about nothin’.”

“Tell me about his friendship with Mack.”

“They’re buddies.”

“Why?”

“Why they’re buddies?”

“Right.”

“You askin’ me to explain, like, friendship between two people?”

“Exactly.”

Duke wrinkled up his forehead.

M
aybe you’ll think better if we walk and talk,” Bernie said.

“Walk where?” said Duke.

“To Lord’s place,” Bernie said. “Kill two birds with one stone.”

Even though I’d heard that one more times without result than I can count—which happened
to be two, no better number in my opinion—I couldn’t stop myself from taking a quick
scan of the sky. No birds: there never were when the two birds with one stone thing
came around.
Not going to happen, big guy.
Too bad. Bernie has a great arm, pitched for Army, as I may have mentioned, and I
had no doubt about his ability to bring down one bird. But two at once? I couldn’t
wait, even though I knew from experience that I was going to have to.

“What’s he barkin’ about?” Duke said.

Barking? Yes, I heard it, too, for sure. I glanced around, spotted no members of the
nation within.

“Probably just wants to get rolling,” Bernie said.

That again? No! What I wanted was for Bernie to pick up a rock and fling . . . But
then all of a sudden I did sort of want to get rolling. The barking stopped. We started
down the street.

“Well looka that,” Duke said. “It’s like you know what’s going on in his mind.”

“We’ve been together a long time,” Bernie said.

“Yeah? In dog years or human years?” Duke laughed.

What was funny? I didn’t get that one at all, and neither did Bernie. “Not a meaningful
distinction,” he said.

“Huh?” said Duke.

“Especially if you’re living in the now.”

“Living in the now?” Duke rubbed his goatee, the way bearded-type dudes do when they’re
digging down deep in their minds. He discovered the teriyaki smear, gazed at his fingertips,
a little confused, and then licked it off. Exactly what I would have done in his place.
Maybe Duke was all right.

“Isn’t that what life is all about down here?” Bernie was saying. “Living in the now?”