Fat Tuesday (42 page)

"Really?"

"Yeah, your brother "

"I know all about it. I spoke to Joe this morning. He told me about your frantic phone calls. I don't appreciate the fright tactic you used on him, Mac."

"I had no choice."

"So what's the crisis?"

"Goddamn it, Burke, cut the crap," Mac exclaimed."You've gone round the bend. You've kidnapped Pinkie Duvall's wife and you're hiding her here in your fishing cabin."

"That's only partially true," Burke said blandly."I have gone 'round the bend, and I did kidnap Mrs. Duvall, but I had the good sense not to bring her here."

Dredd had warned him against taking Remy to his fishing cabin, where it was possible someone eventually would come looking for them. Instead, he had suggested that Burke use a shack he owned and sometimes leased out. It was similarly equipped, but located in a more remote spot on a hard-to-find slough off a seldom-navigated bayou. Because he had heeded Dredd's advice, the hideaway was still a secret known only to him and Dredd.

"If you're looking for Mrs. Duvall here, you're cold, Mac. Very cold.

You're also trespassing. Clear out."

"Burke, listen to me, please. I know you've never thought too highly of me. Fine. I know I got on your nerves, and you probably think I'm a lousy cop. That's okay, too. Think what you want, but give me credit for knowing what I'm talking about this one time. He's going to kill you."

"I assume you're referring to Duvall."

"He won't dirty his hands, but he'll have your head on a plate, or he'll die trying."

"That's what I'm counting on. That he'll die trying."

"And you'll spend the rest of your life in prison."

"I'm familiar with the criminal statutes for the state of Louisiana but thanks all the same for the brush-up course and for your advice.

Now, I'm busy. See ya, Mac."

Mac stepped around Burke, placing himself between Burke and the open door."Is she all right?"

"Hell, yes, she's all right," Burke answered angrily."Do you think I would hurt a woman?"

"No, but I didn't think you'd kidnap one either!" Mac shouted.

Then, getting a grip on his temper, he used a more reasonable tone.

"I'm trying to keep you from ruining your life. You're up to your hairline in shit, but it's not too late to reverse the situation.

Return Mrs. Duvall to her husband. Then, with my help, maybe this thing can be worked out."

Burke laughed."Duvall's not going to forgive and forget that I took his wife, Mac. What dreamworld are you living in?"

"Okay then, let me take her off your hands and return her home.

You disappear. End of story."

"The end of the story doesn't come until Duvall's heart stops beating and Bardo is dead. Before they die, I'm going to have them identify the cop who's been selling out our division, and then I'm going to kill him, too."

"You're turning murderer?"

"Executioner for crimes committed."

"That's not up to you."

"Apparently it is."

"Leave it to Internal Affairs."

Burke laughed again, more bitterly than before."They're as corrupt as the rest. Even if they sniffed out the traitor, do you think they'd turn him over to the D.A.? Hell, no. Nobody in the N.O.P.D is going to do a goddamn thing except heap cover-up onto cover-up and line their own pockets in the process."

"There are some honest cops, too, Basile. One fewer now that you resigned."

"Those few can't change things."

"Will more killing bring Kev Stuart back?"

It occurred to Burke that he'd never seen his young partner this earnest about anything. He was desperate, and so jittery he'd almost developed a facial tick.

"What are you doing here, Mac?"

"I told you."

"What you told me was bullshit. You didn't stick your neck out for me because you admire me. It's not like we were blood brothers.

There's something wrong with this picture. What is it?"

Mac's eyes shifted away from Burke's for several seconds before reconnecting."I'm into a loan shark for fifty grand."

"I see," Burke said, putting the pieces together."It's starting to make sense now. Duvall found out about your debt and offered to pay it off if you delivered me and his wife to him. That explains your desperation."

"What could I do, Burke? They threatened to hurt Toni."

Burke grabbed him by the front of his shirt."Did you lead them here?"

"No, hell no." Mac wrestled himself free."I was supposed to meet them last night, but I failed to show. I hoped to find you before they found me. They don't know where I am."

'"Well, they'll find out. See you, Mac. Good luck."

Burke tried to move past him, but Mccuen blocked him again.

"Basile, I swear, I wouldn't risk coming through that goddamn swamp to find you if this was just about money. My parents-in-law would cover my debt if I asked them to. There's much more to this than you know."

"Yeah, and I'm sure it makes for interesting conversation, but right now I'm a little pressed for time." Burke was worried about Remy being alone in the shack. He'd been away much longer than he'd anticipated.

Besides, nothing Mac said would sway him. The guy was untrustworthy.

What guarantee did he have that Mac hadn't led Bardo and a team of assassins straight to him? He would retrieve the boat where he'd hidden it on the bank, then return to Dredd's shack with dispatch. He wasn't worried about Mac tracking him. He would be easy to shake in the labyrinth of bayous.

Mac grabbed his arm."I can help you, Basile. We can help each other."

"You're only interested in helping yourself. Now get the hell out of my way."

"I can't let you go through with this."

"You can't stop me."

When Burke tried to shove him aside, Mac reached toward the small of his back.

"Jesus, Mac, no!"

But he needn't have worried about Mac shooting him. Before Mac could get a grip on his weapon, Burke heard a gunshot. Mac looked at Burke with stunned surprise, then his eyes went blank and he pitched forward.

fredd heard the car's approach."Haven't had more than three customers this week," he said to himself."This morning, I'm doing a land-office business."

According to Gregory's schedule, Duvall's men were right on time.

Maybe the boy was seeking redemption after all.

Two car doors were heard opening and shutting, then footsteps crunched through gravel."Good morning," a voice called out.

"Same to you, asshole," Dredd said beneath his breath, not loud enough for his visitors to hear.

"They biting this morning?"

That from a second voice. Dredd didn't respond to it either. He had arranged it so that Duvall's heavies saw an old man sitting with his back to them on the end of the pier, feet dangling above the water, fishing pole in his hand. His plan was for them to figure that the geezer was hard of hearing.

They didn't venture into the store, where they doubtless thought Gregory was cowering, waiting for the action to unfold. Instead, they came toward him along the pier. One, Dredd discerned by his footsteps, was significantly heavier than the other.

"You must be Dredd."

Dredd didn't move.

"What are you using for bait?"

He estimated they were ten feet away from the end of the pier now Close, but not close enough.

"Is he deaf or what?" he heard one ask the other in an undertone.

"Hey, old man," the first voice said."We're going fishing. We need to buy some supplies."

Still Dredd waited, motionless and silent.

"Son of a bitch must be deaf."

"Or else he's ignoring us just to be ornery. Hey, old man! I'm talking to you."

During his police career, Dredd had frequently relied on human nature to assist him in doing his job. Homo sapiens acted on ancient impulses, which made them predictable. Dredd was counting on bullies being unable to resist a chance to bully.

"Maybe he needs a little prodding," suggested one.

"Yeah," the heavier one chuckled."Maybe he needs prodding."

With the toe of his boot, he nudged the old, deaf fisherman in the spine just below his ponytail. It wasn't a hard kick, but to his consternation, the fisherman toppled into the water.

His fishing hat fell off. And so did the gray wig. The Spanishmoss beard floated away. A Halloween mask stared up at him, except that the slits for the eyes were empty.

Leaning down for a closer look, he exclaimed, "What the " Dredd reached from beneath the pier where he'd been hiding and grabbed the guy by the ankle. Unbalanced, he grabbed at air, but fell into the water.

Dredd's knife cut a clean arc beneath his chin. He was dead before he got completely wet.

Dredd's outlook was that some people just weren't fit to live among decent folk. He'd had his fill of the chronic wife beater that night he answered the domestic violence call. He saw on the guy's wife and kids the bloody evidence of his violent temper. The bastard hadn't kept his repeated promises to reform. He was an expensive drain on the system that routinely jailed him and then released him to abuse his family again. He was an emotional and physical blight on society and everyone around him.

Do everybody a favor and pop this son of a bitch now had been Dredd's thought when he pulled his weapon. For all the grief the incident had caused him, he didn't regret snuffing the guy. Given the same set of circumstances, he would do it again.

This guy, now lying limp in his arms, had killed before, and he would have killed him and Gregory after they had served their purpose.

Dredd had no compunction against striking first. It wouldn't cost him a second's sleep tonight.

If he lived until tonight.

Taking a deep breath, he dragged the body beneath the surface of the water with him and secured it to one of the pilings with a grappling hook. He resurfaced only far enough to breathe through his "Charlie?

Charlie?"

That's right, dimwit, give away your position with your voice.

Dredd stealthily moved through the water beneath the pier toward the voice.

"Charlie?" Then, "Oh, Jesus."

Dredd didn't have to guess what had caused the assassin's switch in tone from mystification to horror. Dredd had been around them long enough to sense their movements even when they were submerged and unseen. He'd studied their patterns, observed them in their natural habitat. Hell, he shared their natural habitat.

Gators.

His pets had spent the winter in semicatatonia, out of sight, not eating, not doing much of anything except waiting around for the first day that was sunny enough and warm enough to get their systems jump-started after months of lethargy. Today was the day. He sensed them moving with predatory intent through the water toward Charlie's fresh blood.

Dredd didn't panic. He waited. Waited. Waited.

"Charlie?"

Sheer panic was in the man's voice now. Dredd could read his mind. He wanted to bolt, to get the fuck out of this spooky place and to hell with Duvall and finding his wife. But he and Charlie had worked together for a long time. Next to himself, Charlie was the meanest sumbitch he knew. And ol' Charlie had practically disappeared before his very eyes.

It was human nature to want to know what had happened to his buddy.

Human nature.

When the guy leaned over to inspect the underside of the pier, Dredd put all his strength behind a scissors kick that launched him out of the water with the impetus of a sea monster. The guy outweighed him by seventy pounds, but surprise gave Dredd a huge advantage He hooked his hand around the back of the guy's neck and pulled him into the water.

As he fell forward, Dredd's knife pierced his Adam's apple.

When Gregory regained consciousness, he was lying eyeball to eyeball with a twelve-foot alligator.

Screaming, he scrambled to his feet, banging his head on the iron bed frame. Pulse pounding, gasping for breath, in a near state of cardiac arrest, he crawled across the bed on which Dredd had nursed Remy Duvall only a few days ago.

Once he was on the far side of the room, he peeped beneath the bed to make certain that the gator he'd seen was a stuffed model and not a living specimen. He wouldn't put anything past Dredd, even to keeping a live alligator beneath his bed.

But the menacing eyes were glass. Moderately calmed, Gregory hastily made his way through the macabre chambers of Dredd's Mercantile.

The table on which Dredd ate his meals was littered with alligator heads sealed in shiny shellac, and they brought back a disturbing memory, although it didn't crystallize. Outside, the old man was washing down the pier with a garden hose.

When he heard Gregory's footfalls on the planks, he turned. His beard was wet, as were his denim cutoffs."Get your nap out?" he asked pleasantly.

"What happened? Why was I on the floor behind the bed? I can't remember

... No, wait. I do remember."

The fog inside Gregory's head gradually began to lift."You gave me a Dr. Pepper. Did you drug me?" Then his memory slammed into him full force. He spun around and saw the second car parked beside his.

"They're here?" he squealed in panic."Where are they? What did you tell them?

Why'd you knock me out?"

"Relax, sonny. You didn't miss much. They're gone."

"How'd you get rid of them? What did you tell them?"

"Actually, I didn't have the pleasure of a meeting. Any dialogue they had, they had with my friend there."

Gregory turned in the direction Dredd indicated, and was startled to see an effigy of Dredd sitting in a dilapidated rocking chair on the galerie, wet fishing hat and wig slightly askew atop a Halloween mask from which hung a Spanish-moss beard.

"I made him a couple years ago to bait a thief," Dredd explained.

"This asshole kept coming in and raiding my store every time I went out to fish or hunt.

"So I rigged up the dummy and set him adrift in one of my boats.

Caught the guy red-handed and beat him within an inch of his life.

Never came back." He chuckled."I got sorta attached to my friend and decided to keep him around. He listens when I want some company.