Fat Tuesday (45 page)

"Basile overpowered the old codger who runs the bait shop."

"Overpowered my ass," Duvall roared."Did Pat buy that?"

"I don't know."

"Didn't that Gregory character tell us that Basile and Dredd what's-his-name are thick as thieves? The way you describe the heat around the place, even Saint Basile couldn't have escaped that compound unassisted. And what the hell happened to Gregory and the men I sent with him? Any news?"

Bardo shook his head."Nothing."

"I don't think they ever made it to Dredd's Mercantile. Obviously they double-crossed us."

"They're two of my most dependable guys," Bardo argued."I tell them what to do, and they do it, no questions asked."

"Gregory James's family has a lot of money. He bribed them to let him o. By now they're probably in Vegas banging whores two at a time."

"They couldn't be bribed," Bardo said stubbornly.

"Then explain to me where they are."

Bardo shrugged, and Pinkie cursed.

He didn't remember ever feeling this confounded or incompetent.

He'd had two excellent chances to trap Basile, and both had failed.

Mccuen had apparently planned to bypass Del Ray Jones and act independently.

Duvall didn't have a problem with that. In fact he admired Mccuen's initiative. Except that it had backfired and Mccuen had got himself killed. Thank you, Doug Pat, Pinkie thought. He must be dealt with later.

In the meantime, Gregory James had vanished and taken two expert hit men with him. How the hell had that sniveling queer coward managed that?

Wherever Basile was, he was probably laughing his ass off at these bungled attempts on his life. Just thinking of that caused Pinkie's blood pressure to skyrocket.

Bardo interrupted his thoughts."Don't get steamed at me for say Pinkie turned, but Bardo went on, undaunted by the lawyer's glare.

"Basile could have popped Mrs. Duvall and dumped her body in the swamp same day he took her. She could be dead already. Or ..."

"Well? Or what?"

"Or, hell, Pinkie, think about it. If she's been shacking up with Basile for almost a week, maybe she's ... you know ... She could be making it so interesting for him, he doesn't care about revenge anymore.

Either that or he's getting his revenge in another way."

Pinkie's eyes went dangerously cold and blank."So your theory is that either my wife is dead, or she's fucking her brains out with Basile?"

Bardo spread his arms eloquently."You know broads. They're kinda like dogs. Long as you feed them, and pet them once in a while, they love you. Why do you think they're called bitches?"

"I've never thought about it."

Bardo didn't seem to notice that his boss was holding his temper under rigid control. Unwisely, he continued."I've got a real bad feeling about this. It's been bad business from the beginning. Everything has worked against us."

"You're beating around the bush. What's on your mind?"

Bardo slipped his hand into his pocket, jingled change. Rolled his shoulders arrogantly."I'm out, Pinkie."

"Like hell you are."

"Look, I'm not getting myself killed, especially over a piece of ass I never even got to have."

Pinkie, seeing red, lunged forward and grabbed Bardo by his two-thousand-dollar lapels. Remy probably deserved the insult, but he sure as hell didn't. No one resigned from his service simply because he wanted to. Where did Wayne Bardo get the unmitigated gall to think he could?

"You'll do what I tell you to, or I'll put a bug in Littrell's ear about the life and times of Wayne Bardo."

"You're my lawyer. You can't tell the D.A. shit without having yourself disbarred."

"True," Pinkie conceded in the soft voice he used in the courtroom to ask a question he knew was going to discredit a witness. One local journalist, an admirer, had dubbed it the velvet hammer.

"I can't betray privileged information, but I can get someone else to do it for me. Any number of someones would grant me that favor in a heartbeat. Before you could blink. And if that happens, you'll go down, Wayne. No pussy where they'd stick you. They'll strip you of your jewelry, your nice car, and all your pretty clothes. They'll lock you away so deep, you'll be doing good to get a shit, a shave, and a shower once a month."

Without giving Bardo time to make a rebuttal, he stepped closer, thrusting his nose inches from Bardo's."This bad business, as you call it, won't be finished until Basile is dead. Are we clear on that?"

He decided to keep his plans for Remy to himself. Bardo certainly wasn't squeamish when it came to killing women, but Pinkie didn't want to whet his appetite too soon.

"In the meantime, I've got another chore for you." Pinkie released him, smoothed down the lapels, then slapped Bardo's cheek affectionately.

"But you're going to relish this one."

"Pinkie refused to marry me in the Church. If the Church doesn't recognize our marriage, neither can I." In a whisper, Remy added, "Which I suppose makes me the whore you accused me of being."

Basile stroked her cheek."You're not a whore."

They held each other tightly, a tinge of desperation in their passion.

He had released her only long enough to get up and remove his clothes.

She rubbed her cheek against his hairy bare chest."What's going to happen to us, Basile?"

His name came naturally to her lips, and that made him smile. But her question was sobering. He sighed, "I don't know."

"You must let me go. I have to go back."

He shook his head.

"But " Angling his head back, he looked down at her."No." Then he kissed her possessively.

When they finally broke apart, she asked him about his marriage to Barbara."What caused it to break up?"

"I couldn't make her happy."

"Did she make you happy?"

"No, she didn't," he said, realizing for the first time that their unhappiness hadn't been entirely a failure on his part. Barbara hadn't gone out of her way to fulfill him, either."We settled for a workable relationship. I guess most people do."

"But they shouldn't have to."

"No, they shouldn't have to." He studied her closely for a moment, touching the individual features of her face."If you could do or be anything, what would it be?"

"You mean if Pinkie's charity hadn't had any strings attached?" He nodded."I'd work in an art gallery," she said without hesitation.

"I've studied the masters and I know a lot about contemporary artists.

I'd be very good."

"I'm sure you would," he said, meaning it.

She stacked her hands beneath her cheek on the pillow, her expression and voice wistful."What would have happened if we'd met in another time and place, under ordinary circumstances? Let's pretend I was working in one of the upscale galleries on Royal Street, and you wandered in and saw me."

"In the first place, I couldn't afford to even darken the door of any of the galleries on Royal Street."

"This is make-believe, Basile. Anything can happen."

"Okay. I walk in and see you, right?" She nodded."Well, after tripping over my tongue, I probably would try and work up enough courage to speak to you."

She laughed."You would engage me in conversation. That's good.

Then what?"

"Then nothing. You'd see right off that I was a hopeless ignoramus."

"Why?"

"I could probably point out the Mona Lisa in a line-up, but that's about the extent of my knowledge of art. You'd run me out of the joint."

"I doubt that." She smiled shyly, confessing softly, "Father Kevin certainly left a lasting impression on me."

"That dour priest?" he scoffed.

"He was rather intense, yes, but I thought about him a lot."

"What did you think when you thought about him?"

"Wicked things."

"Naw."

"Um-huh. I thought that he would be a temptation to every woman in his parish."

"Come on."

"It's true," she averred."I thought that he was far too attractive to be holy."

"I'm not holy."

"But I didn't know that at the time. I thought he had incredible sex appeal."

"Really?"

"Yes. And that was before I knew he had freckles on his shoulders."

He laughed, enjoying her attention, her flirting."No I don't." Laughing with him, she said, "Yes you do." They spent the next several hours nuzzling and kissing and exploring each other's bodies with the sweet curiosity reserved for new lovers, delighting over each discovery.

They bought into the fantasy that they had met at another time and place, and that they were free to laugh and indulge themselves for the sheer pleasure of it. They teased lavishly, but there were also long stretches of time when they did nothing except gaze at each other.

"You're so beautiful," he said at one point."I can't believe I'm with you like this."

"I like your face," she whispered back."It's very honest, but..."

"But what?"

"It's very dark behind your eyes, Basile." She stared into them.

"What do you keep hidden back there in the dark?"

"All my sins and shortcomings."

"There can't be that many."

"You'd be surprised. Or maybe you wouldn't," he added with a soft laugh.

She traced his lips with her fingertip."You smile here, but not with your eyes. Why is that? What's made you so unhappy?"

It was unnerving that she could read him so well, but at the same time he was touched by her ability to do so, and by her desire to know the whole man. He wanted to tell her how much her caring meant to him.

"Remy ..." He searched her face, the depths of her eyes, and words failed him. So he kissed her instead, and held her close and reluctantly told her that they probably should try to get some sleep.

He turned her to face away from him, but placed his arm across her waist and drew her against him, fitting her butt into the curve of his belly. He had honestly thought that that intimacy would be sufficient.

But it took very little for him to become inflamed again.

Soon his erection was probing her cleft. He reached for her breast and stroked the nipple to full hardness. Kissing the back of her neck, he pushed his hips forward, found her soft and open, pressed, and murmured her name when her wet heat surrounded him again.

He began to thrust into her, and was almost lost in the rhythm when a small sound from her yanked him from the erotic daze.

He disengaged himself and turned her onto her back. She was crying.

He wiped the tears off her cheeks."I'm sorry, Remy. I'll stop. It's okay."

"I didn't want you to stop."

He swallowed hard."Then what?"

She took his face between her hands."You know what my life with Pinkie has been like. You know why he took me for his own, and what he made of me, and what I've been to him all these years."

There was no mistaking her meaning. He nodded somberly.

"I've performed for him on command," she said, insistent that he understand.

"I know that."

She drew in a shuddering breath."And you still want me?"

"Want you?" he repeated with dismay."Want you?"

He covered her and entered her again, all in one fluid motion.

Sliding his fingers up through her hair, he held her head in place while speaking to her in a low, urgent voice.

'"I may die before this thing is finished. Or I may spend the rest of my life behind bars. In either case, it's okay."

Subtly he pressed himself deeper inside her."But I couldn't stand you going back to him. Anything but that I deserve and I'm willing to accept." He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and pressed his forehead against hers."But you can't go back to Duvall. You can't.

Anything, anything but that."

,{,/r. Duvall?" Jse "Who's this?"

"Doug Pat. Your wife's been found."

Roman had brought the cordless telephone to Pinkie, who was having breakfast at the dining table."Where?" he asked brusquely.

"Dredd's Mercantile. Deputy sheriffs are with her. I'm on my way there now."

"What about Basile?"

He sensed Pat's reluctance to tell him."He dropped Mrs. Duvall there and took off."

"How is she?"

"According to Mr. Michoud, she's fine. Eager to get home."

"I want Basile found, Pat. I want every goddamn inch of Louisiana searched until he's found and brought to justice."

"I seriously doubt it's justice you're seeking," Pat said with infuriating placidity."You never considered it a kidnapping, or you would have had the director of the FBI himself down here searching for your wife. But, if you insist, I'll call the feds in now to question Mrs. Duvall."

Pinkie was gripping the telephone so tightly his knuckles were white.

The diamond ring was digging painful rims into his small finger.

But he couldn't counter Pat's statements, and he was certain Pat was aware of that.

"May I be frank?" Without waiting for permission, Pat continued: "All indications are that this is a domestic matter. The solution to it doesn't rest with law enforcement authorities, but with you and your wife. And perhaps Basile. I suggest you work it out among yourselves."

Later, Pinkie wasn't sure how he'd managed to control his temper, but it had taken tremendous restraint. Pat's sanctimonious remarks tested it to the limit.

"Thank you for the advice, Pat, but I don't need any lessons from you on how to handle my wife. You'd like to think the matter is closed, wouldn't you? You'd like to tie it up in a neat bow and consider it over and done with. Because through this whole ordeal, you've protected your boy, Basile, and you'd be relieved if he came through it without too many dents and dings."

Constantly paranoid that his telephones were bugged, Pinkie was too smart to outline his plans for Basile via fiber optics. He'd already told Pat, perhaps ill-advisedly, that he planned to eliminate the former narc. He saw no reason to reiterate those plans now.

He did, however, want Pat to know that his attitude and lack of cooperation would be remembered."You can kiss goodbye your ambitions for the number-one spot in the N.O.P.D, Pat. From this minute forward, enemies are going to be charging you from all sides. You can count on it."