James Burke - A Morning for Flamingos

"That's where you keep your plane?" I said.

"No, I keep my plane a mile down the road. Just remember this place."

"What for?"

"Just remember it, that's all."

"All right."

We drove past the pasture and clumps of cows grazing among the egrets, then entered a pine and hack-berry woods again. At the end of the shaded road I could see more sunny pastureland.

"I want to tell you something, something I haven't been honest about. Then I want to ask you a question," Tony said.

"Go ahead."

"I got a bad feeling, the kind you used to get sometimes in 'Nam. You know what I mean? Like maybe it was really going to happen this time, you were riding back on the dustoff in a body bag. I got that feeling now."

"It's the withdrawal from the speed."

"No, this is different. I feel like it's five minutes to twelve and my clock's ticking."

"They didn't get you over there, did they? Blow it off. Guys like us have a long way to run."

"Look, like I told you, the only guy working for me I can trust is Jess. But Jess couldn't think his way through wet Kleenex. So I'm going to ask you, if I get clipped, will you look after Paul, make sure that bitch takes care of him, keeps him in good schools, buys him everything he needs?"

"I appreciate the compliment, but-"

"Fuck the compliment. I want an answer."

"Start thinking about a divorce, Tony, and get these other thoughts out of your head."

"Yes or no?"

He looked at me, one hand tight on the steering wheel, and we bounced through a deep puddle that splashed water across the windshield.

"I'd do my best for him," I said.

"I know you will. You're my main man. Right?" And he pointed one finger at me and cocked his thumb, as though he were aiming a pistol, and popped his mouth with his tongue. Then he laughed loudly.

Late that afternoon I told Tony I was going to have the oil in my truck changed. I drove to a filling station by the shopping center and used the outside pay phone while the attendant put my truck on the rack. I caught Minos at his office and told him of the trip over to Mississippi.

"When do you think this shipment's coming in?" he said:

"Any day."

"All right, we'll get the money in the bus locker for you. Now, let's talk about getting you wired."

"Minos, I think there might be a problem here with entrapment. This isn't Tony's deal. I'm leading him into it."

"Anywhere there's dope in Orleans or Jefferson Parish, he's getting a cut out of it."

"I don't think that's true. He talked about some guys in Metairie running this deal."

"I don't care what he says. Cardo's dirty when he gets up in the morning. Stop pretending otherwise. Look, if somebody hollers later about entrapment, that's our problem, not yours."

"I think we're shaving the dice."

"It's not entrapment if this guy has foreknowledge of a narcotics buy and he takes you into it." He paused to let the exasperation go out of his voice. "You've only got one thing to worry about, Dave-getting close to him with a wire. Now, we can do it two ways, with a microphone or a miniaturized tape recorder."

"He's not going to do business in the house."

"Which do you want to use?"

"How far can the microphone send?"

"Under the best conditions, without electronic interference or buildings in the way, maybe up to a quarter of a mile."

"I think I'll be better off with the recorder. That way we won't have to worry about reception problems with the tail."

"How do you want to pick it up?" he said.

"I have to go to the doctor's at ten tomorrow morning to get my stitches out. Have somebody at his office." I gave him the address.

"Then that's about it for right now," he said.

"Minos, there's one other thing that bothers me. Maybe I imagine it."

"What?"

"Sometimes it's like he knows I'm still a cop. Like maybe he wants to take a fall."

"Who knows? A guy who shoots speed into his arm made a contract to destroy himself a long time ago. They all flame out one way or another. Who cares how they do it? Hang loose," he said, and hung up.

That night I was watching television on sun porch with Tony and Paul when the phone rang in the kitchen and the Negro houseman told me that I had a call. I picked the receiver up off the Formica counter. sat down on a stool, and put it to my ear. The counter gave onto the porch, and I could see Tony's and Paul's faces in the illumination of the television screen.

"Hello," I said.

"Dave, it's Clete. Are you where you can talk?"

"We're watching television."

"I dig you. Just listen, then. That redheaded broad just called me at the club. From what I get, somebody beat the shit out of her. She wants to see you, but she doesn't want Cardo to know about it."

"Uh-huh," I said.

"She wouldn't tell me much. She sounds like one scared broad. She's staying at a friend's place out in Metairie. I've got the address."

"I see."

"Cardo's right there?"

"That's right."

"Look, pick me up at the bar, and we'll drive out there tonight. Tell Tony you're lending me some money, I'm having trouble meeting the vig with one of his shylocks. He'll buy that. I owe those fuckers five large."

"All right, Cletus. I'll see what I can do."

I hung up the receiver and sat back down in front of the television set. I brushed at my pants leg distractedly.

"What's the trouble?" Tony said.

"Oh, nothing, really. Clete's having some money problems. He gets a little strung out sometimes. I guess I'd better go see him. Would it bother you if I came in late?"

"No, here's the house key. Just tell the guys at the gate you'll be back late so they won't think it's somebody else, you know what I mean?"

"I'll be quiet coming in."

"Sure, don't worry about it. Somebody's squeezing your friend?"

"A little problem with the vigorish."

"Tell him to come see me about it. Maybe I can work it out."

"That's good of you, Tony."

It took me a half hour to drive to the bar on Decatur. Clete was waiting for me under the colonnade. It had started to mist, and he wore a brown raincoat over his sports jacket. I pulled to the curb, and he jumped in the truck. He read me the address in Metairie off a folded piece of paper, and I headed out of the Quarter toward Interstate 10.

"Who beat her up?" I said.

"She wouldn't say."

"Why didn't she want Tony to know about it?"

"I didn't ask her. Dave, are you making it with her?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I told you no."

"You didn't have just one flop in the hay with her?"

"You heard what I said, Clete."

"Yeah, well, usually broads like that get remodeled after they let the wrong guy in the bread box. She called for you, not Cardo. What should I conclude on that, Streak? Or am I just full of shit?"

"I didn't talk to her. I don't know what happened. And you're pissing me off."

We were silent in the cab of the truck. It started to rain harder, and I turned on the windshield wipers.

"I'm just trying to help, believe it or not," he said.

"I know that, Clete."

"I'm backing your play, and I don't care if I get paid for it or not."

"What do you mean?" I looked over at him. Rainy patterns of light ran down his face.

"I didn't get any bucks from the DEA this week. I called Dautrieve, and he said I was terminated."

"Are you kidding?"

"Wait a minute, don't get heated up. He said some other guys made the decision. He didn't have any control over it."

"He should have told me."

"Maybe he didn't have a chance to. Fuck it. Look, there's our exit up there. Welcome to Metairie, the only town in the United States to elect a Ku Klux Klansman and American Nazi as its state representative. What a depressing shithole. This place makes you think maybe the white race ought to be picking the cotton."