Robert Crais - Voodoo River

Sheriff Boudreaux told a young black deputy named Berry to finish up with the mortuary people, and then he drove us back to the Eunice substation. None of the cops or coroner's people had asked who we were or why we were on the scene. I guess they had grown used to not asking questions, and the thought of that bothered me, but perhaps it should have bothered me more.

We reached the hotel in Baton Rouge at eight minutes after seven and went to our rooms to shower and change. I asked the front desk people if Jodi Taylor had checked in, and they said she had, but when I called her room she wasn't there. I called Lucy at home, and asked if Jodi was with her.

"Yes, she is. She flew in yesterday."

"Good. I found out what's going on. I spoke with Boudreaux, and I should tell Jodi about it. Things are going to happen, and they'll probably happen quickly, and she might be affected."

"We've already eaten, but you and Joe could come over for dessert and we can discuss it."

I told her that that would be fine, and then I showered and changed and rapped on Joe Pike's door. He didn't answer, so I let myself in, thinking he might be in the shower. He wasn't. There was a haze of fog on the bathroom mirror, but all water had been wiped from the tub and the damp towels had been folded and rehung on their racks. The room was immaculate, the bedspread military tight, the magazines squared on the table by the window, the chairs undimpled by the weight of a reclining body. The only sign that he was here or ever had been was the olive green duffel on the closet floor. It was zipped shut and locked with a tempered steel Master Lock. Now you see him, now you don't. Off doing Pike things, no doubt.

At ten minutes before eight, Lucy let me into her home with a smile that was as warm as the sun glittering off dew-covered grass. I said, "Hi."

She said hi back. The master and mistress of restraint.

Jodi Taylor was standing behind her in the entry with a glass of red wine, clearly expectant. But where it was easy to look at Lucy, it was hard for me to look at Jodi. It would be harder still to tell her the things I would tell her. Jodi said, "Did you find out what's going on?"

"Yes. We need to talk about it."

Lucy led us to the kitchen. The lights in the backyard were on, and Ben and another boy were using the rope to climb into the pecan tree. A black-and-white dog ran in frantic circles around the base of the tree, its rear end high and happy.

Lucy said, "I have a key lime pie. Would you like coffee?"

"How about a beer?"

She took a bottle of Dixie from the Sub-Zero and opened it for me. I drank some. The key lime pie was sitting on the counter beside a little stack of glass dessert plates and forks and cloth napkins. Two pieces of the pie were missing, and I deducted that the two boys in the yard had probably already had their dessert. I am a powerhouse of deduction. A veritable master of the art.

Jodi said, "What's wrong? Why aren't you saying anything?"

I had more of the beer and watched Lucy cut equal slices of the pie and put the pie on the plates.

Jodi pulled at my arm. "Why do I think that something's wrong?"

"Because something is. Rossier and a guy named Donaldo Prima bring in illegal aliens, and sometimes it works out but sometimes it doesn't, and they don't much care." I went through.everything. There was a kind of comfort in the telling, as if with each telling the memory of it would become less clear, the sharp lines of the old man and the young girl less distinct.

When I told the part about Donaldo Prima killing the old man, Jodi said, "Waitaminute. This man murdered someone?"

"Yes."

"You actually saw a murder! "

I said yes again.

Jodi looked at her wineglass. Lucy caught the look, and refilled the glass. Jodi said, "I can't believe this. I'm an actress. I sing, for God's sake." She shook her head and looked at the two boys. Outside, Ben was hanging upside down on the rope, and the other boy was pushing him. Moths and June bugs swarmed around the patio lights. The black-and-white dog danced happily. Inside, the adults were discussing murder and human degradation. Just another day in middle-class America.

Lucy said, "Did you find a way to help the Boudreauxs?"

I shook my head. "No."

Jodi looked back at me. "What do you mean no?"

"I had hoped to find a way to force Rossier out of the Boudreaux's lives so that they could keep their secret, but there doesn't seem a way to do that. Rossier has no family and no known associates other than Donaldo Prima, and their association seems one of convenience. Like all criminal activities, it is a cash business, and Rossier has carefully laundered all the money through his crawfish farm. Milt Rossier answers to and depends on no one. He's safe."

Jodi said, "Well, there must be something."

"We can kill him or arrest him."

She flipped her hand. "Oh, that's silly."

"Prima used to work for another coyote named Frank Escobar. Prima wanted to go into business for himself, but needed a safe and reliable way to move people up from the coast. That's Rossier. Without Rossier, Prima's out of business. Escobar would very much like Prima to be out of business, also. If Escobar knew how to get to Rossier and Prima, he might take care of our problem."

Lucy was not moving. Her hands were on the counter. "You're talking about arranging a murder."

"I am talking about sharing information with Frank Escobar, then letting nature take its course."

Jodi crossed her arms, then uncrossed them. "Are you serious?"

Ben and the other boy came in through the French doors, slick with sweat. Ben was barefoot, and his knees were grass-stained and dirty. The other boy was wearing a Wolverine T-shirt. Ben said, "Moml'mLgonnagoovertoGary'sokay? Hi, Elvis."

"Hi, Ben." I guess the other boy was Gary.

Lucv glanced at the clock on the wall above her sink. "I want you home by nine."

Both boys sprinted away before she finished. "ThanksMom."

After the front door crashed/the house was silent. Lucy went to the sink, ran a glass of water, and drank it. Jodi shook her head. "Well, that killing thing is silly. You can't just kill someone. And the Boudreauxs can't arrest him. If they arrest him, he'll tell."

"The sheriff has no choice. I am not going to allow things to continue."

Jodi put her hands on her hips. "What does that mean?"

Lucy turned back from the sink.

I said, "An old man got shot in the head because Jo-el Boudreaux is scared of something that happened thirty-six years ago. This is not acceptable." My neck felt tight. "If things continue as they have, more old men will be shot and more little girls will die of heatstroke, and that is also not acceptable." The tight neck spread to my scalp, and my voice felt hard and far away. "I have told Jo-el these things, and now he must do something, even if it means giving up his secret, because I will not allow any more old men or little girls to die. I will act if he doesn't." My temples were pounding.

Jodi's eyes flicked to Lucy, then came back to me. "What does that mean? What will you do?"

"I'll go to the Justice Department and give them the case against Rossier and Prima."

Her eyes flicked to Lucy again. "But Rossier will tell on the Boudreauxs." Tell on the Boudreauxs . Like he might tattle .

"I know."

Jodi took one step closer to me, her eyes wide. "But then they'll know about me."

"I know that, too. I'm sorry."

Jodi walked out of the kitchen and into the dining area. She raked her fingers through her hair and looked at herself in the window overlooking Lucy's backyard. It was now dark out, and the glass was a mirror to the room. We weren't talking about the Boudreauxs anymore; we were talking about her. She said, "What happened to confidential? What happened to protecting my interests? You promised me, remember?"