Fat Tuesday(101)

"I guess, but it seems strange that " Tiring of the conversation, Pinkie interrupted."Flarra, sweetheart, you must excuse me."

"Have you given Fat Tuesday any thought? You know, about me coming to your party?"

"I've given it some thought, yes. But I haven't yet reached a decision, and I really can't talk about it now. Another call has just come in, and it pertains to my case. I'll give Remy your love."

"Okay," she replied with a marked lack of enthusiasm."Tell her to call me as soon as she feels up to it. Bye-bye." As soon as he hung up, Pinkie asked Roman to summon Bardo. When the man arrived and entered the study, Pinkie handed him a Rolodex card.

"Put one of your best guys on this. Have him be discreet, but I want to know what she eats for breakfast." Bardo nodded and pocketed the card.

Pinkie asked him, "Has our pseudopriest decided to cooperate?"

Bardo grinned evilly."We're giving him a little longer to think it over."

"What about Mccuen? Heard from him yet?"

The policeman had failed to keep his appointment with Bardo earlier that evening. Men were sent to check his house. They reported that no one was at home and that the place was in total disarray, as though it had been abandoned in a hurry.

"I've got guys looking for him. He'll turn up," Bardo said with his customary cockiness. Then, less sure, he asked, "What if neither the fag or Mccuen comes across?"

Pinkie glanced down at the telephone and recalled his most recent conversation. Stroking the receiver with his finger, he smiled like a gambler with a winning ace up his sleeve."I'll try something else."

"Lord, who could that be?"

Joe Basile figured his wife had every reason to sound grumpy. Her day had got off to a bad start at dawn with Doug Pat's unannounced visit.

Now she'd been awakened by the telephone in the wee hours. He groped for the receiver and answered on the fifth ring "Mr. Basile, this is Mac Mccuen again. Please don't hang up on me until you hear me out."

"What is it, Mr. Mccuen?" he said impatiently.

"I lied to you this morning."

Joe levered himself into a sitting position on the side of the bed.

"How so?"

"I told you Basile had invited me to join him on a getaway. He didn't.

But I must get in touch with him. I lied because I didn't want to involve you in this. Unfortunately I've run out of options."

"Involve me in what?"

"Your brother is in a shitload of trouble."

Although more crudely put, his statement was consistent with Pat's.

"By trouble, do you mean that he's in danger?"

"Grave danger. If you know where he is, you've got to tell me. I must reach him before anyone else does."

That, too, was almost verbatim what Pat had said. After calling Dredd's Mercantile twice and receiving no answer, Joe hadn't tried again. Now he wished he had. If Burke had gone on a retreat, he was most likely at their fishing cabin. If Burke was anywhere in that vicinity, Dredd would know.

Personally, the grizzled taxidermist and his spooky dwelling gave Joe the willies, but there was a strong bond between Dredd and Burke.

Joe reasoned he could rely on Dredd to tell him the truth, if he knew it.

Unfortunately he hadn't been able to reach him.

"Mr. Basile, Joe, please tell me," Mccuen implored."Do you know where Burke is?"

"I told you this morning that I didn't."

"That's what you told me, but do you?"

His tone didn't sit well with Joe Basile."Forgive me, Mr. Mccuen, but you're the one who sounds desperate and in trouble, not Burke." After a long pause, Mccuen said, "I apologize for insinuating that you're lying. In your place, I'd lie, too. I respect your loyalty to Basile.

But you've got to believe me when I tell you that you're doing him harm by not telling me how I can reach him."

"At the risk of sounding repetitive, I don't know where he is," Joe said, enunciating each word.

"You must have some idea," Mccuen argued. Joe hesitated for only a millisecond, but Mccuen seized upon it."What can I say thatll convince you to help me find him? What can I say?"

Characteristically, Burke was a light sleeper. That's why it surprised him that he didn't come awake until she began thrashing her arms.

She was trying to raise her right hand, and couldn't because it was shackled to his left. It was the sharp tugging on his wrist and the bite of the handcuffs that roused him from a deep sleep.

At first he misunderstood the reason for her agitation."Hey! Cut it out."

But as he came more fully awake, he realized she wasn't struggling to free herself from him. The mosquito netting hanging from the ceiling had fallen and landed directly over her face, she was frantically trying to extricate herself from it.

Her attempts had resulted in the fabric becoming wrapped around her left arm. The harder she tried to shake it off, the more entangled she became. She opened her mouth to scream, but her inhalation sucked the fabric into her mouth, increasing her panic.

"Relax. I'll get it off."

Her eyes were open, but either she was in the throes of a nightmare or panic had pushed her beyond reason, because when Burke moved his hand toward her face and tried to help pull the gauzy material away, she began fighting him. She flung her head from side to side. When she tried to raise her head, that only drew the netting tighter across her face.