Fat Tuesday(119)

"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 * 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.