Fat Tuesday(36)

It was clear to him that Duvall was besotted with his wife. She was treated like goddamn royalty. Ruby Bouchereaux had told him that Pinkie kept her under lock and key. He'd seen for himself how well she was guarded and protected.

"What does that tell you, Basile?"

As he let himself into his bleak apartment, he was smiling.

Remy lay perfectly still, listening to Pinkie's soft snores. She sent up a small prayer of thanksgiving that her ruse had worked. He had denied Flarra's request, never guessing that was exactly what Remy wanted him to do.

This wasn't the first time she had used reverse psychology to manipulate her husband. Most often it failed. But this time she had the advantage of knowing that he wouldn't welcome anyone intruding on them and making demands on her time. Especially Flarra. Pinkie knew how much she loved her sister, and he was jealous of their bond.

Thank you, God, for his jealousy. Keep him jealous.

Be careful what you pray for.

As on many other sleepless nights, Sister Beatrice's advice came back to haunt her. She understood now the lesson the nun had been trying to teach her. As a child, hadn't she begged God for another life, one free of poverty and responsibility?

Well, that's exactly what she had been granted. Little had she known what a tremendous price she would pay for this answer to her naive prayers.

Pinkie slumbered contentedly, his arm around her. The weight of it seemed crushing.

The men's rest room comprised one side of a square, concrete block structure. Inside were two rusty sinks, three stained urinals, and a single enclosed stall, the door of which hung by only one hinge.

There was no roof, but despite its open-air interior, the public toilet smelled badly in need of cleaning. Burke held his breath as he went in.

It was dark inside because the light fixture had been broken. The vandalism had probably gone unreported to City Park maintenance.

There weren't too many men crazy enough to be in here after sundown, and those who were preferred darkness.

When Burke went in, only one other man was in the room. He was standing at a urinal, his back to the entrance. He must have heard Burke come in, but he didn't even glance over his shoulder at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Burke moved to the urinal next to the one being used. The man beside him finished but didn't immediately zip up. He turned his head slightly in Burke's direction and somewhat shyly remarked, "Sort of spooky in here."

Burke zipped his fly and turned toward the other man."Sure as hell is.

Never know who you might bump into."

Gregory James slumped against the wall and grappled with his zipper, groaning, "Basile."

"Aren't you glad to see me?"

"Shit."

"Guess not." Burke took the slender young man's arm and pushed him toward the exit.

Gregory balked."I haven't done anything. You can't arrest me."

"I ought to take you in just for being stupid. How'd you know I wasn't a Jeffrey Dahmer? Or a redneck out to roll myself a queer. One of these days they'll be spooning your parts into a body bag. You're gonna make a move on the wrong guy and wind up minced meat."

"Don't bust me, Basile," he pleaded."Swear to God, I've learned my lesson."

"Sure you have. That's why you're lurking around in City Park rest rooms in the middle of the night."

"I was just taking a leak."

"Save it, Gregory. You're lying through your teeth. I've been following you, so I know you've been seeing action, friend. Lots of it."

"That's not true! I've cleaned up my act."

"Like hell. The guy you hustled last night looked like a minor to me.

If I hadn't been on other business, I would have hauled you in, and they could've thrown a book of felonies at you."

"Oh, Jesus," the young man sobbed dryly."If you bust me " "They'll lock you up and throw away the key this time. You're a menace to society."

Desperate now, the younger man began to beg."Please, Basile. Cut me some slack. I've done you favors in the past, haven't I? Remember all the times I helped you?"

"To save your ass from arrest."

"Please, Basile, give me a break." Burke pretended to mull it over, then said brusquely, "Let's go, pretty boy."

Gregory wailed.

"Shut up," Burke ordered, giving him a shake."I'm not going to bust you, but I'm taking you home and seeing you inside, so at least I'll know your neighborhood is safe for the rest of the night."

Gregory thanked Burke repeatedly as they made their way toward Burke's car. Gregory lived alone a few blocks from the park, in a two-story townhouse that had been fashionably refurbished. The house and courtyard garden were kept in excellent condition despite the owner's frequent absences when he was serving time for sex offenses.

Burke escorted Gregory past the beveled glass front door and into the foyer."You don't have to come in with me," Gregory told him."I'm not going out again. Swear."

"Your parents taught you better manners, Gregory. Offer me a cup of coffee or something."

Tense and jittery and obviously mistrustful of Burke's intentions, he agreed quickly."Right. Good idea. I should have thought of it myself.