Fat Tuesday(49)

Fingering the business card the priest had given Remy, Pinkie asked his secretary if she had called the number printed on it."Yes, sir.

The phone was answered by a woman."

"How'd she answer?"

"Jenny's House."

"So it's legit?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Duvall. I asked to speak with Father Gregory. She told me that neither he nor Father Kevin was in, but she would be pleased to give them a message."

The secretary then laughed."She thought I was calling to make a donation She gave me much more information about the facility than I asked for. I didn't get it all down verbatim, but as you can see by the memo, I took extensive notes."

Very nicely done, Dixie." Burke took the telephone receiver from the girl and hung it up. The pay phone was in the second-story hallway of a flophouse that stank of poor plumbing.

"It was worth forty bucks."

Although he had paid her beforehand, Dixie followed him into the room he was renting by the day under an assumed name. She climbed onto the bed, digging the stiletto heels of her white patent boots into the stained bedspread. When she smiled, he could see her chaw of apple green gum stuck between her molars."You really think I sounded like a nun type?"

"Could've fooled me. Drink?"

"You bet."

Burke fished a canned soft drink from the Styrofoam ice chest the room didn't come with a refrigerator and passed it to her.

"When you said drink, I thought you meant " "Nope. You're below legal drinking age."

Finding that very funny, she popped the top on the drink and sipped the fizz that spewed out."Did you mean what you said?" "About what?"

"I sounded like a nun? Maybe I missed my calling."

"Maybe."

"But, when you think about it, I'm sorta like a nun."

Burke raised his eyebrows skeptically.

She propped herself up on her elbows, a position that thrust her breasts almost out of the black-lace demi-bra beneath her open denim jacket."I'm serious."

"Nuns don't wear red vinyl miniskirts and heavy perfume, Dixie."

Her gardenia scent was her trademark. When Vice went looking for her, they sniffed her out, literally. In this small room, where no doubt a thousand sordid transactions had taken place, the sweet fragrance was as thick as a gumbo and slightly nauseating.

"Nuns serve their fellowman. Isn't that what I do?"

"I think the distinction lies in the manner in which you serve."

"Well, sure, if you're going to get technical ..." She slurped her drink."You Catholic, Basile?"

"Raised that way."

"Hard to imagine you praying and stuff."

"It's been a long time," he murmured.

It had been a sure bet that Pinkie would check out Jenny's House, especially if his wife had asked permission to visit it. Working under that hypothesis, Burke had paid a starving artist twenty dollars to sketch a phony logo for the bogus children's refuge. He then went to a self-service print shop and made up a dozen business cards with the logo and the number of the pay telephone across the hall from his room.

He'd left one of those cards with Mrs. Duvall.

Earlier today, he'd gone in search of a "secretary" and had bumped into Dixie. She was a good whore and an even better snitch. The former he had no personal knowledge of, but he had bought information from her several times, and it had always proven to be valid. She'd been working the streets since she was thirteen. It was a marvel to Burke that she'd lived to the ripe old age of seventeen.

"You know, I hardly recognized you this morning," she observed as she rolled the cold can across her heavily rouged lips."When did you lose the mustache?"

"Few days ago."

"How come?"

"Felt like it."

"You working undercover now?"

"You could say that."

"The bitch on the phone said she was from Pinkie Duvall's office.

What gives?"

"You don't need to know."

"Jeer, Basile, you're a hard man to draw out."

"I guess I don't feel like talking, Dixie." He stretched out on the bed beside her and wadded the flat pillow beneath his head.

She rolled toward him and placed her thigh over his."Fine and dandy with me, honey. We don't have to talk."

Her hand slid down his chest to his belt buckle and began to unfasten it. He covered her hand."That's not what I meant. You've already earned your forty dollars, and I'm on a tight budget."

She thought about it for a second or two. Then she ran her long fingernail along his recently shaved upper lip."What the hell, I'll throw it in for free."

"Thanks, but not this time."

"How come? Are you the last remaining faithful married man?"

"Not anymore."

"You're not faithful anymore?"

"I'm not married anymore."

"Then what's the problem? Come on, Basile. I've had other cops.

Dozens of them. You're the last holdout, and I've got a reputation to uphold. Can you honestly say you haven't thought about boffing me?"

He smiled at her."Dixie, you're a knockout. I'm sure boffing you is one of life's greatest pleasures. But I could have a daughter your age."