Fat Tuesday(91)

"When you arrived, you said Burke Basile had sent you. Is he a client of yours?"

"You mean a john? Don't I wish," Dixie mumbled."He's paid me, but for information only. Nothing else. Last time I saw him, he told me that if I got into trouble, I should come here. You a friend of his?"

"Let's just say that he and I share a mutual respect and a common goal."

"Hmm. Well, if he has to pay for this, it'll serve him right. It's on account of him that Bardo "

"Wayne Bardo?" Ruby's soft expression hardened."He did this to you?"

Dixie nodded."Made me suck him off. Then, when I wouldn't tell him anything about Basile, he started beating the crap out of my face."

Ruby sat down on the edge of the bed and studied the girl with an experienced eye. Her face was a mess, but she had excellent bone structure, and, when they'd undressed her, Ruby had taken note of her alluring figure. Ruby usually disparaged girls who worked the streets, but obviously Basile considered this one a notch above the rest, or he wouldn't have recommended she come here.

She needed refining. Her name would be changed to something more unusual and intriguing. Her days of bathing in cheap gardenia scent were over. The silver nail polish and red vinyl skirt would have to go.

She needed a complete make over, but the girl definitely had potential.

Ruby smoothed the hair off her forehead where Bardo's fists had left bruises."Why was Bardo inquiring about Mr. Basile?"

"He was looking for him."

"Did he say why?"

"No. Only I think it has something to do with Wait, maybe I'm not supposed to tell. Basile paid me to keep my mouth shut."

"But he wouldn't mind your telling me. He sent you here, remember."

"Yeah, I guess. Okay. I think it has something to do with Pinkie Duvall's wife."

"Really?" With affected indifference, Ruby listened to Dixie's very interesting story."A priest?"

Dixie snorted."Can you imagine that? If Basile was a priest, every woman in the church would be getting off during Mass. Say, listen, if this isn't going to cost me, could I maybe have a drink?"

"Certainly." Ruby turned to the maid and asked her to fetch a cup of tea.

"It wasn't exactly tea I had in mind," Dixie remarked as the maid withdrew.

Ruby smiled indulgently."You'll drink your tea, take your medicine, and rest. If you do everything I tell you, this beating could be the best thing that's ever happened to you. But we'll talk about all that later when you're feeling better."

Ruby left Dixie under the maid's care and resumed her place on the gallery to ruminate on what the girl had told her. Could it be that Burke Basile was responsible for Pinkie's foul mood? Did his vendetta against Duvall involve his young and beautiful wife? Was that why he'd been so interested to hear everything Ruby knew about her?

"How very clever of you, Mr. Basile." Ruby chuckled deep in her throat and raised her snifter of brandy in a silent toast to the former narcotics officer.

How unfortunate, though, that he wouldn't live very long.

Not if he'd laid a finger on Pinkie Duvall's wife.

Mac left for work earlier than usual, telling Toni that he had paperwork to catch up on. He thought he was leaving well before rush hour, but traffic on I-10 was already sluggish because of the weather.

A low-pressure system from the Gulf had moved into the area overnight, bringing with it heavy rains.

When he reached headquarters, he parked but didn't enter the building.

Instead, he wrestled with an umbrella and walked several blocks to a cafe, where he ordered only a cup of coffee. He burned his tongue by drinking it before it had time to cool. Then he got change from the cashier, went to the pay phone, and placed a call to the number he'd taken from Burke Basile's retired files the evening before.

"Hello?"

"Joe Basile?"

"Yes."

Mac silently mouthed a thank-you to the god of lucky breaks. It had been years since Burke had designated his brother in Shreveport the person to call, other than his spouse, in case of an emergency.

Since then, brother Joe could have moved or changed his number. Mac felt damn lucky to have hit on the first strike.

"My name is Mac Mccuen." He kept his voice friendly, upbeat, and conversational."I work with your brother. Or did. Until he recently resigned."

"In the Narcotics Division?"

"That's right. Has Burke mentioned me to you?"

"You headed one of the squads after Kev Stuart got killed."

"Right again." He wondered in what context Basile had mentioned him.

In complaint? In praise of? He didn't have the guts to ask."I learned a lot by working with your brother and hated like hell that he quit so suddenly."

"He was bummed out. At least that's the excuse he gave me. He swore off police work forever, but it wouldn't surprise me if he went back to it.

Maybe not in New Orleans, but somewhere."

"The world would sure be better off if he did." Then, not wanting to lay it on too thick and arouse suspicion, Mac said, "Burke was over at the house the other night and mentioned that he was going away for a while. My wife's old lady is coming to visit," he adlibbed."So I thought to myself, why not take a few days off and leave the house to them? Why not join Burke? Hang out, drink beer, talk over old times.