I decided to do some work on my one paying case and dialed Torbin’s number.

“Sisters of the Sacred Crawdad. We bless sucking heads, pinching tails, and eating the meat,” he answered the phone.

“Torbin, someday you will get into trouble.”

“Oh, Micky, darling, trust me, I already have. Your favorite aunt and mine, Greta, was the first person to hear that particular little salutation. Her involuntary screech of outrage, at least an A above high C, was worth the twenty-minute sermon I got on blasphemy. I used the time wisely to pick up the shattered glassware.”

“The Robedeaux Family Follies, I can’t wait for the musical. However, my call has a serious purpose. What have you found out so far?”

“Not much. This book isn’t just closed, it’s locked in the vault,” he admitted. “Pillar of the community, family man, the same refrain over and over again. The only faint whiff is that he donates a discreet amount of money to local AIDS organizations.”

“That doesn’t mean much. Decent people donated five years ago, even the merely respectable are doing it today.”

“True,” Torbin answered, then continued, “And, I don’t like this. It’s not from a reliable source. Actually, a rather disgusting source. A less-than-gentleman trying to pick me up at a urinal.”

“Don’t give me the details of your sex life.”

“No, no, I’m not. Peeing was my only purpose for being at that urinal. Anyway, this man, one of those types with scruffy facial hair and oh-so-sexually attractive beer belly bulging over a commercially distressed black leather belt, suddenly appeared and scared the piss back into me. While I was attempting to get it started again, he proceeded to regale me with his sexual exploits. As I said, not the most reliable of sources.”

“So, what did this source reveal?”

“He claimed that, in his younger days, he procured for Colombé. Men, sometimes women, usually eighteen or nineteen, and that Colombé liked to play rough with them.”

“How rough?”

“The usual stuff, fisting, whips, chained down or up. The ugly twist is that these procured young kids didn’t really consent, they were coerced. They were poor, they needed the money. My source said that the more desperate they were, the more Colombé liked it.”

“If it’s true, it’s ugly.”

“But remember the source.”

“How did you escape?”

“Using my wits. And zipping my pants quickly. I told him to meet me at 334 Royal Street at the new bar there.”

“Torbin, that’s the Vieux Carr police station.”

“And I’m sure he had a much more interesting night than I ever could have given him. Besides, he looked like the type who would like men in uniform.”

“I’ll bet. Nothing else on Colombé?”

“Nada.Nil. None. A nadir.”

“Enough. Let me know if you hear anything.”

“Will do. When are you and that lovely lady friend of yours going to come over?”

“Sometime, Tor. We’re both a bit busy at the moment.”

“With each other, I hope.”

“Do you know someone by the name of Lindsey McNeil?”

“Mick, I’d expect more subtlety from you in changing the subject,” Torbin caught me, then he bit. “Male or female?”

“Female.”

“Actually, I don’t know anyone with that name, male or female. Why do you ask?”

“I met her yesterday. I’m just curious.”

“You’re not supposed to be curious about other women, at least not yet.”

“Another case I’m working on. It’d be helpful to know a few more things about her.”

“Like her sexuality?”

“It might be useful to know.”

“If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, Tor.” We hung up.

I spent the evening and most of the night working on a surveillance team. I occasionally get calls when another warm, observant body is needed. Sometimes sitting for hours on end just waiting clears my thinking, but sometimes it just gives me a headache. I didn’t even ask why we were tailing the person we were watching. The reasons usually don’t make me feel better about myself. At six a.m., I stumbled home and to bed.

It was a little before one o’clock when I got up. I put on Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos and brewed myself a pot of chicory coffee. Just as I raised the cup to my lips for my first sip, the phone rang.

“Hi, Micky. This is Alex. What are you and Cordelia doing a week from Thursday?”

“A week from Thursday? I don’t know what I’m doing now, let alone then.”

“Okay, I admit it. I’m sure that you had no idea, but Thursday next is my birthday. Just between you and me, is Joanne planning anything?”

“No, not that I know of,” I lied. “She hasn’t mentioned a thing to me.”

“Oh…well—can you hold for a minute. I’ve got someone on another line.”

I held, fortunately with no music in the background to clash with Bach. I had gotten several meaningful gulps of coffee before I became unheld.

“I’m sorry, but Ms. Sayers is on a long-distance call. Can I help you?” It was Barbara Selby. She is Alex’s administrative assistant.

“Hi, Barbara, this is Micky.”

“Micky, hi.” Her voice relaxed from formal office mode. “How are you?”

“Fine. Surviving the usual chaos that surrounds me. Did Patrick and Cissy survive my babysitting?”

“They’re fine. Well…Patrick is okay. Cissy…she hasn’t slept very well the last few nights. It seems to be getting worse.”

“Any idea why?”

“No, not really. She won’t talk to me. Did she…when you were here…did she say anything, do anything that might give you a hint as to what’s bothering her?”

“No, nothing that I could see,” I admitted.

“I’m starting to get worried about her. I’m beginning to feel like a horrible mother. What have I done? Not done? Not seen?”

“Can I make a suggestion?”

“Sure, anything.”

“I know someone, a therapist, who works with kids. It might help to have Cissy talk to her.”

“Do you think?” Barbara said, then asked, “Who is she?”

“A friend of Cordelia’s.”

“That makes me feel better. Have you talked to her about Cissy?”

“Well, sort of. I just mentioned her, no names—”

“It’s okay,” Barbara interrupted. “Makes it easier, in fact. Did she say anything?”

“She needs to meet you, get your permission and all that.”

“All right,” Barbara agreed. “I can probably make a five thirty appointment, but not before that. Will you go with us? I’m…well, therapists are for crazy people, that’s what I’ve always been told. Just hold my hand and tell me I’m doing the right thing.”

“Of course I’ll go with you. Do you want me to arrange the appointment?” I offered.

“I hate to use you as a go-between…”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Thanks, Micky. Any afternoon but Wednesday is okay. I appreciate your help.”

“I hope it helps Cissy.”

“Oh, God, yes, I hope it helps her,” Barbara said, then, “My, we’ve talked for a bit. Alex is off her line. Do you want to speak to her?”

“If she has anything else to say to me.” Barbara put me back on hold.

“So you don’t know if Joanne is planning anything?” Alex came back on the line.

“She hasn’t mentioned a thing to me.” Don’t lay it on too thick, I cautioned myself. “I’ll talk to Cordelia. She might know something.”

“You’re a pal. I appreciate this.”

Appreciated by all the right women for all the wrong reasons, I thought to myself as I dialed Joanne’s number.

“Alex contacted me,” I told Joanne. “She’s worried that you’ve forgotten her birthday. Can I make a suggestion?”

“Can I stop you?”

“No,” I rejoined, then continued, “You can’t get away with pretending to ignore Alex’s birthday at this point. Suggest a quiet dinner for the two of you. On birthday afternoon, you call and tell her a major crisis has occurred and you can’t get away to pick her up. Pawn her off on Cordelia.”

“Cordelia’s too honest. She’ll give it away.”

“Cordelia, too, will have a crisis at work and be unable to escort Alex. At which point Alex gets dumped with me.”

“And you could sell snake oil to oily snakes.”

“Thanks. I think. And I, feigning a nefarious P.I. errand, take her to your posh restaurant.”

“It’s bizarre enough that it might work.” Joanne left it at that. I thought it was a fairly nifty plan myself.

Calling Lindsey McNeil was my next task. Of course, I didn’t speak to her. Amanda Jackson and I ended up doing the scheduling pas de deux. Lindsey had a cancellation Thursday at six p.m. After that I was tired of phone calls and decided to take a walk. But the damn thing rang just as I was trying to guess whether it was cool enough to wear a jacket.

“Hello,” I answered brusquely.

“Micky, hi. Have I caught you at a bad time?” It was Cordelia.

“No, not really. I was just going to take a walk to clear my head. I feel like I’ve been on the phone all day.”

“Then I won’t keep you long. I just talked to Joanne. She told me your idea. I think it’s great.”

“It was nothing,” I replied, the soul of modesty.

“Anyway,” she continued, “my last appointment just canceled, and I’m about to leave to check on a few patients in the hospital. How about dinner tonight? I’d love to see you.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll cook,” I said firmly. She had paid for dinner last time, and with the expense of Alex’s birthday looming, I didn’t want to let any more debts mount.

“All right. My place?”

“Your place. I’ll run by the grocery while you’re at the hospital. Say an hour, hour and a half?”

“See you then.”

Since an invitation to spend the night had been implied with dinner, I began grabbing a few overnight necessities and throwing them into a duffel bag. I was down to my toothbrush when the phone rang again.

Hoping that it wasn’t Cordelia calling to cancel our plans, I picked it up. I got what I wanted; it wasn’t Cordelia.

“Micky, Joey called again.”

“What did he want this time, Karen?” I asked, my impatience barely under control. I glanced at my watch. She had two minutes to get to her point and then I would cut her off.

“To see me. Alone. He says it won’t be safe for you to go along.”

“He what? He threatened you?”

“Not really. He made it sound friendly, like he was concerned. He said his friend, the owner of the bar, doesn’t like you. That it wouldn’t be safe for him to see you.”

“You’re not meeting at the Sans Pareil Club?”

“No, some other place. Over in Algiers. I told him I can’t find my way around the West Bank, that I’d get lost the second I got off the bridge…”

“Wait, one point at a time,” I interjected to halt Karen’s scattered thoughts. “Did he say who this guy was and why he didn’t like me?”

“He didn’t give a name—I asked, really, I did. He said you had seduced his friend’s girlfriend and that his friend hated your guts.”

“That’s not likely,” I said. It was, however, possible. “Where is this place?”

“Over in Algiers, like I said. He said it’s in walking distance of the ferry. He said it’s just a quiet neighborhood bar.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s the neighborhood police station. You didn’t agree to meet him, did you?”

“No, I didn’t. He hung up before I really got a chance to say no. Just ‘I’ll see you,’ and, then, boom, he was gone.”

“When is this meeting supposed to take place?”

“Thursday at eight. He said he was tired of meeting on my territory and that it was my turn to go to him.”

“Do you have any big, mean friends who can stay with you on Thursday?”

“Would you?” she asked, then added, “I’ll pay you whatever you want.”

Cissy’s appointment was at six. I assumed that it was for a fifty-minute hour, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to guarantee Karen that I’d be at her place at the expense of cutting Cissy short.

“I couldn’t get there much before eight, and I can’t promise even that for sure.”

“That’s okay. He won’t know I’m not going to show up until eight thirty or so.”

“Unless someone’s watching your place.”

“Oh.” Karen was clearly discomfited by the thought.

“Karen, at this point, you really should consider going to the police,” I told her. “Whatever Joey and his pals are up to, it’s definitely illegal, not just irregular.”

“I don’t want to do that.”

“You’re in deep. I don’t know if I can get you out.”

“The police will only make things worse. I know that,” Karen said vehemently.

“How?”

“All I need is to be charged with a felony and my trust funds are gone. Money’s the only protection I have. Would you be helping me if I weren’t paying you?” she demanded bluntly.

The question caught me off guard. “Probably not,” I answered, angry at her for trapping me. “But remember, money got you into this to begin with. If you didn’t belong to a snotty uptown club and if you didn’t want to make even more money on top of the pile you’ve already got and if you weren’t so greedy that you didn’t ask the right questions in the beginning, you wouldn’t be—”

“I don’t need a lecture from you,” she cut me off. “And I’m not going to the police. Not yet. I can’t prove anything. That might be the most dangerous thing for me to do.”

“All right,” I relented. I had to ask myself if my wanting Karen in NOPD’s in-tray was because I thought it was really the best place for her to be or because I wanted to hand her over so she could be someone else’s problem. “I’ll get you a couple of bodyguards for Thursday until I can get there,” I told her. “In the meantime, vary your routine, keep people around you, lock everything securely. Be careful until this blows over.”

“I guess,” she answered unhappily, then to forestall what would have been my retort, “I know, I know, I will, I’ll be very careful.”

“And, Karen, if we get the evidence?”

“I’ll go to the police.”

“Right. See you tomorrow.” I hung up.

And then I grabbed my toothbrush, stuffed it into my duffel bag, and hurried out the door before the phone could ring again.

Chapter 13

It wasn’t until I started my car that I realized I hadn’t brought my set of keys to Cordelia’s apartment. I had meant to. Well, not tonight, I thought. I still needed to hit a grocery store. Since Cordelia was expecting me even as I shifted into second, I settled on a close, but iffy, one. Then on fish rather than chicken with a run by a good seafood place on St. Claude, not very far out of the way.

After getting the fish, I hit the grocery store. Some fresh vegetables, rice, and lemons were all I needed. I repeated my list as a mantra, eschewing the fight for the few remaining grocery carts. The asparagus looked good. I realized that I didn’t know if Cordelia liked asparagus or not. A cart banged into my hip. The store was crowded with just-out-of-work grocery buyers. I grabbed the asparagus, then picked up the rest of my list.

Zigzagging around many paused carts got me to the least clogged checkout line. I glanced at my watch, seeing late become later as the cashier waited for the harried manager to approve a check. My turn to fork over my money arrived. Almost there, I told myself as I swerved through the confusion and muddle of the checkout counters.

The strong light of late afternoon had dimmed to twilight blue. The precision and clarity of the day was lost, the possibilities of the night encroached—violence, love, traces of dark and light that entice and repel. Night is always ambiguous.

His shadow fell across my hands as I put the groceries in my trunk. I should have seen him, known he was here, the lack of warning unnerved me as much as his physical presence.

“Michele, long time, no see, hey?”

Hannah Arendt is right, I thought as I looked at him, his suit rumpled, the shirt tight across the beginnings of a beer gut. Evil is banal.

“Mama wondered why you didn’t come ’round last Christmas. You know how she is about family.”

“I didn’t know I was family,” I answered.

“’Course you’re family. How can you doubt it?”

Because you did everything you could to make me feel unwanted, an outsider, a bastard.But if I said that, he would deny it, tell me I was making it up. Of course, I was family—don’t all families have a little girl somewhere to be toyed with late at night when no one is watching?

“I’m in real estate now, you know. Doing some commercial property down here.”

He stood next to my car door, barring my way.

“Well, good luck with it,” I said perfunctorily. “I’m late, I’ve got to go.”

“Got a date?” He didn’t move. “A new girlfriend?” The night wasn’t dense enough to hide his leer.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Now, don’t be like that, Mick. I’m not like Mama, screeching about perversion. You want to do it with girls, that’s okay by me.”

“Let me get to my car.”

“Must be a hot-looking woman for you to be in such a hurry.”

“Let me get into my car,” I repeated.

“I got me a new girlfriend. You should meet her sometime. She loves sex. I bet she’d like to do it with a woman. Might be you could give her a few pointers.”

“Move away from my car door. I’m in a hurry.”

“Why, sure, Michele, but you got to say the magic word.”