Mr. Clarinet

"Non. No true," he insisted.

"Yes, true. Yes very true."

"I say no true."

"Why is that?"

"Eddie"—Codada pulled a proud face—"a good man. He never do bad to Monsieur Carver. He love Monsieur Carver like…like him father."

"Eddie tell you that?"

"No. I see. I know. I feel."

"Is that right? You see, you know, you feel? OK. I know Eddie was working for Charlie's kidnappers. That was why he drove the car to that road that day. He was waiting for them to come and take the boy."

"Non!"

"Yes!"

"Who tell you dis—dis shit?"

"I investigay too," Max said. "And it's not shit."

Codada's face said he didn't believe him, told his interrogator he thought he was bluffing.

Max decided to switch lanes and ask him about other things. He went over to a corner of the room and picked up one of the prompts he'd brought from Codada's house—Claudette's videotape.

"Tell me about your business?"

"'Business'?" Codada searched him.

"That's what I said."

"I no 'ave 'business.'"

Max glanced at the door. An armed man was guarding it. His interpreter was standing against the wall behind Codada.

"You ever steal children?"

"I no steal children."

"Bullshit!" Max thundered. "You and your crew stole children to sell to rich perverts. That is your business!"

"Non!" Codada snapped back and tried to stand, but he fell flat on his face.

Max put one foot on Codada's back and pushed down hard until he heard the vertebrae cracking.

"YES! You did, you lying cocksucker!" Max seethed as he ground his foot down harder on Codada's spine, making him gasp in pain. "You stole those kids and you took them to La Gonâve and sold them to kiddie rapers like yourself. I bet that's what we're gonna find when we go there—we're gonna find your latest batch of merchandise. You sackful of fucking shit!"

Max stamped on him hard and Codada cried out.

"Pick him up!" Max snapped at the men.

They set him back in the chair.

Max opened Claudette's videotape box and showed him her photograph.

"You know her?"

Codada didn't answer, just winced in pain.

"John Saxby—the guy who bought her? Tell me about him: what does he do? And don't talk shit because we've got your accounts—your business accounts. Answer me."

"I no more want speak," Codada said, looking past Max, his eyes going dull as he focused on the door.

"Oh, you 'no more want speak'? Well, fuck you Maurice, because I'm as good as it fucking gets for you. Think I'm giving you a hard time now? This is easy time, Maurice, because you either speak to me now, or Vincent Paul will make you speak. Do you understand?"

"Good kop, bad kop?" Codada sneered.

"There are no cops here, Maurice. And there's no good either. You're through. You hear me? You're over. You know why? I'm going to talk to Eloise. I'm going to make her tell me what you won't. You understand me?" Max said, mouth close to Codada's ear. "You still 'no more want speak'?"

Codada didn't reply.

Max turned and walked out of the room.

Chapter 51

ELOISE SHOT MAX a furtive look when he walked into the room, then stared down at the plain white handkerchief in her cuffed hands.

"Eloise? My name is Max Mingus. I'm investigating the kidnapping of Charlie Carver."

No reply.

"I know you speak English as well as I do," Max said. She stayed silent, kept her eyes on the handkerchief, her body slightly hunched forward, as if she would have drawn her knees up to her chest if she could.

"Let me paint the picture for you. This is going to go very very badly for you both," Max kept his voice low and soft, his tone non-threatening, one of shared intimacy. "You know who Vincent Paul is. I've seen what he does to people and trust me, it is not pretty."

She didn't even move.

"Eloise, I'm not like him. I want to help you. I've seen the videotapes of you when you were a little girl. I've seen what that man in the next room did to you. If you help me, I promise you that I will talk to Vincent about you. I'll explain to him that it wasn't really your fault you got involved in the things you did. You might have a good chance of getting out of this alive."

Silence.

Then Max heard the unmistakable boom of Vincent Paul's voice outside the house.

"Eloise. Save yourself. Please," Max implored. "If you don't help me, Vincent Paul will kill you. He's not going to take your past into account. He's not going to care that you were once a little girl, that that evil bastard out there snatched you from your home and raped you and abused you. He's just going to see what he's looking at—a teacher, someone responsible for the lives of young vulnerable children, orphans, who let evil men abuse them and even participated in it. I won't blame him for his actions, Eloise. Think about it. Think about it hard. I'm offering you a way out. That sack of shit in the next room isn't worth it."

Max walked out and saw Paul standing in the corridor. He greeted Max with a half-smile and a slight nod.

"Give her this." Vincent put something small and wet into Max's palm.

Max looked at it and went back in to Eloise.

"Recognize this?" he asked her.

Her eyes widened and teared up when she recognized what the bloody gleaming chunk of metal between Max's fingers was.

"You leave him alone!" she screeched.

"If you don't tell us what we want to know, Eloise, we are going to take him apart, piece by piece." He grabbed her hand and pressed her lover's gold front tooth into her palm.

She stared at Max, her eyes poisoned darts. He knew then that she wasn't the warped innocent he was almost sure she'd be. She wasn't any kind of victim at all. She was every bit as guilty as Codada.