“Of course not. You’re a nice person, Miss Babette. Did Mr. Spade thank you for returning his lighter?”
“No, suh, he ain’t said nothing.”
I took a business card out of my wallet and wrote my unlisted number on the back. “If you see that other guy again, give me a ring. Of if you have any problems with anything at all, give me a ring.”
I could see the uncertainty, the fear about her job, her paycheck, her relationship with her boss, the prospect of offending people with power and authority over others, the dark figure sitting in the shadows at the end of the bar when it’s closing time. I wondered how many people would understand her frame of reference.
She squeezed the card in her fist. “I better go.”
“Remember what I said. You’re a nice lady.”
“T’ank you,” she replied.
She pushed her basket to the cashier’s counter and didn’t look back.
On Friday morning, I went into Labiche’s office. It was hardly more than a cubicle, located in a corner without windows. “What’s the haps?” I said.
He looked up from his paperwork. He tried to grin. “What’s shaking, Robo?”
“Alafair told me about your visit to my house. You found my prints on some broken glass?”
“Like I told her, there’s probably an explanation. Maybe you didn’t have your latex on at the crime scene.”
“No, my gloves were on. Why didn’t you come to my office instead of my house?”
“Because you weren’t here.”
His lighter was on the desk blotter. He picked it up and began clicking the top up and down.
“Nice lighter,” I said. “Real gold?”
“A gift. What do you want, Slick?”
“Slick?”
“Get off your high horse.”
“I want you not snooping around my house. I want you not looking at my daughter in an inappropriate way.”
“I’ve tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. But that’s a waste of time. For arrogance, you take the cake.”
“I think you’re a Judas and a liar.”
“Do you know you smelled like puke at the crime scene? You’re a rummy, my friend. I don’t know why Helen keeps you around.”
I walked closer to his desk. I rested my fingertips on the edge, felt the grain of the wood. “Stay away from my daughter.”
He laughed under his breath.
“You’re amused?” I said.
“Yeah, by you. I’ll make sure I call you Dave from now on. See you later, Dave.”
I went back to my office, leaving the ceiling lights off, and sat behind my desk and stared through the window, my breath coming hard in my throat, a sound like the ocean whirring in my ears. Then I went downstairs and printed out the rap sheet and mug shots of Kevin Penny on file at the National Crime Information Center.
After the lunch crowd had left the bar-and-grill on the bayou, I parked an unmarked car under a shade tree on the street paralleling the bayou and entered the building through the kitchen. I saw Babette unloading dishes from a washer, her face bright with perspiration in the steam.
“Can I speak with you, Miss Babette?”
She wiped her nose with her wrist. “I’m working, Mr. Dave.”
“It’ll just take a minute.”
She looked around, then followed me out on the deck. The tables were empty, the sky blue, the wind gusting along the bayou; a black kid was flying a yellow kite above the oaks in front of the old convent. I had the photos of Penny in a manila folder. I opened and flattened it on the deck rail. “You know this guy?”
She stared at Penny’s face. Her eyes narrowed. “I ain’t sure.”
“It’s important, Babette.”
“A lot of people come in here. At night they all look the same.”
“I’m not asking you to appear at a lineup or testify at a trial. This guy has nothing to do with your life. I just want to know if you’ve seen him.”
“I need this job, Mr. Dave. I got a little girl. I ain’t got no husband.”
“This won’t have any effect on your job. I give you my word.”
“Maybe he was the guy talking wit’ Mr. Spade the night you was in.”
“Maybe?”
“Yes, suh,” she said, nodding.
“Take another look, Babette.”
“I don’t need to.”
“That’s the guy?”
“People look different in the daytime than they do at night. Has this guy done some bad t’ings?”
“A few.”
“I don’t want to lie to you, Mr. Dave. I just don’t want to say no more. I don’t never talk about people.”
I closed the folder and put it under my arm. “You don’t need to say any more, Babette.”
“What if he comes back?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” I patted her on the arm.
“I’m all mixed up,” she said. “You’re giving me your word, ain’t you? Ain’t nothing gonna happen?”
“You’re not involved.”
“What do you call this?” she said.
At four-fifteen the same day, Jimmy Nightingale was in my office. The top of my desk was littered with photographs from a hit-and-run fatality on the four-lane south of town. There were bags under Jimmy’s eyes, a funky smell in his clothes. “You got to help me out, Dave.”
I was about to have another lesson on the number of manifestations that can live in the people we think we know best. “Have a seat.”
“Can you talk to my cousin Emmeline?”
“I heard she was your half sister.”
“I’m not sure what she is. My father’s penis roved over five continents. Tell her I didn’t do it. You’ve known me all my life. I don’t rape women, for God’s sake.”
“People do things when they’re drunk that they would never do sober.”
“I wasn’t that drunk.”
“You were drinking and took a married woman on your boat, in this case one who obviously had the hots for you. You think things wouldn’t get out of hand in a scenario like that?”
“I know what I did and what I didn’t do. She was plastered. She fell down outside the lounge. I had to pick her up and put her in the car. I didn’t want to take her back to her car; nor did I want to dump her drunk at her house. So we drove down to Cypremort Point, and I showed her my boat and tried to get some coffee down her.”
I thought about the bruise inside Rowena’s thigh and the scratches on her hip and wondered if Jimmy was providing a fabricated explanation for them.
“I think you ought to get a lawyer,” I said.
“I have a half dozen of them. I don’t want this going into a courtroom. I want to work it out.”
“By denying you didn’t do anything wrong?”
“Right now I just want you to talk to Emmeline.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a straight shooter.”
“Wish I could help you.”
“She and I are close.”
“I’m not sure I want to hear what you’re telling me.”
“You’re going to hear it whether you like it or not.”
I shook my head. “Nope, this has nothing to do with the issue. Talk to a minister or a therapist, Jimmy. This is the wrong place for it.”
“She was in an orphanage in Mexico City. You can imagine what kind of place it was. I’m the center of her life.”
I got up from the desk and looked out the window, my back turned to him. “I don’t know how this one is going to play out, Jimmy.”
“Yeah, you do. I’m innocent, and you goddamn well know it.”
“But innocent of what? You say you didn’t touch Rowena. Maybe you guys got it on and she got caught and you lied. The defendant claiming consensual sex is a cliché. The change of pace is the best pitch in baseball.” I turned around. “You were a master at it, Jimmy.”