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"Mark one off to bad manners," I said.
Early the next morning the sheriff called me into his office.
"Lafayette P.D. wants us to help with security at the Hotel Acadiana on Pinhook Road," he said.
"Buford again?"
"The guy's turned the governor's office into a rolling party. We're probably going to be stuck with it a little while."
"I want off it, skipper."
"I want my old hairline back."
"He's a hype."
"You're telling me we just elected a junkie?"
I told him what had happened the night before. He blew out his breath.
"You're sure he's not diabetic or something like that?" he asked.
"I think it's speed."
"You didn't want to take him down?"
"Busting a guy in his bathroom with no warrant?"
He rubbed his temple.
"I h
ate to say this, but I'm still glad he won rather than one of those other shitheads," he said. He waited. "No comment?"
"He's bad news. We'll pay for it down the line."
"God, you're a source of comfort," he said.
I picked up my morning mail and went into my office just as my phone rang. Dock Green must have hit the floor running.
"You tell that Irish prick he wants to get in my face, I'll meet him in the street, in an alley, out on a sandbar in the middle of the Atchafalaya. Somebody should have busted his spokes a long time ago," he said.
"Which Irish prick?" I said.
"Duh," he answered. "He caused a big scene at my casino. Customers were going out the doors like it was a fire drill. He threw a pool ball into a guy's head at my restaurant."
"Tell him yourself."
"I would. Except I can't find him. He's too busy wiping his shit all over the city."
"Clete's a one-on-one-type guy, Dock."
"Yeah? Well, I'm a civilized human being. Jimmy Ray Dixon ain't. Your friend's been down in Cannibal Town, saying they give up this black ape been making threats against him or he's going to staple somebody's dork to the furniture. I hope they cook him in a pot."
"The shooter we want is a guy named Mookie. He's telling people he has permission to take Purcel out. Who'd give him that kind of permission, Dock?"
"Try to fit this into your head, Robicheaux—"
Then I heard a woman's voice and hands scraping on the receiver, as though someone were pulling it from Dock's grasp.
