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“It’s not Robbie?”
“Just call me Rob if you like.”
His handshake was boneless, unthreatening, cool and dry to the touch. There was a white shine on his teeth. He picked up a peeled crawfish and put it in his mouth, his cheekbones working slowly, his gaze never leaving my face. He touched at his lips with a paper napkin, his expression as benign as the weather was temperate, a bit like a man thinking of a private joke. “Is there something on your mind I can help you with?” he asked.
“I got it. It wasn’t an actor. You remind me of Chet Baker,” I said.
“The musician?”
“That’s right. A tragic one, at that. His addictions ate him alive. You like jazz, Mr. Weingart? Have you done any professional performing? I’m sure I’ve seen you in a professional capacity.”
“Let me fix you a plate, Mr. Robicheaux,” Kermit said.
“No, I never was a performer,” Robert Weingart said. “Why would you think that?”
“I just admire people who can teach themselves not to blink. When a person doesn’t blink, you can’t read his thoughts. All you see is one undecipherable expression. It’s like staring into electrified silk.”
“That’s quite an image,” he said to Kermit. “One of us ought to borrow that and give Mr. Robicheaux a footnote.”
“You can just take it and use it in any fashion you choose. It’s free,” I said.
Kermit Abelard touched my forearm with a loaded paper plate.
“No, thanks,” I said. “I’d better get back on my run.”
“You’re a police officer,” Robert Weingart said.
“Alafair told you?”
“Usually I can spot a police officer. It used to be part of my curriculum vitae. But in this case I think your daughter told me. I’m almost sure of it.”
“You think? But you don’t know?”
Alafair’s face was burning.
“Is my plate ready? I could eat a whale,” Robert Weingart said, looking around, suppressing his amusement at the situation that swirled about him.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE you. Why didn’t you punch him in the face while you were at it?” Alafair said to me after she returned home.
“That’s a possibility,” I replied.
“What did he do? The man was just sitting there.”
“He’s a mainline recidivist, Alf. Don’t be taken in.”
“Don’t call me that stupid name. How can you know somebody five seconds and make judgments like that?”
“Anybody who’s con-wise can spot a dude like that five blocks away.”
“The real problem is you always want to control other people. Instead of being honest about your own self-centered agenda, you go after Kermit’s friend.”
“You’re right, I don’t know him.”
“Why do you blame Kermit for what his family may have done? It’s not fair to him, Dave, and it’s not fair to me.”
“There’s no ‘may have done’ about it. The Abelards are dictators. If they had their way, we’d all be doing their grunt work for minimum wage, if that.”
“So what? That doesn’t mean Kermit is like the rest of his family. John and Robert Kennedy weren’t like their father.”
