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“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.
