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Monday night, just after I had drifted off to sleep, the phone rang in the kitchen. I looked at the caller ID and picked it up in the dark. The moon was up, and a light rain was clicking on the roof and the trees. “Babette?”
“I’m sorry I ain’t got back to you,” she said. “I moved my little girl to my mama’s house in Breaux Bridge.”
“Has somebody bothered you?”
“No, suh, but like I said on the machine, I t’ink I seen the man again, the one who was taking to Mr. Spade.”
“Where?”
“At the Walmart. He didn’t have a basket or nothing. He was maybe t’irty feet away, looking at me. He said, ‘Hi, you pretty thing. Come have a hot dog.’?”
“You’re sure it was the same man?”
“He looked a little different, but I’m pretty sure it was the man in the picture you showed me, the one who was outside the bar-and-grill.”
“He was different how?” I asked.
“Like he’d been in a fight.”
“Say that again?”
“His face was swole up. I called to tell you everything is all right and you don’t need to worry no more. I got ahold of Mr. Spade.”
“Back up, Babette.”
“He ain’t in the phone book, but a waitress I know had his number. So I told him about me talking to you and me seeing the guy again and how I don’t want no trouble or to be saying anything bad about nobody.”
I could feel the floor shifting under my feet. “Listen to me, Babette. Don’t talk any more with Spade Labiche. Stay away from him. He’s not a good guy.”
“I ain’t supposed to talk to the police?”
“The man with the swollen face is a dangerous and violent career criminal. I don’t know why he was with Labiche, but I’m going to find out. What happened after you saw the man at Walmart?”
“Nothing. He just walked away.”
“What did Labiche tell you?”
“He said not to worry. He said the guy was just axing him directions and he didn’t know nothing about him. That ain’t true?”
“It could be,” I said.
“It could be? Oh, Mr. Dave, what I’m gonna do?”
“If you feel threatened, you can stay with my daughter and me.”
“That don’t sound right. I cain’t live off other people.”
I didn’t know what to say. Who is usually the victim of a criminal? The most innocent of the innocent, and usually those who can least afford the attrition.
“Are you there, Mr. Dave?”
“I’m going to talk to my friend Clete Purcel. He’s a private investigator. If you’re with him, no one will ever hurt you. Give me your address.”
* * *
I WENT INTO labiche’S office the next morning. “How you doin’, Spade?” I said.
He was drinking coffee from a white mug with Wonder Woman on it. “What’s on your mind, Dave?”
