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“What is Dave supposed to do about it?”
“Did Dave see atrocities in Vietnam?”
“He doesn’t talk about the war.”
“Jimmy was in South America at the same time Levon was, except Levon was working for Amnesty International.”
“I’m lost. I also need to go.”
“Jimmy is capable of taking his own life.”
“Pardon?”
“Levon spat in his face. He might as well have spat on his soul.”
“I’m leaving now.”
“You tell your father what I said.”
Alafair’s ears were still ringing when she got home.
THAT EVENING ALAFAIR told me of her conversation with Emmeline Nightingale. “What’s she after?” she asked.
“Money or power or both. Maybe sex is involved,” I said. “But that comes automatically with the other two.”
“She and her cousin are rich and powerful already.”
“They may be brother and sister.”
“Then why don’t they tell people that?”
“Kevin Penny says they’re very close.” I let it sink in.
“They’re getting it on?”
“The royalty are insular in St. Mary Parish.”
“Yuck,” she said.
“Tony Nemo wants to produce Levon’s book. Jimmy Nightingale not only wants to adapt it but is envious of Levon. If I were a prosecutor, I’d use that as motivation for the rape. He couldn’t be Levon, so he’d take second best.”
“That’s really crude.”
“So is rape.”
Alafair walked to the kitchen window and bit a fingernail. A tugboat was headed up the bayou, its gunwales hung with tires, the wake sliding into the cypress trees.
“Dave, I know how to make this script work. It could be a great film. The story of the drummer boy at Shiloh could be a film in itself.”
“Tell all this to Levon.”
“He’s an angry man.”
“About his wife?”
“I don’t think he believes his portrayal of his ancestors is honest.”
“In his novels?”
