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She had blue eyes and skin the color of a new penny and features that were Indian and Afro-American. “Who you?”
“Dave Robicheaux.”
“Don’t y’all be hurting my grandson, no.”
“Why would we do that?”
“The one wit’ the badge. I seen the look in his face.”
“Detective Labiche?”
“Call him what you want.”
She picked up her basket and waddled back inside. I could hear voices through the window screen.
“So why were you parked in the trees?” Labiche said.
“To drink a couple of beers wit’ my friend,” a young male voice said. “I got out to take a leak and seed the truck crash t’rew the fence. Then this guy come running from the road and was fighting wit’ the guy in the truck.”
“Inside the truck?” Helen said.
“He was messing with the glass, then got mad and busted it and was fighting wit’ the guy inside. He pulled him t’rew the window. That’s when this other guy come running up. It was dark except for the lightning in the clouds.”
“Which guy came running up?” Labiche said.
“Some guy from the road. Maybe all t’ree of them was fighting. I couldn’t tell what was going on.”
“What’s the name of the person who was with you?” Labiche said.
“I cain’t tell you that.”
“Was it a he or a she?” Labiche said.
“We’re just interested in what you saw, Baby Cakes,” Helen said. “Let’s not worry about this other person right now.”
“I was scared,” Baby Cakes said.
“Of who?” Helen said
.
“People that beat up on people like me.”
“Because you’re gay?” she said.
“Because I ain’t sure what I am.”
“Kind of late finding out, aren’t you?” Labiche said.
“Wait outside for me, Detective.”
“I think I should be here,” Labiche replied.
“Now,” Helen said.
Labiche came out the front door and walked across the gallery loudly. He leaned against the cruiser and lit a cigarette and scratched at one nostril with a thumbnail.
“I want you to look at these photos,” Helen said.
