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“Search my room. Check my piece. I’m not your guy. You know it.”
The detective put a cigarette into his mouth but didn’t light it. “You’ll like our facilities. After two or three days, the baloney sandwiches start to grow on you.”
“Fuck you.”
“What did you say?”
“You’re queering your own investigation,” Clete said.
“The guy’s an asshole,” the deputy said. “How about we let it slide?”
“Hook him up,” the plainclothes said.
“In his shorts?”
“Throw a blanket over him. Take him down the back stairs. Maybe he won’t trip.”
• • •
I PARKED MY PICKUP and hung my badge around my neck. To circumvent the emergency vehicles and personnel, I cut through the restaurant and went out the exit, headed for the motel. A waitress was smoking a cigarette by the back door. She had a sweater over her shoulders. Clete was being marched toward a squad car, his wrists cuffed behind him. Someone had draped a blanket on his head. His boxer shorts and bare legs were exposed.
“Detective Dave Robicheaux, Iberia Sheriff’s Department,” I said. “Wait up.”
A plainclothes looked at me. His eyes were as hard as agate. “Problem?”
“Yeah,” I said. “This man be
longs in a hospital. I’m here to pick him up.”
“There’re three stiffs in the meat wagon. One looks like he was drug facedown a fire escape. His name is Jaime O’Banion. Your friend says he never saw him before.”
“That’s why you hooked up Clete Purcel?”
“Interfere with this investigation and you can join him.”
On the edge of my vision, I saw a waitress, her arms folded across her chest. She dropped her cigarette into a butt can and approached us. “Couldn’t help listening in, Stan,” she said to the plainclothes. “If you’re busting my friend there, you got the wrong fellow.”
“Don’t give me a hard time, Flo,” he said.
“Trying to save you from making a mistake, Stan. You can check my time card,” she replied. “I punched in at six-fifteen. Before that, I was in my friend’s room from midnight until six-ten.”
“This guy killed a federal witness.”
“Cut it out, Stan. He was in the Crotch. In Vietnam.”
“Are you sure about the times, Flo?”
“Do you think I enjoy talking about this in public?”
The plainclothes turned to the deputy. “Unhook him.” He pointed his finger at Clete. “Have a nice day.”
Clete pulled the blanket around him. He smiled at the plainclothes. “Hey.”
“Hey, what?” the plainclothes said.
“Next time I’m in town, I’ll drop by. We’ll have coffee. I really dig this place. It’s the prototype for Shitsville. When you’re here, you know you can’t go any lower. There’s got to be a kind of serenity in that.”
I stepped in front of the plainclothes, interdicting his line of sight. “Thanks for your courtesy, Detective.”
