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Her lipstick was purple, the mole by her mouth sensuous in a way I didn’t understand. I wanted to reach out and touch it.
“After I change your tire, I have to be somewhere else,” I said.
“As you like.”
I saw the disappointment in her face. I did not think it was feigned. “What is it you want to talk to me about?”
“Everything. That is, everything I am and everything I am not. But if you’re busy, I understand.”
* * *
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, I had the spare tire on. Because of the spare’s small size, the Ferrari was canted on one side. Our best hotels and motels were out by the four-lane, several miles away. The Ferrari would probably have problems all the way there.
The streetlamps clicked on. A car went by, blowing leaves and carbon monoxide in its wake.
“There’s a bed-and-breakfast on the next block, but they’re probably full up,” I said.
“I’ll manage,” she said.
“Why don’t you call your husband and ask him what he wants you to do?”
“Adonis is not my husband,” she said.
“Did I just hear you right, or is one of us crazy?”
She looked at my humble house, with its boxcar-like design and peaked tin roof that was stained with lichen and rust, the gutters impacted with Spanish moss. “I promise I’ll only take a few minutes of your time. Then, if you tell me you never want to see me again, I’ll abide by your wishes.”
“Come in,” I said. I parked my truck in the porte cochere and carried my groceries through the back door and placed them on the drain board, refusing to accept that I was trying to hide her presence on my property. “You want a Dr Pepper or a glass of lemonade?” I said.
“Nothing, thank you.”
“What was that about Adonis not being your old man?”
“Why are you using that kind of language?”
“I didn’t give it any thought.”
“Don’t lie. You’re trying to be someone you’re not. You’re a gentleman, Mr. Robicheaux, so act like one. Don’t let fear turn you into a dolt.”
I felt my face shrink. “Miss Penelope, I’m a widower and a drunkard. My relationship with the sheriff’s department is tenuous. My stepdaughter and a half brother are my only family. Clete Purcel is my best friend. That is the sum of my time on earth. There’s a shorter version. I’m bad news, and I don’t have answers for myself, much less others.”
“Adonis and I were never married,” she said. “I was part of a business deal. Or at least that’s what you would call it here. The custom goes back five hundred years in our families. I’m talking about the Shondells and the Balangies.”
“So how about eighty-sixing tradition and living your own life?” I said.
“In my way, I try to do that.” She was standing closer to me than was proper in the culture of New Iberia. “When I say I’m not married to Adonis, I mean I’m not married on any level and never have been. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, I’d say that’s clear enough. But this isn’t information I necessarily want or need.”
“Faux marriages have existed since the beginnings of civilization. So just stop it, Mr. Robicheaux.”
“Stop what?”
“Acting like you’re shocked. It doesn’t become you.”
I took an ice tray and two cans of Dr Pepper from the refrigerator and knocked the ice against the sink and began filling two glasses with it, my hands uncoordinated, even shaking. She stepped closer so I could see her at the corner of my vision. “Don’t be so emotional.”
I propped my arms on the sink’s rim. “I don’t care if you’re married or not,” I lied. “You cannot deny the source of your wealth, Miss Penelope.”
