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Benny looked at him with sympathy. “Fuck! You know him?”
“A friend,” Gator replied, his voice trembling.
“Sorry, man,” Benny said, genuine sadness reflecting in his eyes.
Gator called Baptiste, and within minutes, he too had viewed the footage. There was no way anyone, cops or otherwise, could identify who had done this. Bruno had come back into Gator’s life, changed it for the better, and now his friend was gone forever, shot by those he must have been investigating.
“Can I have this footage?” Gator asked, his voice barely audible.
“Sure,” Benny agreed.
Gator left the money on the desk as he walked out the door with Baptiste, ready for the somber ride back home. He was devastated, and the pain of losing his friend felt like an open wound, one that would take a lifetime to heal.
24
The sun dippedbelow the horizon, leaving the Mississippi River bathed in the warm glow of twilight. Gator, Sylvie, and Baptiste were joined by Elodie, who had come to mourn the loss of their friend Bruno. They had gathered on the banks, a fire crackling nearby and as they sat in a circle, sharing food and drink, they reminisced about the man they believed had been murdered by someone from the Dupree criminal organization…a notorious gang akin to the Mississippi Mafia.
After a moment of silence, Gator broke the somber atmosphere. “Bruno wouldn’t want us to wallow in sadness. He’d want us to remember the good times.”
Baptiste nodded in agreement. “You’re right. Share some stories about him, Gator. I’ve only known him as the cop who should have been a biker.”
Gator thought back to their childhood and grinned. “I remember this one time when we were kids, Bruno dared me to sneak into Old Man Johnson’s backyard and steal some of his prized tomatoes. Well, we didn’t know that Old Man Johnson had just gotten a new guard dog. I made it into the yard, but as soon as I grabbed a tomato, that dog came charging at me, barking like crazy. I’ve never run so fast in my life! Bruno was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. He said it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.”
Baptiste chuckled. “That sounds like Bruno.” They had music playing lightly in the background. The Doobie Brothers came on and it jogged Baptiste’s memory. “When I first met him, he was just starting an investigation. I don’t know what it was all about, but he was undercover at this seedy bar, trying to get information on a suspect. Bruno decided to blend in by participating in the bar’s karaoke night. He got up on stage and started singing ‘Black Water’ at the top of his lungs, butchering the lyrics and dancing like a maniac. I couldn’t stop laughing, and neither could anyone else in the bar. When he was finished and seated back at the bar beside me, I told him, ‘Never heard a cop sing, and don’t want to again.’
“He sprayed his beer on me, shocked to think his perfect cover had been blown.
“‘Why do you think I’m a cop?’ he asked, keeping his voice low after apologizing for the mess he’d just made.
“‘It’s a biker bar, man,’ I told him. It obviously wasn’t…”
“Why not?” Sylvie asked.
“Karaoke,” Baptiste said. She blushed and smiled.
“I told him that bikers don’t look like cops. And…bikers don’t like cops…but that he seemed OK.
“He didn’t carry on that conversation. Neither confirming nor denying,” Baptiste said to the laughter of his friends listening.“I asked him if he’d had any luck with the suspect he was trying to grill. He shook his head, so I waved the guy over and when he got to us, I said, ‘Anything you can help my friend here with, Maddox?’”
“Maddox!” Gator said. He almost fell into the fire he was laughing so hard. “He was trying to get info out of Maddox,” he said between gulps of air and a short coughing fit.
“Who’s Maddox?” Sylvie asked. She hadn’t met many of the Jokers yet.
“You’ll meet him,” Baptiste said. “Soon enough.”
Even a Green Beret wouldn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of interrogating Brock Maddox, a former soldier, private investigator, and member of the Jokers MC.
Sylvie smiled, listening to their stories. “I may not have known Bruno as long as you two, but I do know that without him, I wouldn’t have this life now.”
As they continued to share memories, an alligator suddenly emerged from the water, its snout breaking the surface. Sylvie gasped and jumped up, ready to flee, but Gator and Baptiste remained unfazed. Gator tossed a piece of fried chicken towards the alligator, saying, “This one’s from Bruno.” He was about to mention Marvin then, before holding back his thoughts.
The alligator snapped up the chicken and disappeared beneath the water’s surface. Unsure of how to react, Sylvie hesitated before joining the others in laughter, feeling the effects of the weed they had smoked earlier.
“Won’t that attract more of them, feeding that one?” Sylvie asked, trying to suppress her nervous giggle.
Gator glanced at the remaining chicken in the tub and shrugged. “We can probably spare the wings.”
As the evening wore on, they continued to share stories and laughter, honoring their friend.
