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“Do you know if the DEA or New Orleans PD is chasing this down?” asked Quinn. “I’ve only heard rumors, but nothing I can pin down and I’m hearing speculation, nothing substantive.”
Quinn had to admit she was thriving here at the Gazette. She found it incredibly supportive to be able to talk over story ideas with Levi, and sometimes Rosie. The rest of the reporters she didn’t trust to not try to steal her ideas.
She continued, “I’ve also heard thatEl Tigreis not happy about Gutierrez trying to infiltrate his territory.”
“I wouldn’t doubt that. Bodie Lambeau takes that kind of thing seriously and has a rather protective, if not benevolent, affection for this city.”
“You almost sound as if you like him.”
“I do,” said Levi, “and more than that, I respect him.”
“He’s a gangster.”
“That he is, but an honorable one. His family has resided atForce et Honneurfor centuries. They have been a part of this community since its founding. When the idiots at FEMA were running around with their thumbs up their asses after Katrina, it was Lambeau who stepped up, rescuing people and finding them safe places to stay, food, water, and the like. You weren’t here back then, but I’ve been in war zones that were safer and better organized.”
“He’s still a gangster.”
“But one who doesn’t run drugs or sell arms to those who might use them against this country.”
“So, he’s a patriotic arms dealer,” Quinn teased.
Levi ignored her. “He also runs legit gambling houses, and by that, I mean he doesn’t tolerate cheating of any kind. He doesn’t run hookers and ensures that those who do don’t abuse the sex workers working for them. He smuggles booze, cigars, and other contraband, but no narcotics of any kind. I know more than one medical clinic that gets their drugs—antibiotics and the like—from Bodie because it’s cheaper and they know it won’t be tampered with. So yes, the man operates outside the law, but sometimes he’s the best source for what you need and the only way to get justice.”
“Revenge.”
“Sometimes they’re the same thing. He doesn’t kill indiscriminately. And he also sponsors several of the public Mardi Gras balls. Besides, in all honesty, he’s the reason that most of the cartels and many of the worse syndicates give New Orleans a wide berth. I’m not sure if anyone has gone up against Lambeau and not come out worse for wear, if they manage to come out at all.”
Quinn nodded her head. She had pretty much heard the same thing since she’d arrived in New Orleans. She had to admit that she found the idea of a gentleman gangster who was pretty much beloved by all and all but ignored by the police intriguing.
“Do you think he’d talk to me?”
“No. He avoids the press like the plague.”
“Might he be willing to talk to me off-the-record if I find something out about Gutierrez?”
“Doubtful. Lambeau is old school and is not inclined to put women in danger. You can get as annoyed as you like, but that’s the way he is.”
“So, he’s a chauvinistic gangster. Good to know.”
Levi chuckled. “If you ever do get a chance to speak with him, give me a heads up. I’d pay good money to see the two of you spar. I’d like to order you not to pursue this story on Gutierrez, but I know better. You’re going to do it anyway. I’ll just caution you to be careful. If you get into real trouble, go to The Refuge. Lambeau owns the place. Ask for an angel shot and then ask for Lambeau and tell them who you are. They’ll get you to safety. So other than putting yourself in the crosshairs of a sociopath like Gutierrez, what else do you have planned for the next few days?”
“Actually, I thought I’d put down my mighty pen and enjoy some of Mardi Gras. What’s your pick for the best party?”
“Depends on what you like. If you’re just looking for a drunken free-for-all, any of the street parties along the parade route will do. On the other hand, if you’re looking for something a bit more tame, the Beignet Ball on the riverboat is a lot of fun. It’s lively without being crazy; there are several live bands on board, lots of dancing, and good food. Besides, it’s safe and security personnel are there to ensure nothing untoward happens. I will warn you, it is formal—black tie for men and long gowns or feminine tuxedos for women, no exceptions. Masks are not required, but most people wear them as it makes whatever you decide to get up to a little more anonymous. Besides, there will be lots of Navy and Air Force brass, as well as city and parish officials in attendance. You might be able to pick up some additional tidbits about your story.”
“Sounds like I’ll be attending Beignet Ball. I’m going to go need to buy something appropriate.”
“Head to Celeste’s off Bourbon Street. Tell her you’re with the Gazette. I’ll call her and let her know to charge everything to the paper. Consider it a bonus for the Belle Chasse story. We’ll write it off as a business expense.”
“I’ve heard of Celeste’s. It’s expensive.”
“It is, but her stock-in-trade is fashions for girls with dangerous curves—that’s her motto, not mine.”
Quinn shook her head. “Thank you. As I said, I’ve heard of it, but avoided it because of the expense, but as you’re buying… wait, can we afford it?”
“Don’t you worry about the expense. I’ve got it covered. You go on and enjoy yourself—maybe get a manicure and pedicure.”
Quinn looked down at her nails. Levi was right, they could use some work. As she rose from the chair and headed back out into the office, she lifted her fist to her lips to stifle the giggle that was threatening to erupt at the thought of the stodgy Levi noticing and being offended by the shape of her nails. Quinn had a rule: journalists didn’t giggle. They could laugh, guffaw, and even snort, but they didn’t giggle. She picked up her gear and headed out. As the elevator doors closed behind her, Quinn allowed herself the luxury and release of the girliest giggle she’d ever manifested.
