Part 8 (1/2)

Chapter 11.

I said, ”Well, well. Bill and Hillary.”LeRoy lowered his gun. ”Knew we'd see you again, podnuh.” He tilted his head toward the backseat. ”C'mon. Don't make ol' Ren+! have to get out.”

Ren+! was in the backseat. His eyes were filmy and moved independently of each other, and I was struck again with the sense that maybe he was here with us, but maybe not. I said, ”What if I won't go?”

LeRoy laughed. ”Knock off da bulls.h.i.+t and les' go.”

I said, ”Tell me something, is Ren+! for real or did someone build him out of spare parts?”

Ren+! s.h.i.+fted and the Polara squeaked on its springs. He had to tip in at close to four hundred pounds. Maybe more. LeRoy said, ”Get in front wi' me. Ren+!, he won't fit up front. He ride in back.”

I got in and they brought me south through Ville Platte and down along the highway to Milt Rossier's Crawfish Farm. We drove slowly up between the ponds and along the oyster sh.e.l.l road past a couple of long, low cinder block buildings. The buildings had great sliding doors and the doors were open and you could see inside. Hispanic men driving little tractors towed open tanks alive with wiggling catfish into the near building. There, Hispanic women working at large flat tables scooped up the catfish, lopped off their heads, then gutted and skinned them with thin knives. Other men drove trucks filled with crawfish into the far building where women washed and sorted and bagged the crawfish in heavy burlap bags. With the windows down and no air conditioning, the crunching oyster sh.e.l.ls were loud in the car and sounded like breaking bones. Jimmie Ray Rebenack's Mustang was parked on the far side of the processing sheds, and Jimmie Ray was standing with Milt Rossier at one of the ponds. LeRoy parked by the nearest building and said, ”Here we go.”

We got out and went over to them.

Milt Rossier was in his early sixties, with blotched cr+!pey skin and cheap clothes and a gut that hung well out over his belt. The short stub of a cigar was fixed in one side of his mouth, and his hands were pale and freckled with liver spots. He wore a long-sleeved s.h.i.+rt with the sleeves down and cuffed at his wrists, and he was wearing the Panama hat again. Sensitive to the sun, no doubt. Milt said, ”My name is Milt Rossier. They tell me you're some kinda private investigator.”

”Did they?” Ren+! walked past us to the edge of the pond and stared into the water.

”Mm-hmm.” The cigar s.h.i.+fted around in the side of his mouth. ”What you doin' heah?”

”LeRoy brought me.”

Rossier frowned. ”I don' mean heah, I mean in my town. You been makin' waves in my town, and I want it to stop. You got no bidniss heah.”

I said, ”Wrong, Milt. I do have business here.”

Jimmie Ray said, ”He was with some woman, Milt. Some kinda attorney.” I looked at Jimmie Ray and grinned. He couldn't have known that unless Sheriff Jo-el Boudreaux had told him.

I said, ”I've been trying to find you, Jimmie Ray. I've been in your house.”

Jimmie Ray looked at me as if I'd just shot him in the foot, but then he turned a very bright red. He said, ”Well, we'll see about that. That ain't why you're here.”

Ren+! suddenly dropped to his knees at the edge of the pond and reached into the water. He moved faster than I would have thought possible for such a large man. One moment out of the water, the next in. He lifted out something black and wiggling and bit it. The wiggling stopped.

LeRoy yelled, ”G.o.ddammit, Ren+!! You stop that!”

Ren+! dropped what was left back into the pond.

”Spit it out.”

Ren+! spit something red and black and glistening into the gra.s.s. He walked a few feet away and sat down. LeRoy squinted after him, then hurried over for a closer look. ”G.o.ddammit, he's sittin' in red ants. Get up, fou!” Ren+! lumbered to his feet, and LeRoy brushed at his pants. ”Fi de chien! Emplate!”

Milt Rossier shook his head, then took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. It had to be a hundred degrees in the sun, and the sweat seeped out but had nowhere to go with the humidity. He said, ”That boy is a trial.”

”I'll bet.”

He looked back at me. ”You know anythin' about me, son?”

”I can guess.”

”Don't let's guess. I got business interests all over this parish, and I have to protect those interests. It's the dollah, you see?”

”Sure.”

”Someone from outta town comes in, diggin' aroun', that can push things outta kilter.” He took out the cigar, examined it, then put it back in his mouth. ”Why you heah, son?”

”I'm here because you're blackmailing my client.”

He stared at me, and when he did I could tell that he didn't know. I looked at Jimmie Ray, who was squirming like something from one of the ponds. It wasn't Rossier; it was Jimmie Ray, all by his lonesome. I said, ”I'm here because this a.s.shole is blackmailing a woman in California.”

Jimmie Ray shrieked, ”That's a G.o.dd.a.m.ned lie!” He waved a hand at Milt Rossier. ”That's pure bulls.h.i.+t, Milt! He's makin' this s.h.i.+t up!”

”No,” I said. ”I'm not.” I looked at Jimmie Ray. ”Three hours ago I broke into your house and found doc.u.ments there relating to the birth of my client. I also found evidence linking you to a series of conversations with my client, predating a thirty-thousand-dollar deposit into your checking account.” I glanced back at Milt Rossier. ”I don't know what this has to do with whatever you've got going, but I don't give a d.a.m.n. All I care about is how it affects my client.”

Jimmie Ray said, ”Oh, man, what a bare-faced liar!” Laughing like he couldn't believe these lies.

Milt Rossier swiveled the Panama toward Jimmie Ray, his eyes hard black dots. ”I thought you were workin' for me, son. You out on your own?”

”This is bulls.h.i.+t, Milt. Who you gonna believe, me or this t.u.r.d?”

Rossier squinted harder. ”You bring me something and I pay for it, it's mine.”

Jimmie Ray looked greasy and he kept shooting glances at Ren+!. ”h.e.l.l, yes, it's yours. This sumb.i.t.c.h is jus' tryin' to weasel!”

Rossier shook his head and sighed. ”G.o.ddammit.”

”I swear, Milt. I'm tellin' you the truth.”

LeRoy came back and slapped Jimmie Ray on the back of his head, knocking the pompadour sideways. ”Emplate!”

Jimmie said, ”Hey!”

Milt Rossier spit at the weeds, then headed for the near building. ”Y'all c'mon. Bring'm, LeRoy. Ren+!! You, too, now.”

We followed Rossier between the two buildings and out to a small circular pond surrounded by a low wire fence. LeRoy picked up a two-by-four as we walked. The banks of the pond were muddy and sc.u.mmed with something green and slimy, probably runoff from the processing sheds. Rossier got there first and waited impatiently for the rest of us to catch up. He gestured at the pond with his cigar. ”Ren+!”. You get Luther. Be careful, now.”

I said, ”Luther?”

Jimmie Ray shook his finger at me and laughed. ”Yo' a.s.s is gra.s.s now, boy.”

Ren+! stepped over the fence, knelt at the edge of the little pool, and slapped the water. He slapped three or four times, and then something moved beneath the surface and the water swirled. Ren+! jumped in up to his knees and his hands plunged down and caught something that made him stagger. He found his balance and then his face went red with strain and he lifted out a snapping turtle that had to be three feet across and weigh almost two hundred pounds. It was dark and primordial with a sh.e.l.l like tank armor and a great horned head and a monstrous beak The head twisted and snapped and tried to reach Ren+!, but couldn't. Its mouth was almost a foot across, and every time it snapped there was a sharp clicking sound, like a ruler rapping on a desk. Ren+! trudged up out of the water, stepped across the fence, and put Luther down. When he did, the turtle pulled its feet and head up under its sh.e.l.l. The head was so big it didn't fit and its snout was exposed. LeRoy was grinning like a jack-o'-lantern. He waved the two-by-four in front of the turtle. The big head flashed out and the big jaws snapped and the board splintered. LeRoy beamed. ”That Luther's somethin', huh?”

Jimmie Ray shook his finger at me some more. ”We'll see who's lyin'now.”

Milt Rossier said something in French, and Ren+! grabbed Jimmie Ray and jerked him toward the turtle. Jimmie Ray said, ”Hey!”