Chapter 16

“They can’t find Gil Mayes,” Ozaire Dupre told Homer Devol, sliding a tiny, expensive cell phone back into a jeans pocket. “That was Lil. They got a call at the rectory couple hours ago. Lil say Father still shut away with Madge and Spike…and that Vivian Patin.”

Homer had got back to the store by the middle of the afternoon, but Ozaire had stuck around. Having him to help out sometimes eased the load, but of late he had taken to hanging out at the store whenever Spike wasn’t there and Homer didn’t like it much. The other man behaved as if the two of them were friends, which they were not and never would be. Ozaire had his finger in every pie for miles around and considered it his due to skim the cream off the top of anything that made money. Like fish boiling and party barbecuing.

“You don’t got enough help around here,” Ozaire said when Homer failed to pick up on the gossip from Lil. “I got more time to spare. How about I do the bayou traffic for you? I could run those orders out easy and save you all kinds of time.”

The man never quit working the angles. “We got that under control. But thanks for the offer. Ain’t you got duties at the church? One of these days they gonna find someone who really wants that job.”

“Never you mind about that, I got everythin’ under control.” Ozaire’s shaven head gleamed and his black eyes narrowed to slits. “You hear what I say to you before? You better be listenin’ because this could be bad news for you.”

Homer continued slicing meat for tomorrow’s sandwiches. “I’m listening to you.” But he would not be giving Ozaire the satisfaction of hearing him admit that Spike’s involvement with the Patin girl, and with the trouble at Rosebank, had Homer on edge.

“I don’t know what you’re suggestin’,” he said. “Gil Mayes is missing? Can’t imagine how that would be. But if it is, why is it anything to do with Spike? You don’t like my boy and you’re mixin’ things up for no good reason.”

Ozaire looked wounded. “You know better than that. I’ve always liked Spike. All’s I want is to help you out in your time of trouble. The police already suggested Spike had somethin’ to do with what happened to that lawyer. Made himself some sort of after-the-fact alibi. If Gil’s bought the farm now and they figure this is related to the other one, it’ll only get worse for your boy.”

“I don’t know where you get your ideas.” But Homer didn’t like hearing them. “Spike don’t have a thing to do with whatever happens at Rosebank.”

“Spike’s hangin’ out with Vivian Patin.” Ozaire hitched at his jeans. “Or by all accounts, he is. Lil says you could cut the air between ’em with a knife. Wonder she don’t get shocked when she walks near ’em, she says. Some thinks they only just met but me, I know they been circling the landing strip ever since she came here for good.”

“It’s not my place to criticize another man’s wife, but Lil should zip her lip,” Homer said. “A couple of young sparks can take an interest in each other without nosy folks makin’ somethin’ of it.”

The T-shirt Ozaire wore sparkled, it was so white. All but around the neck where his head just about rested on his shoulders and a ring of sweat darkened the fabric. “She might not look like her, but Vivian Patin reminds me of that Precious Depew. Another one of them women with a way of windin’ a man around her little finger.”

Finally too angry to keep quiet, Homer slapped down a block of cheese and leaned toward Ozaire. “You mad? Precious Depew is servin’ time for kidnapping and that husband of hers is away for a long time. Chauncy Depew is a small-time hoodlum who finally did enough to get himself noticed. Never did have no good examples, Precious, with her mother bein’ crazy and all.”

“Yep,” Ozaire said, showing no sign of offense. “Crazy Oribel,” he said of Cyrus’s former housekeeper. “Did she go off the deep end or what? Wouldn’t be surprised to see Precious back in Toussaint and makin’ trouble one of these days, though. Chauncy, too. He’s mean enough to keep popping through his own slime and starting over again.”

”Ozaire,” Homer said, blood pounding at his temples. “You just suggested Vivian Patin, who hasn’t done a thing wrong as far as either of us know, is a sex-crazed kidnapper like Precious Depew. Start thinkin’ and keep your mouth shut while you do.”

A sly twitch completely closed Ozaire’s left eye. “If Spike had to go away for a while, you’d have your hands full.”

There was no keeping a conversation on track with Ozaire. But Homer had all the practice he needed in hiding his thoughts. “Now why would Spike go away? He likes it here and he’s got a job to do—and Wendy to bring up.”

“You not foolin’ me you dumb,” Ozaire said. “You know what I’m talking about and it isn’t takin’ a vacation or movin’ to another town. I’m talkin’ about spending time at a government hotel.”

He paused to check Homer’s reaction before going on. “And speakin’ of Wendy, that’s somethin’ else you might want to think about. Who’s putting that little girl first, apart from you? She’s already had enough bad stuff. Lil says she’s lookin’ after her at the rectory now on account of Spike’s gone off and left her. Someone took a bunch of cash from the office at the ice plant. Now they just about got a riot on their hands out there ’cause everyone blame everyone else.”

A shade of violet gray crept into the early evening sky. The spots were already on outside the garage and over the pumps. Homer switched on the multi-colored lights around the store roof. They glowed inside plastic Chinese lanterns and were Wendy’s favorites.

His instinct was to close up and go get her but Homer knew better than to interfere with Spike’s handling of his daughter. If the little one was at the rectory, she was safe, no matter how much fuss Lil made about being put out.

“Father’s gone to Rosebank with that Vivian. Madge is along, too. Father and Madge spend too much time together, or so Lil thinks, and she’s in a position to know.”

“That’s not respectful talk,” Homer said. “People should learn to mind their own business.”

Ozaire shrugged. “If Wendy’s papa goes off the deep end, too, she’ll need you even more. You’ll have to make sure she gets what she needs. I heard about some child service of some kind what takes kids away if they don’t think they in a good place.”

The bell for the pumps went off and Homer gave silent thanks for the interruption. He wasn’t a violent man but Ozaire pushed too far. In a fistfight Ozaire Dupre would win, but just hitting him would feel good.

Homer leaned to see who was at the pumps. He and Spike ran a pay and pump operation controlled from the store. A motorcycle cop had dismounted and was talking on his radio. From the bike it looked like the man was from Iberia. The officer finished talking and came in the direction of the store.

“Here come trouble,” Ozaire said in a low drone. “You don’t deserve this after all you done for your family.”

“Can it,” Homer said, an instant before the officer came in, his impressive leather boots creaking. He didn’t bother to remove either his wraparound, bug-eyed black sunglasses, or his helmet. His gauntlets were clasped under one arm. “‘Evenin’, Officer. What can I do for you?”

A brawny hand slapped money on the counter. “Gas.”

Homer figured he could compete with Chatty Cathy. He rang up the amount, dealt with the pump and put the receipt beside the man’s fist on the counter.

“Spike Devol’s place.”

It wasn’t a question so Homer just stood there with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Obstructin’ the law’s a bad idea,” the officer said. “I asked you a question.”

Homer weighed just how far he wanted to go with making this punk’s life difficult. “I thought you was just remarkin’,” he said. No point in mixing things up when it could make things tougher for Spike. “Homer Devol,” he said, sticking out a hand. “Spike’s my son and this is his place.”

Rather than shake Homer’s hand, Barker, as his nameplate announced, stuck his right thumb in his belt. “Where is he?”

Homer felt Ozaire’s excitement. Maybe he’d hit him anyway. Even if the satisfaction was short-lived, it would be worth it.

“Where—”

“Workin’.” Homer cut Barker off. “Job’s never done for a small-town deputy with one assistant. Call the office. There’s always someone on the switchboard.”

“This is personal.”

“Oh, you’re friends.” Homer could handle a little thin ice.

“Personal,” Barker said. “Between him and another jurisdiction. They want him in for questioning and there’s a pissed-off detective who isn’t takin’ much more from him. If you know where he is—and we both know you do—you’ll do both of you a favor by giving me the information.”

Homer shook his head and caught Ozaire’s eye. Give the man his due, he was loyal enough and managed to look confused and out of it for Barker’s benefit.

“You won’t tell me where he is?” Barker said, creaking louder. Everything from the leather strap across his body to his belt, holster, boots and probably things Homer hadn’t thought about, creaked as if the man was expanding inside his clothes.

“I don’t know where that boy is,” Homer said, trying a smile. “If you got kids you know you can’t keep track of ’em even when they’re young. How am I supposed to figure out where a grown son is? He’s a busy man, I tell you. I’d help you, but I can’t.” He couldn’t on account of he wouldn’t.

Barker shifted very slowly but Homer braced himself to look down the barrel of a gun. The motorcycle cop pulled on his gauntlets. “You better hope I don’t find out you’re deliberately holding back information.” He turned for the door.

“You’ll need your receipt,” Homer said, holding it out.

Barker took it from him gently enough to send a dart of cold up Homer’s back. Damn that kid of his anyway.

With Ozaire at his elbow, Homer watched while the cop filled his cycle then went through his little rituals of checking this and that, hitching this and that and, finally, kicking off the stand.

“Reminds me of a few of them baseball players at the plate,” Ozaire said. “Spit three times, hitch your jock, kick the dirt twice, hitch the jock again and cross yourself.”

Homer smiled at that.

“Look,” Ozaire said. “I know you think I’m only out for myself, but it ain’t true. We gotta stick together, us natives. We gotta look out for one another. You still gonna argue Spike’s not in any trouble? That boy may be white as driven snow, but someone’s out to get him.”

Like that was news? “Spike can handle himself.”

“But he could be set up,” Ozaire said, his face all puckered. “That might get worked out in the end but it’s gonna take time. I reckon that Errol Bonine—he’s a detective Spike worked with in—”

“I know who Errol Bonine is.” Homer didn’t add, crooked cop taking graft to look the other way.

“Yeah, well, there’s no love lost between those two and word has it Bonine thinks Spike’s interferin’ in the Rosebank case on account of he’s having a thing with the Patin girl. But it’s more than that. Bonine’s workin’ on provin’ she killed the lawyer and Spike’s tryin’ to help her cover.”

Homer finished wrapping a batch of pastrami sandwiches and stacked them in a refrigerated case before saying, “That’s the second time you told me more or less the same thing.”

“I could help you out, Homer. You not so young anymore.”

“You, neither.” Homer wondered how many others around Toussaint had heard Ozaire and Lil Dupre’s speculations about Spike and the Patin girl. Just about everyone in town he’d guess.

“I’m strong, me,” Ozaire said. “Constitution of an ox, Dr. Reb say. You and me could make a team, my friend. I’d put some money into this place. I got money, me. That’s between you and me. Suits my purpose to have folks think I’m poor. You gonna need help. I feel it in my bones.”

Homer slammed the case shut, washed his hands, reached for his hat—taking his time over every move. “Gotta check around the place. I’ll be lockin’ the store while I do it.”

“Time like this, you shouldn’t be out there on your own,” Ozaire said promptly and fell in with Homer on his evening rounds.

Strolling, Homer looked at the pumps, then slid open the doors to the garage.

“You don’t do no repair work out here anymore,” Ozaire remarked.

“Never have since we’ve had the place. If someone’s in trouble we give ’em a tow to the repair shop in town.” He was wishing he’d had his wits about him enough to stay out of the garage while Ozaire was around.

Too late.

Spike’s truck with the boiler and the big barbecues for catering backyard parties, took up a good portion of the space and Homer could imagine his son’s reaction if he could see Ozaire openly sizing up the rig.

“I gotta admit it’s nice,” Ozaire said. “Nothin’ but the best quality.”

“Spike doesn’t mess around when it comes to business.”

“No, he only messes around—” Ozaire laughed his neighing laugh and slapped his knees. He shook with mirth at his own wit and pointed a finger at Homer. “You know. The other kind of messin’ around.”

“You got any particular point to make before you go?” Homer asked.

“I told you what I heard about Spike for your own good,” Ozaire said, sobering. “You gotta make plans for the future and since he’s not around much now—it’s not too soon to get on with it. I got me plenty of help with the boilin’. Man can’t do everythin’ himself.”

Homer pretended he didn’t get Ozaire’s drift.

“Wouldn’t be no trouble for me to take on your rig, too. I be more’n fair with splittin’ the profits. O’course, you’d deal with maintenance and gas. Only other thing you’d need to do is give me your contact list to work off.”

Maybe he should get himself a pair of those bug-eyed police specs, Homer thought. Might camouflage whatever made him look like a fool to folks like Ozaire Dupre.

“How come you work at the church?” Homer said. “Man of your means and business expertise don’t need to mow between tombs.”

“Contacts,” Ozaire said, sobering. “People trust you when you’re with the Church. And I meet everyone coming and going.”

Settling his hat low on his forehead, Homer raised his head to look at Ozaire from under the brim. “If you’re patient, I can see them new babies comin’ into the world, growin’ up and maybe thinkin’ you’re okay. But I should think the revenue from the ones goin’ the other way would be about as high as anythin’ you’ll ever make trickin’ us out of part of our business.”