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"Atmosphere," the blonde finished, waving away a fly that was trying to
settle on her straw. "I've decided to use the word 'atmosphere'. And if you
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end up staying over, don't go out at night."
"Oh?" Kelly said. "Why?"
"Alligators," she replied, smiling slightly with no smile at all in her eyes.
"They tell me they come right up in the town. Very bad idea to walk around at
night."
Kelly opened his mouth up to reply then looked down at her chest again and
closed his mouth.
"My eyes are up here," the lady said, dryly, after the examination had taken
up a few seconds.
"I know, I've made my decision," Kelly replied distractedly, looking up a few
moments later. "I was reading. Slowly." He looked around and then frowned
again, his entire face crinkling then clearing. "Let's take a walk," he said,
standing up and offering an arm.
"I have to pay my bill," the blonde pointed out.
"Why?" Kelly said, grinning. "The deputy didn't. Clearly the food is free."
"I have to pay my bill," she said, again trying not to grin.
Kelly waited while the lady paid her bill and even left a small tip, which he
felt was excessive considering the quality of food and service. When she was
done he accompanied her outside. It was slightly cooler outside under the
trees than in the sweltering bait-shop.
* * *
"What's your name, lady wearing the Secret Diaries t-shirt?" Kelly said as
they walked to the edge of the parking area and stopped under a tree.
"Barbara Everette," Barb replied. "57 Wildwood Lane, Algomo, Mississippi."
"Barbara," Kelly musingly. "Barbara . . . can I call you Barb?"
"Yes?" Barbara answered.
"Barb, I'm going to tell you a story," Kelly said. "I am going to tell you
this story, despite the fact that I find it fantastical, because I want you to
know I'm talking to you because of thestory and not because of your . . .
remarkable endowments and pretty face. Although those certainly help."
"Okay, tell me the story," Barbara said, dryly. "And avoiding reference to my
endowments will help your case."
"Well then, once upon a time, this must have been, oh, yesterday?" Kelly
said, looking up at the sky and nodding. "Yeah, yesterday. Once upon a time I
went to visit a medium, bordering on small. Now, before you get hooked up on
the 'police using a psychic' crap, let me explain that this medium, Madame
Charlotte, is very good. But not, in my opinion, because she taps into mystic
understanding that mortal ken should not wot of, no, but because she's been
tapped into the street for literally decades. She knows everyone, understands
people and can make some pretty astute guesses. You with me so far?"
"Oh, yes," Barb said. "You can even use words of more than one syllable."
"Beautyand brains, how wonderful. Anyway, I went to visit Madame Charlotte to
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try to figure out where my old friend Carlane had run off to. Carlane is a
pimp, a rather nasty one but there's no reason to suspect he's become a serial
killer. However, I'm starting to get a real desire to speak to Mr. Lancereau,
because people are hiding him."
"What do you mean?" Barbara asked, wrinkling her brow.
"When you ask people about someone, and you're working on a public case like
the Ripper, they tend to be either very helpful or very uncommunicative,"
Kelly said, trying to explain something it had taken him years to figure out.
"If they're being helpful but don't know the person, they say things like
'have you checked the phonebook?' And they're helpful in random ways. Some of
them are more common: 'I don't know him but I'll call my sister she knows
everybody' and the phonebook question. They don't all say: 'well, there's some
Lancereaus up Nitotar way but that's out in the swamps and you'll need a
boat.'"
"That's what the deputy said," Barb pointed out.
"That'sthree times I've gotten that identical response," Kelly replied,
holding up three fingers. "Which means that three out of three people in this
town have beeninstructed on what to say in the event of questions. And that
makes mevery interested in Mr. Lancereau."
"I didn't go to New Orleans because of the Ripper killings," Barbara said,
her face working. "Are you telling me that he might behere ?"
Kelly paused and looked around the town, frowning.
"There are at least six people involved in the killings . . ." he said,
cautiously.
"How do you know that?"
"Semen traces," Kelly responded, coldly.
"Thanks so much for the blunt answer," Barb replied, wincing. "Go on."
"Carlane Lancereau is not one of the rapists," Kelly continued. "But I'm
beginning to suspect he knows who they are."
"And the chief deputy is . . . what? Hindering your investigation?" Barbara
asked.
"Certainly not giving full support," Kelly replied. "I'm going to be
fascinated if he turns up with Carlane in an hour."
"Why?" Barb asked. "Then you take him back to New Orleans?"
"Perhaps," Kelly said, frowning. "But I don't actually have anything to hold
him on. All I can do is ask questions. If he gives me the run-around, there's
not much I can do."
"So . . . why did you tell me about the medium?" Barbara asked.
"Ah, Madame Charlotte," Kelly said, regaining the thread. "Madame Charlotte
told me that Carlane had come down here, back to his swamp. But shealso told
me that that Carlane was playing with powerful ju-ju. More powerful than she [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]