LITMIR.BIZ

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you.”

      “Then talk we shall,” Guidry said.

      The table in the back corner. Guidry liked the view. One of life’s enduring truths: If something was after you, you wanted to see it coming first.

      A waitress brought him a double Macallan, rocks on the side. Sam Saia’s boy started talking. Guidry sipped his drink and watched the action in the room. The men working the girls, the girls working the men. Smiles and lies and glances veiled by smoke. A hand sliding up under the hem of a dress, lips brushing against an ear. Guidry loved it. Everyone here looking for an angle to work, a tender spot.

      “We already have the place, Frank, it’s perfect. The guy owns the building, the bar downstairs, he’ll front for peanuts. He might as well be giving it to us for free.”

      “Table games,” Guidry said.

      “High class all the way. A real carpet joint. But the cops won’t talk to us. We need you to smooth the way with that asshole cop Dorsey. You know how he likes his coffee.”

      The art of the payoff. Guidry understood each man’s price, the right kicker to close the deal. A girl? A boy? A girl and a boy? Lieutenant Dorsey of the Eighth District, as Guidry recalled, had a wife who would appreciate a pair of diamond pendant earrings from Adler’s.

      “You understand that Carlos will have to go along with it,” Guidry said.

      “Carlos will go along with it if you tell him it’s a good play, Frank. We’ll give you five points for your piece.”

      A redhead at the bar had her eye on Guidry. She liked his dark hair and olive skin, his lean build and dimpled chin, the Cajun slant to his green eyes. The slant was how the guineas could tell that Guidry wasn’t one of them.

      “Five?” Guidry said.

      “C’mon, Frank. We’re doing all the work here.”

      “Then you don’t need me, do you?”

      “Be reasonable.”

      Guidry could see the redhead working up her nerve with every slow revolution of the merry-go-round. Her girlfriend egged her on. The padded silk back of each seat at the Carousel Bar featured a hand-painted jungle beast. Tiger, elephant, hyena.

      “Oh, ‘Nature, red in tooth and claw,’” Guidry said.

      “What?” Saia’s boy said.

      “That’s Lord Tennyson I’m quoting, you uncultured barbarian.”

      “Ten points, Frank. Best we can do.”

      “Fifteen. And a look at the books whenever the mood strikes. Now, skedaddle.”

      Saia’s boy glowered and seethed, but such were the rude realities of supply and demand. Lieutenant Dorsey was the hardest-headed cop in New Orleans. Only Guidry had the skill to soften him up.

      He ordered another scotch. The redhead crushed out her cigarette and strolled over. She had Cleopatra eyes—the latest look—and a golden tan. She was a stewardess, maybe, home from a layover in Miami or Vegas. She sat down without asking, impressed with her own boldness.

      “My girlfriend over there told me to stay away from you,” she said.

      Guidry wondered how many openers she’d rehearsed in her mind before she picked the winner. “But here you are.”

      “My girlfriend says you have some very interesting friends.”

      “Well, I’ve plenty of dull ones, too,” Guidry said.

      “She says you work for you-know-who,” she said.

      “The notorious Carlos Marcello?”

      “Is it true?”

      “Never heard of him.”

      She toyed with the cherry in her drink, making a show of it. She was nineteen, twenty years old. In a couple of years, she’d marry the biggest Uptown bank account she could find and settle down. Now, though, she wanted an adventure. Guidry was delighted to oblige.

      “So aren’t you curious?” the redhead said. “Why I didn’t listen to my girlfriend and stay away from you?”

      “Because you don’t like it when people tell you that you can’t have something you want,” he said.

      She narrowed her eyes, as if he’d snuck a peek in her purse while she wasn’t looking. “I don’t.”

      “Neither do I,” Guidry said. “We only get one ride in this life, one time around. If we don’t enjoy every minute of it, if we don’t embrace pleasure with open arms, who’s to blame for that?”

      “I like to enjoy life,” she said.

      “I like to hear that.”

      “My name is Eileen.”

      Guidry saw that Mackey Pagano had entered the bar. Gaunt and gray and unshaven, Mackey looked like he’d been living under a rock. He spotted Guidry and jerked his chin at him.

      Oh, Mackey. His timing was poor. But he had an eye for opportunity and never brought in a deal that didn’t pay.

      Guidry stood. “Wait here, Eileen.”

      “Where are you going?” she said, surprised.

      He crossed the room and gave Mackey a hug. Ye gods. Mackey smelled as bad he looked. He needed a shower and a fresh suit, without delay.

      “Must have been one helluva party, Mack,” Guidry said. “Regale me.”

      “I’ve got a proposition for you,” Mackey said.

      “I thought you might.”

      “Let’s take a walk.”

      He grabbed Guidry’s elbow and steered him back out into the lobby. Past the cigar stand, down a deserted corridor, down another one.

      “Are we going all the way to Cuba, Mack?” Guidry said. “I won’t look as good with a beard.”

      They finally stopped, in front of the doors to the back service entrance.

      “So what do you have for me?” Guidry said.

      “I don’t have anything,” Mackey said.

      “What?”

      “I just needed to talk to you.”

      “You’ve noted that I have better things to do at the moment,” Guidry said.

      “I’m sorry. I’m in a bind, Frankie. I might be in a real bind.”

      Guidry had a smile for every occasion. This occasion: to hide the uneasiness that began to creep over him. He gave Mackey’s shoulder a squeeze. You’ll be all right, old buddy, old pal. How bad can it be? But Guidry didn’t like the shake in Mackey’s voice, the way Mackey kept his grip tight on the sleeve of Guidry’s suit coat.

      Had anyone noticed the two of them leaving the Carousel together? What if someone happened to come round that corner right now and caught them skulking? Trouble in this business had a way of spreading, just like a cold or the clap. Guidry knew you could catch it from the wrong handshake, an unlucky glance.

      “I’ll come by your pad this weekend,” Guidry said. “I’ll help you sort it out.”

      “I need to get it sorted out now.”

      Guidry tried to ease away. “I’ve got to split. Tomorrow, Mack. Cross my heart.”

      “I haven’t been back to my place in a week,” Mackey said.

      “Name the spot. I’ll meet you wherever you want.”

      Mackey watched him. Those hooded eyes, they seemed almost gentle in a certain light. Mackey knew that Guidry was lying about meeting tomorrow. Of course he did. Guidry came by his talent for deception naturally,

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