that connected with the whole side of Daisy’s head. Reflexively, before passing out, she pulled the trigger again and shot a hole through Courtney’s palm.
“God damn!” he shouted, bending over in pain and clutching his gushing hand between his knees. Daisy was out on the floor. LaRue and Tubby, both unhurt, locked eyes.
“Get her out of here,” Tubby told Flowers out of the side of his mouth. He gestured to the woman spread-eagle unconscious on the dirty tiles.
The detective stepped around Courtney and scooped Daisy up. He loaded her onto his shoulder. Her little skirt rolled over her fanny, revealing purple silk with a frayed rip.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Tubby promised.
Flowers disappeared, and Tubby backed slowly toward the door.
“You saw me knock the gun away,” he told LaRue. “I probably saved your life. I’ve got business to discuss with you that’s worth a lot of money. You know my name. Call me, so I don’t have to come looking for you again.”
LaRue didn’t budge from the bed, but his dead eyes were following Tubby as the lawyer faded into the hallway.
Tubby moved smartly. The sound of gunfire had emptied the bar. No Constable Aruba, no guys drinking beer, nobody. Flowers, the girl still slung over his shoulder, was silhouetted in the entrance, waiting for him. As Tubby trotted outside he saw the bartender’s bald forehead poke timidly above the scarred mahogany.
Daisy got tossed into the backseat of Flowers’s black Honda, and they blew gravel spinning out of the parking lot.
CHAPTER XX
Daisy revived while they were speeding over the Crescent City Connection, the barges on the Mississippi River far below. Her eyes teared up while she fingered her jaw, and she did not speak.
Flowers dropped them at Tubby’s car, as his boss directed. He wasn’t paid to question his employer.
Tubby asked Daisy if she could walk. She nodded, and he told her to get into the Chrysler. She went without protest or comment.
“What’s the plan?” Flowers asked.
“I don’t know. Call me in the morning.”
Tubby didn’t speak again until he had his Le Baron started up and rolling toward Lee Circle. He kept one eye on Daisy, seated beside him, lest she produce another weapon.
“What did you shoot at LaRue for?” he asked finally.
“That’s his name? To kill him, what do you think?”
“What for?”
“Why did you stop me?” she asked instead.
“Partly just a reflex. Partly because I have other plans for him.” Tubby couldn’t help noticing the curves of her legs and thighs pressing against the upholstery, so he didn’t try.
“Monique at Champs Bar told me you were a lawyer and that I ought to talk to you. What were you doing in that place with that man?”
“It’s a long story.”
“So’s mine.”
“Where do you want to go to tell it to me?”
“I have a motel room, but I think it’s time to move.”
“Then I’m going to take you to my house.”
“Oh yeah?” She tried to arch an eyebrow on the swollen side of her face and winced.
He turned the car toward the river on Nashville Avenue.
“Yeah,” he said, almost to himself.
Walking across the dark yard, Tubby saw that his living room light was on. He did not remember leaving it that way.
He motioned for Daisy to stand behind him while he worked the key in the lock. Pushing the door slowly open, he cautiously stuck his head inside.
On the couch, staring at him, was his daughter Christine. She was spooning yogurt from a plastic cup and talking on the telephone. The TV was on, but she had switched off the sound so she could concentrate on her conversation.
The sight of Tubby’s escort stopped her in midsentence. With her lips open in a sort-of smile, Christine continued to nod her head as if listening to the voice of the phone, but her mind was elsewhere.
Daisy stood still, just inside the doorway, inspecting the room. A purple bruise was spreading around her left eye.
“That’s my daughter,” Tubby
“God damn!” he shouted, bending over in pain and clutching his gushing hand between his knees. Daisy was out on the floor. LaRue and Tubby, both unhurt, locked eyes.
“Get her out of here,” Tubby told Flowers out of the side of his mouth. He gestured to the woman spread-eagle unconscious on the dirty tiles.
The detective stepped around Courtney and scooped Daisy up. He loaded her onto his shoulder. Her little skirt rolled over her fanny, revealing purple silk with a frayed rip.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Tubby promised.
Flowers disappeared, and Tubby backed slowly toward the door.
“You saw me knock the gun away,” he told LaRue. “I probably saved your life. I’ve got business to discuss with you that’s worth a lot of money. You know my name. Call me, so I don’t have to come looking for you again.”
LaRue didn’t budge from the bed, but his dead eyes were following Tubby as the lawyer faded into the hallway.
Tubby moved smartly. The sound of gunfire had emptied the bar. No Constable Aruba, no guys drinking beer, nobody. Flowers, the girl still slung over his shoulder, was silhouetted in the entrance, waiting for him. As Tubby trotted outside he saw the bartender’s bald forehead poke timidly above the scarred mahogany.
Daisy got tossed into the backseat of Flowers’s black Honda, and they blew gravel spinning out of the parking lot.
CHAPTER XX
Daisy revived while they were speeding over the Crescent City Connection, the barges on the Mississippi River far below. Her eyes teared up while she fingered her jaw, and she did not speak.
Flowers dropped them at Tubby’s car, as his boss directed. He wasn’t paid to question his employer.
Tubby asked Daisy if she could walk. She nodded, and he told her to get into the Chrysler. She went without protest or comment.
“What’s the plan?” Flowers asked.
“I don’t know. Call me in the morning.”
Tubby didn’t speak again until he had his Le Baron started up and rolling toward Lee Circle. He kept one eye on Daisy, seated beside him, lest she produce another weapon.
“What did you shoot at LaRue for?” he asked finally.
“That’s his name? To kill him, what do you think?”
“What for?”
“Why did you stop me?” she asked instead.
“Partly just a reflex. Partly because I have other plans for him.” Tubby couldn’t help noticing the curves of her legs and thighs pressing against the upholstery, so he didn’t try.
“Monique at Champs Bar told me you were a lawyer and that I ought to talk to you. What were you doing in that place with that man?”
“It’s a long story.”
“So’s mine.”
“Where do you want to go to tell it to me?”
“I have a motel room, but I think it’s time to move.”
“Then I’m going to take you to my house.”
“Oh yeah?” She tried to arch an eyebrow on the swollen side of her face and winced.
He turned the car toward the river on Nashville Avenue.
“Yeah,” he said, almost to himself.
Walking across the dark yard, Tubby saw that his living room light was on. He did not remember leaving it that way.
He motioned for Daisy to stand behind him while he worked the key in the lock. Pushing the door slowly open, he cautiously stuck his head inside.
On the couch, staring at him, was his daughter Christine. She was spooning yogurt from a plastic cup and talking on the telephone. The TV was on, but she had switched off the sound so she could concentrate on her conversation.
The sight of Tubby’s escort stopped her in midsentence. With her lips open in a sort-of smile, Christine continued to nod her head as if listening to the voice of the phone, but her mind was elsewhere.
Daisy stood still, just inside the doorway, inspecting the room. A purple bruise was spreading around her left eye.
“That’s my daughter,” Tubby
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