murder.”
“I thought you were figurin’ on Rufus doin’ that for the widow?”
“I’m getting’ the word that Rufus doesn’t kill,” Clint said.
“Anybody kills,” Brown said.
“So you don’t believe it?” Clint asked. “You think he hires out for murder?”
Brown shrugged.
“Well, when I asked who does hire out, Franco was the name I got. And Boone says Franco and Rufus have worked together.”
“He’s right, they have. But that don’t mean they are this time.”
“Well, I’d like to ask him.”
“Rufus? Go ahead, I ain’t stoppin’ you.”
“Not Rufus. Franco.”
“How do you intend to do that?”
“Find him, and ask him,” Clint said. “I was hoping you’d help me with the first part.”
“To find him, you’d have to go down to the docks,” Brown said. “You want me to go with you? You know what kind of target I’d be with this tin on my chest?”
“Take it off.”
“They’d still know who I am.”
“Fine,” Clint said. “Don’t come with me. Just tell me where to look.”
Brown gave it some thought.
“If you want to find anybody on the docks, there’s only one person to ask.”
“Who’s that?”
“She has a business down there,” Brown said.
“A woman?”
Brown nodded.
“They call her ‘Auntie.’ ”
THIRTY-FOUR
When Clint entered Auntie’s later that afternoon, most of the tables were empty. The woman’s face betrayed surprise when he walked in.
“You came back already?” she asked. “My cookin’ was that good, me?”
“Your cooking was excellent, Auntie,” he said, “but that’s not why I’m here. I want to talk.”
“Talk?” she asked. “You want some chicory coffee while we talk?”
He didn’t like anything mixed in with his coffee, but he said, “Sure.”
“You go to that back table and wait,” she said.
He walked to the table and sat down. Only two other tables were taken, one by a man, the other by a man and a woman, and they ignored him.
Auntie returned carrying a tray with a pot and two mugs. She sat and poured coffee for both of them, then stared at him across the table.
“So? What you want to talk about?”
“I’m told you know everybody on the docks,” Clint said, “and that if I’m looking for someone, I should come here and ask you.”
“That depends,” Auntie said. “Who are you lookin’ for?”
“A man named Franco,” Clint said. “And another one named Rufus Holmes.”
She sat back. “Whatchoo lookin’ for them boys for?” she asked.
“I want to talk to them.”
She laughed.
“Those boys don’t talk.”
“I know,” Clint said. “One of them hurts people, and the other one kills them.”
“One of them likes hurtin’ people,” she corrected. “That makes him real good at it. The other one kills for a livin’. If he don’t kill, he don’t eat, so when he gets a job, he gets it done.”
“And do both of those boys eat here, Auntie?”
“They been known to,” she said honestly.
“Uh-huh, and do you take messages for them?”
She squinted at him then smiled.
“Lots of people eat here,” she said, “and once in a while they’ll leave a message for each other.”
“Now, I’m not asking you to betray any confidences, Auntie.”
“That’s good,” she said, “ ’cause I don’t do that. Somebody tells me somethin’ in confidence, I take it to the grave, me.”
Clint was starting to wonder if the Cajun accent was put on for the benefit of others, so they wouldn’t realize what a smart woman Auntie was.
“So you won’t tell me where to find them, right?” Clint asked. “Like, if I wanted to hire them?”
“You don’t want to hire them,” she said. “You strike me as a man who does his own dirty work.”
“You’re right about that.”
“And you got dirty work in mind for those boys.”
“Only if they had something to do with the murder of Dr. Graham.”
Her face became sad.
“That doctor, he was a good man,” she said. “It wasn’t
“I thought you were figurin’ on Rufus doin’ that for the widow?”
“I’m getting’ the word that Rufus doesn’t kill,” Clint said.
“Anybody kills,” Brown said.
“So you don’t believe it?” Clint asked. “You think he hires out for murder?”
Brown shrugged.
“Well, when I asked who does hire out, Franco was the name I got. And Boone says Franco and Rufus have worked together.”
“He’s right, they have. But that don’t mean they are this time.”
“Well, I’d like to ask him.”
“Rufus? Go ahead, I ain’t stoppin’ you.”
“Not Rufus. Franco.”
“How do you intend to do that?”
“Find him, and ask him,” Clint said. “I was hoping you’d help me with the first part.”
“To find him, you’d have to go down to the docks,” Brown said. “You want me to go with you? You know what kind of target I’d be with this tin on my chest?”
“Take it off.”
“They’d still know who I am.”
“Fine,” Clint said. “Don’t come with me. Just tell me where to look.”
Brown gave it some thought.
“If you want to find anybody on the docks, there’s only one person to ask.”
“Who’s that?”
“She has a business down there,” Brown said.
“A woman?”
Brown nodded.
“They call her ‘Auntie.’ ”
THIRTY-FOUR
When Clint entered Auntie’s later that afternoon, most of the tables were empty. The woman’s face betrayed surprise when he walked in.
“You came back already?” she asked. “My cookin’ was that good, me?”
“Your cooking was excellent, Auntie,” he said, “but that’s not why I’m here. I want to talk.”
“Talk?” she asked. “You want some chicory coffee while we talk?”
He didn’t like anything mixed in with his coffee, but he said, “Sure.”
“You go to that back table and wait,” she said.
He walked to the table and sat down. Only two other tables were taken, one by a man, the other by a man and a woman, and they ignored him.
Auntie returned carrying a tray with a pot and two mugs. She sat and poured coffee for both of them, then stared at him across the table.
“So? What you want to talk about?”
“I’m told you know everybody on the docks,” Clint said, “and that if I’m looking for someone, I should come here and ask you.”
“That depends,” Auntie said. “Who are you lookin’ for?”
“A man named Franco,” Clint said. “And another one named Rufus Holmes.”
She sat back. “Whatchoo lookin’ for them boys for?” she asked.
“I want to talk to them.”
She laughed.
“Those boys don’t talk.”
“I know,” Clint said. “One of them hurts people, and the other one kills them.”
“One of them likes hurtin’ people,” she corrected. “That makes him real good at it. The other one kills for a livin’. If he don’t kill, he don’t eat, so when he gets a job, he gets it done.”
“And do both of those boys eat here, Auntie?”
“They been known to,” she said honestly.
“Uh-huh, and do you take messages for them?”
She squinted at him then smiled.
“Lots of people eat here,” she said, “and once in a while they’ll leave a message for each other.”
“Now, I’m not asking you to betray any confidences, Auntie.”
“That’s good,” she said, “ ’cause I don’t do that. Somebody tells me somethin’ in confidence, I take it to the grave, me.”
Clint was starting to wonder if the Cajun accent was put on for the benefit of others, so they wouldn’t realize what a smart woman Auntie was.
“So you won’t tell me where to find them, right?” Clint asked. “Like, if I wanted to hire them?”
“You don’t want to hire them,” she said. “You strike me as a man who does his own dirty work.”
“You’re right about that.”
“And you got dirty work in mind for those boys.”
“Only if they had something to do with the murder of Dr. Graham.”
Her face became sad.
“That doctor, he was a good man,” she said. “It wasn’t
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