Kidd and LuEllen: Novels 1-4

by John Sandford

  THEY WERE at it for an hour. I was deep into the painting again, sucking on a Dos Equis and cursing the asshole who invented Hooker’s green, when the door popped open. LuEllen stuck her head out and called, “Chenille’s got a favor to ask. She wonders if you could do a quick spread.”

  “Oh, boy,” I said. I didn’t want to read for her without notice. I wanted the deck ready, so it’d read my way. “That would be… my head’s just not right for it.”

  “That’s all right,” Dessusdelit said from inside the cabin, but I could hear the disappointment in her voice.

  “How about if we cut the deck just for a taste?” I asked.

  “Would that work?”

  “Sure, just for a taste,” I said.

  I dropped down into the cabin, got the Polish box, took the silk wrapping off the deck, and shuffled. Seven times. Nothing mystic in that; the good gray New York Times Tuesday science pages carried an article that said a good seven shuffle gives you the best approximation of a random distribution. When the shuffling was dead, I spread the deck across the table and looked at Dessusdelit.

  “Do you know about the tarot?” I asked before she picked a card.

  “Just a bit,” she said diffidently.

  “I like to warn people that the Death card doesn’t mean death. It means change, often for the good. I don’t want somebody to pull the Death card out of the deck, misinterpret it, and drop over dead of a heart attack.…”

  “I know about Death,” she said. She drew a card, held it for a moment, facedown, then flipped it over.

  The Empress. I sat back, a little startled. “Have you actually done tarot readings before?” I asked.

  “Yes, a few times.”

  “What card did you choose to represent yourself? Was it the Empress?”

  “No, no. Usually the Queen of Cups.”

  “Which is a minor arcana analog of the Empress,” I said. I tapped the Empress with my index finger. “Perhaps you underrate yourself. In any case, the Empress would suggest success, fulfillment in an enterprise you’re involved with. Something you rule or manage. But that’s just a taste.”

  “Just a taste,” she said.

  “Sure. I have to warn you, I really don’t believe in this stuff,” I said. And if I did, I wouldn’t have picked her for the Empress or even the Queen of Cups. I pushed the cards together and rewrapped them in the silk.

  “Well, I thank you,” Dessusdelit said. She found her purse, and we went back out into the sunshine, with LuEllen trailing behind.

  “If you’re really interested…” I said.

  “I am,” she said promptly.

  “I read best in the morning. Frankly, I like to… have my beer, you know, and alcohol seems to interfere with the necessary connections.…”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in the magical interpretations,” she said in amusement.

  “Well.” I shrugged. “You got me, I guess.”

  “Come down tomorrow,” LuEllen said. “About ten o’clock. Kidd can do a reading, and we can do the ball again. And then maybe you can tell me where the best shopping is.…”

  “I’ll be happy to,” Dessusdelit said. She looked at me again. “The Empress…”

  “Just a taste,” I said.

  LuEllen and I watched her step off the end of the dock and start up the levee. “How’d you do that?” LuEllen asked, shading her eyes as she watched Dessusdelit disappear over the top of the wall. “Produce the Empress card?”

  “I didn’t,” I said.

  LATER, while I put the computer back up, LuEllen went out to a grocery store and ran into Lucius Bell in the fresh produce department. He was the councilman who owned my painting.

  “He wants us to come over tonight,” LuEllen said as she unloaded her bags into the refrigerator. “After dinner. For bourbon and branch, whatever that is.…”

  “Water,” I said.

  “Whatever.” She closed the refrigerator door and stretched like a cat, as she tends to do when she’s feeling sexy. “That boy could develop a serious case of the hots for me.”

  “And would it be reciprocated?”

  “Could be,” she said, grinning. “He has the nicest eyes, good shoulders…”

  “Probably wears nylons and lipstick when there’s nobody around. Does strange things with carp.”

  “Not my Lucius,” she said in a southern simper.

  “Why, God?” I asked, appealing to the ceiling. “Why women? Wasn’t the fuckin’ bubonic plague enough? Wasn’t the H-bomb—”

  We were kidding. On the way over to Bell’s, though, I noticed she was wearing her Obsession.

  I’D DONE Sunrise, Josie Harry Bar Light 719.5 five years before, in about twenty minutes, sitting awkwardly on a sandbar a few feet from a rented pontoon boat. I’ve done a lot of traveling on the river over the years, though never before in the style of the Fanny. It had always been in little fourteen-foot bass boats and rented pontoons and even canoes.

  Josie Harry was one of the good ones. I spotted it, hung on a white wall between two built-in book cabinets, as soon as I walked into Bell’s dining room.

  “Wonderful,” I said. “Who did the framing for you? The gallery?”

  “No, I had it done here in town,” he said.

  “You found a good framer,” I said. “It looks fine.”

  I went over it inch by inch. After a minute or two LuEllen and Bell wandered back to the sitting room, chatting. They liked each other, all right, but I didn’t expect any trouble. LuEllen had a penchant for variety but only when her security wasn’t at stake. She would never let sex step on that.

  “Satisfied? That I haven’t done anything embarrassing to it?” Bell asked when I finally joined them. He did have an engaging way about him, not diminished by the fact that he owned one of my paintings and was taking good care of it.

  “I’m more than satisfied; I’m delighted,” I said, looking back at the painting. “It’s got a good spot, good light, protection. That’s what it’s made for.”

  “I had an offer for it. An old lawyer guy here in town. Five hundred over what I paid.”

  “Tell him to get his own,” I said.

  He nodded. “I did, and he said he would. Don’t know if he has, but he gets down to N’Orleans often enough.”

  So we sat and talked, passing pleasantries about the river until I mentioned the bridge. He suddenly got serious.

  “Those peckerwoods—pardon the language, LuEllen, but I get mad thinking about it—up in the legislatures, they won’t help us. See, the people across the river say, ‘Hell, if we build a bridge into Longstreet, the people on our side will just go over there to spend their paychecks.’ The people on this side say, ‘Why should we pay the whole cost of a bridge?’ So they dicker back and forth, and nothing gets done. It’s killing me, is what it’s doing.”

  “How’s that?” LuEllen asked. She was picking up some of the southern rhythm of his speech.

  “I’m a farmer. Most of my land is over there on the other side. Before the bridge got knocked down, I’d haul my beans to the elevators over here and ship it downriver. When the bridge went, we had to haul the beans out by road, and it’s forty miles down to the nearest elevator on the other side. That’s an eighty-mile round trip for my trucks, what used to be a five-mile round trip. The cost of gas, the wear and tear… That’s why I got myself elected to the city council. They weren’t getting anywhere with the bridge—crooked sons of guns probably looking for a cut somewhere. So I got myself elected, thinking I could push it harder. But shoot, I’m not getting anywhere either,” he said. He finished his bourbon in a single gulp and got up to pour himself another.

  “So what happens if you don’t get a bridge? I mean, to you personally?” LuEllen asked.

  He shrugged. “It used to be that in a good year I made a lot of money. In an average year I’d make a little, and in a bad year I’d find some way to break even. Now, in a good year I make a little, and in an average year I maybe break even, and ma
ybe not. In a bad year I lose my shirt. I can’t go on farming like that. Not for long. I’ve had a run of good years here, and they’ve had some drought problems up North, and that’s helped the markets. But a bad year is always just around the corner, and they tend to come in groups.”

  “You couldn’t build a barge landing on the other side?” I asked.

  “Naw, not for miles, not the way the levees run. Nothin’ but swamp behind them, no roads. Be more expensive than truckin’ it out.…”

  He was still brooding about it when we left.

  “Nice guy,” LuEllen said. “With major problems.”

  “But it’s a help,” I said. “We maybe couldn’t pull this off without the bridge problem.”

  “Doesn’t make me feel any better about it,” she said as she got in the car.

  After a moment of silence I said, “Well, you like him.”

  “Yeah.” And after another moment of silence she asked, “Does that bother you?”

  “A little bit.”

  “It never bothered you before,” she said.

  “That was before.”

  More silence, then: “Kidd, you’re making me nervous. I mean, like really nervous.”

  THE COMPUTER ALARM was beeping when we got home, and I phoned Bobby.

  Found on-line.

  Where?

  Animal control.

  Dogcatcher?

  Number is right; old 300-baud carrier.

  Thanx; will check. Could you monitor line, look for access code?

  Yes. Will call.

  I dialed Marvel’s house and got John.

  “You ready?” I asked.

  “All set. I’ll go in as soon as the place opens and wait. Mary Wells parks her car in that lot sideways across the street. If you can get a window seat in that Coffee Klatch Café, ’round about eight-fifty you’ll see her go in the lot. Red Ford. She usually gets there between nine-oh-five and nine-fifteen. You can meet her in the street and walk up with her. I’ll be ready.”

  “Marvel says the map books cost twelve dollars?”

  “Yeah. Have a twenty ready; maybe a fifty would be better,” John said. “I think she’d open the box anyway, but with a fifty it’d be a sure thing.”

  “All right. And you’ve got the focus figured out and all that.…”

  “I’ve been working with it, and I’ll check it again before I go in to make sure it’s turned on, that it’s on silent mode, that the radio’s attached.… It’ll be peeking out of the briefcase.”

  “The briefcase handles…”

  “Yeah, we thought of that. They’ll be out of the way. We’ve got them taped. And I’ll go out to talk to this Brown dude as soon as we’re out of the place.”

  “OK. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Let me talk to Marvel.”

  She must have been standing next to him because she was on the line a second later.

  “Everything OK?” she asked.

  “Bobby says there’s a computer out at the animal control building. Ballem calls it with his computer and apparently does some work with it. You got anybody out there?”

  “There’s a girl I could talk to… but I don’t know. She’s not the most trustworthy.”

  “I’ll try to raid it from here, but if I can’t, we might have to go into the place. We could use another key.”

  “Oh, man, I don’t know,” she said doubtfully. “My friend’s pretty shaky.”

  “Is she a secretary? What?”

  “She’s fuckin’ Duane, is what she’s doing.”

  “Ah, shit…”

  “It’s no big love affair; she thinks she needs the money.”

  “Well, talk to her. But don’t give her any hint of what’s happening.”

  “I’ll think of something,” she said. “A story.”

  “Be careful, for Christ’s sakes. Hill’s goofy. If there’s any question, back off. We’ll try to go in without her help.”

  LuEllen didn’t like it. The worst thing, she said, was that too many people knew that we’d be hitting a particular place.

  “Our security,” she said, “is fucked. You know what the state women’s prison is like here? I don’t need some two-hundred-pound baby-killer sitting on my face for three to five.”

  “If it looks bad, we won’t do it,” I said. “Let’s check it out tomorrow. Right after our session with Dessusdelit.”

  “It’s kind of remote. We’ll be noticed if we hang around.”

  “Nah. I looked at the map, and the place is right on the river. We’ll chug down the river, look it over with the glasses, chug back, and look it over some more.”

  We were off the boat early the next morning, walking through town to the Coffee Klatch Café. The morning was warm and humid: pleasant but with the thick, hazy feel that foretold an insufferably hot day. It’d be good to be on the river. We got the window seat we needed at the Coffee Klatch and lingered over coffee and cheese Danishes.

  “John,” LuEllen said, and I turned my head to the street. John was climbing the City Hall steps, carrying the briefcase. He was wearing the dark pin-striped suit we’d seen in the motel. He looked hot.

  Ten minutes later LuEllen said, “There she is. Let’s go.”

  We slid out of the booth, left a dollar tip, paid the rest of the bill at the counter, and hurried outside. We’d been in the café only fifteen minutes, but you could feel that the day had gotten hotter and closer. Across the street Mary Wells was climbing out of her car. We walked down to the corner, waited for a car to pass, and strolled across the street toward the City Hall.

  “Radio on?”

  “Just looked,” LuEllen said. The hand-size transmitter was in her shoulder bag. We were ten feet behind Wells as she climbed the steps into the City Hall. We paused for a moment at the directory inside, then followed her up the second flight to the clerk’s office.

  “It’s going to be a scorcher today…” Wells was saying as we walked in. She was talking to a woman behind the service counter. John was standing at a table to one side, poring over a book of plat maps. Wells’s eyebrow went up as she looked from John to the assistant; the assistant caught it and shrugged. John’s briefcase, its mouth opened toward the safe on the back wall, was sitting on a flat-file cabinet.

  “Could I help you folks?” the assistant asked, looking past Wells.

  “Yes, I was told you sell Corps of Engineers navigation maps for the Mississippi.”

  “The map book? Sure…”

  Wells walked through a wooden gate on the public counter to a glass-enclosed private office at the back. The clerk dug in a drawer, found a map book, and said, “That’ll be twelve dollars. There’s no sales tax on government publications.…”

  I dug out my billfold and handed her a fifty. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything smaller.”

  “That’s OK. I’ll just be a minute.”

  She walked back to Wells’s office and said something. Wells nodded, stood up, came out, and walked to the safe. LuEllen put her hand in her purse. Mary Wells turned the combination dial on the safe, pausing briefly to align each combination number, and took out a cashbox. We got the change for the fifty, and two minutes later we were back on the street.

  “OK?” I asked.

  LuEllen shrugged. “Seemed to be. I’ll have to look at the film. She turned the dial slowly enough, though. If the camera worked, we should be clear.”

  We were back aboard the Fanny before ten. John called a few minutes later.

  “It worked. If the camera was aimed right, we got it because the film advanced four frames.”

  “Good,” I said. “We’ve got to talk to Dessusdelit, and then we’re going out on the river. I’ll see you tonight at the Holiday Inn.”

  WHEN DESSUSDELIT came over the levee wall, I turned to LuEllen and said, “We’re on,” and fled toward the head.

  “OK. So after she cuts the deck, as soon as you pick it up, I say, ‘What’d you do to this ball?’” LuEllen said, following me.

  “Yeah. Ri
ght after I pick it up. And you’ve got to put something extra in your voice—like awe. Like gee whiz. Don’t overdo it, but I’m not good at this, so you’ve got to turn her around. Just glancing your way won’t be enough.… Maybe you could hold the ball in that light beam,” I said, nodding at a shaft of sunlight coming in the bow windows.

  “OK… here she is.”

  I went on back to the head, stripped off my tennis shirt, and turned on the water, while LuEllen went to the door.

  “Come on in,” I heard LuEllen say cheerfully. Dessusdelit twittered a few words, and LuEllen led her to the same chair she’d sat in the day before.

  While I splashed water on my face and neck, LuEllen got down the crystal ball and passed it to Dessusdelit, “just to warm it up.” I wandered out of the head a minute later and posed in the galley, rubbing my wet face with a towel, yawning. Dessusdelit was wearing a bright print summer dress and beige low-heeled shoes. Even with the color, she still looked like a venomous sparrow, spooky, nervously glancing this way and that, as though a predator were about to jump out of a bush. She had the crystal ball cupped in her hands, rolling it, staring into it.

  “You in a mood for a reading?” LuEllen asked me.

  “Sure, I guess,” I said lazily.

  Dessusdelit knew something about tarot, so we couldn’t fool her with a fake spread. LuEllen kept her working with the crystal ball while I got my deck from the cupboard. It was a common deck, the Waite-Rider. There are hundreds of tarots in circulation, but you can buy a Waite-Rider anyplace that handles occult stuff. It’s a standard, which is a good thing, because when I needed the second identical deck, I had no trouble finding one. The second deck was in a little cardboard box we’d taped under the edge of the table.

  “It’s amazing,” LuEllen said as I sat down across from Dessusdelit. My knee touched the box under the table. “We must have caught Miz Dessusdelit at a critical juncture. When she handles the ball, it lights up like a Christmas tree: money and adventure.…”

  She paused, artlessly, and let a wrinkle crease her forehead, as if a new thought had just occurred to her. “And romance?” LuEllen looked down at Dessusdelit. “Do you think that peculiar flux and intensity could have something to do with romance?”