DR10 - Sunset Limited by James Lee Burke

guy."
    "Burned him?"
    "You made him rat out the Giacanos. Do you know what they do
to people who snitch them off?"
    "Then why don't you put him in custody yourself, Mr.
Robicheaux?"
    "Because the prosecutor's office dropped charges against him."
    "Really? So the same people who complain when we investigate
their jail want us to clean up a local mess for them?"
    "Don't do this."
    "Should we tell Mr. Broussard his friend Mr. Robicheaux would
like to see him locked up again? Or will you do that for us?" she said,
and hung up.
    Helen opened my door and came inside. She studied my face
curiously.
    "You ready to boogie?" she asked.
     
    SWEDE BOXLEITER HAD TOLD me he had a
job in the movies, and
that's where we started. Over in St. Mary Parish, on the front lawn of
Lila Terrebonne. But we didn't get far. After we had parked the
cruiser, we were stopped halfway to the set by a couple of off-duty St.
Mary Parish sheriffs deputies with American flags sewn to their sleeves.
    "Y'all putting us in an embarrassing situation," the older man
said.
    "You see that dude there, the one with the tool belt on? His
name's Boxleiter. He just finished a five bit in Colorado," I said.
    "You got a warrant?"
    "Nope."
    "Mr. Holtzner don't want nobody on the set ain't got bidness
here. That's the way it is."
    "Oh yeah? Try this. Either you take the marshmallows out of
your mouth or I'll go down to your boss's office and have your ass
stuffed in a tree shredder," Helen said.
    "Say what you want. You ain't getting on this set," he said.
    Just then, Cisco Flynn opened the door of a trailer and
stepped out on the short wood porch.
    "What's the problem, Dave?" he asked.
    "Boxleiter."
    "Come in," he said, making cupping motions with his upturned
hands, as though he were directing an aircraft on a landing strip.
    Helen and I walked toward the open door. Behind him I could
see Billy Holtzner combing his hair. His eyes were pale and watery, his
lips thick, his face hard-planed like gray rubber molded against bone.
    "Dave, we want a good relationship with everybody in the area.
If Swede's done something wrong, I want to know about it. Come inside,
meet Billy. Let's talk a minute," Cisco said.
    But Billy Holtzner's attention had shifted to a woman who was
brushing her teeth in a lavatory with the door open.
    "Margot, you look just like you do when I come in your mouth,"
he said.
    "Adios," I said, walking away from the trailer with Helen.
    Cisco caught up with us and waved away the two security guards.
    "What'd Swede do?" he asked.
    "Better question: What's he got on you?" I said.
    "What have I done that you insult me like this?"
    "Mr. Flynn, Boxleiter was hanging around small children at the
city pool. Save the bullshit for your local groupies," Helen said.
    "All right, I'll talk to him. Let's don't have a scene," Cisco
said.
    "Just stay out of the way," she said.
    Boxleiter was on one knee, stripped to the waist, tightening a
socket wrench on a power terminal. His Levi's were powdered with dust,
and black power lines spidered out from him in all directions. His
torso glistened whitely with sweat, his skin rippling with sinew each
time he pumped the wrench. He used his hand to mop the sweat out of one
shaved armpit, then wiped his hand on his jeans.
    "I want you to put your shirt on and take a ride with us," I
said.
    He looked up at us, smiling, squinting into the sun. "You
don't have a warrant. If you did, you'd have already told me," he said.
    "It's a social invitation. One you really don't want to turn
down," Helen said.
    He studied her, amused. Dust swirled out of the dirt street
that had been spread on the set. The sky was cloudless, the air moist
and as tangible as flame against the skin. Boxleiter rose to his feet.
People on the set had stopped work and were watching now.
    "I got a union book. I'm like anybody else here. I don't have
to go anywhere," he said.
    "Suit yourself. We'll catch you later," I said.
    "I get it. You'll roust me when I get home tonight.