Read Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 08 - Death in the French Quarter Online

Authors: Kent Conwell

Tags: #Mystery: Thriller - P.I. - New Orleans

Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 08 - Death in the French Quarter (17 page)

BOOK: Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 08 - Death in the French Quarter
11.58Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Punky grimaced. “Look, Bones, I told Ham that because I knew if he said anything, this is what would happen. I never said nothing to Jojo. Honest. I ain’t lying.”

“How can I be sure? You know, it ain’t good business
when one of your own decides to go out on his own”

“That ain’t the way it is, honest” The sweating man
shook his head emphatically. “I promise that ain’t the
way it is.”

Bones took another step, stopping directly in front of the seated man. With exaggerated deliberation, he ran
the tip of the blade around Punky’s eyes, down the
bridge of his nose, around his lips, and paused in the
middle of the shaking man’s throat. “I don’t know.
What do you think, Tony?”

His question caught me by surprise. I stammered,
my brain racing for the right words. “I, ah, I don’t know
exactly. I think I’d want to believe Punky since he’s
been with you so long”

Bones’ eyes narrowed at my last remark.

“At least, I figured he’d been with you a long time.”
Pausing a moment to glance at Punky who was looking
up at me gratefully, I continued. “I don’t know this Jojo
other than that one time down at Byrne’s, but I’ve run
across smart guys who like to play mind games.” I
shrugged. “Maybe this is one of those times.”

Two or three of the gang nodded and grinned at me. I
relaxed slightly, realizing I had not only earned their respect for my defense of Punky, but also their approval.

“I suppose you could be right about that, Tony,”
Bones replied, his eyes still fixed on Punky. “Still, it’s
enough to make me wonder. You understand where I’m
coming from, Punky?”

Punky swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah,” he managed to croak out.

Bones pressed the tip of the double-edged blade into
the flesh of Punky’s throat, then abruptly jerked it away
and slipped it into his pocket. His demeanor changed
instantly. “Good,” he said, clapping Punky on the
shoulder. “That’s why I’m going to let you walk out of here.” With a smile on his thin lips, he added, “You’ve
been a good friend, and I don’t want no hard feelings,
but I want you out of New Orleans, out of Louisiana,
and out of this part of the country. Don’t even stop by
your diggings. You understand?”

Punky dragged the tip of his tongue across his dry
lips and nodded jerkily.

“Good.” Bones stepped back. “Now beat it.”

Without a word, Punky leaped from his chair and
hurried to the door. As soon as it closed behind him,
Bones nodded to Mule and Hummer. “See that he don’t
never come back, you understand?”

The two gang members exchanged puzzled looks.

Bones snapped at them. “You understand what I’m
saying? I don’t want him to never come back to New
Orleans.”

Reluctantly, Hummer nodded. “Yeah, Bones. We
understand.”

I glanced at Julie who simply shrugged as if to say,
“Welcome to my world.”

Bones turned back to me. “Now, Tony, let’s you and
me finish our drink.”

 

After saving Bones’ goods back on the road from
Sarrizin’s Landing, as well as my little act in the back
room that would have won me an Academy Award, I
anticipated Bones bringing me into his little complement of thugs, but to my disappointment he summarily
dismissed me after we finished Gramps’ world famous
Hurricanes.

I wasn’t back to square one, but I hadn’t made the
progress I had expected. Time was running out. Every
passing day increased my chances of exposure.

So, as I wound my way through the French Quarter
to my room, I decided that maybe I should turn over
what information I had on the weapons smuggling to
Jimmy LeBlanc and, as Zozette had so succinctly put it,
drop the whole business.

The streets were emptying of partygoers and tourists, and the rank odor of spilled booze, fried food, and
garbage in the gutters enveloped me.

A sharp hiss jerked me to a halt as I passed a darkened corridor leading back into a hidden courtyard. I
glanced around and spotted Punky’s face emerge from
the darkness behind the barred gate. A disembodied
hand waved me over.

Instantly, every sense in my body came alive.
“Punky?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. The wrought-iron gate creaked
open, inviting me in. “Quick. I got to talk to you.”

Glancing up and down the street nervously, I struggled to control my breathing. Had he learned that I was
behind the scheme? “I thought you’d be gone by now.
This isn’t a good place for you”

The streetlight slanted across the bottom half of his
face. He gave me a crooked grin. “I know. Come on in
before someone sees you” The gate creaked open.

For a moment, I hesitated, then stepped into the
darkness. The gate squeaked behind me, slamming
with a rusty screech. From the streetlight drifting into
the corridor, I could make out Punky’s silhouette. I
cleared my throat. “So, what do you want?”

“Look, I ain’t got much time. I know Bones better
than he knows hisself. I saw Mule and Hummer follow
me out of Rigues’. I know what kinda game Bones
plays. I seen it here, and I seen it back in Austin.”

Austin!

He continued. “I owe you. You stuck your neck out
for me back there, so take my warning. Get out of here. Don’t get tied up with Bones. Sooner or later, everyone
who does ends up dead.”

I tried to read the expression on his face, but in the
darkness it was only a blur. “I don’t know, Punky. That’s
hard to believe about him. Of course, I hadn’t been running with you guys, so I ain’t seen it all, but what I have
makes me sort of doubt what you’re telling me”

I heard a sharp intake of breathe. He muttered a
curse. “Well, I tried at least. If you’re too dumb to listen, that’s your problem”

From the irritation in his voice, I guessed he was
ready to split. Hastily, I asked, “Are you sure about him,
Punky? I mean, you actually saw him waste dudes?”

“Yeah. I seen him waste them,” he snapped impatiently. “Two back in Austin, a young black and some
old dude where we used to work” He paused and added
in a warning voice, “Don’t figure you can outfox
Bones. That man is slick. Why, he even managed to
drop a frame on some poor slob for the murder of the
old dude”

Adrenaline surged through my veins. My first impulse was to level with Punky, offer him a deal, but discretion stayed the urge. “Where you heading?”

He chuckled wryly. “The seven o’clock bus out. Give
me ten minutes after I leave, then you cut out. If anyone
is watching, they’ll follow me”

For a moment, I was touched by his gesture of concern, but then I wondered if perhaps it was more for
self-preservation than my own welfare. After all, I was
the one remaining behind.

Not wanting to take a chance, moments after he disappeared out the gate, I headed in the opposite direction. Quickly, I made my way back to my room, thrilled
by the confirmation of the truth of Stewart’s execution,
but still concerned over just how I could prove it.

I didn’t bother to undress before I plopped down on
my bed and stared at the dark ceiling. My brain raced,
trying to formulate some plan to nail Bones. I had
hoped with Punky’s ousting I would be taken into the
small gang, but I had been mistaken. Apparently, Bones
was still waiting to hear from his source in Austin.

I had to give Bones credit. Not only was he a slick
one like Punky said, but he was also careful. That’s
why he had managed to stay clean all these years.

But what if Bones was behind bars where he
couldn’t touch anyone? Would Punky consider cutting
a deal then?

On impulse, I rolled out of bed and fished through my
sporting bag for a small flashlight, and glided down the
dark, narrow stairs into the night. First, I’d make sure the
weapons were still stashed at the St. Louis Cemetery,
and then second, I’d spill it all to LeBlanc. Dump it in
his lap. The NOPD could stake out the place and eventually nail the gang. Then we would offer Punky a deal.

If we can catch him before he left town. I called the
bus station to verify the seven o’clock bus was the first
one out of town this morning.

I glanced at my watch. Almost four. I had only about
an hour of darkness. I had to move fast.

The streets were empty, if New Orleans’ streets can
ever be called empty. The few on the streets were either
stragglers from overnight or eager newcomers ready to
greet the day.

Staying close to the stucco and brick buildings, I
hurried along the sidewalks, slipping into the underbrush next to the north wall and entering through the
ancient gate.

The cemetery didn’t open until nine o’clock for
tourists and their guides, so I quickly made my way
through the labyrinth of aisles to the south end of the
cemetery to the older of the two tombs purported to be
Marie LeVeau’s.

As the heavy door swung open, cool, damp air
flooded over me, sending chills up my arms despite the
heat of the summer night. I stepped inside and flicked
on the flashlight. The small cone of yellow light
punched a frail hole in the darkness. Tentatively, I descended to the corridor and made my way along the
brick-encased tunnel. The musty smell of century-old
bodies clogged my nostrils, reminding me of an old dirt
cellar in which I once took refuge from a tornado when
I was a youngster.

Pausing at the three-way intersection of tunnels, I
flashed the beam of light down each until the darkness
swallowed it up. The left tunnel led beneath the street to
the apartment complex beyond. The second was a dead
end, and the third, the one to the right, led to the cavernous room containing the weapons.

I shivered and inadvertently glanced at the vaulted brick ceiling over my head, grateful I wasn’t claustrophobic, although by now I was beginning to feel the
walls were closing in on me.

Hurriedly, I took the right corridor, and moments
later the pale beam settled on the stairs ascending to the
storage room. Although no light was drifting down
from the room above, I snapped the light off, not wanting to take any chances. I felt my way along the damp
brick wall, easing up the stairs.

I paused just below the top, peering over the top
tread. The darkness was complete. I flicked on my
small flashlight.

My breath caught in my throat.

The room was empty!

Hastily, I swept the weak beam around the mausoleum, seeing nothing. I muttered a curse. Now I had
nothing to offer Jimmy LeBlanc. Bones had again managed to stay just one step ahead of the law.

The screeching sound of metal against metal echoed
across the empty room. I snapped off the light just as
the outside door beside the office opened.

A weak shaft of streetlight silhouetted three figures. I
heard Punky’s frantic voice. “I was leaving the city,
Mule. Honest. I had to wait for the bus. Gimme a break.
We’ve been buddies a long time.”

With a cruel laugh, Mule said, “You ain’t got no buddies, Punky. You’re a snot-nosed punk who thinks he’s
better than everybody else. Get inside. I’m going to enjoy this.”

“Just get it over with, Mule. Dust him and stick him in one of them coffins with them other stiffs,” Hummer
growled. “I been up all night, and I’m beat”

“Shut up, you daisy. Don’t rush me. Shut the door.”

As soon as the door clanged shut, a bright beam of
light cut through the darkness. “Get over to them
stairs,” Mule barked, shoving Punky ahead of him.

Moving as quickly as I could without making a
sound, I hurried back down the stairs and, trying not to
stumble over any of the loose bricks on the floor, felt
my way to the intersection, then took the corridor leading to the complex of apartments.

Abruptly I jerked to a halt, a wild, crazy idea ricocheting off the walls of my thick skull. Don’t be an idiot, Tony, get out of here while you can.

But, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere. I had a chance,
however slight, to nail Bones, and if I didn’t take it I
would always wonder, and regret. So, go ahead and be
an idiot, Tony.

I squatted and felt around the floor. Closing my fingers around a damp brick, I eased back down the vaulted
corridor leading to the main tunnel. At the corner only a
few feet from the intersection, I halted, and waited,
squeezing the brick so hard I thought it might shatter.

From the darkness, the light appeared with Punky
silhouetted in the beam. I grinned when I saw his hands
were free. At least I would have some help.

I ducked back behind the corner as the three approached the intersection. My heart thudded against
my chest and my breath came in ragged gasps, so
ragged I thought I would hyperventilate.

As they turned down the tunnel to the burial corridors, I slipped out on my toes and crept up behind
Hummer. He must have heard the scuffing of my feet
for he made a move to jerk his head around just as I
slammed the brick into his temple.

With a soft groan, he sank to the cold floor.

“What the-” shouted Mule, spinning around.

I leaped forward, knocking the flashlight from the
larger man’s hand before he could see me. I grabbed
the front of his shirt and slammed the brick into his
forehead, knocking him to the floor unconscious.

BOOK: Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 08 - Death in the French Quarter
11.58Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Honorable Heir by Laurie Alice Eakes
All In by Jerry Yang
A Wedding in Provence by Sussman, Ellen
Girls Under Pressure by Jacqueline Wilson
Energized by Mary Behre
A Certain Age by Lynne Truss
Wolf's Strength by Ambrielle Kirk