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    Fat Tuesday

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      Following the Civil War, the house had fallen into ruin because no one

      could afford to own it and pay the property taxes. In the early 1880s, a

      northern entrepreneur fell in love with the mansion He poured money into

      the refurbishing of it until it surpassed its original splendor.

      That lasted until his grandson and heir was caught swindling his

      partners and lost not only his family's fortune, but his own life in a

      suspicious shooting "accident" beneath the Dueling Oaks.

      The house again sat vacant until the 1920s, when a group of investors

      converted it into a speakeasy. The upstairs rooms saw as much, if not

      more, action than the elegant salons on the ground floor. Flesh was

      peddled as actively as bootleg liquor. Soon the madam had made enough

      money to buy out her partners. Under her management the business

      flourished.

      When she died, the business was passed down to her daughter, and now,

      the present owner, Ruby Bouchereaux, was the third-generation madam.

      The elegant establishment had been under Ruby's control since the

      sixties.

      She had outprospered even her enterprising mother and grandmother.

      Ruby Bouchereaux's house was part of the Big Easy's mystique.

      Local law enforcement had an understanding with Ruby. She was allowed to

      run her business without any interference, except where drug trafficking

      was involved.

      Occasionally one or more of Ruby's girls saw a way to make a little

      extra cash on the side while promising a client heightened sensitivity

      and staying power with the help of a controlled substance. Ruby didn't

      like the temporary interruption in business that a raid created, but she

      liked even less the prospect of being permanently shut down if one of

      her well-heeled clients died of asphyxiation or heart attack while in

      the throes of ecstasy. Nor was she too keen on her girls having an

      enterprise of which she got no percentage. So she regarded the

      occasional raid as a necessary evil and remained on good terms with the

      authorities.

      Burke had been to the house twice in the line of duty. Naked men,

      clutching their three-piece business suits and Rolexes, were pulled from

      the luxurious beds and shaken down with no more deference than

      hollow-eyed junkies who begged for coins around Jackson Square. If one

      of Ruby's customers was caught using drugs to spike his sex, Burke

      didn't have any compunction about arresting him no matter how wealthy he

      was or which public office he held.

      The door was answered by a bouncer who greeted Burke with a suspicious

      scowl."Please tell Miss Bouchereaux that Burke Basile would like to see

      her."

      "Aren't you a cop?"

      "You got something to hide?"

      He closed the door in Burke's face and left him standing on the

      threshold for five full minutes before reappearing."She'll see you," he

      said, sounding none too pleased about it.

      He led Burke to an office that could have belonged to any hardworking,

      overachieving executive who delegated little and insisted on exercising

      absolute control over everything. It was equipped with a multiline

      telephone, two fax machines, and a computer. Prostitution had gone

      high-tech.

      The woman seated behind the desk motioned him into a chair."This is an

      unexpected pleasure, Lieutenant Basile."

      "Thank you for seeing me without an appointment."

      She offered him something to drink, which he declined. After dismissing

      the bouncer, she said, "I hope you've come to establish a line of credit

      with us. My girls will be thrilled. Your rugged good looks, especially

      that attractive mustache, haven't gone unnoticed whenever you've graced

      us with your presence, even if it was to carry out your unpleasant

      duty."

      She was a diminutive woman, no more than five feet tall, with platinum

      hair that was said to be natural. Her skin, it appeared, had never been

      exposed to sunlight, because it was as white and smooth as a gardenia

      blossom. Rumor had it that she had undergone a facelift without

      anesthesia so that she could oversee the surgeon's work and make certain

      he was acting on her precise instructions. But the story was a little

      too far-fetched to be believed, even for Ruby Bouchereaux, about whom

      rumors abounded. In any event, she was stunning.

      Since he entered the office, her lavender eyes hadn't wavered from his.

      She was old enough to be his mother, and he knew her art of flirtation

      had been perfected over years of practice. Nevertheless, he felt himself

      blush at her compliment.

      "I'm afraid I can't afford your services."

      "We've made allowances for other city officials." Eyeing him with

      interest, she toyed with the strand of pearls around her neck.

      "I'd be pleased to discuss several discount options with you."

      He smiled, but shook his head."Sorry, no. But I appreciate the offer."

      Her lips formed a rueful pout."The girls will be.disappointed.

      And so am I." Then, folding her small hands together on top of her desk,

      she inquired why he had come to see her.

      "Pinkie Duvall."

      The change in her expression was so subtle, only someone with Burke's

      experience in gauging people's reactions could have detected it.

      "What about him?"

      "You two were partners in a club down in the Quarter before you had a

      falling out a couple years back."

      "That's correct."

      "What happened?"

      "Off the record?"

      "Entirely."

      "Pinkie wanted one of my girls to come dance in the club. She wasn't

      interested, and politely turned him down. Shortly after that, Wayne

      Bardo paid us a visit and requested this girl. After an hour with him,

      she couldn't even walk, much less dance."

      "Bardo was sent by Duvall to teach her a lesson." When Ruby agreed with

      a slight inclination of her head, he asked if he could please speak to

      the girl.

      "I'm afraid not, lieutenant. Two days after her session with Bardo, she

      took a razor to her wrists. She didn't believe that her face would ever

      look the same, and, frankly, neither did any of the doctors we

      consulted. She was a gorgeous girl. Mr. Bardo ruined her not only for

      this profession, but for any other where meeting the public is

      required."

      "I don't suppose you reported this to the police." "A whore getting

      assaulted in a whorehouse?" she said with a harsh laugh."How sympathetic

      do you think the authorities would be? I couldn't prove that the assault

      had taken place here, or that Bardo was the culprit, or that he was

      carrying out Pinkie Duvall's directive.

      "Besides, it would have been bad for business. I don't advertise our

      mistakes and misfortunes. Anytime a girl goes into a room alone with a

      man, she runs the risk of being hurt. I and my staff do everything to

      prevent that sort of thing from happening, but we can't be in the rooms

      to guarantee that it won't. It's a hazard of the profession."

      Burke leaned forward slightly."Ms. Bouchereaux, as a former partner, do

      you know anything about Duvall's sideline businesses?"

      "I assume you're re
    ferring specifically to drug dealing." "So you're

      aware of it?"

      "Of course, but I couldn't prove it, any more than you can. He's

      incredibly shrewd. Pinkie and I only discussed business relating to the

      club we held in common. He didn't pry into my other interests, and I

      didn't pry into his."

      "You see my dilemma?" Burke said."District Attorney Littrell won't touch

      Duvall without hard evidence, and there's not a chance in hell that he's

      going to make a mistake and give us any room to maneuver."

      "What has all this got to do with me?"

      "I was hoping that you'd be willing to cooperate with the Narcotics

      Division. Help us out, maybe work out an arrangement."

      "Like no more raids for a while if I help you catch Pinkie Duvall?"

      "Something like that."

      She gazed at him unflinchingly while still fiddling with the strand of

      pearls."You're in no position to be making deals on behalf of the

      Narcotics Division. You no longer work for the police department."

      Caught, there was no point in denying it. Expelling his breath, Burke

      sat back, appraising her with heightened respect."It was worth a try.

      I'm sorry."

      "I thought it was very strange for a policeman to come calling before

      noon. While you were waiting to see me, I placed a call."

      "I turned in my badge this morning."

      "Why?"

      "I'm going after the bastard on my own."

      Her eyes narrowed slightly."How intriguing. A personal vendetta."

      "I suppose you could call it that."

      "No doubt because of Stuart's death. I followed the story."

      He nodded, but didn't elaborate."I knew the partnership between you and

      Duvall had gone sour, and figured there would still be some animosity.

      Even so, I took a chance by coming here. If something unfortunate were

      to happen to him, I'm trusting you to forget that I was here."

      "You have my word on it, Mr. Basile."

      "Thank you."

      "How can I assist?"

      "You're willing? Even though I tried to trick you?"

      "Let's just say that I appreciate passion in all its forms."

      Returning her smile, Burke sat forward eagerly."Where does Duvall keep

      his records? Not for his law practice. His personal records." "Here,"

      she said, tapping her temple."There won't be any records of what you

      need to know, either written or on computer disks."

      "-You're certain?"

      "As certain as I can be. This is no small undertaking you've chosen for

      yourself. After the incident with my girl, I tried to think of a way to

      repay Pinkie. Blackmail. Embezzlement. I even considered killing him."

      She laughed musically."I guess I'm trusting you with secrets, too, Mr.

      Basile."

      "You have my word that I'll never recall this conversation to anyone

      else, either."

      Her smile gradually faded."I never got my revenge. I devised a dozen

      schemes, but abandoned them all because they left me too vulnerable."

      "You see, that's the beauty of this," Burke told her."I've got nothing

      to lose. Absolutely nothing." Looking deeply into his eyes, she said

      softly, "You may surprise yourself."

      "I don't think so."

      "I hope you're wrong." A moment passed before she stood up and crossed

      the room to a cabinet where glasses and liquor were stored."You're

      determined to have your vengeance?"

      "Whatever the cost."

      "It might be more costly than you think. From here on, trust no one."

      "Including you?"

      He meant it teasingly, but she responded seriously."Including me.

      Pinkie keeps his former clients indebted to him. When they fall behind

      on their payments, he lets them work off their fees. Since he deals with

      criminals of all types, I can't stress to you enough how deadly he can

      be."

      "I'm aware of the danger."

      Burke had resolved last night that he was going for broke. He didn't

      care if he lived or died, as long as he took Duvall and Bardo with him.

      Nevertheless, he would be a fool to dismiss the madam's advice.

      She poured two shots of bourbon and brought one to him, which he

      accepted and thanked her for, even though he'd declined a drink earlier.

      Thoughtfully, she sipped from her tumbler. She tapped her fingernail

      against the crystal as she held it to her lips."There might be a way,

      Mr. Basile. Pinkie's one Achilles' heel is his Remy."

      Burke tossed back his shot. The whiskey stung his throat, his eyes.

      He coughed."What's a remy?"

      "I don't think I need remind you that this makes the third episode this

      semester."

      "No, Sister Beatrice. I'm all too aware of my sister's infractions."

      She smoothed her skirt, an unconscious gesture of contrition held over

      from her days at the academy."I agree that Flarra's behavior is

      unacceptable."

      "Not only are we responsible for our girls' educations," the nun

      continued, "but for their spiritual harmony and emotional stability.

      Here at Blessed Heart we take very seriously the responsibility of

      guiding our students in every area of their lives."

      "It's because of those high standards that Flarra is enrolled here."

      "Yet she seems determined to break the rules, which are in place for her

      safety, as well as to instill self-discipline. If something like this

      happens again, we will be forced to expel her." "I understand," Remy

      said, feeling soundly chastised herself.

      Although it had been twelve years since she graduated from Blessed Heart

      Academy, the few lectures she'd received for disobedience or poor

      performance were embedded in her memory. For all the benevolence of

      their profession, the boarding school's administrators knew how to

      magnify a minor infraction until it seemed a cardinal sin.

      "May I see my sister alone now, please?"

      Sister Beatrice stood."Certainly. You may have use of the office for

      fifteen minutes. Please give my regards to Mr. Duvall and thank him on

      behalf of the faculty for his latest endowment. His generosity never

      ceases. God will bless it."

      "I'll tell him."

      As Sister Beatrice moved past, she paused and laid her hand on Remy's

      arm."How are you, Remy?"

      "Very well."

      "Happy?"

      "Certainly."

      The nun had taught Remy English literature before becoming principal of

      the school. She could be stern when required, but she was as kind as she

      was strict. Her life and her career had been devoted to education, but

      she might have been equally as successful as a psychologist. Or a

      detective. With unsettling perception, she peered deeply into Remy's

      eyes.

      "I still think of you often, Remy. And when I do, I pray for you."

      "Thank you, sister."

      "Sometimes I question ..." She let the thought trail off without

      vocalizing it, saying instead, "I love all the young ladies God places

      in my charge. But I'm human. Every now and then one comes along who

      touches my heart in a special way. You can't be surprised to know that

      you were one of those select few, Remy. I doubt I hid my partiality from

      anyone, especially you."

      "I sensed your love, yes. I'm still grateful for the attention y
    ou gave

      me when I needed it most."

      "I wanted very much for you to be happy. I would hate to think that your

      life hasn't been all that you hoped it would be."

      "If I seem a little out of sorts today it's because I'm upset by

      Flarra's latest stunt."

      Sister Beatrice studied her face a moment longer, then patted her arm

      before releasing it."Don't worry too much about Flarra. Your sister is a

      delightful girl. A bit more headstrong and impulsive than you."

      "Or simply more courageous." "Perhaps," the nun said with a small

      laugh."You came to us much later than she did. You had seen more of the

      world."

      "What I had seen of it didn't hold much allure for me."

      Sister Beatrice smiled sympathetically."Flarra regards that lack of

      exposure a curse, not a blessing. Her problem isn't disobedience so much

      as curiosity. She feels constrained." After a slight hesitation, she

      added, "As much as I'd hate losing her, it might be time for you to

     


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