Free DR08 - Burning Angel by James Lee Burke Page A

reasons as the rest of us. Except he pretends he's got some kind of blue fire radiating around his head or something.“ I walked over to the car. Sonny's left eye was swollen almost shut. He grinned up at me. His sharkskin slacks were torn at the knee. ”How's the man, Streak?“ he said. ”I wish you had come in on your own.“
    ”Long story.“
    ”It always is.“
    ”You going to hold me?“
    ”Maybe.“ I turned toward Clete. ”Give me your key,“ I called. ”Ask Sonny if I need rabies shots,“ he said, and pitched it at me. ”You're not going to get clever, are you?“ I said to Sonny. ”With you guys? Are you kidding?“
    ”You're the consummate grifter, Sonny,“ I said, opened the door, and unlocked his wrist. Then I leveled my finger at his face. ”Who were the guys who killed Delia Landry?“
    ”I'm not sure.“
    ”Don't you lie to me, Sonny.“
    ”It could be any number of guys. It depends who they send in. You didn't lift any prints?“
    ”Don't worry about what we do or don't do. You just answer my questions. Who's theyT “Dave, you're not going to understand this stuff.”
    “You're starting to piss me off, Sonny.”
    “I don't blame you.”
    “Get out of the car.” I patted him down against the fender, then slipped my hand under his arm and turned him toward my truck. “Where we going?” he said. “You're a material witness. You're also an uncooperative material witness. That means we'll be keeping you for a while.”
    “Mistake.”
    “I'll live with it.”
    “Don't count on it, Dave. I'm not being cute, either.”
    “He's a sweetheart,” Clete said from the bench. Then he rubbed the knuckles on his right hand and looked at them.
    “Sorry I popped you, Cletus,” Sonny said.
    “In your ear, Sonny,” Clete said.
    We drove past boatyards then some shrimp boats that were knocking against the pilings in their berths. The air was warm and smelled like brass and dead fish.
    “Can I stop by my room and pick up some things?” Sonny asked.
    “No.”
    “Just a shirt.”
    “Nope.”
    “You're a hard man, Streak.”
    “That girl took your fall, Sonny. You want to look at her morgue pictures?”
    He was quiet a long time, his face looking straight ahead at the rain striking the windshield.
    “Did she suffer?” he said.
    “They tore her apart. What do you think?”
    His mouth was red against his white skin.
    “They were after me, or maybe the notebook I gave you,” he said.
    “I've got it. You've written a potential best-seller and people are getting killed over it.”
    “Dave, you lock me up, those guys are going to get to me.”
    “That's the breaks, partner.”
    He was quiet again, his eyes focused inward.
    “Are we talking about some kind of CIA involvement?” I said.
    “Not directly. But you start sending the wrong stuff through the computer, through your fax machines, these guys will step right into the middle of your life. I guarantee it, Dave.”
    “How's the name Emile Pogue sit with you?” I said.
    He let out his breath quietly. Under his suspenders his stomach was flat and corded with muscle.
    “Another officer ran him all kinds of ways and came up empty,” I said.
    He rubbed the ball of his thumb across his lips. Then he said, “I didn't eat yet. What time they serve at the lockup?” Try to read that. Two hours later Clete called me at home. It was raining hard, the water sluicing off the gutters, and the back lawn was full of floating leaves. “What'd you get out of him?” Clete said. “Nothing.”
    I could hear country music and people's voices in the background.
    “Where are you?”
    “In a slop chute outside Morgan City. Dave, this guy bothers me. There's something not natural about him.”
    “He's a hustler. He's outrageous by nature.”
    “He doesn't get any older. He always looks the same.” I tried to remember Sonny's approximate age. I couldn't. “There's something else,” Clete said. “Where I hit him.
    There's a strawberry mark across