82 Desire

that? Don’t want to talk to anybody.” He sounded like a crotchety old fart—the Newman Ray remembered was a perfectly turned out, perfectly polished gentleman.
    His hello was even nastier than Talba’s.
    Ray said, “You remember me, Mr. Newman. Hyacinth Oil.”
    “Why, Mr. Boudreaux.” The old fart was suddenly reformed. “It’s a pleasure to hear from you.”
    “How’re you doing, Mr. Newman?”
    “What can I do for you, sir?” Definitely didn’t want to get into the story of his life.
    “I think we might have something in common, Mr. Newman. If you can just give me a few minutes of your time, I think we might be able to help each other.”
    “Very well, sir. You have my full and complete attention.”
    “I’m wondering if you know a man named Russell Fortier.”
    “Russell Fortier, you say? Why no, but that name’s been comin’ up lately. Why do you ask?”
    “I’m going to put it in a nutshell, Mr. Newman. I don’t want to waste your time or mine. I’ve lost my company, thanks to some very dirty tricks played on me by United Oil. I have … information that something similar might have happened to you.”
    “You do, do you? I guess you can’t trust anybody these days.”
    “Meaning large and powerful corporations? I’d say it’s a risky business at best.”
    “Meaning the police. I thought they were supposed to be like priests.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “Two in one day is just a little coincidental for subtlety.”
    “I’m afraid you’ve lost me, sir.”
    “No sooner do I get through pouring out the whole sordid story to that diesel dyke of a cop than the phone rings, and it’s you.”
    “Diesel dyke?” What on earth could the man be talking about? “Oh. Do you mean Skip Langdon?”
    “You know damn well I do, and what kind of name is that for a girl?”
    “Mr. Newman, I assure you I’m not in touch with Detective Langdon or any other police officer. I got your name from another source entirely.”
    “Is that right?” Newman sounded utterly unconvinced.
    “Look, I’m calling because I hoped we might work together.” He was about to elaborate, but Newman interrupted.
    “Tell me something, Mr. Boudreaux. Did you always pay your royalties on time?”
    “We tried; we certainly tried. But you know how it is. I can’t say that we did, no.”
    “Is that how they got you?”
    “What? On delinquent royalties? Oh, no, they were much trickier than that.”
    “But you were guilty of it and so is everybody else in the industry. Am I right about that?”
    “Well, sir, I wouldn’t argue that.”
    “Well, I’m the one they dragged down with it. They not only got my company, they made sure I turned up tarnished in front of God and everybody. Including my late wife, rest her soul.”
    The last thing on Ray’s agenda was stopping the conversation to make his manners. But there was no help for it. He offered his condolences in as abbreviated form as he dared, and as soon as he decently could, he said again, “Listen, Mr. Newman, I’m calling because I’m hoping we can work together on this.”
    “That would depend, sir, on what we’d be working on.”
    “I’m hoping for a class action suit. But first I’m trying to find out if there’s a class. We both just found there are at least two of us, and I think that’s exciting.” Exciting was hardly the word for it. Ray’s heart was about to pound out of his chest.
    “What do you want from me?”
    Those words , Ray thought, for openers. Yes, Lord! Thank you, Jesus . “I just thought we might put our heads together and trade information.”
    Newman went irascible again, having evidently had a moment to let his brain catch up with his mouth. “Two in one day! That’s just a little much, don’t you think?”
    “This Russell Fortier thing’s about to bust open, Mr. Newman. That’s what the whole thing’s spinning around right now. The cops are trying to find him before we do.” His heart in his mouth, he asked, “You don’t have any ideas, do you?”
    “Ideas? I’d barely heard of the man before I read about him in the paper—I didn’t even know he was married to Bebe Fortier.”
    “Wait a minute—United must have made you an offer.”
    “Oh, yes, certainly they did. But Russell Fortier was never involved.”
    “Oh. Well, then, who did the offer come from?” Ray tried to keep his voice as level as possible.
    “Man named Beau Cavignac.” For the first time, Newman chuckled. “Sounds like