Crescent City Connection

friends—was dressed in lime-green, a color that would turn most people pea-green. But on her it looked great. It was funny—she was tiny, but had such presence that the first time Skip met her, she thought Lou-Lou was almost as tall as her own six feet. Yet she could make Skip feel clumsy and lumbering.
    Adam ran the question past her, and before he was done, Skip knew how Cindy Lou was going to respond—with extreme caution, because she’d been wrong before.
    “It’s possible,” she said, and Skip almost said it with her. But then she started to pick up steam. “In fact, it’s a perfect role for Jacomine in lots of ways. It’s anonymous, and he certainly can’t be public again—being wanted for murder is pretty awkward for most people’s careers. It may very well use the services of other people, which we know he’s good at getting—in fact, if he really has followers, they could be some of the same ones from before. Most of all, though, it seems to be about power.”
    “Power,” said Abasolo, mulling it.
    “Well, Jacomine certainly isn’t after money. I mean, being mayor isn’t a high-paying job—of course, some say it’s a license to steal, but that’s not Jacomine’s thing. We know that from the tight control he kept on his followers.
    “I mean, we know that’s his thing—tight control. Anyhow, it’s always the same with these gurus—they think they’re God and they set themselves up as God.” She started to get excited. “Look what’s in the letter: ‘Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.’ That’s usually interpreted as ‘don’t take the law into your own hands.’ So The Jury’s taken over the Lord’s job by their own admission.
    “Then there’s New Orleans. He picked us to operate in, for openers. He can’t have been too far away, because there wasn’t enough time …”
    “Or more likely he got someone else to do the shooting for him. That’s completely Jacomine’s style. I mean, but
completely
.”
    Cindy Lou nodded. “That’s his M.O. And he’d have known about the Hollywood walk—that we do that, I mean. And nobody, but nobody could know that who hasn’t spent time here.” She nodded again, adding things up and getting answers. “The gunman knew exactly where to stand … he was definitely someone familiar with the layout.”
    Abasolo said, “Let’s get Cappello in on this—and then let’s go talk to Joe.” Lieutenant Joe Tarantino, in charge of Homicide.
    The rest of the day was dizzying. They went from Tarantino to the captain in charge of the detective bureau, right up to the acting superintendent. It was only about three hours before Skip found herself at FBI headquarters.
    She’d worked with one of these dudes before—Special Agent Turner Shellmire. “So you figured it out, too,” he said.
    “Figured what out?” Skip said, knowing she hadn’t figured much out at all.
    He pointed out the window, somewhere in the direction of the river. “The Crescent City Connection.”
    It was the name of a bridge across the Mississippi. “This dude knows us.”

Nine
    THE WHOLE THING had happened so fast Daniel was a little woozy. He’d lived a long time in Idaho with people who didn’t give a damn; he’d seen a lot of things, but he’d never seen anything like this. Anything remotely like this.
    He was feeling kind of schizophrenic about it. On the one hand, exhilarated, a little dizzy. On the other, a little down. Like somehow it shouldn’t have been so easy. Like it’s the kind of thing people talk about but don’t actually do. Because for one thing they wouldn’t know how. For another…
    He didn’t quite know what the other thing was. That path made him feel kind of wiggly and crawly, like he needed to get away, quick. He knew what it was, deep down, but he couldn’t bring himself actually to think the thought: Maybe this wasn’t such a hot idea.
    Also, it was making him feel strange new ways about his father that he hadn’t sorted out yet. Respect was way high on the list. The man had actually pulled it off. He couldn’t get over it.
    And he had done it with such ease. It was as if he had snapped his fingers, and—poof!—the asshole was dead.
    It made Daniel feel weird, no question about it. Like his dad was different, or maybe even more than the person he knew—wasn’t really his dad, but some kind of evil magician.
    Truth to tell, Daniel was a little in awe.
    He thought:
You can think and think about a thing and still not
have