House of Blues

heart speed up. She didn't believe in
this, but she was susceptible to the power of suggestion.
    Toni looked half blitzed. "The ways of the
underworld are perfect and may not be questioned."
    " What?"
    " At each door, you're going to suffer a loss.
I've got to tell you something. There's danger all around you."
    " I'm a cop." Skip snapped out the words,
angry; Toni was spooking her.
    " Listen to me. This is the most dangerous thing
you've ever done. But you can't stop now. The ways of the underworld
are perfect."
    " What's that supposed to mean?"
    " What do you think it means?"
    " I don't know. The underworld. I don't know—in
a way it's where I live. I see the worst side of the city, but let me
tell you something—if it's perfect, we're all in trouble."
    "Uh-uh. It's not about that."
    "What, then?"
    "It may be about Dennis. It may have something
to do with all that."
    Skip remembered Toni's unsteady gait. She wasn't
slurring her words, but Skip figured alcohol and an eccentric view of
the world had probably combined to produce gibberish that was best
ignored.
    "You've already suffered a loss, haven't you?"
    She thought of Delavon's velvet-footed thugs and
laughed.
    "Yeah. Of my dignity."
    " It will get worse." She reached out again.
"Let me see the other hand."
    Skip complied, figuring it was a small price to get
her to talk about Dennis.
    " You have a formidable enemy. A very evil enemy.
And she's female." Toni cackled. "Maybe it's yourself."
    The things she'd said about Skip's personal life were
true, but Toni had probably just made lucky guesses; either that or
said the same thing she always said. Skip was damned if she was going
to give it any credence. "Tell me about Dennis," she said.
    " He was here last night. Phil told you."
    " You met him then?"
    " Met him?" She seemed to find that
hilarious. "Met him? I've known him ten or twelve years. He
walks into my life, walks out, back in, back out. Then he gets
married and I don't see him for years, and then here he is again.
Same place, same time, same line."
    " Did he tell you anything about his life?"
    "You mean about his father-in-law getting
killed? Not a god-damn word—Phil told me, I never even saw a paper.
All he talked about was his nice wife and his adorable kid. You
wouldn't have had the faintest idea there was anything wrong."
    " Was he drinking?"
    " Oh, heavily. I guess that was a clue."
    " What did he say about Reed?"
    She looked puzzled. "Who's Reed?"
    "His wife. I thought he talked about her."
    "He called her ‘my wife.' I never thought
about it. I just assumed he married Evil."
    "Evil?"
    " That's what I call Evie. His girlfriend when I
knew him. Her daddy was some big shot—owned a restaurant or
something, but Dennis never said which one. He's the one who was
killed, I guess."
    Skip produced the wedding picture of Reed and Dennis.
"Is this she?"
    "Yes." But she grabbed at the picture. "Let
me see that. I don't know. She used to be blond and she was skinnier.
Sure looks like her, though."
    "Dennis didn't talk about what happened
yesterday?"
    " No. Believe me I'd remember—knowing what I
know now."
    " Did he seem okay?"
    " Okay?"
    "Did he have any injuries?"
    She laughed. "I'm the one with injuries. All
inflicted by the same damn man."
    "How'd he look after all that time?"
    "Oh, great. Same old Dennis."
    " There wasn't anything unusual about him?"
    "What do you mean?"
    " Did he have blood on him?"
    "Omigod. Blood. No, he didn't have blood on him.
He was just the same as always. Even dressed the same—T-shirt and
jeans. He's got a great rear end. Some things never change."
    "Is this a place where you and Dennis used to
meet?"
    " Oh, sure. I've been a regular all the time I've
lived in the Quarter. And he used to be too."
    "So he probably came here to find you."
    " Are you kidding? He came here to get
shit-faced. I just happened to—" She stopped and drummed her
fingers on the table.
    " Oh, wait a minute. Now that I think of it, he
might have wanted me for something. Oh my God, I think I've been
had."
    I guarantee you you have.
    "See, he didn't want to make love with me. I
don't think he even wanted a place to stay, especially. I invited him
to come home with me, just like I always did, so he did. But he—"
    "Wait a minute—can I ask something? How'd you
get to your house?"
    "Walked. Why?"
    "I just wondered what he was driving."
    " Don't know. " She shook her head,
impatient to get on with her story. "Anyway, he came home with
me, but he kind