House of Blues

message."
    Cindy Lou pointed a manicured finger at Skip. "Thank
you."
    She studied the menu a moment. Skip didn't bother.
She always got whatever crawfish dish was on the menu—today,
eggplant and crawfish.
    "I mean I never expected it to work out,"
said Cindy Lou.
    " That's not my thing."
    "You just hate feeling like chopped liver."
    " Thank you."
    They gave their orders and sipped tea. Skip
considered the virtues of letting Cindy Lou talk it out, but on the
whole she figured there wasn't that much to say—it was about the
shortest duration of any of her friend's relationships, which were
notorious for their brevity; therefore, despite the ancient
connection, it had probably been no more than a spark.
    "Listen, Lou-Lou—first of all, do you hate
being called that?"
    " I kind of like it, actually—but don't tell
Jimmy Dee."
    " Good. Look, I've got to tell you about
something."
    "The case? Things didn't go well last night?"
    "Things went a lot better than I hoped—I met
someone who'd seen the person I'm looking for; and better yet, sent
him to a sort of upscale crack house, which she took me to." She
broke off and shuddered. "Thoroughly revolting scene."
    " You didn't find him, I gather."
    "No, but I did find someone."
    ''Uh-oh."
    "I need to talk to you about it, but the thing
is, it's kind of a touchy subject."
    "Hey, I'm the police shrink. It's okay to talk
to me."
    " The problem is, this is personal."
    "Oh. A friend."
    "Yes, but that's not the problem. It's that her
dad's a former friend of yours."
    " Oh, my God. Tricia Lattimore." In a moment
of ridiculously poor judgment, even by Cindy Lou's standards, she had
dated Tricia's still-married father. It had been one of her longer
relationships, and as far as Skip could see, she'd cared about him.
"Her dad told me she had a drug problem."
    " She did, but she was supposedly over it. I ran
into her at the Monkey Bar—the place here Darryl Boucree works."
    "Oh, yeah. The Butterfly Man."
    "Oh, Lou-Lou, he is not." For reasons Skip
couldn't fathom, Cindy Lou had taken a dislike to Darryl on grounds
that he was lightweight. "He works three jobs and supports his
kid; he brings over presents for Sheila and Kenny. He's a perfectly
decent guy."
    Lou-Lou sniffed. "I know him. He's a type."
    " Anyway, Tricia was waiting tables and looking
fine—she told me she'd had a habit and she was over it."
    "Either she lied or she couldn't stay clean.
What's she doing?"
    " You mean what drug? Crystal, she said. And a
lot, I guess. She acted kind of crazy."
    "So she'll be doing some kind of downer as
well—-could be alcohol. Probably is, with something else. Valium,
maybe."
    " You mean she's got three different addictions?"
    Cindy Lou shrugged. "It's all part of the same
thing. She's in deep. Her dad used to worry like crazy about her."
    "Yeah, well, me too now."
    " Do you know the statistics? They say in AA you
have to be sober three years before you have an even chance of
staying that way."
    "But she's such a wonderful person. She's a
writer."
    "I thought she was a waitress."
    "She isn't published yet."
    Cindy Lou snorted. "Why do you suppose that is?"
    "Come on, Lou-Lou. Help me. You know the family
situation—"
    "I know it's fucked up."
    "Should I call her dad?" She hesitated.
"And her mom? Isn't there something called an intervention?"
    " I don't know, Skip; I just don't know. Or let
me put it another way—I know things you probably don't; things her
dad told me. I don't think interventions a good idea."
    Skip was dying to ask her what she knew, but she had
no business knowing and Cindy Lou wouldn't tell anyway. She sighed,
overcome by a sudden feeling of hopelessness. She said, "Okay.
Let's talk about my case."
    Cindy Lou looked relieved. Because she was a
consultancy to the New Orleans Police Department, Skip was free to
tell her anything she wanted, and to ask for her assistance.
    When she had run down the case, she said, "Dennis
was supposed to be a pillar of AA too."
    "Well, he had a shock."
    "Do he and Reed seem an odd match to you?"
    Cindy Lou looked placid. "Of course not.
Codependent and druggie. What could be more perfect?"
    " That's what Nina said."
    "She sounds like a smart cookie."
    "But Reed sounds so damned perfect. It just
seems like she wouldn't let herself be with someone like that."
    "You forget—he isn't 'like that,' or at least
he wasn't. She reformed him—evidence of her very perfection."
    Skip felt oddly unsatisfied. "People are weird."
    "You're not