House of Blues

nineteen-year-old named Augustine Melancon. The
kid she'd seen looked younger, she thought, but she'd only gotten a
glimpse.
    She went to find Cappello. "Sylvia, I found a
kid who looks like the one I saw."
    "Skip. Did you have a bad day yesterday."
    " Not as bad as Jim."
    "I swear to God if he dies I'm out of here. I
can't stand this fucking crap." Cappello almost never swore.
    "I'm feeling pretty down. I don't know if it was
worth it, what we did. What were our chances of finding Dennis,
anyway?"
    "For Christ's sake, don't start, Skip. Until Jim
got shot, that was our biggest case of the year. Are you kidding?
Arthur Hebert, who's about as important to this town as Aaron
Neville, was gunned down in his dining room. Good God! Do you know
how much pressure Joe's been getting to put every guy in Homicide on
that one? You know why he hasn't? Because there's nothing for them to
do. You had exactly one lead and you followed it. You did what you
were supposed to do."
    " I forgot it was a heater case. On some other
case, understaffed like we are, it would have been a waste of
manpower—even if nobody got hurt. Doesn't it strike you there's
something wrong with that?"
    "You're damn right it does. That's just the kind
of crap I'm talking about when I say I'm getting out."
    "Where are you going, Sylvia?" Skip thought
she might as well face reality.
    Cappello had been scanning papers on her desk even as
she ranted. She looked up at Skip through round, horn-rimmed glasses
that Skip thought quite elegant. "Going? I'm not going
anywhere."
    "But I thought you just said—"
    She smiled. "I'm just letting off steam, that's
all."
    "Well, at least there's some good news today."
    "But if I had anyplace to go, I'd go there."
    "Listen, I've got to go see a thug. Who can I
take with me?"
    "Can't it wait? Everybody's out right now. You
think we had a heater case before."
    " This dude gave me Turan's name."
    "Oh—I'll get somebody."
    "Never mind. I'm not exactly sure where to find
him. Let me do some work on that first."
    Cappello lowered her eyes again. "Okay."
    "I almost forgot. The kid I found the mug shot
of—can we schedule a lineup?"
    "You make it sound so easy—you know where to
find him?"
    " No. But I figure with all the manpower we've
got on this, somebody'll get him by noon. Not me, though. Delavon's
my special little project. The kid's name is Augustine Melancon."
    She went back to her desk, and found a message from
the desk officer: someone else to see her. Sugar Hebert.
    Puzzled, she went out to the anteroom. "Mrs.
Hebert? You wanted to see me?"
    " Could we talk a few minutes?"
    " Sure. Come in." She led her into Homicide.
    Sugar's eyes strayed to a sign someone had posted:
THOU SHALT NOT KILL. Skip sat her down. "What can I do for you?"
    Sugar looked distinctly uncomfortable—and seriously
out of place; but downright good for a woman who'd just lost her
husband. She wore a white silk suit with a black silk rose pinned to
the chest, and a black straw hat. Skip wondered if the hat and the
flower were meant for mourning.
    " I think I might have some information for you."
    Skip smiled, invitingly, she hoped. You
probably don't even know we've got a cop on the critical list. Would
you please spit it out and get out of here? She kept smiling, even nodding her head in encouragement.
    Sugar fidgeted. Finally, she said, "I think I
might know who killed my husband."
    Skip went right on smiling and nodding. "Oh?"
    "Arthur's girlfriend would have—well—a
motive, right?"
    "Arthur's girlfriend?"
    " Yes."
    "I don't think you mentioned her before." And I'm going to strangle you.
    " I was too ashamed to talk about it. Well, and I
guess I didn't really know for sure. I mean, I couldn't face facts.
But I've been thinking about the way he'd suddenly hang up the phone
when I came into the room; or if I picked up, not knowing he was
talking, I'd hear a woman's voice—and he'd get mad and tell me to
get off."
    "What makes you think this meant he had a
girlfriend?"
    "Well, it wasn't the first time." She acted
insulted, though why, Skip wasn't sure.
    Because I impugned her detective skills?
    Probably not. just general defensiveness. I wish I
could feel sorry for her, but there's something about her . . .
    "Do you know the Womans name?"
    "Anne. That's all I know. Sometimes I'd hear him
call her that."
    "And why do you think she had a motive?"
    "Well, you know. He wouldn't divorce me."
She tossed her head like a teenager, dislodging the hat a