House of Blues

face, out of pure frustration. "Sylvia, I hate
this. Those guys look so much alike, it's a good thing they're
dressed differently."
    " Does either of them look like the right kid?"
    " That's the hell of it—they both do."
    "Damn."
    "Yeah."
    " Melancon's got a very nasty record. He's a damn
good candidate."
    " Well, I'd pick him out if I only knew which way
to point."
    Skip was instantly sorry for the sarcasm, but
Cappello was unfazed. "Do me a favor, okay? Would you please get
some sleep tonight?"
    Steve was home when she got there, in the courtyard
with the kids and Angel. They were playing a game she thought was a
poor idea, which seemed to involve letting the puppy chase everyone
and bite their ankles.
    " Hey, Skip."
    "Hey, Auntie."
    " Hello, everybody and their animal." They
paid her no mind as she crossed through. She went upstairs and threw
on an oversized T-shirt and a pair of Steve's shorts. When she came
back down, Steve was in the kitchen, stirring a pitcher of lemonade.
"Look what I made you."
    "What happened to the kids?"
    "Uncle Dee-Dee called them. He's getting to like
the dog, by the way."
    "Who wouldn't? He just had a hard time making up
his mind to say good-bye to his expensive furnishings. Now it's done
and they'll all live happily ever after." She accepted a glass.
    "Let's go out to the courtyard."
    There was a metal table and chairs outside, and the
merest hint of a breeze.
    Watching Steve sipping his lemonade, wearing shorts
exactly like the ones she had on, so comfortable here, she felt a
twinge.
    "What?" he said.
    "Oh, nothing. I wish you could stay longer,
that's all."
    "Well, so do I, but now I've got the damned dog
to rescue."
    "Napoleon."
    " I let him down and he's an ex-dog."
    "How terrible", She let the corners of her
mouth turn up.
    "Try not to cry. Anyway, I'm still trying to
think of a project that'll get me back here."
    "Did we talk about kids who get shot? Tynette's
so pathetic; and you could find lots of others, I'm sorry to say."
    " I don't know if I could take it, I really
don't."
    " Have the Mardi Gras Indians been done?"
    "Probably. Anyway, I'd like something a little
dark, a little—you know—illuminating of the urban condition."
He looked embarrassed.
    "I can see that."
    " Know who I'd really love to interview? That
Delavon of yours. 'Portrait of a Sociopath'—do you like it?"
    "He already thinks he's a star. Don't encourage
him."
    " I mean it."
    She could see by his expression, which was almost
pleading, that he did. '"Well, you can forget that idea. If I
ever get hold of him, I'm going to make sure he doesn't get out of
jail long enough to talk to his fans."
    " Fans! I beg your pardon—how irresponsible do
you think I am?"
    " This is a really great opportunity for an
argument—"
    "Look, you jumped on me. I don't really think—"
    "—but I'm way too tired." She stood up.
"Anything you say, dear. Time for my nap now."
    " I'll make dinner."
    "You will?" He'd never done this before.
    "Sure. Me and the Verti Marte." The local
deli.
    " Good night, sweet prince."

When he woke her, hours later, she saw that she
hadn't undressed, and she could barely remember lying down. "Skip,
wake up."
    Vaguely, she recalled the last thing he had said to
her. "Is dinner ready yet?"
    "Dinner was hours ago—mine was, anyhow, but I
didn't have the heart to wake you. You've got a phone call."
    " Who?"
    " Tricia."
    She grimaced.
    " I think you'd better take it." He handed
her the phone.
    " Tricia? Is that you?"
    "Skip, I've got him."
    "I beg your pardon?"
    " I've got Dennis."
    She sat up. "You what?"
    "Come on, goddammit. I'm on Esplanade." A
beautiful street, but not a safe one. "He came to Maya's—I
followed him for you."
    " I'll be right there."
    She jumped out of bed, reaching for shoes, badge,
radio, cuffs, and gun. "Back soon," she said to Steve, and
left without even combing her hair, which was probably so matted from
sleep she looked like a bag lady.
    She double-parked in front of the address Tricia had
given her. Her friend was there, looking slightly the worse for wear.
Skip didn't know whether Dennis had a gun or not, couldn't predict
what would happen if he came out. The thing to do, she thought, was
scope out the scene a little and then get some backup.
    But first, get Tricia out of there.
    She remembered the scene from the other night. If
only she's not too loaded.
    Suddenly, Tricia pointed. "There he is!"
    A figure just emerging from the side of the building
broke into a run.
    "