Puss 'N Cahoots

men. They ran out of those barns like rats off a sinking ship.”
    “That doesn’t bother me.” As Miss Lou passed, Booty smiled and raised his forefinger.
    They waited quietly, and she returned and refilled everyone’s coffee cup. “Hope you boys aren’t far from a bathroom today.” She laughed, then added, “’Course, you do have the advantage there, don’t you?”
    They all laughed as she sashayed away.
    “What troubles me is Jorge’s murder. We don’t want it to come back on us.” Booty finished his thought.
    “Why would it come back on us?” Charly shrugged.
    “Don’t want anyone to find out we’re importing the Mexicans.” Ward perceived Booty’s direction.
    “Jorge’s dead. He won’t tell.” Charly seemed unconcerned.
    “Until we know who killed him and why, we’d better have long antennae.” Ward gulped his coffee. “Jorge ratted on someone.”
    “It could have been a woman problem,” Charly said. “He knocked up a girl and her brothers knock him off. Who knows? Those folks still do things that way.”
    “I don’t know. He could have done any number of things, but I sleep lightly now.” Booty folded his arms across his chest.
    “What can we do?” Ward asked.
    “Nothing. Except listen. Keep a sharp eye,” Booty replied.
    “And win. ’Course, I’ll win in the classes we’re in together.” Charly puffed out his chest.
    They laughed, then Booty smiled. “Gotta beat me first.”
    “I’ll put up a fight,” Ward added.
    “That’s the trouble with you making money.” Charly shook his head. “You’ll buy better horses, get better clients. Steer clear of Renata.”
    “She’s at Kalarama,” Ward replied, dabbing his mouth with the paper napkin.
    “She’ll come to you after a suitable interval.”
    Booty raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
    As there was no point in denying it, Ward kept his mouth shut. They had taught him a lesson—a couple. If Charly and Booty had figured out that he “removed” Queen Esther at Renata’s bidding, presumably being well paid with promises of a future with a celebrity or other well-heeled clients, they were smart enough. But it also meant each of them was capable of doing it. He trusted his two senior partners as far as he could see them.
    “I don’t fault any man for getting ahead. Horse was unharmed. Renata got her publicity fix.” Booty looked at Ward. “You’ll come out ahead.”
    “I know you two don’t think Larry is stirring the pot,” Charly said, “but tell me how it was that those friends of theirs, the Haristeens, wound up at Ward’s? I don’t like it.”
    “Nothing we can do about it. And for all we know, Charly, it was a lucky shot on the part of the Virginia folks.”
    “Virginians are so damned snotty.” Ward wrinkled his nose. “Those two seem all right, though.”
    “Yeah, well, those two are sticking their noses in other people’s business. The wife—not bad-looking, actually—asked me if I’d seen Joan’s pin.” Booty was incredulous. “What the hell do I know about Joan’s pin? She’s nosy.”
    “Nosy is one thing,” Charly lowered his voice again, “but even a blind pig can find an acorn sometimes. We don’t want her snooping around.”
    “Well, what do you propose, we bind and gag her?” Ward laughed; he couldn’t help it.
    “No.” Charly wasn’t finding it funny. “I propose we keep an eye on that woman and we keep our mouths shut.”
    Easier said than done.
    “By the by, fifteen undocumented workers at my farm,” Ward whispered. “They were in the van when Benny and I drove out.”
    “Inchworm there?” Charly asked, his voice even quieter than Ward’s.
    “Yep. Some are yours.”
    “Keep ’em until after the show.” Charly sat up taller.
    “Great. If the feds come by, I’m holding the bag.” Ward’s eyes hardened for a moment.
    Booty soothingly said, “Won’t happen. What you’ll be holding is a bag of money.” He leaned back, hands on his stomach. “Hey, I bought a coral snake yesterday. You guys should come see her. She’s beautiful.”
    Charly flinched slightly. “I saw you milk a rattlesnake once. That was enough.”
    “Chicken.” Booty laughed. “You know snake venom has a lot of medical uses. That’s why I did that.”
    “How do you do it?” Ward asked.
    “Catch them with a thin pole, kind of like an old-fashioned buttonhook. Then you grab them by the neck; they can’t twist. A rattlesnake’s fangs are hinged. He’s mad now, so he