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Annie bolted at the sound of the voice and spun around.
“Jesus, Dewey! You gave me a heart attack! Don’t you know how to knock on a door?”
“This isn’t a social call, is it?” Rivette asked. He was in rumpled khakis and a wrinkled button-down that might have been the same outfit he’d worn the day before, though Annie wouldn’t have been surprised to find his closet was full of identical garments. He didn’t strike her as being long on imagination or fashion sense.
“You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you!” she said. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you, what with your favorite little toady having just left.”
“Danny will be pleased to hear you think so highly of him.”
“Danny knows exactly what I think of him. You make a good tag team. Are you here to express your condolences?”
“To you? Did you adopt Rayanne Tillis or put her in jail?” he asked. “Oh, wait, if she was in jail, she’d still be alive.”
“Screw you, Dewey. I’m not the one who supplied her with drugs,” Annie said. “Maybe you know something about who did. Awitness described an unremarkable white male leaving here last night around one fifteen.”
“I don’t know anything about that. Or are you accusing me of killing a junkie hooker?”
“I didn’t accuse you of anything. You’re the town detective. You don’t know who’s dealing drugs right under your nose?
“And no matter who her dealer is, somebody had to be giving that girl money,” Annie said. “Danny says it wasn’t him. Was it you? We’ve all got our CIs.”
He screwed up his round face like he’d smelled a fart. “Like I’d tell you who my CIs are! You can fuck right off, Broussard.”
“She’s dead now,” Annie said. “You might as well tell me. What difference does it make?”
“Yeah. What differencedoesit make?” he asked. “She’s dead now. You don’t need to know anything about her.”
“I’d like to know who her parents are,” Annie said. “I’d like to let her relatives know what happened to her so they can give her a Christian burial. You want the parish to just throw her in a hole with two or three other indigent dead people?”
“I never said that! And why would I know who her parents are?”
“You are worse than useless, Dewey.”
“And you are nothing but a pain in my ass,” he returned.
“Speaking of,” Annie said, “you ran straight to Chief Earl yesterday and tattled, didn’t you? So predictable.
“How’d that work out for you?” she asked. “Did your chief enjoy getting his ass handed to him by Sheriff Noblier? I’m thinking there might have been some fallout there.”
“No. Chief Earl was as appalled by your behavior as I was. And Gus Noblier being a pompous blowhard was no surprise to anybody.”
“Well, then, everybody’s happy,” Annie said. “Good.”
“Yeah, well,” he said, disappointed that she wasn’t offended. “You enjoy your nothing case, trying to find Robbie Fontenot, who is probably dead in a Lafayette drug house.”
“Is that wishful thinking on your part?”
“Why would I want him dead?” he asked. “He didn’t mean anything to me.”
“Clearly not for all the effort you put into finding him.”
“And what have you done?” he asked. “You ain’t found him.”
“I’ve done everything you didn’t,” she said, ticking the points off on her fingers. “At least people are aware of him today. People can call the tip line if they’ve seen him. He’s on the NCIC database now. I’ve got his cell phone records coming. His car is listed as hot. You know, all the basics of running a missing persons case. You apparently missed that class at the academy, or do they even bother with schooling at the PD? Do you just send in your Wheaties box tops and get a badge?”
“I’ve been at this just as long as you, Broussard.”
Annie stepped past him to get into the hall, tired of the smell of vomit and stale sex. She would have tried to open a window, but it was a good bet the windows had been painted shut years before.
