Heaven's Prisoners Page #5

Your casa?

Come on.

What happened in Key West,

Robin?

One of the bartenders found out

I used to s-t-r-i-p...

and he made a move on me

one day during happy hour.

But it's not worth

talking about.

This is really a nice place.

So, what did you do to him?

Let's find your room.

Robin.

That doesn't look like

your room.

Robin.

Oh, this is your room.

Is this your monkey?

Robin, what did you do to him?

Well...

I broke a bottle of grenadine

across his face.

But it wasn't that bad.

It looked worse than it was...

on account of

the cherry juice and all.

This is the guest room.

Am I right?

You know, you say bayou,

and I think...

the swamp and nets

and sh*t hanging...

but this is... this is

really nice.

Why don't you, me,

and Alfie here...

go on out to that dock

and have ourselves a soda?

So, can I say something?

You're not going to take it

the wrong way...

I mean, 'cause I mean this

in the nicest possible way.

I just don't want you to think

that I came up here...

to try and straighten you out...

'cause you are who you are.

I'm cool with that.

I just think

that at some point...

you're going to have

to decide...

who it is you want to be

for the rest of your life.

If you want to be

a pissed-off guy...

trying to right every wrong

that's ever been done to him...

or you want to be alive.

Hey...

either way, Streak...

I'm your biggest fan.

Good night.

- Hello?

- Dave, please help me.

Annie!

- It's all right.

- Oh, Jesus.

- It's all right.

- Oh, Jesus.

- I'm here, I'm here.

- Oh, Jesus.

Oh, Robin, I was talking

with Annie on the phone.

No, no, no,

you were just dreaming.

- Oh, Jesus.

- You were just dreaming, baby.

- Oh, I got to go get a drink.

- No, no, no, no.

No, no.

I got to get a drink, baby.

No, no, it's not happening, OK?

Just lie down with me, OK?

Lie with me.

There, there, there,

there, there.

That's better. That's better.

That's better.

Who belongs to that?

Bubba's wife.

Hey there, Mrs. Rocque.

I had a flat tire.

Can you give me a ride

back to my aunt's?

Yes, I can...

or I could change that tire

for you.

There's no air

in the spare, either.

What a lovely little girl.

Hello.

Claudette Rocque,

this is my friend Robin.

She's going to be

staying with us for a while.

Oh.

Have me met?

Not formally.

You're a performer of some kind.

Oh, that's right. You work at

that little place on Bourbon...

Smiling Jack's.

That's right.

Now I remember you, too.

You came in one time with

a couple of real pretty girls...

asked me to work

a private slumber party.

But I don't really

go in for that sort of thing.

I think you got me mixed up

with someone else.

Well, maybe you're right.

The girl I'm talking about

was real trash.

She had a butterfly tattoo

on her belly.

Well, anyway, it was real nice

to meet you, Claudia.

Come on, sweetie.

Well, she's enchanting.

Nice to see you

back in the swing of things.

What brings you out this way,

Mrs. Rocque?

It's Claudette, Dave.

My cousin lives

down at the end of the road.

I come over to New lberia

about once a month...

to see my relatives.

- I see.

- Am I putting you out?

No. Just give me a minute.

Wait for me in the truck.

You look uncomfortable.

I didn't get very much sleep

last night.

Would you like a gin rickey?

Not for me, thank you.

I gave it up for a while,

almost a year.

Then people started telling me

they liked me better drunk.

Anyone ever say that

to you, Dave?

Hey, let me ask you something...

what do you think

the odds are...

of you having a flat tire

right by my front lane?

Now the good detective is

wondering what the lady wants.

Take a look.

We had a little argument.

Apparently I fell.

At least that's what

Bubba said when I came to.

I'm pretty sure

one of my ribs is cracked.

What do you think?

I think...

you should see a doctor.

Don't you want to know

what we fought about?

That's none of my business.

We fought about you.

You're not afraid of Bubba.

You know

he's not really so tough.

I know you shouldn't

jerk him around.

I know that

if you mess with his pride...

you're going to meet the guy...

that wheeled his crippled

cousin into the coolie.

Hadn't heard that one before.

I know one thing

Bubba's afraid of.

And what's that?

Bubba's never done time.

I don't think he could. I don't

think he'd last three days.

I believe he would do anything

to stay out of the joint.

He has nightmares about it.

He's been having a lot of them

since that plane went down.

You know what?

I changed my mind.

I'll get out here.

Say, Dave...

you ever get bored of

the stripper's act, come on by.

How you hangin', Streak?

That's some boat you got.

Hell, take a ride with us.

This baby can eat a trench

all the way across the lake.

What are you doing

with these people?

Friends from New Orleans.

You want a beer?

How deep is the mob into you,

Bubba?

You got to be paying

those guys big dues, huh?

Hey, you got it wrong, Dave.

People pay me dues.

I win, they lose.

Now, you want a beer or not?

- Toot's dead.

- Is that right?

I want those other two men

that killed my wife.

I had nothing to do with that,

Dave.

When I want to straighten out

a problem...

a person's going to see

this face.

They were your people.

I'm going to tell you

something...

and I'm going to tell you

only once...

now, you can accept it, or

you can stick it up your ass...

I am one guy.

I am not a crime wave. And when

you mess with the action...

out of New Orleans, you

f*** with hundreds of people.

Do you understand,

Dave Robicheaux?

My wife had to be buried

in a closed casket.

I want you to think about that

for a minute.

Now, I'm going to find

those two men...

and when I do, I'm going

to squeeze them extra hard...

and if your name comes out of

either one of their mouths...

I'll be back here to feed your

sorry f***ing ass to the shrimp.

You wouldn't leave it alone,

Dave...

so they closed the door

on your nose.

Leave me out of your sh*t, Dave.

I'll tell you...

this Dave Robicheaux

makes me very uncomfortable.

You tell me he's not a problem.

Next thing I know, you go out

and kill the man's wife.

What the f*** is that?

Now my people tell me...

Robicheaux smoked one of

the shooters on the streetcar...

which would explain

why Eddie Keats...

is calling me every 5 minutes

asking for my protection.

It sounds like

he's coming apart...

like he might be a problem.

What the f*** is going on?

I'm taking care of it.

You're taking care of it?

That's right.

So, on top of everything else...

your husband doesn't even

show me the proper respect...

of coming in here

to see me himself.

Instead, he sends his wife.

No one sent me.

Bubba doesn't know I'm here.

Really?

Bubba's not well.

What the hell does that mean?

Unhappy childhood and all that.

From now on, you need to talk...

I'll be the one listening.

And why should I trust you?

The daughter of some whore.

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