it's a name anyway.'
Clement nodded grimly. 'It is indeed. A nom de guerre, to be sure, belonging to one of the cleverest criminals currently operating in New Orleans.'
Longarm filed away that bit of information with interest. If Millard was actually connected with one of the smuggling rings, as rumor had it, then this attack tonight had likely been carried out by a rival gang. What Clement had said about the individual known as Royale supported that theory.
Nodding toward the bar, Longarm asked, 'Who's the badge-toter jawing with Millard?'
'That's Captain Denton of the New Orleans police,' said Clement.
'Appears the two of 'em don't get along very well.'
Clement summoned up a laugh. 'Captain Denton fancies himself an honest man, which makes him something of a rarity on the New Orleans force. He'd like nothing better than to close down the Brass Pelican for good. However, Jasper has friends who are well connected at City Hall, which makes it impossible for Denton to really do anything to him. I believe the situation frustrates the poor captain to no end.'
Longarm told himself to remember what Clement had just said about Captain Denton. If Longarm was in bad enough trouble and needed a helping hand from an honest lawman, he might have to reveal his true identity to someone like Denton... and then hope that he would be believed. Supposedly, only the special prosecutor was aware of the password 'Pikes Peak' and what it signified.
Beside the bar, Denton turned away from Millard with a curt, angry gesture and began gathering his men, who had spread out through the club with their shotguns. Unfortunately, anyone who might need a greener used on them was long gone. Denton and the other officers began trooping out of the club. Pausing near the door, Denton pointed his shotgun toward Luther's sprawled, bloody corpse and growled, 'Bring him along for the undertaker.'
A couple of the policemen bent and grasped Luther's fancy coat, which was now sodden with blood, and began dragging him out of the club. An ugly red and gray stain was left on the sawdust-littered planks of the floor.
'Hey!' Millard called to Denton. When the captain looked back, Millard pointed to the two men Longarm had killed. 'What about these bastards?'
'I'll send a wagon for them,' replied Denton wearily.
'The hell you will! I want 'em out of here now.'
Denton sighed and motioned for more of his men to retrieve the other two corpses. With grunts and groans of effort, all of the bodies were soon hauled out of the place. Other men had suffered wounds in the melee, but none of them had proven fatal. Some of the women who worked for Millard were already patching up cuts and scrapes and bullet holes with practiced ease that spoke of repeated trouble in the club. The woman whose clothes had been torn off of her was still sobbing, but at least she was no longer naked. Someone had wrapped a frock coat around her, and her escort was leading her to one of the tables that was still upright and undamaged.
Millard jumped up onto the bar, the ease with which he did so rivaling that of Longarm's earlier move. He lifted his hands and shouted for attention. 'All right, folks, it's all over! No need to worry anymore! We're going to set things right as quick as we can, so that you can go back to enjoying yourselves! In the meantime, drinks are on the house!'
Some of the club's patrons had been on their way to the door, but they stopped when they heard that offer. Slowly, like the tide running out, nearly everyone in the place began heading toward the bar. Millard hopped down behind it and took off his coat, rolling up his shirt sleeves so that he could help his bartenders pour drinks.
'Well, it shouldn't be long before things are back to normal,' Paul Clement said to Longarm. 'It's not as if this is the first time Royale's men have caused trouble for Jasper.'
'The feud's been going on a long time, eh?' said Longarm.
'For over a year.'
Annie shuddered. 'This is the only thing I don't like about coming to the Brass Pelican. There's always the possibility of trouble.'
'Ah, but that's part of the appeal of the place,' said her brother. 'One never knows what is going to happen.'
'Some uncertainty I can live without!' said Annie.
Clement took her arm and steered her toward the bar. 'Let's go get that free drink Jasper offered,' he said. 'Who knows how long such generosity will last?'
Longarm trailed along behind them, surveying the damage to the club along the way. Several of the tables were broken, and some of the chairs had been reduced to kindling. The green baize top of one of the poker tables had been ripped to shreds with a knife. The light in the place was dimmer than ever, since several of the fixtures had been shattered. It was damn lucky that a fire hadn't broken out, thought Longarm. Broken oil lamps were bad about starting blazes.
As for the human toll, none of Millard's bouncers had escaped unscathed. All of them had minor bullet wounds, or lumps on their heads from the clubbing, or both. Half a dozen or more of the customers had been hurt too. The most serious injury appeared to be the bullet wound in the shoulder suffered by the woman Longarm had seen go down early in the attack. She was being tended to by a heavyset man in evening clothes. Longarm nudged Paul Clement, nodded toward the man, and asked, 'Who's that?'
'Doctor Deveraux, of course,' replied Clement. 'He's one of the best-known physicians in New Orleans.'
Longarm grunted. Clearly, a respected doctor thought nothing of being caught in a gambling den like the Brass Pelican. Folks here in the Crescent City had their own way of looking at things, that was for sure. What would have been a scandal in a lot of places was just an everyday occurrence here.
The area in front of the bar was still very crowded, but Longarm and the Clements managed to finally make their way up to the hardwood. They found themselves opposite Jasper Millard, who continued to work alongside his bartenders. He stopped short in what he was doing, however, and pointed a blunt finger at Longarm. 'You!' he said. 'I want to talk to you.'
Longarm felt a moment of... not apprehension, exactly. Puzzlement was more like it. Millard sounded
