about Royale. Hell, I won't be giving away any secrets. Practically the whole town knows that we're enemies, Royale and I.'
'Who is he?' asked Longarm.
Millard shook his head. 'Nobody really knows. Nobody I've ever talked to has even seen him. I've gotten my hands on a couple of men who worked for him, and even they don't know who he really is or what he looks like.' He scowled in frustration. 'And I know how to ask questions that get honest answers too.'
I'll just bet you do, old son, thought Longarm, but he kept the comment to himself. Aloud, he said, 'Sounds like some kind of mystery man.'
'Exactly. But as you saw tonight, it's no mystery what Royale wants. He wants to put me out of business.'
'You reckon he owns another gambling club?'
'I don't think so.' Millard glanced at the Clements. 'The Brass Pelican isn't my only business. I have... other enterprises.' It was clear that he didn't want to speak too openly about those enterprises in front of Annie and her brother.
Clement took the hint. He drained the last of his cognac and reached for Annie's hand as he stood up. 'If it's all right with you, Jasper,' he said smoothly, 'Annie and I will go back out and see if the roulette wheel is functioning again. You know me--all this talk of business bores me.'
Millard waved a hand toward the door. 'Sure, go ahead. Just one thing, Paul...' Clement and Annie paused at the doorway. 'Yes?'
'Thanks for bringing Parker with you tonight.'
'It was our pleasure,' said Clement with a grin.
Annie looked at Longarm and said, 'I'll see you later, I suppose, Custis.'
'I reckon you can count on that,' Longarm told her sincerely.
Annie and Clement left the office. When they were gone, Longarm leaned back in his chair and puffed on the cigar while Millard refilled their glasses. 'Martell,' the club owner said, indicating the label on the cognac bottle. 'The finest in the world. I bring it in from France.'
'The same way you bring in cigars from Cuba?' guessed Longarm.
Millard's quick grin told Longarm he was right. 'I don't pay customs duty on either one of them, if that's what you mean. They come in through the Delta.'
'So one of those other business enterprises you mentioned is smuggling.'
'That bother you?' asked Millard bluntly.
Longarm took another puff on the cigar and shook his head. 'Nope. Not even a little bit.'
'When I saw how handy with that gun you are, I knew you were the sort of man who wouldn't let anything stand in his way. That's good.' Millard sipped his cognac and looked intently at Longarm over the glass, then added, 'As long as you're not too ambitious.'
'When I take a man's money, I back him all the way,' Longarm said with conviction.
'Good.' Millard leaned back in his own chair. 'Royale runs a smuggling ring, just like I do. He'd like to see me dead, and I'm convinced that raid tonight was just a cover for an attempt to kill me. I was supposed to die in the confusion.'
Longarm nodded slowly. 'I can see that. Those two gunmen came straight for you while the rest of 'em were raising hell.'
'That's right. And if the attempt failed--which, thanks to you, it did--at least Royale hurt me a little by damaging my club.'
Longarm had no doubt that Millard was right, but he said, 'Do you know for sure that Royale was behind what happened tonight?'
Millard snorted in disgust. 'Of course Royale was behind it. Nobody else moves a fraction as many goods through the Delta as Royale and I do. Our organizations control the smuggling now. If Royale could get rid of me, he'd have the whole thing right in his hands.' The club owner shrugged his burly shoulders. 'Besides, Royale's men always wear those derbies and have masks over their faces. It's like a badge.'
'Speaking of badges, how does Captain Denton feel about Royale?'
With a harsh laugh, Millard replied, 'Denton hates Royale as much as he hates me. He'd like to see Royale behind bars--or dead, same as me. That stupid bastard actually thinks he can clean up New Orleans if he works at it hard enough.' Millard laughed again. 'But it'll never happen. This town doesn't want to be cleaned up. Nobody really gives a damn about the law.'
That was where he was wrong, thought Longarm. Somebody cared about the law--even if he was from out of town.
'So Denton can't bother you because of your connections, and he can't get to Royale either, I'd wager. Any trouble from any of the other local lawmen, or any federal boys?' The way the conversation had been going, Longarm didn't think it was too much of a risk to pose the question. After all, if he was going to work for Millard, he had a right to know what he was getting into.
Millard shook his bald head. 'Nothing to speak of. Nothing we can't handle.'
'Sounds good,' said Longarm with a nod, concealing his disappointment. But it would have been too much to hope for if Millard had upped and confessed to killing Douglas Ramsey just like that. Still, there had been a chance that he would, since he was feeling expansive and grateful to Longarm for saving his life.
But maybe Millard wasn't responsible for Ramsey's murder. Maybe Royale or some of his men had been the ones who had put the knife in Ramsey's back and then dumped him in the bayou. Longarm would just have to keep poking around until he knew for sure, and the unexpected foothold he had gained in Millard's organization was the
