'We aim to please. We certainly do,' the bailiff said, unlocked the black man, walked him to the end of the chain, and snapped the last manacle on his wrist.
A young photographer from the Daily Iberian raised his camera and began focusing through his lens at Doucet.
'You like your camera, son?… I thought so. Then you just keep it poked somewhere else,' Doucet said.
It took fifteen minutes. The prosecutor, a high-strung rail of a man, used every argument possible in asking for high bail on Doucet. Over the constant interruptions and objections of Doucet's lawyer, he called him a pedophile, a psychopath, a menace to the community, and a ghoul.
The judge had silver hair and a profile like a Roman Soldier. During World War II he had received the Congressional Medal of Honor and at one time had been a Democratic candidate for governor. He listened patiently with one hand on top of another, his eyes oblique, his head tilted at an angle like a priest feigning attentiveness to an obsessed penitent's ramblings.
Finally the prosecutor pointed at Doucet, his finger trembling, and said, 'Your honor, you turn this man loose, he kills somebody else, goddamn it, the blood's going to be on our hands.'
'Would counsel approach the bench, please? You, too, Detective Robicheaux,' the judge said. Then he said, 'Can you gentlemen tell me what the hell is going on here?'
'It's an ongoing investigation, your honor. We need more time,' I said.
'That's not my point,' the judge said.
'I object to the treatment of my client, your honor. He's been bullied, degraded in public, slandered by these two men here. He's been-' Doucet's lawyer said.
'I've heard enough from you today, sir. You be quiet a minute,' the judge said. 'Is the prosecutor's office in the process of filing new charges against the defendant?'
'Your honor, we think this man may have been committing rape and homicide for over three decades. Maybe he killed a policeman in Lafayette. We don't even know where to begin,' the prosecutor said.
'Your sincerity is obvious, sir. So is your lack of personal control,' the judge said. 'And neither is solving our problem here. We have to deal with the charge at hand, and you and Detective Robicheaux both know it. Excuse my impatience, but I don't want y'all dragging 'what should be' in here rather than 'what is.' Now all of you step back.'
Then he said, 'Bail is set at ten thousand dollars. Next case,' and brought his gavel down.
A few minutes later I stood on the portico of the courthouse and watched Murphy Doucet and his lawyer walk past me, without interrupting their conversation or registering my presence with more than a glance, get into the lawyer's new Chrysler, and drive away in the rain.
I WENT HOME FOR LUNCH BUT COULDN'T FINISH MY PLATE. THE back door was opened to the small screened-in porch, and the lawn, the mimosa tree, and the willows along the coulee were dark green in the relentless downpour, the air heavy and cold-smelling and swirling with mist.
Alafair was looking at me from across the table, a lump of unchewed sandwich in her jaw. Bootsie had just trimmed her bangs, and she wore a yellow T-shirt with a huge red and green Tabasco bottle on the front. Bootsie reached over and removed my fingers from my temple.
'You've done everything you could do,' she said. 'Let other people worry about it for a while.'
'He's going to walk. With some time we can round up a few of his girls from the Airline Highway and get him on a procuring beef, along with the resisting arrest and assault charge. But he'll trade it all off for testimony against Julie Balboni. I bet the wheels are already turning.'
'Then that's their decision and their grief to live with, Dave,' Bootsie said.
'I don't read it that way.'
'What's wrong?' Alafair said.
'Nothing, little guy,' I said.
'Is the hurricane going to hit here?' she said.
'It might. But we don't worry about that kind of stuff. Didn't you know coonasses are part duck?'
'My teacher said 'coonass' isn't a good word.'
'Sometimes people are ashamed of what they are, Alf,' I said.
'Give it a break, Dave,' Bootsie said.
The front door opened suddenly and a gust of cool air swelled through the house. Elrod came through the hallway folding an umbrella and wiping the water off his face with his hand.
'Wow!' he said. 'I thought I saw Noah's ark out there on the bayou. It could be significant.'
'Ark? What's an ark?' Alafair said.
'El, there's a plate for you in the icebox,' Bootsie said.
'Thanks,' he said, and opened the icebox door, his face fixed with a smile, his eyes studiously carefree.
'What's an ark?' Alafair said.
'It's part of a story in the Bible, Alf,' I said, and watched Elrod as he sat down with a plate of tuna-fish sandwiches and potato salad in his hand. 'What's happening out at the lake, El?'
'Everything's shut down till this storm blows over,' he said. He bit into his sandwich and didn't look up from his plate.
'That'd made sense, wouldn't it?' I said.
He raised his eyes.
'I think it's going to stay shut down,' he said. 'There're only a couple of scenes left to shoot. I think Mikey wants to do them back in California.'
'I see.'
Now it was Alafair who was watching Elrod's face. His eyes focused on his sandwich.
'You leaving, Elrod?' she asked.
'In a couple of days maybe,' he answered. 'But I'm sure I'll be back this way. I'd really like to have y'all come visit, too.'
She continued to stare at him, her face round and empty.
'You could bring Tripod,' he said. 'I've got a four-acre place up Topanga Canyon. It's right up from the ocean.'
'You said you were going to be here all summer,' she said.
'I guess it just hasn't worked out that way. I wish it had,' he said. Then he looked at me. 'Dave, maybe I'm saying the wrong thing here, but y'all come out to L.A., I'll get Alafair cast in five minutes. That's a fact.'
'We'll talk it over,' Bootsie said, and smiled across the table at him.
'I could be in the movies where you live?' Alafair said.
'You bet,' Elrod said, then saw the expression on my face. 'I mean, if that's what you and your family wanted.'
'Dave?' She looked up at me.
'Let's see what happens,' I said, and brushed at her bangs with my fingers. Elrod was about to say something else, but I interrupted him. 'Where's Balboni?'
'He doesn't seem to get the message. He keeps hanging around his trailer with his greaseballs. I think he'll still be sitting there when the set's torn down,' Elrod said.
'His trailer might get blown in the lake,' I said.
'I think he has more than one reason for being out there,' Elrod said.
I waited for him to finish, but he didn't. A few minutes later we went out on the gallery. The cypress planks of the steps and floor were dark with rain that had blown back under the eaves. Across the bayou the marsh looked smudged and indistinct in the gray air. Down at the dock Batist was deliberately sinking his pirogue in the shallows so it wouldn't be whipped into a piling by the wind.
'What were you trying to tell me about Balboni?' I said.
'He picks up young girls in town and tells them he's going to put them in a movie. I've heard he's had two or three in there in the last couple of days.'
'That sounds like Julie.'
'How's that?'
'When we were kids he never knew who he was unless he was taking his equipment out of his pants.'
