become the President of the United States.”
I could see that Virgil was trying to look impressed, and I could see that it wasn’t working.
“You will certainly make a grand first lady,” I said.
“Thank you, kind sir,” she said. “I am hoping that you both would wish to join us.”
“How would we do that?” Virgil said.
“Help us get the truth out,” Amelia said. “There are facts about our opponent that need to be known.”
“He ran in combat?” Virgil said. “He slaughtered women and children?”
“Yes, that and more,” Amelia said. “There is much in General Laird’s past that is shameful.”
“And you want us to tell people?”
“The truth must be the basis of any election,” she said.
“Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am,” Virgil said. “But how do we know it’s the truth?”
“No pardon needed,” she said. “You have my word that anything we tell you is the truth.”
“Fellas that fronted up to the general outside Reclamation Hall yesterday?” Virgil said. “They get their information from you.”
“Yes, and it is good information. But Laird has a man working for him…”
“Chauncey Teagarden,” Virgil said.
“Yes. He is quite intimidating.”
Virgil nodded.
“From New Orleans, too, you know that?” Virgil said.
“I did not,” she said.
“Small world,” I said.
Allie smiled at me nervously. No one else paid any attention.
“You figure Teagarden won’t intimidate me ’n Everett,” Virgil said.
“I’m told that nothing does,” Amelia said.
“And if you helped them now, think what it would mean to us,” Allie said. “As Mr. Callico moved on up the ladder.”
Virgil looked at me. I shook my head. He nodded.
“Nope,” he said.
“We will pay you well,” Amelia said.
“Nope.”
“Why not?” Amelia said.
“Me ’n Everett don’t like your husband,” Virgil said.
She sat silently for a minute. The she stood.
“He will be disappointed to hear that,” she said, and stalked out of the cafe.
Allie looked as if she might cry.
57
I HAD A BEER with Chauncey Teagarden in a small saloon called Rabbit’s, near the new red-light section of town.
“You’re from New Orleans,” I said.
“Ah surely am,” he said, broadening the accent.
“Did you know that Callico’s wife is from New Orleans?”
Chauncey grinned.
“Amelia,” he said.
“You do know her,” I said.
“Know her,” Chauncey said. “She don’t know me.”
“Tell me ’bout her,” I said.
“Queen of Storyville,” Chauncey said. “Worked three, four cribs there, ’fore she met Callico and gave up honest labor.”
“Ever go to one of her establishments?”
“Hell, when she was first starting out she used to work the bedrooms herself,” Chauncey said. “I been to her.”
“Callico know that?” I said.
“No, she don’t even know that. She was a busy girl when I was going to her. And I didn’t shave yet.”
“But he knew she was a whore?”
“Oh, sure,” Chauncey said. “He went to her, too. Called herself the Countess. That was her trick, always wore a fancy dress. Nothing under it.”
“How’d she meet Callico?”
“Don’t know,” Chauncey said. “Don’t know too much about Callico. For a while, I know, he was a trick shooter at a carnival, used to play around New Orleans. Saw him once. Man, could he shoot.”
“Clay pigeons?” I said.
“Yep. Fancy ones sometimes. Made of glass.”
“Pigeons ever shoot back?”
“Nope.”
“Unlikely to,” I said.
“God, he was fast, though. And accurate.”
“She work the carnival?” I said.
“Doubt it,” Teagarden said. “Mighta been a bouncer in one’a her joints and then something clicked and they went off together. ’Cept I heard she took up with a fella by that name, I never thought anything about either one of them until I got here. I recognized her. And when I seen him, I remember him shooting. Ain’t all so many fellas named Callico you’re gonna run into.”
The doors to the saloon were open, and outside the sky was low and dark and there was a sense of something coming. Most people were off the street.
“Something coming,” Chauncey said, looking out at the dark street.
“A lot of it,” I said.
We carried our beer glasses to the doorway and stood, looking out at the empty street where the wind was beginning to kick a little trash around.
“This thing between Callico and the general is going to turn into something bad,” Chauncey said.
“If it does, you’re with the general,” I said.
“I am,” he said.
“You and the general against Callico and his policemen,” I said. “He’s got a fair number of hands.”
“Yeah, but mostly cowhands,” Chauncey said.
“You’re not a cowhand,” I said.
“No,” Chauncey said. “I am not.”
“So, he needs you to run the tactical command, so to speak.”
“I’d say so.”
“You didn’t come here to fight a war,” I said.
“Things change,” Chauncey said.
“Forever?” I said.
“Till after the war.”
“Then?”
“I do what the general hired me to do, if he still wants it done.”
“He don’t seem like a man changes his mind much,” I said.
“No.”
“General’s kid required it of Virgil,” I said.
“I’m sure he did,” Chauncey said. “Virgil Cole don’t go around shooting people ’cause he can.”
