Mr. Clarinet

amyl nitrate and smelling salts all rolled into one. Only he didn't feel remotely good. He gripped the bar but his palms were sweaty and his hands slid back. He felt a turbulence in his stomach. He breathed deep, smelling nothing but the taffia. What the fuck was he thinking drinking that shit?

'Bravo blan!' Desyr shouted and clapped his hands in front of him.

'Are you OK, Max?' Chantale said in his ear as she placed a steadying hand against his back.

'Fuck's it look like?' he heard himself think but not speak. He took another deep breath and let it out slowly, then another, and another after that. The air coming out of his mouth was hot. He repeated his breathing, keeping his eyes locked on Desyr, who was watching him with high amusement, no doubt waiting for him to keel over.

The nausea passed, as did the spinning in his head.

'I'm OK,' he said to Chantale. 'Thanks.'

Desyr shook another cup at him. Max waved his hand no. Desyr laughed and spilled more capsized-train talk Chantale's way.

'He says you're not only the only white man who's ever drunk taffia without passing out?very few Haitians have ever managed it.'

'That's great,' Max said. 'Tell him I'll buy him a drink.'

'Thank you,' Chantale said, after she'd asked Desyr. 'But he doesn't touch the stuff.'

Max and Desyr both laughed at once.

'Eddie Faustin drank here, didn't he?'

'Oui. Bien sur,' Desyr said, taking a bottle of Barbancourt from under the counter and pouring some out into a paper cup. 'Before he died he drank more than usual.'

'Did he say why?'

'He was coming to the end of his future and this made him nervous.'

'He knew he was gonna die?'

'No. Not at all. He told me his houngan had predicted things for him?good things, women things,' Desyr said, leering at Chantale and sipping his rum. He took a tobacco pouch out of his trouser pocket and rolled himself a cigarette. 'He was in love with the blond Carver woman. I told him it was madness, impossible?him and her?' He struck a match on the countertop and lit it. 'That's when he went to Leballec.'

'This his hoone-gun?'

'He only deals in black magic,' Chantale explained. 'They say you go to him if you're ready to sell your soul. He doesn't accept cash like the other black magicians do?he takes?I don't know. Nobody knows for sure, except those who've gone to him.'

'Did Faustin tell you what happened when he went to see Le?the hoone-gun?' Max asked Desyr.

'No. But he changed. Before he used to talk and laugh about old times. He used to play dominoes and cards with us, but not after he'd been to see Leballec. He'd stand where you are now and just drink. Sometimes he'd drink a whole bottle.'

'Of that shit?'

'Yes. But it didn't affect him.'

Max started to think that maybe the houngan had asked Faustin to kidnap Charlie.

'Did he ever talk to you about the boy? Charlie?'

'Yes.' Desyr laughed. 'He said the boy hated him. He said the boy could read his mind. He said he couldn't wait to get rid of him.'

'He said that?'

'Yes. But he didn't steal the boy.'

'Who did?'

'Nobody took him. The boy's dead.'

'How do you know?'

'I've heard that he was killed by the people who attacked the car. They trampled him to death.'

'No one found the body.'

'Cela se mange,' Desyr said and extinguished his cigarette by pinching the burning tip.

'What did he just say, Chantale?'

'He said?'

'Le peuple avait faim. Tout le monde avait faim. Quand on a faim on oublie nos obligations.'

'He said?' Chantale began. 'He said they ate him.'

'Bull-shit!'

'That's what he said.'

The taffia had filled Max's stomach and chest with a strong heat. He could hear the low murmur of digestive gases as they worked their way up his gut.

'This Le?'

'?Ballec,' Chantale finished.

'This Le-Ballack? Where does he live? Where can I find him?'

'Far from here.'

'Where?'

Another train accident, this one prolonged, because Chantale kept on either interrupting him or asking more questions. Max listened out for familiar words. Desyr said 'oh' a few times, Chantale said something like 'zur.' Then he heard something he recognized.

'Clarinette.'

'What did he say about clarinet?' Max interrupted them.

'He says you'll find Leballec in Saut d'Eau.'

'The voodoo waterfalls?' Max asked. Where Beeson and Medd both went before they disappeared. 'What about the clarinet?'

'It's a town?a small town?closest to the waterfall. It's called Clarinette. It's where Leballec lives. Faustin used to go there to see him.'

'Have you heard of this place, Chantale?'

'Not of the town, but that doesn't mean anything. Someone sets up a home on a piece of land here, gives it a name, it becomes a village.'

Max looked at Desyr.

'You told the others about this place, didn't you? The other blanks who came here?'

Desyr shook his head.

'Non monsieur.' Then he chuckled. 'I couldn't. They failed the taffia test.'

'They pass out?'

'No. They refused to drink my drink. So I told them nothing.'

'So, how come they went to So?to the waterfalls?'

'I don't know. I didn't tell them. Maybe somebody else did. I wasn't Eddie's only friend. Were they looking for Leballec?'

'I don't know.'

'Then maybe they went there for another reason.'

'Maybe,' Max said.

Another moth flew into the bulb and dropped to the floor. Very soon after, Max heard another go the same way, and then, almost simultaneously, two moths smacked into the light and made it shudder and shake.

Desyr clapped a friendly paw on his shoulder.

'I like you, blanc, so I'll tell you this: if you go to Saut d'Eau, make sure you leave before midnight passes. White magic?good magic?honest magic is done before midnight,' he said, addressing Chantale directly. 'Black magic is done after midnight. Don't forget it.'

'Why are you helping me?' Max asked.

'Why not?' Desyr laughed.

Chapter 32

CHANTALE DROVE MAX to a cafe where she ordered a pot of strong coffee and a bottle of water. Over the next hour, he got himself sobered up and cleared the taffia from his head.

'You always so reckless? It could have been battery acid for all you knew.'

'I'm the try-most-things-once kinda guy,' Max said. 'Anyway, why would he have wanted to poison me?'

'Bedouin Desyr? I wouldn't put anything past him. They used to call him 'Bisou-Bisou.' It literally means 'Bedouin Le Baiseur.' Bedouin The Stud. Only it wasn't meant the way you'd think. Back when he was a Macoute, Bedouin Desyr was a serial rapist. His thing was raping wives in front of their husbands, mothers in front of their children, daughters in front of their fathers?the age didn't matter.'

'How come he's still alive? And out in the open like that?'

'Myths are stronger than death, Max. A lot of people are still terrified of the Macoutes,' Chantale explained. 'Very few of them were ever brought to trial for all the things they did. Even then they went to prison for a week and got let out. Some got killed by the mobs. But most of them just disappeared, went to another part of the country, went abroad, went to the Dominican Republic. The cleverer ones joined the army or hooked up with Aristide.'

'Aristide?' Max said. 'I thought he was supposed to be against all that.'

It was now nighttime. They were the only ones in the cafe. The overhead fan was on and the radio was playing compas, loud enough to distract from the sounds spilling in from the street outside and the creaking blades beating at the dead hot air inside. Right in between the music and the