Bayou Whispers by R.B. Wood & Crystal Lake Publishing

Author:R.B. Wood & Crystal Lake Publishing [Wood, R.B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: epub, ebook, QuarkXPress
Publisher: Crystal Lake Publishing
Published: 2021-04-29T04:00:00+00:00

SEVENTEEN

Undisclosed Location

CURTIS AWOKE IN some sort of cell. The dampness reminded him of the hole in the ground he had been kept in for a week in Colombia.

He shook his head, the cobwebs faded, and his mind cleared. He had a vague recollection of Roo’s place, bodies crawling toward him. Shotgun blasts . . .

Gallow. That fucking traitor. He always was a political pussy, cutting deals to save his own skin. That’s why Curtis had ended up in that hole in the ground in Colombia, too. It all made sense now. Gallow’s restaurant in the French Quarter was never a place where he wanted the krewe to meet. “Bad for business, having you criminals around,” Gallow had always said.

But crooked cops with the entire state in their pocket?

Well, that would ensure Gallow’s place of power within the corrupt local government.

How did Curtis never see it?

Gallow had saved Curtis’s life during the war. But because Gallow’s motivations were always so coated with self-interest, he’d been the last one asked to join the krewe. Charley hadn’t cared—being dead could be like that. But Fernández and Roo had voiced their concerns over Gallow’s connections and political aspirations.

And he, Curtis, had overridden those concerns. After all, the man had saved him.

“Dumbass,” he admonished himself. His voice sounded dull, just like when he’d been held underground in Colombia.

He heard laughter. Then screaming outside his door.

The silence returned as suddenly as the screaming had started.

The door to his cell opened.

Jeannine stood there, covered in blood.

Just like before.

J

Toulouse Street

French Quarter, New Orleans

February 2005

“Tell me again why the Major loaned us out to the 8th district commander?” asked Officer Curtis Jones, as he blew smoke out the passenger side window of his patrol car. Despite the winter chill, the music blared in the streets, and the people sang, walking from bar to bar, arm in arm, laughing and enjoying the spectacle that was Bourbon Street.

This time of year, the temperature in the city was cold enough to elicit a shiver from those whose blood had thinned because of the long hot summers—or the vast quantities of alcohol served every twenty feet or so. Even with the heater at full blast, and the window only opened a crack to let out his cigarette smoke, Jones and his partner Randy wore gloves and overcoats to combat the cold.

It was as if winter had claimed New Orleans and refused to let go.

“Parish departmental collaboration,” said Randy, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, a half inch of ash defying gravity.

Both men sucked on their non-filtered Camels at the same moment, twin red flares lighting the interior of their patrol car.

“And why do we have to wear their damn uniforms?” grumbled Jones.

“Because powder blue is your color, mon ami,” replied Randy.

“Fuck you,” said Curtis.

“Dispatch to car twenty-eight,” crackled a voice over the radio.

“Jesus, why is that so loud?” growled Jones as he picked up the mic.

“Twenty-eight. Go, Dispatch.”

“A 103-D reported at 1043 Toulouse Street at the corner of Rampart. You country boys need directions?”

“Twenty-eight is good, thanks, Dispatch.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.