by Jerry Brown
"Bowman," she said softly. He did not respond.
She walked to his doorway. "Bowman, I know you're not asleep. I don't want you to leave this way."
He answered her from the darkness. "Yvonne, you just don't want me to leave and I appreciate that. We're both about to plunge head first into new lives for ourselves. Neither of us need to carry a bunch of garbage and guilt with us. When you wake up in the morning, I'll treat you to breakfast."
"You're sure this is what you want?" she asked.
"Yvonne, there is plenty of room for you in my heart, but no room whatsoever for guilt. I've had it out the ass with guilt. I don't want to ever deal with it again. Please go back to your room. I'll see you first thing in the morning."
Despite his words, he was aroused and uncomfortable. His initial thoughts were that he would get little sleep that night. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but once again he fooled himself. He had no difficulty convincing himself that he had "reached in with his thumb and pulled out a plum", and he quickly drifted into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 32
Arising early, Bowman walked crisply several blocks down the avenue toward Canal Street before locating a telephone booth. Thank goodness for credit cards, he thought as he punched in an interminable string of numbers from memory. The phone finally rang, but only twice, before she answered.
"Hello."
Bowman, mesmerized by her voice, said nothing.
"Okay pervert, who in the hell is this?" she asked.
"Who in the hell do you want it to be?"
"Well, I'm not sure that I want it to be you," she answered. "You agree for me to come to Baltimore and then you desert me."
"Annie, I haven't deserted you, and you know it. I've been busy with the case. If I'd talked with you, all I would've wanted to do was go there. Not very conducive to concentrated thinkin'."
"So what's changed? Is the case broken? I've been trying to follow it in the local papers, but there hasn't been much coverage, lately."
"Yes, it's broken. It turned out to be a drifter."
"Did you solve it?" she asked in a suddenly husky and lower toned voice.
"Indirectly and through absolute dumb luck," he answered.
"John, enough's enough. I need to see you. When are you coming to be with me?"
"I can't get there before ten o'clock Wednesday night. There's some question whether I can tie everythin' up and make connections. I'll just check in somewhere when I get there and call you the first thing Thursday mornin'."
"The hell you will! If I haven't heard from you to the contrary, I'll be at the airport Wednesday night. How long will you be staying?"
"Through the weekend, if you can put up with me that long."
"I can handle it if my heart holds out. What are you doing now?"
"I'm in a telephone booth near Canal Street, holding my hand in my pocket."
"Okay sweet talker, I'll bite. Why are you holding your hand in your pocket?"
"Hidin' my feelin's."
"From whom?"
"Some pro starin' at me from across the street."
"What does he look like?" After his extended pause, she chortled. "I ruined your little game, didn't I?"
"Yeah, you shot it all to hell." There was another pause. And in a softer tone of voice Bowman said: "Annie, I need to tell you that I love you."
"That's just your pocket talking," she flipped, but her tone was easy. Then she murmured, "John I love you, too," then flipped again, "in any case, keep your hand in your pocket until you get here."
"I'll come as soon as I can." "Okay, I'll live for that. Goodbye, John." "Goodbye, Annie." Starting back to the apartment, he stopped at a convenience store to buy coffee and a newspaper. Entering the apartment, he noticed the door to Emrick's room remained closed. He set down the sack containing two cups of coffee, took to the couch, placed his heels on the coffee table, and began scanning the front page of the newspaper. There was a heavy knock on the outer door.
He opened it to see Flint wearing his usual navy blue suit, white shirt and tie.
"Hey guy, I thought you were going to take the day off."
"I was, but too much is happenin'."
"At that moment Yvonne came through the door from Emrick's room. Fortunately, she was wearing a robe and not the flimsy bit of nothing she wore the previous evening; but, the effect on Flint would have been no different. His stare at Bowman conveyed clearly his disbelief.
Yvonne said: "Hi Detective Flint, I'll be out in a minute." She returned to the bedroom and closed the door.
"Bill Ed, it's not the way it looks. She dropped by last night and bought my dinner at a place she used to work. She lives some distance away and didn't want to drive home late last night. You see what room she was in. Mine is over there. She stayed on her side and I stayed on mine."
Bowman realized from Flint's relentless stare that his words were wasted. "It's no business of mine. I told you what the situation is. I warned you. That's all I can do. You're a big boy, you make your own decisions. "I appreciate what your sayin', Bill Ed, and I'm grateful for your warnin'. Whether you believe it or not, I took it to heart. What all has happened since I talked with you last night?"
"He got away from us." He leaned against the door jamb, rolling his eyes. "I wouldnt've thought it was possible to get through the net, but he did," Flint said, his shoulders sagging in disappointment. "The television news people interviewed Aubrian late yesterday and put the guy's description on the late news. You wouldn't believe all the calls since then. Aubrian stayed on top of things all night. Johnson relieved him early this mornin' and I'm goin' in to take over from Ken now."
"So where are things now?" Bowman asked. The two men remained standing. Bowman walked over to the coffee table and offered Flint one of the coffees. He declined.
"We think he's holed up again and we're pretty sure we know where he is. We have some technicians up in northeast St. Tammany Parish working with the S.O. there to verify our man was there."
"Wait a minute, Flint, you're carryin' me too fast. Start back from where he left the city."
"Okay, two guys were at a service station on Gentilly, near an entrance ramp to the interstate. Unfortunately they weren't buyin' gas. They were there for beer. Anyway, they spotted our guy jumpin' in the back of a pickup loaded with produce. When the guy's description was released, one of them called in to report what he saw. Neither of the guys could tell us the make of the truck, only that it was dark green and had an unusual homemade cover over the rear and had a Mississippi tag. We alerted the S.O.'s and PD's in Hancock and Pearl River Counties in Mississippi. The Picayune PD got a hit for us. They located a guy up there who sells produce from his truck. He confirmed that he'd been to the French Market to purchase produce yesterday, but he wasn't aware of any stowaway on his truck. Anyway, he stopped at a combination service station, bait shop, and grocery store for gas, just before crossin' the state line. He didn't see anyone leavin' the truck and neither did anyone else, but it was dusk and there weren't too many customers around."
Bowman walked over to the counter separating the living room and kitchen. He took one stool and Flint another. Flint continued. "Anyway, that store was burglarized last night. The perp broke out a high window on the back or north side. The owner lives in a house nearby, south of the store, but he heard nothin' and wasn't aware of the robbery until he opened early this mornin'. Not surprisingly, in a small operation like that, he doesn't keep a very good inventory. He was cleaned out of canned meats of every description. He thinks there are a lot of fishin' supplies missin', and there was one of those stone and ceramic tube type knife sharpenin' kits taken, the last one he had."
"Did the store stock guns and knives?"
"No guns. A sawed off shot gun under the counter wasn't taken. If any knives were stolen, we don't know about it."
"Any money?"
"Some. The owner's wife took all the paper money with her when she closed. The cash drawer is left open each ni
ght. All the coins were taken. It came to thirty dollars or less."
"Any chance it was kids?"
"Well there's no certainty, but kids usually take cash, cigarettes and beer. Occasionally, they'll trash the place. Except for the change, none of that happened here."
"Did the store have a jar of pickled pigs feet?"
"As a matter of fact," Flint grimaced. Bowman returned a grin. "There was a large container just behind the counter yesterday. Interestingly enough, it wasn't there this mornin'. You waited me out on that one, didn't you?"
"I felt like you were holdin' back a kicker on me." Bowman returned Flint's half smile. "Assuming you get some prints to confirm it's him, or really if you don't, there's some marsh land around that store, isn't there?"
Flint sat back and almost toppled from his stool. "Some marsh land! Bowman, I thought you might know that area. That store is right on the edge of the Honey Island swamp. We're talkin' miles and miles of swamp."
"So what! Surely it'll be easy to contain him in a relatively small area, wouldn't it?"
"I forgot that you don't hunt or fish. If he can stand the deer flies in the day and the mosquitoes at night, the guy could hide in there forever. Frankly, I think he would be in more danger from snakebite or wild hog attack then he is from us. One person or two or three would have better chance of spottin' him than an army would. Back home, in the old days, we could've come up from the inside, set fire to that section of the swamp, then had a reception group with chase dogs waitin' for him. Can you imagine the heat you'd catch if you tried that now. They'd probably put you in jail and let the screwball go." Flint looked down at his palms.
"What about trackin' dogs? I mean the guy doesn't know his way around yet. Surely he's very vulnerable now."
"With that much water available for him to wade in and destroy the scent, trackin' dogs wouldn't be effective at all. Bowman, you just don't understand the terrain and the expanse. There's also another problem. Our perp is now in the domain of Sheriff Andrew Tolliver --- good man and a dedicated law enforcement officer, but he's extremely sensitive about his turf.
"I agree with you, now is the time to pull out all the stops. Go in there with a good team of men approachin' from the east and west, hang together close and try to corner 'im. If you can't get 'im, at least take his food stash and then closely monitor that store and any nearby cabins. Force him to come out and expose himself. But Tolliver doesn't have the manpower to do that. Right now he's not askin' for advice and not takin' any. I'm really surprised he let the ID team in. Aubrian knows 'im, maybe he can make some impression on 'im. Anyhow, that's where we are. I need to get in and help Johnson." Flint rose and Bowman followed. As they reached the door, Flint turned. "If you think of anything, you know I'm receptive. Still comin' by in the mornin'?"
"Yeah, I'll be there, but don't look for any help from me. Like you said, that swamp's totally out of my element. I wouldn't know what to do except pray for hawgs and cotton mouths to get 'im before he walks up on some unsuspecting hunter or fisherman or camper."
Flint slumped. "You just had to mention that, didn't you. I let him get away from my control and now he's in his element. Do you have any idea how many people hunt and fish that swamp?" Flint's face took on a look of abject gloom.
Bowman kicked himself mentally for his insensitivity and responded with a friendly smile and a hand on Flint's shoulder. "Whup! No way. Un uh. That dog will not hunt. You're no more responsible than any other policeman on the force. You're just one individual. You did everything you could do. Everything you've been trained to do. No human bein' could have predicted that some transient, on foot, in an unfamiliar large city could've escaped a dragnet. No way."
Bowman frowned and shook his head. "Flint, I'm gettin' some bad vibes from you and I don't think I like the way you're thinkin'." He moved between Flint and the door. "Now you brought me into this thing. We've worked through this whole investigation together. I think you owe me this. I know you're big and I know you're tough, but you're not gettin' by me through that door until you promise me somethin'. You're not talkin' honor or duty, you're thinkin' vigilante thoughts. That's the opposite of everything you stand for. Nothin' could be more personally destructive to you than to give vent to some misplaced sense of responsibility."
"What are you wantin' from me?" He looked up and met Bowman's eyes.
"An oath, a personal oath of honor, that you won't go into that swamp unless duly authorized to do so by your superiors," Bowman said to his friend while facing him and holding him by both shoulders.
"Bowman, I have no intention of goin' in after that guy."
"That's good, but your equivocatin'. I know you that well, anyway. Look at it this way, Bill Ed. You'd lose your job. Your career'd be shot, and you'd have to face charges for offin' that poor bastard." Bowman said backing away from Flint, but remaining between him and the door. "It's too big a price to pay."
"You're the most exasperatin' person I've ever known in my life. I can't keep up with your mind swings. Every time I talk with you I end up with a damn headache." Flint massaged his temple.
"Alright, I'll lay it out for you. You go in there playin' the great white knight. You walk up to this idiot and tell him he's under arrest and you start readin' rights. He promptly knocks your brains out all over the ground. Now look at the position you put me and him in. He gets you, 'n I've got to go after him. It's already established, I'm like a fish out of water in that swamp. I'm faced with puttin' his lights out, in which case I go to jail, or he gets me. If he gets me, he's gonna be frustrated as hell cause my member won't fit in his pickle jar," Bowman said smilingly, trying to lighten the tension in the air.
Flint rolled his eyes while shaking his head in disbelief at what he was hearing.
"So, for the good of everyone concerned, lets hear the oath straight out, eye to eye."
"Bowman, I swear on my personal honor, I will not go in that swamp after this guy without being duly authorized to do so. Is that what you want? Can I go to work now?"
"Absolutely, I'll see you in the mornin'."
Chapter 33
One of his many fascinations with New Orleans was the wide range of choices of eating places to fit ones' mood. Bowman intended to take Yvonne to Brennan's, where breakfast is a banquet with an impressive range of selections. However, when they approached the restaurant, a long line of people waited. He looked over to Yvonne and asked: "Do you know another place?"
"Sure, come on."
They window shopped making their way down the street. She abruptly stopped, making no comment. He looked up for a restaurant sign and seeing none, shot her a puzzled look. She giggled.
"See that open door. It's a hangout for locals. Good food, cheap prices. Their sign blew down in a storm years ago. They never bothered to replace it. It has a name, but I forget what it is. I just call it the no name restaurant and everyone knows where I mean."
Bowman followed her through the open door. The ambiance intrigued him. He looked around the room at the unadorned aged brick of the interior walls, the wood floor, the collection of odd and matched tables and chairs, lighting consisting of two single bulbs hanging from wires dropping from the high ceiling, the absence of a cash register or clerk at the door -- you pay at the bar in the next room, through a wide portal in the rear. His senses were piqued. So close by home, yet so culturally different.
He fully expected to enjoy his meal, but if he didn't, it wouldn't matter. He knew he would be entertained by the endless parade of locals strolling from the street to the restrooms or the kitchen, using any excuse to carry on a loud diatribe with the waiter or the bartender. When the cafe was open, the bar was as well --- morning, noon, or night. Just such differences formed a part of the magnetism of New Orleans held for him.
Yvonne gave little thought to the surroundings. She fidgeted in her seat. "I was up half the night thinking how I would apologize and before I can even do that I mess you up even worse."
"How would you
have known to make reservations at Brennan's? I didn't even mention where I wanted to take you."
"I wasn't talking about Brennan's. I was talking about Flint."
"Yvonne, this is all gettin' a little tirin'. You owe me no apologies. I'm honored by your attention and your intentions. As far as Flint goes, forget it. He's a wonderful guy and a person I always want on my team. He's just a little straight laced. Don't worry about it. If I'm goin' to put myself in your hands today you're goin' to have to lighten up. I'm expectin' instruction and guidance."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, last night you showed me where you worked. This morning we're enjoyin' the marvelous sights and sounds and smells of the Vieux Carre. Later I'd like for you to introduce me to your swamp."
Her eyes widened. "You're kiddin'."
"No, didn't you tell me you live in a cabin in the Honey Island Swamp?"
"Yes, ... well on the western edge."
"Surely you have a boat of some kind."
"A little run about, with a small outboard."
"Does it run?"
"It runs great."
"Don't you know the swamp?"
"Well, I know my part. I don't know the whole swamp."
"You can take me through your part without gettin' lost can't you?"
"I know it like the palm of my hand. I spent almost every weekend of my life in it. What puzzles me is your sudden interest. Somehow I can't see you as a naturalist. I mean, I love the place. It's home to me. I just don't want to bore you."