Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 15 - The Mona Lisa Murders by Kent Conwell

the city, it be closed by the army.’ He explained how the levees had once again failed, not because of shoddy construction, but because no one could have predicted a sixteen-foot surge hitting the coast at the time of the month’s highest tide.
    ‘From what me, I hear, the flood, she is much more bad than before.’ He winked at Latasha. ‘But, you are not to worry. The army, they not in Gretna. You see Edmund, your cousin. You know how to find him, cher ?’
    Latasha blew a stream of smoke at the steering wheel in front of her. ‘ Oui !’
    The wiry Melungeon grinned at me, his brilliant white teeth in sharp contrast to his dark skin. ‘Good. That Edmund, he take you anywhere you want to go.’ He tossed Latasha a pack of filterless cigarettes. ‘You probably out of them, huh, cher ?’
    She grabbed the pack in mid-air and smiled at him. ‘ Oui. Vous remercier, le cousin .’ She tossed the pack on the dash and started the engine. ‘Ready?’
    ‘As I can be.’
     
    Traffic was heavy as storm dwellers emerged into a new day. Damage was light considering the storm barely reached a Category Two at ninety-six miles an hour. Some of the power grids were down; others were unaffected.
    The greatest damage came from the storm surge, which was unnaturally high because it came ashore at the precise time of the highest tide of the month. The small communities had weathered hurricanes before and with only a few exceptions, were equipped to handle everything other than excessive water heights.
    Using her intimate knowledge of the area, Latasha took us along back roads enabling us to dodge security.
    We pulled in Edmund’s drive around mid-afternoon. Though I was only family to him by marriage, he and his clan welcomed me with the usual Louisiana hospitality.
    Over thick, black chicory coffee and his wife, Zozette’s, sugar-coated beignets, we laid our plans for retrieving the package from the bus terminal. ‘ Oui . Me, I can take you across the river, but not tonight. We go first thing in the morning.’
    Latasha pulled out a cigarette then offered one to Edmund who took it. ‘Shouldn’t we go tonight? Get it over with.’ She touched a match to it, then to her cousin’s.
    ‘Edmund’s right,’ I said. ‘The river’s dangerous enough at night, but after the storm, it would be suicide to try it.’
    She glared at me.
    Edmund clicked his tongue and arched a skeptical eyebrow. ‘Little girl! Listen to me. Boudreaux be right.’ He held his hands far apart. ‘All I hear tells me it is much too dangerous for you, even during daylight. Me, I hear what you say—why you want to do this. The only reason I help is Leroi. He call and tell me you and Boudreaux here be coming.’
    ‘Leroi?’ I glanced at Latasha and then turned back to Edmund. ‘How did he know we were coming up here?’
    ‘Octave, he call Leroi, then Leroi, he call me.’
    I should have known that cousin of mine would show up one way or another. While I’ve always had a strong sense of family, Leroi’s was much more intense. Once I had supposed it was the difference in black and white cultures although where I grew up in Louisiana, racial distinctions were blurred by the familiarity of togetherness.
    ‘All right,’ she said in disgust. ‘Tomorrow. But, early,’ she added. ‘And, we need transportation out of here. To Texas.’
    Running his fingers through his long black hair, Edmund pursed his lips. ‘Me, I know how to do that. My brother, Carl, he live up at Pearl River. He meet us on Highway Ninety.’
    I licked the powdered sugar from the beignets off my fingers. ‘I thought the bridge was down. I-Ten across Pontchartrain is.’
    ‘ Oui , but the bridge at Highway Ninety back east, she okay.’ He took a long drag of his cigarette and smiled smugly at us. ‘You not to worry. Me, I take care of the cars. I get you from N’awlins to Texas.’
    Latasha looked up at me. I tried to give her a reassuring grin. A Shakespearean quote from my days