The Devil's Cat Part 7

"He's all right. Clawed up and scared, but he'll make it."

"Well," R. M. said. "I suppose we'd best be getting on home."

"No, I think it best if we talk," Don said.

Both men understood that his words const.i.tuted an order, not a request.

"Oh?" R. M. said. "About what, sir?"

"Jackson Dorgenois." Don turned and unlocked the door to the trailer. He stepped back and motioned both men inside. "I think we have a lot to discuss, so let's get started."

Don noticed that neither man bothered to say that Jackson was dead, as the townspeople all believed.

"You're not going to believe what I have to say, sir," R. M. told him.

"I don't know what to believe, Mr. Dorgenois," Don replied. "But a lot of things-this is my opinion-seem to be slightly out of whack around this town. Now I don't claim to be a genius, gentlemen. I'm just a deputy sheriff in one of the biggest parishes in this state. Now, I can't speak for the rest of the parish, but I know, without being able to prove it, that something is very wrong in this part of the parish. And I'm going to find out what the h.e.l.l it is."

Inside the coolness of the trailer, Don motioned the men to chairs in front of a long table. He hung up his summer straw hat and sat down opposite the men.

"You are, Mr. R. M. Dorgenois, among other things, an attorney. How do you want to handle this?"

The elder Dorgenois shrugged his shoulders. "Neither my son nor I have broken any laws, Deputy ..."

"That's bulls.h.i.+t!" Don flared. "You covered up a double murder, you aided and abetted the murderer, you have given that murderer aid and comfort for years, you falsified official court records, you have perjured yourself countless times over the years. Now do not do not hand me any c.r.a.p about your innocence." hand me any c.r.a.p about your innocence."

"My son is innocent," R. M. said quietly.

"You talking about Romy, your grandson?"

"That is correct. I call him my son, he calls me father."

"I understand that, sir. Do you want an attorney present?"

"I have been charged with nothing, Deputy. And to be perfectly honest and frank with you, I doubt that you, or anyone else, could charge me with anything. And make it stick," he added. "After all these years ..." Again he shrugged. "A grandfather protecting the family's good name. You will not, cannot, cannot, prove that Jackson killed his mother and father. And even if you could, what would it matter now? Besides, it will all be over in a very short time anyway." prove that Jackson killed his mother and father. And even if you could, what would it matter now? Besides, it will all be over in a very short time anyway."

"What will be over, sir?" Don asked. will be over, sir?" Don asked.

"A way of life. All hope," he added softly. "Tony found some of his father's old records, did he not?"

"Yes. What do you mean, sir, all hope?"

R. M. rose from his seat and began pacing the room. Back and forth, like a convict pacing his small cell. He stopped and looked at Don. "I remember you growing up, Don. You were a good boy. You and Frances have been married ... how long now?"

"Two years."

"You have no children?"

"No, sir."

"Take your wife and get out, Don. Leave this town. If you wait much longer, leaving will be impossible."

Don sighed. The interview was not going as planned. And Don was beginning to think the old man was nuts. Maybe it ran in the family?

"Mr. Dorgenois, would you please sit down and tell me what in the h.e.l.l you're talking about?"

R. M. ceased his restless pacing and sat down. "It's a very long story, Don. And one that I don't particularly care to discuss at this moment."

The deputy sat and stared in astonishment at the old man. "Well, I beg your pardon, Monsieur Dorgenois. Je regrette d'avoir a dire que Je regrette d'avoir a dire que ..." Don lost his temper and banged his balled fist on the table. "I don't give a good G.o.dd.a.m.n whether you care to discuss it or not. I got a raving lunatic running around this side of the parish-he might well be in Becancour this minute-and you sit there cool as h.e.l.l and tell me you're not going to discuss it! The h.e.l.l you say!" ..." Don lost his temper and banged his balled fist on the table. "I don't give a good G.o.dd.a.m.n whether you care to discuss it or not. I got a raving lunatic running around this side of the parish-he might well be in Becancour this minute-and you sit there cool as h.e.l.l and tell me you're not going to discuss it! The h.e.l.l you say!"

"Don, Don," Romy spoke. "Please. I can probably answer a great many questions for you if R. M. chooses not to cooperate."

"Romy," R. M. warned. "I must ask you to hush. You don't know what you're getting into here."

Don hated to be disrespectful to the elder Dorgenois, but one way or the other, he was going to get to the bottom of this ... mess. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the front door opened and Patrolwoman Dantin walked in.

"Sorry, Don," she said, eyeballing the two men sitting before the deputy. "I got a call while driving by here and pulled in. I might need your help on this one."

The city police were all deputized and could work outside the city limits, but when available, they preferred Don to come with them.

"What's up, Rita?" Don asked.

She cut her eyes to the civilians and Don picked it up.

Now he didn't know what to do.

"I beg you, Don," R. M. said. "Give us a few hours to ... handle the matter. If we can't-G.o.d help us all."

Rita was looking first at Don, then at Mr. Dorgenois. She had no idea what was going on, and since R. M. Dorgenois not only owned d.a.m.n near all of Becancour, but about fifteen thousand acres of land in the parish and adjoining parishes, she wasn't about to stick her mouth into it.

Besides, she'd heard stories about the Dorgenois family since a little girl. Besides being one of the most powerfully influential families in this part of the state- if not the whole d.a.m.n state-some old folks said the Dorgenois's could walk on either side of the boundaries separating G.o.d and Satan.

Of course, Rita didn't believe any of that last bit.

Well ... maybe a little of it.

"This going to take long, Rita?" Don asked.

"Hour at the most."

Don nodded. He looked first at Romy, then R. M. "I'll be at your house by eleven. I hope you have ... ah, taken care of it by then."

"We'll do our best, Don," R. M. said, standing up and extending his hand across the table.

Don shook it. "I'll see you in an hour or so."

"Go with G.o.d," R. M. said gently.

When the door closed behind the two men, Don looked at Rita. "What'd you get?"

"A dead body. About five miles south of town. A few hundred yards north of Lovern's rent house on the bayou."

"We'll take my car. Let's go."

Heading out, Don asked, "Do you know who it is, Rita?"

"No. Old Man Fontenot found the body. 'Bout scared the c.r.a.p out of him. He drove back to Lovern's place to use the phone, but they haven't had it hooked up yet. Tomorrow, they said. Mrs. Balon got Fontenot settled down and Sam Balon, the husband, drove into town and reported it." She smiled. "He sure is a handsome, rugged-lookin' guy."

Don grinned. Rita was a looker herself, and married to a mighty jealous man. Burt Dantin was, according to the stories, about to ruin a real good marriage with his jealousy.

"What are you grinnin' about, Don?"

"Just thinking, Rita."

"How you and Frances makin' it?"

"Still honeymooning."

"Stay at that as long as you can, boy." She sighed. "Me and Burt split the sheets this morning."

"I hadn't heard. I'm sorry, Rita."

"I'm not," she said flatly, and Don knew she meant it. "Burt's accused me of making out with everybody in Becancour that wears pants. It got so bad I couldn't even go out with the girls for a few hours. He tried to slap me around last week-again."

"Did he hit you, Rita?"

"He got one good pop in before I judoed his a.s.s and d.a.m.n near broke his arm. Hurt his pride more than anything else. Then he came back scratchin' at the door, beggin' for me to take him back. And like a fool, I did."

"You think it's done for good this time?"

"I saw my lawyer this morning," she said in summary.

"What's the condition of the body? Did this Balon see it, or did he say?"

"He saw it. He's a cool one, Don. I think I'd want him on my side if push come to shove. He told me it was hard to tell age or even s.e.x. Said the body looked like it'd been attacked by lions."

"Lions?"

"That's what he said. He said it looked to him like the body had been clawed to death and then part of it eaten."

Don took that time to tell Rita about the drifter who claimed he'd been attacked by cats. He did not tell her anything about the sighted monster-yet.

"Cats, Don?"

"That's what the man said. And Tony stuck by the man's story."

"Might be some connection?"

"That's what I'm thinking. How long you on tonight?"

"All night. I'm workin' a double s.h.i.+ft. Max has the flu, or something."

"Ride with me tonight, Rita?"

"Sure, Don." She did not question why he would ask that. Rita and Frances were the best of friends. She knew Frances would think nothing of it. "You meet Balon's wife yet, Don?"

"No. But I was told she is some kind of sensational-looking woman."

"I saw her this morning. Believe me, she is all of that, and more."

"Those blinking lights up there belong to Balon, you think?"

"Yeah. He said he'd park by the body and not touch anything. You know, he said something else that was kinda odd."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He asked me if it was common for cats to run in packs around here?"

"How'd you answer him?"

"I said I never had paid no attention. But come to think of it, they have been runnin' in packs. You noticed that?"

"Yeah. I sure have."

Both Don and Rita were experienced cops; they both had worked killer wrecks and shootings and stabbings and seen mangled and torn bodies.

But nothing to match this.

The body had indeed been clawed and partially eaten. Don took pictures of the scene and the body and then radioed in for Dr. Livaudais. A lot of cops would rather work something like this for a time before calling in the coroner, since they had a bad habit of s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up evidence without meaning to do so.

"You know him, Rita?" Don asked.

"No. At least, I don't think so. h.e.l.l, Don, his face is torn off."

"Yeah." Don went through the man's pockets, finding nothing. He stood up. "Nothing. All right, Rita, get your flashlight and work that way, try to find out ..."

"You won't find a thing," Sam said. "I looked. But about twenty or so minutes before Mr. Fontenot knocked on our door-by the way, he's sitting in the living room with my wife and son-I heard a car stop, then a door closing hard, then the car sped off, burning rubber. The tracks are right there." He pointed.

Don and Rita looked. "I'll get the camera," Rita said.

"You're very observant, Mr. Balon," Don said. "And very cool."

"My wife and I don't watch much TV, except for PBS programs. It is a quiet night, and we were talking. As for that," he said, pointing to the mangled body, "I've seen worse."

"Prior service, Mr. Balon?"

"Call me Sam, please. Yes. Army Ranger. Eyes and Ears Only clearance."

And not too many folks have that clearance, Don thought. "I was Marine Force Recon."