"No," I said. "I'm not." I looked at Jimmie Ray. "Three hours ago I broke into your house and found documents there relating to the birth of my client. I also found evidence linking you to a series of conversations with my client, predating a thirty-thousand-dollar deposit into your checking account." I glanced back at Milt Rossier. "I don't know what this has to do with whatever you've got going, but I don't give a damn. All I care about is how it affects my client."

Jimmie Ray said, "Oh, man, what a bare-faced liar!" Laughing like he couldn't believe these lies.

Milt Rossier swiveled the Panama toward Jimmie Ray, his eyes hard black dots. "I thought you were workin' for me, son. You out on your own?"

"This is bullshit, Milt. Who you gonna believe, me or this turd?"

Rossier squinted harder. "You bring me something and I pay for it, it's mine."

Jimmie Ray looked greasy and he kept shooting glances at René. "Hell, yes, it's yours. This sumbitch is jus' tryin' to weasel!"

Rossier shook his head and sighed. "Goddammit."

"I swear, Milt. I'm tellin' you the truth."

LeRoy came back and slapped Jimmie Ray on the back of his head, knocking the pompadour sideways. "Emplate!"

Jimmie said, "Hey!"

Milt Rossier spit at the weeds, then headed for the near building. "Y'all c'mon. Bring'm, LeRoy. René! You, too, now."

We followed Rossier between the two buildings and out to a small circular pond surrounded by a low wire fence. LeRoy picked up a two-by-four as we walked. The banks of the pond were muddy and scummed with something green and slimy, probably runoff from the processing sheds. Rossier got there first and waited impatiently for the rest of us to catch up. He gestured at the pond with his cigar. "René". You get Luther. Be careful, now."

I said, "Luther?"

Jimmie Ray shook his finger at me and laughed. "Yo' ass is grass now, boy."

René stepped over the fence, knelt at the edge of the little pool, and slapped the water. He slapped three or four times, and then something moved beneath the surface and the water swirled. René jumped in up to his knees and his hands plunged down and caught something that made him stagger. He found his balance and then his face went red with strain and he lifted out a snapping turtle that had to be three feet across and weigh almost two hundred pounds. It was dark and primordial with a shell like tank armor and a great horned head and a monstrous beak The head twisted and snapped and tried to reach René, but couldn't. Its mouth was almost a foot across, and every time it snapped there was a sharp clicking sound, like a ruler rapping on a desk. René trudged up out of the water, stepped across the fence, and put Luther down. When he did, the turtle pulled its feet and head up under its shell. The head was so big it didn't fit and its snout was exposed. LeRoy was grinning like a jack-o'-lantern. He waved the two-by-four in front of the turtle. The big head flashed out and the big jaws snapped and the board splintered. LeRoy beamed. "That Luther's somethin', huh?"

Jimmie Ray shook his finger at me some more. "We'll see who's lyin'now."

Milt Rossier said something in French, and René grabbed Jimmie Ray and jerked him toward the turtle. Jimmie Ray said, "Hey!"

Jimmie Ray tried to pull away from René, but he didn't have any better luck than Luther. René carried him by the back of the neck and the belt, and pushed him down on the ground just outside of Luther's range. You could see the beady turtle eyes following the action from up under the shell. Jimmie was yelling, "Goddamn, Milt, stop it! Please!" His eyes were big, and he had gone as white as typing paper.

René let go of Jimmie's belt and grabbed his right forearm and forced his right hand toward the turtle. Jimmie Ray screamed.

Milt said, "Now you tell me true, son. You using my information to blackmail this gal?"

"I swear I ain't, Milt. I swear."

"René."

René forced the hand closer. Luther's eyes blinked, and the big jaws parted.

Milt said, "Try again, son."

I took a half-step forward. "That's enough, old man. Make him stop."

Milt said, "LeRoy," and LeRoy pointed the big.45 at me. LeRoy was grinning. Milt shook his finger at me. "You jes' sit tight." He stepped closer to Jimmie Ray and squatted beside him. "Ol' Luther looks like he's anxious, boy. You better tell me."

Jimmie Ray was babbling. "I didn't see what it'd hurt. It didn't have nothing to do with you or us and I thought I could just make a little extra cash please Milt please make'm stop I never woulda done it if I thought you'd be mad I swear to Christ!"

"All right, René. He's done." Jimmie Ray Rebenack had peed his pants.

René lifted Jimrnie Ray out of harm's way. The wet stain spread across the seat of his pants and down his legs. Milt chewed on the cigar and stared toward the buildings. His eyes were small and hard and not a great deal different from the turtle's. He moved the cigar at me. "The only reason you're heah is because of this blackmail thing?"

"That's it."

Milt chewed on the cigar some more. "René, put ol' Luther back."

René put Luther back in the pond. Luther slipped beneath the water, and the water grew still. Milt said, "We feed ol' Luther there catfish heads. Had a fella from LSU out here once said Luther might be better'n a century old."

Jimmie Ray was on his knees with his face in his hands. I felt embarrassed and ashamed both for him and for me. Milt Rossier went over to Jimmie and patted his shoulder. "You see what dishonesty gets fo' ya? You go behin' my back, now this fella's heah. You see where ya get?"

"I'm sorry, Milt. I swear to God I am."

Milt Rossier looked over at me with the Luther eyes. He stared at me, thinking, until LeRoy said, "He was with some woman, Milt."

Milt spit. "Yeah. I guess so." Disappointed, as if he had come to a serious decision about something, only now to change his mind. He patted Jimmie Ray's shoulder again, then helped him up. "C'mon, now, Jimmie Ray. Get up and stop blubberin'. You get yourself on outta heah."

Jimmie Ray said, "I didn't think I was doin' any-thin' wrong, Milt. I swear to Christ."

"We'll jus' forget about it. Go on, now."

Jimmie Ray looked like a man who'd just won Lotto, like he couldn't believe that Milt Rossier was giving him a pass on this one. Milt Rossier said, "Goddammit, get outta my sight."

Jimmie Ray scrambled back to his Mustang, and the Mustang's rear end fishtailed hard as he drove away.

Milt shook his head, then turned back to me. "You go on back where you come from and tell your woman everythin's over with. What we got down here, it don' have nothin' to do with her, and nothin' to do with you, either. You understand that?"

"Sure. You want me to go home. You want me to stop stirring things up."

He nodded, looked at the cigar again, then tossed it in the pond. It floated for a second, sending out perfect circles, and then the water exploded and the cigar was gone.

Milt Rossier made a little dismissive gesture and walked away. "LeRoy, you see this fella gets back real safe, you hear?"

LeRoy said that he would.

René and LeRoy brought me back to the motel in the gold Polara and let me out in the parking lot. I watched them leave, then went to my room and tried to let myself in, but I couldn't get the key in the lock. I tried as hard as I could, and then I sat on the sidewalk with my hands between my knees and pressed my knees together to try to make myself stop shaking. I pressed for a very long time, and finally the shaking stopped.