"It's all there." Patch motioned to the file, then went back to studyingBlu'sdirty clothes. "You smell like rotten fish. Did I say that already? Ain't no money in that. Ismell liquor, too. Dead fish and whiskey. It's a sour mix," he griped.

Blu hadn't bothered to clean up. He'd been working on theDemon's Eyewhen Patch had sent for him. He'dpoured himself into the dirtiest job he could find to try to work off some of hisanger, but.i.t hadn't helped.

He'd been a fool to walk out on Angelyesterdayafter he'd said hewouldn't. He'd just been so d.a.m.n shocked when she toldhim she was Maland's wife,he'd needed some air.Then he'd needed a drink-morethan one. By the time he'd pulled himself together and returned totheNightwing,she was gone.

He'd searched for her, but hehadn't been able tofind her. Not yet, he hadn't, but hewould.If he had to tear apart every house and store in Algiers, hewouldfind her.

"Are you sure you want to getinvolved in thisagain?"

Blu heard Patch talking, but he was still swimming in guilt.

"Are you hearing me? Why would you get involvedwith something that d.a.m.n near got you killed last year?"

Blu heard the last sentence. "What do you mean, something that almost got me killed last year?"

"Now I only mention this because the publicity didn't do me any favors, either. People are still wondering how a man like youcouldturn into one of those do-goodies overnight. Actually, I'm still a little puzzled by that myself. You swinging so far left when you got a G.o.d-given talent like you do is crazy in my book. My motto is, Use it if you got it-and you definitely got a talent for scaring the living h.e.l.l out of people, Blu boy. Andwhen you can make four times as muchmoney doing that, why snag shrimp for aliving? And you don't have to stink." Patch produced a can of air freshener from a drawer in his desk and sprayed it into the air.

Blu reached for the file.

"Pretty interesting reading in there." Patch set the air freshener down. "Thought they were full brothers, but I guess they're only half."

Blu set the file back on the desk. "Half? What areyou talking about?"

"Taber Denoux's only a half brother to Maland. But I guess that don't matter, their blood runs the same color-black as snake oil." When Blu said nothing, Patch's eyebrows lifted. "Don't tell me you didn't know anything about Maland when you name-dropped him two days ago?"

"I didn't know," Blu admitted.

"Then you didn't know when you busted Taber Denoux last year for stealing those kids that you'd shut down a slice of the biggest pie in the Gulf?"

"No."

Patch's brows crept higher. "Maland's a twentieth-century slave trader, Blu boy. He's international. Taber Denoux had a lucrative slice of the pie, but the big man who turns all the sugar into gold is Salvador Maland."

Blu couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Why doesn't the NOPD know that?"

"Because maybe they don't want to know that."

"I don't believe it."

Patch shrugged. "Maland's a European. He's not a citizen here, and he's smart. He keeps all his dirty business hidden by legitimate import/export companies. Keeps his name off everything."

"Tell me more."

"What you've uncovered, Blu boy, is the motherload. Salvador took over his father's business and has tripled it in ten years' time. Some say he killed his old man to get where he is, others say his mother did it for him. But everybody agrees he's one kinky son of a b.i.t.c.h. He stays clear of the States, or at least he has for the past three years. All the companies are run by independents who know the risks. That's why Denoux's doing time and Maland's still enjoying his island."

His island.Blu tried to keep his emotions harnessed, but it was getting harder by the minute. He wanted Salvador Maland in an iron box next to his brother and he wanted Angel back on his boat until he could make that happen.

It all made sense now, why Maland had his picture on the wall in his office, why his pictures were in a file labeledOld Business. Salvador Maland and Taber Denoux were brothers. Blu could hardly believe it.

"Denoux kept his mouth shut at the trial when he could have cut a better deal for himself?" Blu heard himself say.

"No sense cutting a deal if you won't live long enough to enjoy it," Patch said. "Salvador Maland is the wrong man to have as your enemy. He's got the longest reach of anyone I know next to G.o.d. Brother or not, Taber Denoux would have been dead within twenty-four hours if he had breathed his brother's name. I'm surprised you're not dead yet after what went down last year."

Blu pointed to the files. "Somebody sang long and loud for you to get all that on Maland in two days, Patch. Who was it?"

"Now you know I can't give you a name straight out. That's not how things are done. We make an exchange, you go on your way, and you figure out the rest on your own. Say, it was sure nice seeing Lester on his knees the other night crying like a baby. You sure I can't interest you in doing one job a week for me?"

"No. I'm finished with that."

"Then our business is over." Patch watched Blu scoop up the file and head for the door. "You really didn't know, did you?"

Blu stopped at the door. "No, I really didn't know Maland even existed until a few days ago."

Patch pulled his cigarette case from his satin vest pocket. "I figure sometime next week we'll be reading about this on the front page of theTimes-Picayune. And depending on just how good that G.o.d-given talent of yours is, Blu boy, we'll either be calling you the new American hero, or your remains will be in a body bag on the way to the morgue. 'Course, if that happens, Maland will be back selling flesh to the highest bidder from here to Colombia. But only after he carves up that little blond who ran away from him."

Chapter 12.

Days ago,Blu had put aside the idea that he'd metAngel somewhere before, and that was true enough- he'd never actually met her. But if the information inthe file was correct, then the little tomboy who had been Perch's shadow years ago was more than likelyhis Angel.

Oh, yeah, he knew Perch Aldwin had a granddaughter,had always known. He'd just chosen to forget it because anything involving thatcrusty old man left asour taste in his mouth.

Blu slowed theNightwing as he headed around Paradise Point, and there, moored inthe bay, sat the pilothouse-theaging old trawler from Perch's heydaywhen he was king. He'd beena fisherman first, and Blu guessed that's why Perch had become the most respected wholesaler in the area when he'd decided to become a middleman.

He'd lived all his life in Algiers, and the past forty years on Paradise Point. His wife, Carmela, had died when their only son, Dale, was a teenager. Ten years later, at age twenty-six, Dale, along with his wife, had died in a car wreck. But their children had survived-one boy, and one little girl.

Blu would lay odds that Perch's sudden switch fromfisherman to wholesaler years ago had had something to do with the fact that he'd been left alone to raise his two small grandchildren.

It all made sense; Angel's knowledge of boats, hersea legs. She'd grown up with a grandfather who had spent all his life on the water. They had lived on a houseboat, the same houseboat Perch lived on now.

The newspaper article had been labeled, TragicDrowning On Rough Water. The information claimedthat a fast-moving storm had hit suddenly and that the two young people had been too far fromsh.o.r.e to save themselves. The paperreported that one body had beenrecovered-an eighteen-year-old by the name of Benjamin Frank. b.u.t.the girl, Kristie Aldwin, age sixteen,had never been found.

Sixteen... She'd been sixteen when she'd disappeared, had been working at Smokey Joe's as awaitress the summer she'dsupposedly drowned. And forthree years she'd lived on an island in the Caribbeanwith Maland. That would make her nineteennow.

Blu wasn't sure how Salvador Maland had ended upwith Angel, but he did know that somehow the sick b.a.s.t.a.r.d had managed to either capitalize on a tragic accident, or he had orchestrated the perfect crime.

When Blu saw Perch's smallboathouse anch.o.r.ed ina secluded inlet, he cut the engine and steered the Nightwingtoward the dock. He still needed to be one-hundred-percent sure thathis Angel and Perch's Kristie were one in the same. His gut told him it was true, but he wanted visible proof. And that meant he needed to board Perch's boathouse.

It was early morning, that time of the day when more people were sleeping than awake. But Perch was up.Blu could see him on the aft deck of the boathouse as he tied up theNightwing.

"I need to talk to you, Perch," Blu hollered.

The old man didn't move, he just kept staring out over the water. "You ain't got nothing I want to hear, you black devil."

"I know you and I have had our differences, but this can't wait."

"You don't know how to talk, boy. All you know how to do is throw those fists of yours." This time Perch's head came around slowly. "Your daddy must be moaning in his grave with shame, boy."

Blu saw the scar above the old man's right eye. He'd known facing Perchwouldn'tbe easy. And he couldn't deny he'd oftenwondered what his father would havesaid to a son who had chosen to make money with his fists.Pushing the thought away, not havingthe time or the energy to contemplate his past mistakes-Blu acknowledged that the sooner he found the proof he was looking for, the sooner he could get back to a more important matter, looking for Angel and Mandy.

"Got amessage for Curt. Is he around?"

"No, he ain't. You got something to say to him, you can say it to me. Curt don't like you any more than I do."

Blu kept coming,limping as hislongstride ate upthe dock. When it ran out, he vaulted onto the deck of the boathouse with one lithe maneuver that easily confirmed his injured leg had never slowed him down. "I guess I'll just have a look around and make sure Curt'snot hiding under the bed."

"No, you won't! You got no right to trespa.s.s on me, boy." Perch jerked to his feet.

Blu clamped his hand on the man's bony shoulder and shoved him back on the chair. He didn't like playing rough, but if he couldn't get anywhere being nice, then he'd play the role Perch expected him to play. "Sit, old man, and don't move. I've hit you before, and you know how hard I can hit. But I don't mind showing you again."

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Perchcontinued to cuss, but he stayed down-he was no match for the Blu Devil, and they both knew it.

Inside the boathouse, Blu came face-to-face with a wall covered with dozens of house-blessing masks. He'd forgotten about the masks.Down at Cruger's he'dheard that Perch's collection was second only to Lema's at Spirit World.

A hintof lemon clungin the air, and he turned his head to the left tocatch sight of a smoke stream coming from an incense cone sitting on a shelf next to a picture.

A picture...

Blu moved closer, and there in the picture was theproof sitting next to Perch on the old pilothouse. Without adoubt,his Angel wasPerch's Kristie.

Blufelthis throat close off, felt his heart thud loudly in his chest. He left the boathouse seconds later, stepping past Perch without looking at him,then vaultingthrough the air to the dock. Halfway to the Nightwing,still not looking back, he called out to Perch. "I'll be in touch, old man. Maybe Christmas will come early this year."

Perch's reply was short and to the point. Two words clearly stated what he thought of Blu duFray. * * * Kristen woke to the sound of Rose duFray teachingAmanda how to sing "Mary Had a Little Lamb." She quickly dressed in her yellow tank top and fitted jeans, then emerged from the bedroom braiding her long hair into a single plait.

"Good morning, child. Did you sleep well?"

Kristen glanced at Amanda, who was on her knees helping Rose stir a huge bowl of cookie dough.

Well, she wasn't really helping, she was stealing nuts whenever the spoon wasn't in motion.

"Amanda, don't do that," Kristen scolded.

"Look, Mommeee, nut." Holding it out to Kristen, she offered her mother the pecan half.

Kristen ateit."Mmm, it's good, isn't.i.t?But we need to leave the rest for the cookies."

"She's adorable," Rosecomplimented. "And sosmart."

"I want to thank you for letting us stay here last night. And for not calling Blu and telling him we were here."

"I still think that was a mistake, but it was your decision to make."

Kristen dodged the subject. "If you'd like some help in the store for a few hours, I'd be happy to do it.

But we'll be leaving later this afternoon." "Leaving? Where are you going?"

She was beginning to detest the lying. But just once more, Kristen thought. "I have a friend at the

women's shelter, Sister Marian. She's.e.xpecting us for supper." "I could use you downstairs after lunch for a few hours. My helper is still sick." Rose turned to the sink,washed and dried her hands, then picked up Amandaand washed her sticky fingers, too. "Look in here,sweetheart." Rose eased Amanda down and opened a cupboard with plastic bowls stacked inside. "Youcan play with anything you like."

Amanda stretched her little body and looked into the cupboard. When shebacked upand looked at Kristen, her eyes were wide and hesitant.

"Go ahead. She said you could."

Of course, Amanda, like any two-and-a-half-year old, was more than eager to make a mess of Rose's cupboard, but messes had never been allowed at the Maland estate.She hesitated a few minutes more, glanced at Kristen again, then finally reached inside and began to empty the cupboard.

Rose poured two gla.s.ses of orange juice and brought them to the small table where Kristen sat. "So, whatdid Blu do to make you leave theNightwing?"

"What makes you think he did something?"

"Because I know my son. I don't like the word 'hothead,' but he can be ornery and stubborn."

"I haven't really noticed that," Kristen replied. "Not often, anyway."

"Really. That's interesting."

"No. I left theNightwingbecause I just didn't want to impose on Blu with Amanda." There, that sounded reasonable.

"About Amanda?" "She's my child," Kristen said quickly. "Iknow. She looks just likeyou. So, Blu didn't ask you to leave theNightwing?" "No." "But you felt you should, and he agreed?" "Not exactly." Kristen refused to admit the real reason she'd left. "I'm sorry for burdening you like this.

I'm going back home in a few days." It wasn't a lie. She was going home, in aroundabout way. Home waswhere you felt safe and happy, and she intended to finda place where she and Amanda could live without looking over their shoulders.

"If I can do anything... I have plenty of room, child.You can stay here as long as you like." Rose stood, glanced down to where Amanda was enjoying herself building a tower of bowls. "Did Blu tell you about those poor children he rescued last year?"

Kristen was taking a sip of juice. She set the gla.s.s down. "No. Henever mentioned any children to me."

"That's how he got shot. You knew that he'd been shot?"

"No, I didn't know."

"That's thereason he limps. Didn't he tell you anyof it?"