Tony drove out of the French Quarter, careful not to hit any of the drunken revelers that had only increased in numbers.
“Where to?” he said.
“Via Vittorio Veneto.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“We gotta shake Pancho down. You were a cop for twenty-five years, Lieutenant. You know what I’m talking about.”
“I’ve never had to shake down a friend before.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
A car’s horn blared, and Tony slammed on the brakes. “Easy,” Eddie said.”Lil’s morphine is making me feel better, but my ribs are still cracked.”
Tony ignored his rant. “Maybe Pancho forgot what he did with the horn.”
“He hasn’t forgotten. When Wyatt and I asked him a simple question about the mob, he almost came unglued.”
“Then it’s too bad we aren’t part of the mob,” Tony said.
“Hell, Lieutenant, that’s a great idea.”
“He’d know who we are right away.”
“Not if we blindfold him and disguise our voices. With my busted lips, I can do a pretty good Paco impersonation.”
“Paco’s dead.”
“Pancho doesn’t know that.”
“How do you intend to pull this little caper off without Adele and Toni knowing?”
“It’s close to midnight. They shut down and went home hours ago; at least Adele. Toni’s probably getting wild on Bourbon Street.”
“Then what makes you think Pancho will be there?”
“Because Adele told me he has an old recliner in the stock room and that he takes a nap there almost every night. Sometimes, he’s still there in the morning.”
“How will we get in the door?”
“Shouldn’t be hard for an old cop like you, Lieutenant.”
“And if they have a burglar alarm?”
“Then we run like hell!”
The cat awoke from her nap in the backseat, jumping into Tony’s lap. Tony didn’t have to turn to know Eddie was shaking his head.
Eddie was right about the restaurant, all the lights off, including the neon sign over the front door. Tony stopped the car in the shadows behind the restaurant.
“Pancho’s old beater is parked at the backdoor. You may be right about him being asleep in there.”
“Only one way to find out,” Eddie said.
Tony’s collection of entry keys rattled as he tried the door. With a screech of swelled wood and rusty hinges, it finally opened. Listening before entering, they heard no sound of movement. Eddie found an empty rice sack in the room’s muted light, along with several strands of cord.
“You right, Eddie boy. He’s asleep in the chair.”
“Then let’s do it.”
Pancho shrieked when Eddie pulled the sack over his head. Tony gave him little time to react, pulling his arms behind his back and then using cord to tie them.
“What the hell!” Pancho said. “Who is it?”
“Paco,” Eddie said.
“Let me go, Paco. I ain’t done nothing.”
“You still got my horn. I want it back.”
“I ain’t got it no more.”
“Then you better tell me where to find it.”
“I’m not sure I know where it is.”
“What kinda crap talk is that? What did you do with it? Tell me now or we’re gonna have to get nasty with you.”
“Paco, it’s been forty years.”
“Time don’t matter none when you break a solemn vow. Now tell me what you did with it.”
Tony gave him a shake, and it sent the old man’s shoulder’s into a shiver.
“You gonna kill me, Paco?”
“Tell me where the horn is and everything will be copacetic again.”
“I left it on a Mardi Gras float. About fifteen years ago.”
“You did what?”
“The theme of our krewe that year was New Orleans jazz. I was in the parade and used the horn as a prop. I got a little too drunk. When the parade ended, I forgot and left the horn on the float. I still got the case, though.”
“Where?” Eddie asked.
“In the bottom of the potato bin.”