Crescent City Connection

No. You’ve got two really great projects— Shavonne and Jacomine. They balance out perfectly. Skip Langdon, Batwoman—flap one wing and nurture the innocent; flap the other, destroy all evil. You gotta love it.”
    Her cheeks warmed again. “It’s not like that.”
    “Don’t get huffy.”
    “Are you laughing about Jacomine? Do I actually hear you laughing about him? The kids could be in danger.” She meant her friend Jimmy Dee’s adopted children—Napoleon’s pal Kenny and Kenny’s sister, Sheila. Jacomine was someone with whom she had some history. He was crazy, he was evil, and he had reason to hate her. She could never shake the fear that he’d go after the children—or even Steve or Jimmy Dee if he couldn’t get the kids. But there was no doubt in her mind, he’d try first for the children—it was meaner, it was nastier, and it was more likely to send her around the bend.
    She said, “Let’s go watch the news. Cappello’s probably afraid they’re going to crucify LaSalle.”
    But LaSalle’s case rated only a sentence or two—there were a couple of giant stories pushing everything else to the back, one national, one local.
    The local one was huge—a blockbuster, said the anchorman—so mind-boggling no one would believe it. But first, a bigger one.
    It was the verdict in the Billy Ray Hutchison case, a murder trial the press was calling “O.J. Revisited.” The thing was eerie, it was so similar to the O.J. Simpson trial: Billy Hutchison, an African American football player who did commercials, was accused of killing a wife who claimed a history of abuse.
    But there were two major differences in the cases—the two were still married, and the wife was also black. To Skip, the evidence seemed overwhelming, and, to her mind, there wasn’t a racial issue.
    Open-and-shut, she would have said.
    But because of the Simpson trial—and because of Hutchison’s huge popularity—all eyes were on it.
    The verdict was “not guilty.”
    “Shit. He did it.”
    Steve said, “FemiNazi.”
    Skip made her hands into claws, pretending to scratch his eyes out. “It’s not funny. He bought himself a walk.”
    “Get used to it. It’s the American way.”
    “Oh, hell. I wish I had a joint.”
    “Thought you stopped that shit.”
    “God, I’m in a mood.”
    “I don’t see why you’re so surprised. He’s not the kind of guy who’d do a thing like that.”
    For the first time, she really looked at him, suddenly not sure what he was saying. “You’re kidding, right?”
    “I’m just a right-thinking American—the bitch had it coming. Probably gave him lip every time he brought home a bimbo.”
    Okay, he was kidding. “You’re not helping my mood.”
    “Hey, who cares about evidence? I need justice—I work all day and when I come home I want a hot meal on the table. What do I get? Lip, lip, and lip. Billy’s my man.”
    “I see what you’re saying, but there were eight women on that jury.”
    “He’s a good-looking dude. That goes a long way in this country—along with a few million green ones.”
    “I hate lawyers.”
    “Omigod. Listen.”
    The local story was on. Sometime between now and the time Skip left headquarters, the superintendent of police had resigned.
    She said, “Holy shit! I should have called Cappello. Did I hear that right?”
    “Even I don’t believe that one.”
    “They said it though, right? Pinch me.”
    “They’ll probably replace him with somebody worse.”
    “There isn’t anyone worse. This dude’s dumb as a rock and corrupt as hell. God, is he stupid! Every day he transfers somebody just for the hell of it—just to prove he can do it, I guess.”
    “Do you think he’s resigning over this LaSalle thing?”
    “Naah. I bet it’s been in the works for weeks. Even the mayor can’t stomach him—or more likely, can’t stomach the increasing outcries of an angry populace. If he’s smart, he’ll bring in someone from outside.”
    “The problem is, he’s not smart.”
    “Well, he may be desperate.”
    “I know I am.”
    “Well. Mr. Cynical finally comes clean.”
    He shrugged. “You gotta keep your sense of humor. Either that or go nuts.”
    “You know what? This is good news. We just heard good news on the boob tube. Mark down the date and time. Break out the champagne.”

Two
    DORISE WAS WASHING wineglasses in a great big old stainless steel double sink equipped with garbage disposal. She was in pig heaven.
    “Dorise! That’s lovely,