Chapter Thirty-Nine
LIEUTENANT CORNELIUS BATES didn’t like the idea of the FBI poking around his case in the Ninth, until he saw Special Agent Jennifer Jimenez walk across the threshold of his HQ office on Royal.
She wore her hair back in a tight ponytail, but Bates was already imagining what it would look like tumbling forward as his eyes passed over the rest of her body. She even made the gun and badge on her belt look good.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, approaching her from around his desk, smoothing his tie over his snug shirt.
He reached out to shake her hand. Firm.
“Thank you for meeting with me, Lieutenant Bates. I have a few questions on the murders in the Garden and any connection to those last night in the Ninth.”
Bates returned to his position behind his desk. She took the chair facing him, jazz drifting in through the open window behind her. Royal Street was one block over from Bourbon and it was nearing twilight, which meant happy hour was in full swing.
“What’s the FBI’s interest in my case?” he asked.
“International drug trafficking.”
He knew the superintendent would play this however Icy wanted.
The DA did not like the idea of runaway crime on her watch, but if a drug war was heating up, she intended to lay that culpability on the feds.
Bates needed them to stay out of his way, chasing shadows, especially after his recent call with Walt Kimbel.
“What are you offering?” he asked.
“The Bureau can lean in with federal resources.”
“We’ve got adequate resources on this thing. We know the area. And I don’t have to remind you: we lost two of our own.”
She nodded, her hands resting on her knee. “Sincere condolences on the loss of your men.” After a respectful beat, she added, “You think this might be spillover international cartel activity?”
“I would work with the DEA on that,” Bates said. Over the years, he had discovered a little trick when dealing with the feds. He could play one off the other when he needed to.
“We’re discussing a task force,” she responded. “Pooling resources from DEA, FBI, ATF, and NOPD to explore any cross-border connections.”
She was good, Bates thought. She recognized his tactic and had countered it with the right bureaucratic maneuver.
“We appreciate that, but it may be premature. Task forces make a lot of noise. Let my people work their sources. We’re stalking, not flushing.
Give me a few days,” Bates said. “I’ll get you a briefing on the latest developments and we can go from there.
Maybe we could meet up and discuss it over at the Carousel Bar?
” Bates jerked his bald head toward the Hotel Monteleone.
There was no ring on her finger. Why not?
Special Agent Jennifer Jimenez stood up to leave, offering her hand across the desk. “I’ll be in touch,” she said.
She exited the peach-colored edifice three minutes later, pulling out her phone.
She waited to initiate the call until she was a half block up Royal.
The rain had let up, but the streets were still wet, a patch of clearing pink showing behind gray cloud wisps.
She ducked into a cobblestone alley beside a souvenir shop.
“How’d it go?” Stanton asked after the first ring.
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Did you show Bates the witness sketch?”
“No.”
“Reason?”
“Not sure. Just a feeling I got from him.”
“What feeling was that?”
“My skin crawling.”