Later, while I put the computer back up, LuEllen went out to a grocery store and ran into Lucius Bell in the fresh produce department. He was the councilman who owned my painting.

“He wants us to come over tonight,” LuEllen said as she unloaded her bags into the refrigerator. “After dinner. For bourbon and branch, whatever that is

“

“Water,” I said.

“Whatever.” She closed the refrigerator door and stretched like a cat, as she tends to do when she’s feeling sexy. “That boy could develop a serious case of the hots for me.”

“And would it be reciprocated?”

“Could be,” she said, grinning. “He has the nicest eyes, good shoulders

“

“Probably wears nylons and lipstick when there’s nobody around. Does strange things with carp.”

“Not my Lucius,” she said in a southern simper.

“Why, God?” I asked, appealing to the ceiling. “Why women? Wasn’t the fuckin’ bubonic plague enough? Wasn’t the H-bomb-“

We were kidding. On the way over to Bell’s, though, I noticed she was wearing her Obsession.

I’d done Sunrise, Josie Harry Bar Light 719.5 five years before, in about twenty minutes, sitting awkwardly on a sandbar a few feet from a rented pontoon boat. I’ve done a lot of traveling on the river over the years, though never before in the style of the Fanny. It had always been in little fourteen-foot bass boats and rented pontoons and even canoes.

Josie Harry was one of the good ones. I spotted it, hung on a white wall between two built-in book cabinets, as soon as I walked into Bell’s dining room.

“Wonderful,” I said. “Who did the framing for you? The gallery?”

“No, I had it done here in town,” he said.

“You found a good framer,” I said. “It looks fine.”

I went over it inch by inch. After a minute or two LuEllen and Bell wandered back to the sitting room, chatting. They liked each other, all right, but I didn’t expect any trouble. LuEllen had a penchant for variety but only when her security wasn’t at stake. She would never let sex step on that.

“Satisfied? That I haven’t done anything embarrassing to it?” Bell asked when I finally joined them. He did have an engaging way about him, not diminished by the fact that he owned one of my paintings and was taking good care of it.

“I’m more than satisfied; I’m delighted,” I said, looking back at the painting. “It’s got a good spot, good light, protection. That’s what it’s made for.”

“I had an offer for it. An old lawyer guy here in town. Five hundred over what I paid.”

“Tell him to get his own,” I said.

He nodded. “I did, and he said he would. Don’t know if he has, but he gets down to N’Orleans often enough.”