“Rainey was telling the DEA about this?”

Terry laughed.

“Uh-uh. He fed them an occasional inbound shipment or dropped the dime on small-time players. Just enough to keep the DEA off his back. They didn’t know he was smuggling cash until everything blew up.”

“What happened?”

Lucy said, “The woman. Dru Rayne’s true name is Rose Marie Platt. Rainey met her when she worked at a restaurant down in the Quarter for a man named Tolliver James. She and James were living together.”

Terry jumped in again.

“James bought fish and shrimp from Rainey, so the speculation is this was how Rainey and Platt met. Couple of months later, she broke up with James and moved in with Rainey. Couple of months after that, which puts us two weeks before the storm, Rainey and Platt disappeared with the Bolivians’ money. On or about that same day, a shrimper named Mike Fourchet went fishing, but didn’t come back. Mike and his boat were found at a landing on Quarantine Bay. Fourchet had been shot in the back of the head.”

“Was Fourchet one of Rainey’s fishermen?”

“That’s how the DEA made the connection. They found Fourchet’s name in Rainey’s business records. Then they really got stoked when they found out the woman’s ex-boyfriend, Tolliver James, was murdered during the storm.”

“Did Rainey do it?”

“Not even close. The DEA believes he was killed by your specialist. He was beaten to death—beat real bad, too, like he was tortured. The bones in his legs were broken so bad they were nothing but splinters down in the meat.”

Terry paused as if he realized he was being too graphic with Lucy in the room.

“Sorry, Ms. Chenier.”

“Terry, please.”

“Anyway, all this stuff I’m telling you, it took the Feds and the DOJ two or three years to figure out. You know how investigations come together—you build’m a piece at a time.”

“You said Rainey was good for a murder.”

“Fourchet. The case dicks learned Rainey delivered the twelve mil to Fourchet the morning he went out. They believe Rainey went back later without the guards, or maybe told Fourchet to meet up with him on his way out, but either way, Fourchet ended up dead, and Rainey and Platt split with the money.”

“So Rainey and Platt murdered Fourchet?”

“Everyone down here thinks so, including the Bolivians. That’s why they put out the reward and sent their man up here. This guy’s been after them for years.”

“Do you know who he is?”

“All I know is what I’ve told you. He’s their go-to executioner.”

“Executioner.”

“That’s how my guy described him before he shut down. An executioner. What else you gonna call an animal who racks up nine killings?”

Terry corrected himself.

“Eleven.”

Nobody spoke for a moment, then Terry remembered something.