Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 08 - Death In The French Quarter - Plot & Excerpts
I tried the white pages online with an equal lack of success, so I decided to drive out to Austin Expediters, 201 Third Street, not one of Austin’s classier neighborhoods.Austin Expediters had closed shop.And from the layers of grime covering the windows, and the trash and sleeping winos piled at the front door, it had not been a recent closure. Third Street is one of the streets frequented by vagrants and day laborers, that flotsam of humanity desperate for a few bucks to buy a bottle of Thunderbird wine.As I climbed out of my pickup, two or three started in my direction, but I waved them away. “No work,” I called out. I pointed at the red brick building. “Just looking.” Disappointed, the three shuffled back to the dark alley from which they had come. I thought of my old man, wondering if he was still alive, still panhandling and riding the rails like these hobos. For all I knew, he could have been one of the three I waved off, but no, I told myself. I’d recognize him-maybe.
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