Chapter 4Louis Santos was sweating profusely as he scaled the levee. Although it was now dark, he wanted to avoid the tourists on the nearby walkway to the river. As he scuttled along the rise of the levee, he slipped several times on the grass, which was laden with humidity. He finally came to an old barge that was docked at the foot of the levee away from the more populated river boat landing.
Louis pulled out a cigar, bit off the end, and struck a match, waving the match slowly back and forth before lighting his cigar. He then took a long pull off the Havana and waited.
As he straightened his tie and smoothed his wet shirt, he thought about how much he hated New Orleans. It was too damn hot, too French, and the light was all wrong. He missed Baton Rouge, and he had no intention of han
