The Privateer’s Cross
by Alex Morgan
“You don’t believe me, do ya?” John LeBeau raised a beefy, tattooed arm and took a long drag on his cigarette. He winked at the young man standing next to him.
Henry Gastineau crossed his arms over his chest, fixing John with an unbelieving look. “That you’re a grave digger here in New Orleans? The water table is only a foot down, which is why people are buried above ground. So, no. Not for a second.”
John half-laughed and half-coughed as he exhaled smoke. It seemed to glow in the dark, illuminated by a streetlight which stood a short distance away. “Does this face look like it could lie to you?”
“Yes!”
Both men burst out laughing. Henry considered John to be rugged but not handsome at all. Ink covered most of his upper torso, up his neck, visible
