PI On A Hot Tin Roof

little thing like a night in jail could turn the meanest white bitch in town into a zombie? He depended on me, and this is what happens!”
    “Somehow I get the feeling I’m missing something.”
    “You know what? I’m going to die if I don’t get to bed soon. Let me tell you tomorrow, okay? I’ve got to make sure LaKeisha gets Al out, get hold of Dad…I think we need a meeting. You doing anything tomorrow?”
    Talba had a date with her boyfriend, Darryl Boucree, who’d had his daughter Saturday night. She hadn’t seen him in days. “Nope. Totally free,” she said. “What time you want to meet?”
    “I can’t call Mom and Dad back from the Gulf Coast, and anyway I wouldn’t want to. You know what a good mood Dad’s always in when he gets back.”
    “Uh-huh. And think I know why.”
    “Yeah. Works for Mom, too. I don’t know why, but it never seems to have that effect on me. But let’s let them have their little honeymoon, shall we? And maybe meet tomorrow night? Somewhere besides their house—the last thing we need’s Mom’s input.”
    Talba could hardly think of a worse idea—Audrey in mother bear mode might involve firebombs. “Sure,” she said. She could at least spend the day with Darryl. His daughter, Raisa, would still be there, so sex was out, but she figured Eddie needed it a lot more than she did. She could live with the schedule change. “How about this? What if I call Eddie and say you and I have an emergency—get him to meet me at the office?”
    “Perfect.”
    ***
    Eddie found the call from Ms. Wallis, as he invariably called his young associate, on his home voicemail, and he didn’t feel good about it. He phoned her back: “What’s so important it can’t wait till tomorrow?”
    “Eddie, it’s Angie’s deal,” she said. “I just called so you could kill the messenger and still keep your family intact.”
    He sighed, feeling still less good about it. “Why don’t y’all come over for dinner?”
    “Angie said no. Because of Audrey.” So it directly involved his daughter. He was now feeling downright anxious.
    “Well, let’s at least make it a bar. I got a feeling I’m gonna need a drink. And Angie knows all the bartenders.”
    So they agreed to meet after dinner at the Touché Bar in the French Quarter, which was technically part of the Royal Orleans Hotel, though it had a separate entrance and none of the guests would probably be caught dead in it. It was strictly a hangout for locals, but you could go in the back for privacy if too many friends and neighbors were bellying up. Eddie’d picked it because the Quarter was convenient for the two women, and the hotel was just about the only place there he could be sure he’d find parking.
    He got himself a beer and engaged a couple of drunken lawyers and a besotted judge in inane conversation until his daughter appeared. She didn’t look good. As usual, she was dressed in black, and it emphasized the circles under her eyes. “You’re starting to look like your old man,” he said. “Ms. Wallis swears she can gauge my mood by the color of my eye bags. Yours are looking kind of inky.”
    “Well, yours are kind of rosy, Dad. Good weekend?”
    She was trying for lightness, but he could see the tension in her face. “Yeah, great,” he said without enthusiasm. “Way too long ago. Whatcha drinkin’?”
    She didn’t hesitate. “Bourbon and water.”
    Ms. Wallis popped in the open door and sneaked up behind them. “Glass of white wine while you’re at it. Hi, Eddie. Good weekend?”
    “Till it turned bad,” he said. “That’s what’s happening, right?”
    Neither of them contradicted him.
    They shook off the three sodden officers of the court and sauntered to the back, where there were actual booths and tables, and not one single patron. Eddie sneezed. Mildew was running amok in the place; or maybe it was that mold that gave you a headache. Something was giving him one.
    “Okay, girls. How bad is it?”
    “Getting worse,” Angie said, causing Ms. Wallis to glance at her anxiously. “But it might be containable—with Talba’s contacts.”
    “Talba’s contacts.” That was a new one; Eddie was famous for knowing everybody. “You’re hurting my feelings.”
    Ms. Wallis looked mystified.
“Me?”
she mouthed at Angie.
    Angie shook her head at her, ever so slightly. “Let’s back up, shall we? Start from the beginning?”
    “Floor’s yours.”
    And out of his daughter, Angela, the darling