by Julie Smith
“Are you kidding?” he said. “That one I got over without a therapist. I never want to see the woman again. She may not be the devil, even if her father thinks so, but she’s so selfish and manipulative”—his mind wandered off—“then again, guess who made her that way? I always wondered about Warren.”
“About Warren?” Talba wondered if he was going where she thought he was going. “Meaning you think he has a sexual hold on her?”
He seemed relieved that she’d been the one to say it. “I just don’t know. But I sure don’t rule it out. It would explain why he tries to control her every move, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, but so would insanity. Which is what he’s claiming for her. What do you think—crazy or not?”
“I think he’s the quintessential overprotective parent and she’s way too close to him. When she left, I told her—fool that I am—that her family would never get another penny from mine.” He stopped to get Talba’s reaction. “Yeah, yeah, I know how dumb that sounds—I’m over that kind of stuff. But listen, know what she said? She said, ‘Fine. We don’t need it.’ Now tell me she isn’t too tied up with Daddy.”
“Well, in that case, let’s take another tack. You really don’t seem to think much of Warren. What if she finally did break away? What if he didn’t actually want her to marry Buddy—would he kill to keep it from happening?”
So far, he’d impressed Talba as thoughtful and balanced. But on this one he didn’t hesitate. He began to nod before she got the words out. “Definitely. She’ll always be Daddy’s Little Girl—so far as he’s concerned. And he’s a ruthless bastard.”
This, Talba thought, from a mob prince.
He smiled. “Gonna get me an ugly woman next time.” Like beauty made you mean.
But this was no time for a feminist lecture. “Make sure she’s poor, too,” Talba said. “Then you’ve got your bases covered.”
Chapter 18
“Eddie, you up for a drink?” Ms. Wallis had a bottle of wine with her, waving it around with a couple of glasses like some movie seducer.
He slid his spectacles down in a vain attempt to hide his eye bags, but it didn’t work. “You’re aubergine today,” she pronounced.
“Hell, I don’t even know that word.”
“’Scuse your French.”
“I’m gonna need a drink, right? Is that what this is about?”
“Well, I do, anyhow. Had a pretty interesting afternoon.”
“Ya got any bourbon?”
“No, but you do. In the back room.” And she went to get it.
When she returned, she poured generously and told him yet another outrageous story. Hell, if he did half the things she said she did, he’d be out of business—and he figured there was plenty she didn’t tell him. But she could make the infernal machine sing and that was what made life in the office worth living. That and her butterscotch voice. Damn beautiful voice the woman had.
It was the things she used it for that gave him pause. She’d just point blank asked Truelove if his ex-wife was crazy. Now if it was Eddie, he’d have had a drink with him, worked the subject around—the guy wouldn’t even have known he was being interviewed. But somehow, she’d gotten away with it. “Interesting family,” he said.
“Yeah, but the jury’s still out on them. And furthermore I don’t see where any of this is getting us. What I want to know is, what was that scene with LaGarde and Bob the shrimper all about?”
“There’s somethin’ funny about it. They’ve gotta pay the fisherman when he unloads the boat. I don’t see how Buddy could have owed him money.”
“Well, I could ask him, but I don’t know how to find him.”
“Thought that was ya specialty, Ms. Wallis.”
“I’m kind of stuck. There’s a Louisiana Shrimp Association, but from what I gather it’s not exactly a trade union. And anyhow, the guy’s name is Bob—pretty hard to figure out which Bob, even if he’s a member and they’ve got a roster and they’d be willing to show it to me. I was thinking about a shortcut.”
Eddie didn’t like the sound of this. “Like what?”
“Well, I’ve got to ask somebody. I just can’t think up a good lie. Thought you might be able to help.”
“’Cause I’m so good at lying.”
She shrugged. “Well, that’s your story.”
It was, actually. He didn’t really have an answer for that. He thought about it. “Who’d know who the guy is?”
“Royce or Leitner, but they’re still a little disturbed about my maid act. They’re not going to cooperate.”
“Okay, let’s think. It goes like this, am I right? Buddy was the shrimpers’ friend, but the shrimpers don’t like LaGarde—or at least Bob doesn’t. Wonder if Kristin hates her father as much as he hates her.”
“Omigod. Eddie, that’s it. You are a genius.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that. What’s your big idea?”
“You don’t want to know.”
It occurred to him that she was thoroughly and completely correct. “Ya right about that, Ms. Wallis. It’s the last thing I want to know—ya goin’ home or what?”
“Yeah. Or what. Good Night, Moon.”
He kind of liked that. It reminded him of when he used to read to Angie.
“Hey,” he said. “How’d the kid like the cat?”
“Let’s put it this way. I’m still her least favorite person.”
And she left to go get the damned cat, feeling somewhat mortified about the whole incident. As she was driving across the bridge, her cell phone rang. She checked her caller ID and saw that it was a call she had to take. “Hey, Luce, how’re you doing?”
“Terrible.” The girl was crying. “I hate my life. I wish I’d never been born.”
Hoo boy, Talba thought.
“Something bad’s wrong with Royce. Suzanne and Mommo took him to the hospital.”
“You’re alone there?”
“Yeah. He called Suzanne to come get him at the marina, and she yelled at him on the phone. God, why do people who hate each other get married?”
“He got hurt at the marina?”
“I guess so. And then Suzanne yelled at him!”
“What about?”
“I don’t know. They’re married, that’s all—they’re always fighting about something. She says Royce drinks too much and he says she’s a lazy bitch. Mommo says they’re both ungrateful and they ought to be glad to have a roof over their heads. I’m never getting married. I’m going to be a lesbian.”
Glad for the distraction, Talba said, “You don’t think women fight with each other?”
That stopped her, but only for a minute. “I’m going to be a hermit. Have you talked to Kristin? I hate Kristin.”
“I thought she was the only adult you could stand—besides me, of course. And now you hate her?”
“She’s deserted me. She never cared about me at all.”
“Honey, she’s had a lot on her mind.”
“She’s a phony bitch.”
You should hear what her own father has to say about her, Talba thought, and said, “She has her own grief. You should give her a break.”
“Oh, God, I just want to die.”
“Well, don’t die. Luce—I’d miss you. I’m on my way over, but I’ve got to go somewhere else first. I have to pick something up. Can you just sit tight for awhile?”
“I guess so.”
“Good. Look, about Royce—did Suzanne bring him home?”
“No. Mommo went with her to the marina, and she called from there and said they were going to the hospital.”
“And you don’t know what’s wrong?”
“God, I don’t know anything! I’m all alone here.” She began to cry again.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Talba rang off, having decided what she was going to do with the cat. She’d actually gotten the idea the minute Darryl’s allergy became apparent—after all, Suzanne wasn’t really allergic. She probably just need
ed the opportunity to work through her fears.
She found Darryl’s house as sterile as a hospital. He’d already vacuumed and confined the innocent offender to the bathroom, and he was breathing as normally as she was. Talba bundled the kitty supplies into the car, boxed Gumbo up, and vacuumed the bathroom—it was the least she could do. And then, after a little rehashing, she left, forbearing to tell Darryl her plan—he’d probably just point out the foolishness of trying to take an animal where it wasn’t welcome.
She wasn’t up for that.
This poor cat needed a friend and so did Lucy. Even if they were only together for a few days, it had to help—if it didn’t work out, the animal could come live with her and her mama and its wicked stepsisters, Koko and Blanche. If it did work, the kitten would be another bond between Lucy and Raisa. They’d have to see each other if they had a pet in common.
Nearing the Champagne palace, she got Lucy on the phone again. “You okay?”
“I’m better. Mommo called and said Royce is just banged up a little, and they’ll bring him home as soon as they run some tests—but she said they’ll be awhile.”
“Good. Just what I want to hear. Have you read Life of Pi yet?”
The first response was a scream so piercing Talba had to put down the phone and rub her ear. It was followed up by a wall of words, some of them the same. “Oh. My. God. That is the best book I’ve ever read.
“Oh. My. God!! I stayed up all night. I cried and cried when the ship went down. That poor zebra. Thank you so much.”
“Was I right? Did you identify with it?”
“Yeah…” She hesitated. “Except for one thing—at least Pi had a friend. I really cried when he left.”
“Hold on five minutes, okay? Then meet me at the back door.”
“Why the back door?”
“Because I don’t want anybody to know I’m there. And neither do you.”
She had the supplies on the back porch by the time the girl got there. For once, the animal was blessedly quiet. Seeing the box, Lucy said, “What’s that?”
“Richard Parker.” The tiger in the book. “You take the litter and food, okay?”
“Richard Parker? There’s a cat in there?”
“Litter box, cat food, cat,” Talba said. “Brilliant, Holmes.” And Gumbo said something, too—something more protesting than piteous, like Let me out of here, you two-footed scum.
At the angry little sound, Lucy’s face took on an expression similar to the one Raisa had worn to watch the Bacchus Parade. And just as quickly, the childlike wonder was gone. Lucy was suddenly a character in a spy movie. Soundlessly, she picked up the equipment, kicked off her shoes, and padded upstairs, Talba behind her, cooing softly to the kitten.
They reached Lucy’s room (which looked like Pi’s ship after it went down), closed the door, and Talba said, “Christmas just came early. Go ahead—see what Santa Claus brought.”
The kid approached the box as if it contained the crown jewels. Sensing freedom, the kitten began to vocalize. One white paw came up through the opening between the box flaps. “Oh. My. God.” Lucy folded the flaps back and beheld her new pal. “Oh. My. God.” She picked up the animal, which began to purr, and tears began to run down her face.
Talba was alarmed. “Don’t tell me you’re allergic.”
“Allergic?” But she quickly lost interest in anything human. “Oh, you precious baby. You’re so little.” She held the kitten up and looked at it. “Oh. My. God. This is the prettiest kitten I’ve ever seen in my life. Is he really named Richard Parker?”
“No, that’s just her description. She’s actually a female. She was an orphan who hung around the marina—Royce called her Gumbo.”
“She can be Rikki.”
“Rikki it is.”
“Did Royce know you were going to bring her?”
“No, but he told me something he didn’t think was important. Guess what? Suzanne’s not allergic to cats—she’s afraid of them! And he didn’t make it a secret or anything—if you get discovered, you can quote me.” She chuckled. “Then you’ll see some fighting. But why don’t you shut Rikki in your room when you’re away? That way she’ll have time to adjust. And by the time they find her, she’ll already be ensconced. Know something? Royce loved this little thing—he wanted to bring her home, but he couldn’t because of Suzanne. I have a feeling he might be an ally.”
“I can’t believe you brought her to me.” The change in the girl was nothing short of astonishing. Whereas before she’d looked as if she’d lost her last friend, now she was animated and…hopeful. Like any child who had a reason to live. Talba would have said “happy” if she hadn’t known better.
“Well, it wasn’t actually my first thought, but if any two creatures ever needed each other, it’s you two.” She told the tale of Raisa and Darryl and the asthma attack, while Rikki went on patrol, poking her mottled nose into every cranny and corner, exactly as she’d done at Darryl’s house.
“Raisa can come see her whenever she wants.”
If they let you keep her, Talba thought. “Listen, what’s the new maid like? Maybe I could talk to her for you—see if she’ll keep quiet.”
“Oh, Mommo already fired her. Said she was worse than Alberta. So we don’t have anybody right now.”
“Uh-oh. Who cleans your room?”
Lucy laughed. “Are you kidding? Nobody in this house lifts a finger.”
“Well, why don’t you start keeping your room neat? Then nobody’ll have to come in.”
“Oh, Rikki’s a bribe, is that it?” She was laughing.
“Kid, you can live in a hellhole for all I care.” She looked around her. “In fact, you do. Just a thought, that’s all.”
Lucy surveyed her surroundings. “It is pretty bad. Maybe I could do a little something. That way when I change the litter, they won’t know.”
“Smuggling it in might be another matter, but I’ll leave that to you. But, listen, if worse comes to worst give Rikki back to me—don’t take her to the shelter, whatever you do.”
“I’m keeping her.” Somehow or other, she made her jaw look like Harrison Ford’s. Talba wasn’t about to argue with her.
“Good. By the way, I couldn’t find a kids’ poetry reading. So do you want to read Saturday night?”
“Saturday? That’s day after tomorrow.”
“Come on, kid—let’s jump-start that career. There’s a place called Reggie and Chaz that has readings all the time. I’ll take you.”
“It’s not my career—I’m going to be a cinematographer.”
“Well, this’ll give you something to fall back on.”
Not recognizing this as a stab at humor, Lucy didn’t crack a smile. Instead, she made a big show of nonchalance. “Whatever.” And then, “What should I wear?”
“Something that covers your midriff.”
Lucy grumbled something about Talba sounding like Mommo and saw her out the back door.
Mission accomplished—Pi now had a pal on the lifeboat. Talba just hoped the kid didn’t write some cute kitty poem for her debut.
After asking once more about Royce (there was no more news) she went home to call the client, her reasoning being this—if in fact the LaGarde bad blood was mutual, Kristin would happily put her in touch with someone who hated her father. She curled up with Koko and Blanche—who were singing loudly for their supper—and dialed, ignoring the two furry heads that kept trying to bonk her into action.
Kristin was all sweetness, her voice lilting over the line as if Talba were her oldest friend. “Hey, Talba. I was going to call you tomorrow, to see how you’re getting along.”
“You know who’d really appreciate a call? Lucy. The kid’s going through a rough time.”
“Oh, I know, I’ve just been so swamped. I’ll call her after school tomorrow.”
“I’m sure she’d appreciate it. Also, she might need your help. I just took her a kitten, and Suzanne claims to be allergic to cats—they’re probably
going to try to make her give it up.”
“Oh, Suzanne. She’s such a manipulator.” That word again. “Sure. I’ll put in a word with Adele. She loves me. So how about the investigation? Are you getting anywhere?”
“A few things are falling into place. But I’m puzzled about something. Does your dad have anything to do with the marina?”
Silence for a minute. Finally, “No. I’m sure of it. He hated Buddy.”
“Oh, really.”
“The day after we announced our engagement, he called me into his office and fired me. I said okay, I was going to marry the man I love.”
“He fired you.” That didn’t jibe with what Talba had been told.
Kristin laughed, and her laugh was like mercury flowing. “Oh, he hired me back before the day was out. He needs me and he knows he needs me. But he did say he wasn’t coming to the wedding.”
Talba was getting a lot of information she hadn’t bargained for. She said, “Can I ask you a delicate question?”
“Sure. You already know everything else about us.”
“Do you suspect your father of killing Buddy? Is that what this is all about?”
“Oh, no. Omigod, absolutely not. When I say ‘hate,’ I mean he didn’t think Buddy was the right man for me. Old enough to be my father, he said—can you believe that? Considering Tootsie-pop.”
Talba assumed she meant her stepmother. “So you don’t suspect your father?”
“Talba, he’s my daddy.”
“Okay, I just had to ask. Look, I have an off-the-wall question for you. I found out a guy who did business at the marina is mad at your father, and I’m wondering why.”
“Well, that could be anybody. Lots of people don’t like Daddy—he’s kind of a difficult man.”
“The guy’s named Bob, and he’s a shrimper. Do you have any idea who that is?”
But Kristin’s mind had gone off on a tangent. “Wait a minute. I heard something about this. How do you know about it?”
“I hear things.”
“Oh, no, you didn’t hear it. It happened at lunch, I heard. You were there. My father took you to lunch and gave you The Speech, right? I hope you had the sense to tell him to go to hell. He does that every time I get ‘out of control,’ as he likes to say. He doesn’t like me trying to find out who killed Buddy.”