Louisiana Lament

by Julie Smith

  Chapter Four

  Eddie Valentino was wondering just where the hell Ms. Wallis had got to when she swanned in dripping wet and demanded an audience.

  “Must be serious,” he said, “when the Baroness herself comes crawlin’.”

  She set her rain-soaked butt on his other chair. “It is serious. I spent the morning watching the cops fish a body out of a swimming pool.”

  That stopped him cold. For a moment he just sat there trying to get his mouth to close. Finally, he said, “Ms. Wallis, Ms. Wallis. Fulla surprises, as usual.” He looked at his watch. “How ’bout the afternoon?”

  “The cop shop.”

  Eddie sighed. “Nobody we know, I hope?”

  She frowned, trying to figure out what he meant.

  “The floater.”

  “Oh. Not really. I mean, I met her once, but that’s not the issue. Somebody I know called me over there. Found the body and called me instead of the cops.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that at all. “And who might that someone be?”

  “My sister.”

  She was trying to shock him. Or maybe she wasn’t—she had a way of doing it without trying. “Didn’t know ya had a sister,” he said uneasily.

  “Neither does Miz Clara. I think she might be about to find out.”

  “Half sister? Is that what ya sayin’?” He liked correcting her, for once. She had a college education and never let him forget he didn’t.

  She nodded. “Yeah, half sister. My dad’s kid. I didn’t know about her myself till about a year and a half ago. I’ve seen her exactly once before in my life. Tried to get in touch many times, but she didn’t want anything to do with me. Then she finds this body, freaks out, and calls me.”

  “Or, anyway, that’s her story,” Eddie finished for her.

  “You got it.”

  “Well, ya got me interested.” He leaned back and picked up the phone. “Eileen, bring us some coffee, would ya? Me and Ms. Wallis are ’bout to have a nice long talk.” He folded his hands on his chest. “Shoot, Ms. Wallis, and ya don’t have to take me literally.”

  It took her about half an hour to unfurl the story. When she got to the part about the gun, he said, “Uh-oh.”

  “Uh-oh is right,” she said miserably.

  “Keep goin’.” He gave her the get-on-with-it sign.

  The second thing he didn’t like was the part about Rashad being Janessa’s boyfriend. He raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah,” Ms. Wallis said. “If Janessa didn’t do it, sounds like he did, doesn’t it?”

  Eddie shrugged. He’d worked way too many cases to jump to conclusions. “Now, hold ya horses, Ms. Wallis. What ya think his motive might be?”

  “I don’t know—crime of passion or something. Maybe he and Allyson had a fight—simple as that.”

  “Ya think ya sister did it?”

  “Of course not. Why would she?”

  “She’s a temporary employee, right? And obviously this Brower broad had some money. Maybe Brower caught her stealin’.”

  “Eddie, come on.”

  “That’s how cops’ minds work, Ms. Wallis. They’ve gotta think of every contingency. Let me give you a little lesson about how the police work. They’ve got three suspects right now, and ya sister’s number one, especially if that gun turns out to be the murder weapon. She says there were two other people there, but no one’s around to say yea or nay—so they’ve got only her word. With her prints on that gun, she’s in it big-time. They’re gonna try to find those two guys to eliminate her as a suspect. But if they can’t do that, they’re gonna try harder and harder to build a case against her.”

  Ms. Wallis actually appeared chastened—a wholly new and, in his opinion, utterly becoming look for her. “But… she wants me to look for Rashad. She thinks they’re going to think he did it.”

  “So she says.”

  “I was thinking I might do it. What do you think?”

  The thing was to be calm, Eddie told himself. If he came down too heavy too soon, that would clinch the deal—he’d never get a minute’s work out of her till she’d run the thing into the ground. He executed his famous shrug. “Her money’s as good as the next client’s.”

  “EdDEE!” she barked. “You and I both know she hasn’t got any. She wants me to work for free.”

  He leaned forward and fixed her with a boss-stare. “Well, that’s another animal, idn’t it, Ms. Wallis? Whatever happened to ‘no tickee, no washee’?”

  “For heaven’s sake, Eddie, I don’t even know what that means.”

  “Well, let’s try it another way. ’Course ya shouldn’t do it When ya gon’ do it, for one thing? I need ya here.”

  “I knew you’d say that.”

  “Well, why’d ya even waste my time?”

  She fidgeted, which wasn’t like her. “I don’t know. I didn’t feel like keeping it from you, that’s all.”

  “Uh-oh. There’s more, isn’t there?” The office phone rang, but he ignored it.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Eileen, get the phone, will ya?” he shouted. He turned back to Ms. Wallis. “Ya do think ya sister did it, ’zat it? Then we would have a pro bono mess on our hands.”

  He had meant to be stern, had just been thinking out loud, but suddenly she was smiling, practically hugging his neck, and he saw the trap he’d fallen into. “Eddie, baby, you’re a prince!”

  “I’m not ya damned baby!” He was seriously pissed at himself, and Eileen had to pick that moment to poke her head in.

  “Talba, it’s for you. Says she’s ya sister.”

  “Hoo, boy,” Eddie said. “Go on. Take it.”

  He listened as she picked up the phone. “Janessa? What’s up?”

  Ms. Wallis listened a few minutes, saying hardly anything except “Oh, shit,” which made him wince. He hated it when women cursed.

  Finally she hung up and turned to him. “They’ve got her back at the Second District.”

  “That was damn quick. They must have found something—like a witness.”

  “She wants a lawyer.”

  “Have they arrested her?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. All she said was, they came to her house and got her. She freaked out.”

  “And called you. She got her sister’s brains, anyhow.” He sighed. “I guess we better get Angie.” His daughter was a criminal attorney.

  He picked up the phone.

  “Tell her I’ll meet her there,” Ms. Wallis said.

  “What for?”

  “Like I said, the kid’s freaked.”

  The Second District, housed in a ramshackle old building on Magazine Street, resembles a police station of a century ago. Aside from computers, it contains almost no artifacts of the late Twentieth Century and, due to lots of dark, lustrous wood, has an unexpected homey feel about it. Talba took along the book she was reading (The God of Small Things—prose, but food for the poetic soul) to keep her busy while she waited for Angie Valentino to work her magic. When her cell phone rang, she was almost reluctant to answer. But she did and she was glad: it was Skip Langdon, finally returning her call. “Baroness. What’s up?”

  “I called to report a murder. Think nothing of it, though—I made do with nine-one-one.”

  “A murder. What the hell happened?”

  In her mind’s eye, Talba could see Langdon in her office at the Third District, probably wearing pants a little too short—Langdon was six feet tall—and some kind of T-shirt that didn’t quite match. She wasn’t known for her fashion sense. But the detective was a big, good-looking white cop with hair so curly some of her relatives might also have been Talba’s.

  They’d met on a case and hit it off.

  “Relative of mine went to work and found the lady of the house floating in her pool with a bullet in her head. Called me instead of the white po-lice.”

  “Uh-oh. What kind of relative?”

  “My little half sister—love-child of my daddy’s. Miz Clara doesn�
��t even know about her.”

  “Did she do it?” Langdon might be her friend, but she was still a cop.

  “So far as I can tell, she doesn’t have a motive. But they’ve got her down at the Second District. Took our statements, let us go, then came back for her. Like, almost immediately.”

  “Oh, man. They must have gotten something. Who caught the case?”

  “Guy named Crockett. Kind of a bully, seemed like.”

  “Reuben Crockett. At least he’s not a racist. Could be worse. He’s actually a pretty good guy.”

  Crockett hadn’t seemed like a good guy to Talba. “Listen, I really appreciate your calling back. Janessa’s scared to death.”

  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” Langdon rang off, leaving Talba to her reading.

  It was over an hour before Angie Valentino came out of the room where she’d been with Janessa and Crockett. Talba drew in her breath—Janessa was with her. “She’s not under arrest?”

  “You kidding? Aunt Angie’s here.”

  Janessa pouted. “Well, they gave me that ‘you-got-the-right’ shit. And you ain’t my aunt, okay?”

  “You’re walking out of here, aren’t you?” Angie snapped.

  Talba said, “You guys need a playground monitor?”

  Angie and Janessa glared at each other. Best to separate them, Talba thought. She said, “Come on, Janessa. I’ll take you home. Thanks, Angie.”

  “Bring her to the office. We have to powwow.”

  Janessa seemed to have disappeared into herself. Once in the car, she folded her hands over her chest and bowed her head, as if she intended to sleep. Poor kid, Talba thought, and finally said, “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  Talba heard some faint gasps, as if the girl was crying quietly.

  Janessa’s shoulders started to shake. For a while she didn’t speak, and when she did, she screamed. “I hate that bitch!”

  “All, right, out with it. Why would you hate Angie?”

  “She ain’ act like she on my side.”

  “Well, she is. She got you out didn’t she?”

  “I hate everybody! I didn’t do nothin’ and they say I kill Cassie and Allyson!”

  Talba couldn’t believe she’d heard right. “What’d you say?”

  Janessa didn’t answer.

  “Janessa, who the hell’s Cassie?”

  “Allyson’s daughter. They say I was jealous of her and Rashad!”

  “Wait a minute—there was another body in that house? What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, hell, I don’t know. I only know what Ms. Hotshit Lawyer tell me. I ain’ know what happen to Cassie. All I know, she dead, too.” Janessa started to cry. “I wouldn’t do nothin’ to Cassie. She was always real nice to me.”

  “Well, what’s this about Rashad? He was involved with Cassie and you?”

  “They say Cassie with Rashad. Say I got mad, kill Cassie, then kill Allyson.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Yeah. Why would I kill Allyson, too?”

  “They were just trying out a theory.”

  Janessa didn’t answer. Deciding silence was the best course, Talba kept quiet till they were in the office, where Angie was drinking coffee with Eddie.

  Eddie stood up to greet the newcomer. “Janessa. Real glad to meetcha. I’m Eddie Valentino.”

  Janessa didn’t offer to shake hands, but Talba could see her thawing a little. Eddie was good with people.

  “Eileen!” Eddie called. “Can you bring in a couple of extra chairs?” He went to help Eileen, and then waved to the sisters to sit. Janessa dropped heavily into hers, like a sulky kid. She fixed Angie with a hostile stare. Talba figured Janessa was intimidated by her. The lawyer was dressed in black, as always, and she was sleek and commanding—sleek dark hair, sleek body, sleek outfit—like she was born to win in court. Other lawyers found her scary; why not Janessa?

  Eddie said, “Ladies, can I get you anything? Coffee?”

  “Sure,” Talba said. Janessa shook her head, determined not to speak.

  Eddie called Eileen again for coffee. “Janessa? Ya sure?” Janessa didn’t answer.

  Eddie said, “Ya look like ya sister a little bit. You as smart as she is? ’Cause Ms. Wallis is the brains of this operation.”

  Talba would have given anything for a tape recorder.

  He hadn’t finished laying it on. “We can’t do anything around here without ya sister. If you’re as smart as she is, we’re gonna get ya out of this with no problems. Now Angie here, she’s my daughter. Did ya know that?”

  Talba saw the girl do a near double-take. Evidently it hadn’t occurred to her that the self-contained Angie was anybody’s daughter.

  “Yep. And she’s smarter than ol’ Eddie is, too. We’ve got us a reg’lar all-girl band here. Ms. Wallis is about the best detective in town—little inexperienced, that’s all—and everybody knows Angie’s the best lawyer in the parish. You do what she says and we’re gonna get to the bottom of this thing.”

  Janessa spoke directly to Eddie. “I ain’ like her.”

  “Yeah, that’s what she tells me. Talk to me. Why don’t you like my little girl?”

  “She too tough.”

  “Tough is good. Tough’s what you want in a lawyer.”

  Janessa almost looked as if she believed him. Talba had to hand it to Eddie—he could charm a cobra.

  “Well, I’m not tough in this office,” Angie said. “That was just for the cops. It’s a game, Janessa. I needed you to stay really quiet in there so you wouldn’t say anything they could use against you. We didn’t know each other and I wanted to get you out as quick as I could. Now that we’re out of there, we can let down our hair. Let’s just talk, okay?”

  “Ain’ got nothin’ to say.”

  “Okay,” Angie said. “I’ll start. Miss Janessa’s in a heap of shit.”

  “Angie, for Christ’s sake!” Eddie cried.

  “Dad, I’m a lawyer, not a Sunday school teacher.”

  Here we go, Talba thought, but Janessa giggled. Maybe things were looking up.

  Angie uncrossed her legs and recrossed them the other way. “Look, here’s the story. Jimmy Giarruso went to notify Brower’s daughter, and, while he was banging on the door, this big, half-drowned cat comes up to the door like he thinks he’s going to be let in. There’s also a soaked newspaper lying on the ground. At first, Jimmy just figures Cassie isn’t home, but then he thinks, ‘Who would leave their cat out in a near-hurricane?’ Anyway, for whatever reason, he looks in the window and sees the body of a young woman in the living room. And he tries the door and it opens.”

  “Wait a minute,” Eddie interjected. “How’d he know she was dead?”

  Angie made the who-knows sign. “Christ, Dad, I don’t know. Maybe he did and maybe he didn’t. Maybe there was blood. Anyway, he thought she was in distress or deceased, and it turned out to be the latter.”

  “Umm, umm.” Eddie said. “Was she shot too?”

  “They wouldn’t say. Only told us that much to have something to bully Janessa with. But then Crockett, the Homicide guy, took me aside and made the old plea for a plea. Said they had evidence Cassie was involved with Rashad, and Janessa’s already admitted she was. That tells you what their theory is.”

  “I’m kind of curious,” Eddie said. “About how they worked the mother into this.”

  “Exactly what I asked him. You know how it is—they’ve got a million theories. Maybe Janessa killed Cassie, then went back to confront Rashad, and Allyson was killed in some kind of struggle. She and Rashad could have fought, and Allyson tried to intervene—”

  “You bitch!” Janessa shouted. “Whose side ya on?”

  Angie flared, but Eddie patted air. “Now, honey. She’s only repeatin’ what they told her. Ya gotta think like they do; that’s what makes a good lawyer. Ya gon’ be okay with that?”

  Janessa settled back in her chair and nodded. “I’m sorry.” Talba had seen i
t before. Eddie had a way with kids—and a kid was probably what Janessa was to him.

  “Go on, Angela,” he said.

  “Well, what they found—the evidence that makes them think Rashad and Cassie were an item—was a book. Seems Rashad’s a poet and this was a book of his poems—with a mushy inscription to Cassie.”

  “Where’d they find it?”

  “Hell if I know. Crockett’s not the kind of guy that gives away anything he doesn’t have to.”

  “Reuben Crockett?” Eddie said. “That who ya talkin’ about?”

  “You know him?”

  Eddie was tapping his lips with a forefinger; he seemed to be thinking. Scheming, Talba thought. “Reuben and I go way back,” he said. “Cassie was definitely murdered?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Angie said. “Your buddy Reuben was real clear about that.”

  “Well, how about murder-suicide?”

  “I brought it up, too, and he said no way in hell Cassie killed herself. So I said Janessa found the gun on the side of the pool, so maybe it happened the other way. Allyson kills her kid, maybe in a fight about Rashad—maybe she didn’t like her dating a black guy—and then goes home and offs herself in a fit of remorse.”

  Janessa sulked. “Miz Allyson wasn’t like that.”

  Angie turned on her. “Now that is exactly why I told you to shut up in there. You were undermining your own case. It’s to your advantage for them to think it’s murder-suicide. Don’t you get that? You’ve got to trust me to know how to deal with these people.”

  “Bitch,” Janessa mumbled.

  Talba said, “Rashad’s just as good a suspect as Janessa is.”

  “You shut up about Rashad,” Janessa cried. “Rashad didn’t do nothin’!”

  “How do you know, baby?” Eddie asked gently.

  “Just know.”

  “Because you know more than you’re telling us?”

  “No! Told ya everything. Austin musta done it.”

  “Well, he might have,” Eddie said. “He might have. Baby, is it true what they’re sayin’? Rashad ya boyfriend?”