Big Easy Bonanza

with combs into a sort of fluffed-out ponytail. “You get back in this house this minute, you hear me?” She sounded like a common cold and even in the faded sweatshirt looked as if she belonged on the cover of Vogue. Skip figured her waist measured about the same as one of her own upper thighs.
    “Mrs. Johnson?” she called.
    But the woman was occupied with opening the screen door for the boy. She cuffed him as he went in. “You feel good enough to sit on the porch, you’re not sick enough to stay home. Tomorrow, you’re going to school, I don’t care if you got pneumonia.”
    “Mrs. Johnson?”
    “Can I help you?”
    Skip identified herself. “I’d like to talk to you about Chauncey St. Amant.”
    “Chauncey! I haven’t thought about Chauncey in years. Until he got murdered, I mean.”
    “I wanted to ask about an acquaintance of his.”
    “Would you like to come in?” Good. She probably hadn’t heard about Tolliver.
    “I think we should talk out here. You may not want your son overhearing—”
    “My son!” Her eyes flashed anger as she caught on that her privacy was going to be invaded. “What are we going to talk about, officer? What is this anyway? I haven’t even seen the man in ten years or more. What are you doing coming into my home talking about Chauncey St. Amant?”
    “Mrs. Johnson, I—”
    “I’ll tell you anything you want to know about Chauncey St. Amant if you’ve got a strong enough stomach.” She had transferred her fury, but she hadn’t tempered it. Skip half expected lightning bolts to sizzle out of her eyes, which had turned as dark and threatening as the river.
    “Aren’t you afraid your son—”
    “My son’s got nothing to do with Chauncey St. Amant.”
    Skip realized she’d been assuming, because of the boy’s Caucasian hair and features, that he was Chauncey’s son, that in just these few moments she’d made up a whole story about Stelly’s leaving her job because she was pregnant. But now that she thought of it, Mark Anthony had blue eyes, not Chauncey’s brown ones.
    “Why’d you come here asking me questions?”
    “I want to know if you know a woman named LaBelle Doucette.”
    Johnson stepped down and began to walk Skip away from the house, having apparently decided on prudence where the boy was concerned.
    “Never heard of her. Who is she? Chauncey’s latest ‘secretary’?”
    “I think she might be involved in his murder.”
    “Mmmph.” It was a strangled sound, as if she had had to swallow a lot and was ready to cough it back up. “I imagine she might be if he treated her anything like he treated me. I’ve thought a woman must have killed him. I’ve thought it many times. And I’ve cheered her on, too. Somebody should have killed that bastard a long time ago.” She spoke loud and angrily, apparently not caring about the neighbors now that Mark Anthony’s ears were out of the picture.
    “He must have done something terrible to you.”
    “Terrible? Terrible? You know what that bastard did to me? Shouldn’t happen to a dog, shouldn’t happen to an animal!” Tears of rage flowed down her cheeks. “We were lovers, you know about that?”
    Skip nodded.
    “Everybody in town knew. But I was dating Peeler—my husband—at the same time. He knew about Chauncey, but Chauncey didn’t know about him. Peeler wanted me to marry him, but I couldn’t make up my mind to do it. I was so high and mighty, having this fancy white dude sugar daddy I just couldn’t settle down. My mother’d say, ‘Stelly, you ridin’ for a fall,’ and she wasn’t kidding either.
    “Well, I got pregnant. Didn’t know who the daddy was, didn’t care. All I cared about was that baby. The minute the doctor told me, I was so happy. I wondered what I’d been waiting for. So I told Peeler I’d marry him and told Chauncey I was getting married and Chauncey said, ‘You pregnant?’ Just like that. Just ’cause I’d gained five or six pounds and got sick every time I smelled coffee or cigarette smoke, I guess he figured it out. I said, ‘Yes, are you happy for me?’ He said, ‘Stelly, what if it’s mine?’ I said, ‘I’m not gon’ bother you about it. Not gon’ ask you for a penny. I’m leaving here and getting married.’
    “Well, he said I couldn’t do that. Can you imagine?”
    “I guess he didn’t want to lose you.”
    “It wasn’t that. Wasn’t even close. He didn’t want me having the baby. Said what if it looked like him—what if