Big Easy Bonanza

Tolliver’s. The police have probably already put the rest of it together—how I just got the car, drove to Tolliver’s, and drove back.”
    “How do you explain Tolliver’s suicide?” asked Skip.
    “He was ill. Did you know that?”
    “The autopsy showed it.”
    “I told him Chauncey killed Hélène, back when I told Henry—I was in such a depression I’d probably have told you if I’d seen you that week—or your mother or the governor. And Tolliver told me it wasn’t true, of course—that I was imagining things. After that, he noticed that I was sober for a while. So then I pretended to be more out of control than ever, and I’m afraid I really upset him. He kept saying things about a new life—that he’d get better, and I’d get sober.” She wiped away tears.
    “I think he was telling the truth when he wrote that note. He really was there for me every day, all my life. I guess, in the end, he figured out I killed Chauncey. Or maybe Henry told him.”
    “Mother!”
    “And what he did was the most gallant thing I’ve ever heard of.” Her eyes were shining like those of some medieval lady dreaming of her knight.
    God! I’m going to throw up
.
    “He sacrificed his life for me.”
    In more than one way, baby
.
    And yet, sick as she thought it was, there was a piece of Skip that admired him for it.
    Bitty came back from her romantic reverie and gave Skip a gaze so level there could be no doubt she was sober and possessed of a lot more strength than Skip would have guessed. “Are you going to arrest me, Skippy?”
    It was the question Skip was pondering.
    Henry said, “She’s telling the truth.”
    “Of course I am.”
    “Except for one thing. It all went exactly the way she described it. I bet I still have the receipt for the wig. The only difference is that, at the risk of belaboring the point, I did it. I did it for her, you know.” He was no longer the lunatic-on-the-brink, just a guy having a conversation with a woman he’d known all his life. “I knew she wanted him dead; if you want, Officer Freud, you could even say she did it through me. But I was the one who pulled the trigger. I wanted her to have a chance at life—without
him
.”
    Bitty laughed, an odd sound to Skip’s ears. She realized that in all the time she’d known the St. Amants, she’d probably never once heard Bitty laugh. “Henry, it won’t fly,” said his mother.
    “She’s right.” Despite Henry’s ability as an actor, his words were as hollow as Bitty’s were heartfelt. He hadn’t killed Chauncey.
    The question still stood: Was she going to arrest Bitty? The temptation simply to flee was almost overwhelming. If Chauncey had killed his own daughter, and Bitty had killed him, wasn’t that justice? She wondered if she could leave right now and forget she ever heard any of this. But she was a cop. Justice and the law weren’t the same thing. Yet somehow she couldn’t see dragging Bitty Mayhew St. Amant, still in her elegant black dress, down to headquarters in handcuffs.
    And there was another problem. Skip wasn’t sure she could prove anything.
    She said, “Mrs. St. Amant, can I trust you?”
    “Trust me? You mean you don’t believe me?”
    “I do believe you. But I want to spare you as much as I can. I won’t arrest you now if you’ll promise to go to headquarters tomorrow and tell your story.”
    “But… I don’t know anyone there.” Her eyes brimmed. Moments ago the competent murderer, now she was once again the helpless socialite.
    “Ask for Inspectors O’Rourke and Tarantino. They’re the officers on the case.”
    “But I don’t know them. Will you be there?” Her eyes pleaded.
    “Of course. But if you don’t come—by noon, say—I’ll tell them the whole story myself. And there’ll be lots of proof. Hélène’s body, for one thing.” She was being deliberately harsh. “And witnesses from the firing range. So don’t think this is the end of it. I’m not arresting you tonight, but tomorrow’s another day. Would you prefer to do it this way?”
    Bitty’s blue eyes were aghast. “I guess so.”
    “You promise you’ll be there?”
    She wet her lips. “I promise.”
    “See you tomorrow, then.”
    She removed Henry’s handcuffs and left, bracing herself for a long wait in the night air. Given the crime rate in New Orleans, Henry would walk Bitty to her car, but she didn’t know whether that would happen in minutes or hours. She huddled across the street, standing