Big Easy Bonanza

away from her. She let go, and this time he fell, the victim of his own momentum—sat down on his backside. Ha! Talk about your kung fu—his force working for her—yes! She felt so powerful she yelled again. “HEEEEEyaaaahhh!” If he hadn’t had so much blood in his eyes, he might have had that startled look again.
    She used the moment the yell bought her to whip the gun from her waistband and point it at him. “Don’t move.” She was breathing hard, and the adrenaline was starting to wear off. Her hands were shaking.
    He started to get up. She was wondering whether she could pull the trigger when she heard a crunching behind her. A male voice said, “Freeze, police!”
    Oh, God, was it the police? Turning around just wasn’t an option. She looked at Stan. He was just sitting there, staring past her, not getting up after all.
    She did what the man said and froze.
    “Put the gun down and turn around.”
    “I can’t put the gun down.”
    “Put the goddamn gun down or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
    No arguing with that. She bent down and laid the gun gently between her feet, where she could kick it if Stan tried anything.
    “Both of you—put your hands up. You in the pigtails—turn around. Slowly. You on the ground. Stay there.”
    Talba turned slowly around, and a sob escaped her. She was looking at a sight more gorgeous than a tropical lagoon. Not one, but two white, redneck, fat-bellied, entirely dangerous-looking uniformed policemen were holding guns on her. That was beautiful, just beautiful. The problem was, she could only imagine the bureaucratic nightmare that lay between her and Eddie.
    Swallowing, she figured she might as well get the farce started. “I’m a PI,” she began.
    “I don’t give a fuck what you are.”
    “Yes sir, I know. I reported a kidnapping to Officer Skip Langdon at the Third District. Can you check with her, please?”
    The two guys glanced at each other, then at Stan.
    “By the way, I have every reason to believe that man is still armed.”
    One of them continued to hold a gun on her while the other one shook Stan down—finding a gun and a knife—and cuffed him.
    Was she next? Talba wondered. And indeed they frisked her, but gently. “Listen, my partner’s been kidnapped.”
    The thing about cops at work, they didn’t answer you; pretended they’d never heard a word you said. So she just kept talking.
    “Eddie Valentino—y’all know Eddie? This guy’s partner kidnapped him in his own car, but it has a GPS in it, and I have his location in my car.”
    According to police code (which she gathered from Officer Rouselle’s performance stricdy forbade minimal politeness to helpful citizens), they remained expressionless and silent, but she noticed one of them went over to her car and peeked in.
    She pressed her advantage. “They’re going to kill him. Could you call Detective Langdon, please? Use my phone—I’ve got her on speed-dial. She’ll verify what I told you.”
    Again, no answer.
    “At least radio Eddie’s location—see, it’s right there on that computer screen. Maybe there’s an officer…”
    One of them was talking on his own cell phone. And finally, he said, “Detective Langdon wants to talk to you.”
    “Sure, but your pal here’s still holding a gun on me.”
    The other cop holstered his weapon, and Talba couldn’t help herself. She gave him a flicker of a smug look, but only a flicker.
    “Skip, I’m sorry. Listen, I’ll make it up to you.”
    “Give me Eddie’s location.” Langdon was as poker-voiced and impersonal as either of the other two.
    Okay, she’d have to live with it.
    “Still on I-10, still heading east. Past Jazzland a couple of exits.” It had only been about seven minutes, but with minimal traffic, you could really move on the Interstate. Talba was panicked.
    “Talba, the officers told me what just happened. Do you have any idea how much danger you were in?”
    “Skip, I’ve got to go now.”
    She heard a big sigh on the other end. “Okay. Give me Officer Charvet.”
    Talba handed the phone to its owner, who talked a minute and got off with a frown. “Langdon’s sending backup to pick up the prisoner. That way one of us can stay with him and the other can go to the scene.”
    The other cop shrugged. “I’ll stay with him.”
    Charvet looked like he was about to pop, as eager to get there as she was. “Mind if I borrow your computer?” he asked, suddenly tame as a puppy.
    In a pig’s