Big Easy Bonanza

both at the same time.”
    Skip liked the way this was going. Apparently these guys hadn’t stumbled onto LaBelle. For a while, she wanted to keep that whole aspect of the case to herself. She wanted to keep it from these two. In her head she could hear Duby saying, “Good work, Skip,” then turning to O’Rourke and Tarantino: “You guys check it out.”
    Duby said now, “Is that all, guys?” When O’Rourke nodded, he turned to Skip. “You ready?”
    “I guess so. I’ve been trying to gather personal information about Chauncey that could point to some kind of motive. I’m wondering about the four people you’re concentrating on—”
    O’Rourke said, “Shee-it! You’re wondering! Lieutenant, could you please tell Officer Langdon the statistics on domestic violence?”
    “Pipe down, Frank!” Duby was angry. “Whether you like it or not, Langdon’s on the case. Work with her.”
    Skip continued as if nothing had happened. “I guess wives have plenty of reasons to kill husbands, and sons and daughters inherit, of course. But I don’t see a motive for Tolliver Albert.”
    “You know, you could really help us on that,” said Tarantino.
    “I could?”
    “Yeah—get us some scuttlebutt. We figure he was getting it on with the wife, but—”
    “Uh-uh,” said Skip. “That definitely isn’t the scutdebutt. You do know about Bitty’s drinking problem?”
    O’Rourke snorted. “Yeah, and we heard of the Superdome too. We talked about it before—remember, Langdon?”
    She glared. “For years the scuttlebutt’s been the same. Tolliver turns up at parties with a lady now and then, often not. People think he’s probably gay but discreet. As for Bitty, romance would cut into her boozing time. What I could do, though—I could see if I can find any other motive for Tolliver.”
    “We’d sure appreciate it,” sad Tarantino, seeming almost childlike in his gratitude. Skip wanted very much to like him, but she didn’t dare.
    “Do you know about Henry’s relationship with his father?” They didn’t answer, so she continued. “Apparently they hated each other. Chauncey was ashamed of Henry’s homosexuality—”
    “The kid’s a faggot?”
    She stared at O’Rourke. “He’s a drag queen. Worse than that, he’s an actor. Anyway, he and Chauncey have been at each other’s throats for years. I don’t know about Marcelle, though—she was crazy about Chauncey.”
    Tarantino shrugged. “All we know is she’s got no alibi.”
    Duby stroked his mustache. “What else have you got, Skip?”
    “Chauncey was having an affair with his secretary, but I guess you two know that.”
    O’Rourke said, “Sheree Izaguirre. She was at the parade in Algiers at the time of the murder. With her mother and her kid. And some people the mother works with.”
    “What people?” asked Duby.
    O’Rourke looked uncomfortable. Tarantino said, “The mother works as a housemother at a home for retarded women. She took some of ’em to the parade.”
    “So Izaguirre’s alibis are a kid, a bunch of retards, and her own mother. Right?”
    The two men nodded.
    Duby said, “Keep checking her out. What else you got, Skip?”
    “Well, it seems as if Chauncey was big on secretaries. He had an affair with one a few years back who left under mysterious circumstances.”
    O’Rourke said, “What circumstances?”
    “If I knew they wouldn’t be mysterious, would they?” To Duby, “I’d like to work on that.”
    “Sounds pretty thin, to tell you the truth. You gotta remember, whoever did it had a key to Albert’s. What else you got?”
    “That’s about it.”
    “That’s all?”
    Skip nodded.
    “Well, frankly, it’s not much. I’m not blaming you, Skip—or not just you. I mean all of you. This is the most important murder case in the history of the city and between the three of you, you haven’t got diddley. My hottest homicide team, and the bright young rookie with all the great connections. What the hell’s the matter with you guys, anyway?” He addressed himself to O’Rourke and Tarantino. “Especially you two. Now get out of here.”
    When they’d left, he said to Skip, “I don’t know about you. The chief wants you on the case, but you’re throwing O’Rourke off his stride and you’re not coming up with enough to justify it.”
    “Throwing O’Rourke off his stride!”
    “He doesn’t like you, Langdon.”
    “That’s my fault?”
    “I don’t know. Is it?”
    “I walked in yesterday