Big Easy Bonanza

modest penis. It was magnificent on her, with her hair like that, and those cheekbones. That day, Mardi Gras, she’d been wearing mauve lace… “Yes. I did see Tea-Ta. It’s coming back to me now.”
    “What time was that, sir?”
    “I don’t know, really. Before the parade. Forgive me; before the murder.” He straightened his shoulders, conscious of putting up a brave front. Tea-Ta had said, “Leaving, Tolliver?” But he couldn’t speak right then.
    “She was just coming in. I remember it now.”
    “You were on your way out?”
    “Yes.”
    “Where did you go, sir?”
    “I had a headache. I went to get my pills.”
    “And did you get them?”
    The pills were at the apartment. “No. The crowds were murder.”
    “Where were your pills?”
    “In my car.”
    “We understood you drove down with Mrs. St. Amant.”
    He was sweating; his head was starting to hurt. “In her car, I mean. I left them in the glove compartment. But I never found the car.”
    “You never found it, sir? You mean it wasn’t where she parked it?”
    He opened his palms. “I never got there, you see. The crowds were so thick I couldn’t get through them.”
    “The murderer got through them.”
    What was he supposed to say to that? “I wasn’t feeling well that day.”
    The blond spoke again. “One last thing, Mr. Albert. Do you have a key to Mrs. St. Amant’s car?”
    “Why, no. Why do you ask?”
    “How did you plan to get your pills?”
    He leaned his chin in his hand. “Well, I couldn’t have gotten them, could I? I see what you’re saying.” He paused a moment and then shrugged mightily, hoping he seemed convincing. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.” He tapped his head. “The headache.”
    “Were you drinking a lot, Mr. Albert?”
    “No, of course not.”
    The blond said, “You know, this story’s pretty damn thin. First you say you didn’t leave the place, then you say you did, but you didn’t do what you left to do, and then you say you couldn’t have done it anyway.”
    The dark fat one plucked at his sleeve. “Frank. Take it easy.”
    “I wonder if you could leave now?” said Tolliver. “I think I’ve answered all the questions I can.”
    He turned and went to the back of his shop—why, he wasn’t sure. Just to get away. He jumped, hearing a noise behind him. But it was only someone coming in. Every little thing startled him lately.
    Skip Langdon, of all unwelcome people, was standing in the middle of the place, next to a display of porcelains, looking exactly like the proverbial bull in a china shop. What an unfeminine woman she was! Particularly in those awful jeans that made her hips and thighs look like the foothills of a small mountain range. Pretty face, though. If she’d lose thirty pounds and cut that hair…
    What the hell was she doing here anyway? This was a girl who’d known the St. Amants from the day she was born—they’d probably gone to her christening. Her father had taken care of the whole family all her young life, and before that even. Why, he’d been Merrie Mac’s doctor after his partner died—old Dr. Eustace. Why couldn’t this woman, of all people, leave them alone?
    “Hey, Mr. Albert.”
    “Skip.” He hoped he sounded unwelcoming.
    She came closer. “Is something wrong? You okay?”
    “Not really. Two of your colleagues just left.”
    “Oh. Tarantino and O’Rourke. Tell me, was the blond surly and the other one kind of friendly?”
    “You’ve met the gentlemen.”
    “That O’Rourke hates me. I just wondered how he is with other people.”
    “Like he took police lessons from TV.” That got a smile out of her. “Darlin’, you’re not here for the same thing, are you? Ol’ Tolliver’s ’bout been through it.”
    “Well, I was just wondering…”
    “You people have got to stop this.” He was shaking his head like an old man, couldn’t stop. “This is too hard … on me, on Henry, and specially on Bitty. You know how fragile she is, darlin’. You people just can’t go on with this.
    “We can’t take much more, especially from you. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. A girl from a good family, father who’s taken care of everyone in the city for the last quarter-century, mother who’s done such good work for so long. You could have done anything you wanted. What on earth do you get out of being a cop? Snooping around, dogging people… really, Skip, it just doesn’t make sense….”
    He had a dim feeling, though, a funny feeling he