Big Easy Bonanza

shouldn’t be doing this, that he was somehow out of line. But out of line in what way? Everything he said was perfectly true. The girl
was
out of line. And he was just telling her; somebody had to. That social-climbing quack of a father she had obviously couldn’t do a thing with her.
    “Look, I can take this. I’ve taken a lot in my life and I can probably take a lot more. But Bitty! Poor little Bitty! You know what she’s like, how she’s been ever since she lost the baby. It’s just not right.”
    “Baby? Bitty had a miscarriage?”
    “No, no, no. The baby. You remember.”
    “I don’t really think I do.”
    “But everyone knows about it.” Didn’t they? Or was his life so intertwined with those of the St. Amants that he thought everyone was privy to every moment of their existence, like characters on “Dynasty”? “The third child,” he said, “that came after Marcelle and that died soon after she was born. That’s when Bitty started drinking.”
    “I see. You’re really close to them, aren’t you?”
    “About as close as you can get and not be a blood relative.” A lot closer than Chauncey’s parents; he hated them, and Bitty had told Tolliver why.
    “Did you know Chauncey’s former secretary, Stelly Villere?”
    He felt calmer now. The pill must be working. But he didn’t like the turn this was taking. “Yes. Everyone did.” There he went with the “everyone” stuff again. He sounded like a small-town gossip.
    “I understand Chauncey was involved with her.”
    “I wouldn’t know about that.”
    “Do you know why she left?”
    Because Chauncey was such a bastard to her.
    “I assumed she left to take a better job.”
Motherhood’s a better job, isn’t it?
    “Oh? Do you know where?”
    “No idea.”
    “I hear Chauncey made a practice of getting involved with all his secretaries.”
    ”You’ve certainly had your pretty ears open.” There. That sounded more like him, the charming Tolliver all the ladies liked.
    “What about prostitutes?”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “Did he get involved with prostitutes?”
    “Where on earth did you hear that one?”
    “Tolliver, I really don’t understand you. You talk about what ‘everyone’ knows so long as it isn’t damaging to your precious Chauncey. You know as well as I do that ‘everyone’ knows about the secretaries. But I’ll tell you something you may not know—Chauncey was involved with a prostitute. She came once to his house and once to his office. On both occasions she seemed extremely angry with him. I think it’s a fair assumption he was killed by someone who was extremely angry with him, don’t you?”
    Oh, God, she knows about LaBelle!
    She put a hand on his, suddenly the girl he’d known all her life. She spoke softly. “You can’t protect him now, Tolliver. Help me find the killer.”
    He tempered his next speech to suit her new mood. “Skip, don’t you think I want to? Don’t you think I’d do anything to help you? Honey, I’m really sorry I was so defensive with you. It’s true what you said. Of course he was involved with Stelly and Sheree and every secretary he ever had. ‘Everybody’ does know that. But prostitutes! That’s a whole other thing.”
    “Not streetwalkers. Maybe I didn’t make myself clear. This girl is more like a call girl. Gorgeous, I’m told. Probably caters to a pretty good clientele.”
    He shrugged. “I don’t know a thing about it, baby. You know, frankly, I think the murder was politically motivated—always have. He had enemies on both sides of the fence, and he was powerful enough—”
    “Tolliver, I’ve got to find out who this woman was. Could she have been someone he knew outside her professional life?”
    “Honey, how should I know? I don’t know a thing about her.”
    “She’d be black, for openers. Her name’s LaBelle Doucette. Does that ring a bell?” He shook his head.
    She described the woman. “Ever seen her?”
    “Never.”
    “Think way, way back. Could she be somebody you might have seen with Stelly?”
    “I don’t think so. Stelly’s been gone a long time.” He shook his head and flailed his hands, aware that he was dithering.

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    ONE STEP AT a time. Bitty held tightly to the banister and moved slowly. Wasn’t that what they said in AA? No, but it was close. It was days they talked about. Lately Bitty had had many days without alcohol, and she hoped to God she’d never have to have another one. This morning she’d