Louisiana Bigshot

famous schmoozing, just blew in, shook hands, and said, “Whatcha got?” She wasn’t all that sure how to answer.
    Oh, well, she decided, answer a question with a question. “Back in high school,” she said, “did you know a girl named Clayton Patterson? White girl?”
    “Clayton Patterson.” He smiled without showing his teeth and rocked himself a little. “Shame about Clayton. Well, sure I knew her. Everybody knew her. It wasn’t all that big a school—and she did get herself scalped. What kind of case you workin’ on?”
    She hated that question. She made a mental note to start saying she was a reporter. “Can’t say now, but I’ll tell you one thing—you’ll be hearing about it when it breaks. I can promise you that.”
    He nodded and gave her a grin. “Guess that’s good enough.”
    “How well did you and Clayton know each other?”
    He leaned over confidentially. Talba wondered if this was his way of flirting. “I’ll flat tell you somethin’, lady. You can believe it or not believe it, but I’m gon’ tell you somethin’. Clayton had the hots for me.”
    “Well, who wouldn’t, Marshannon? You’re pretty cute.” She figured that qualified as schmoozing.
    He laughed, twisting his whole upper body toward the table to show his modesty. “No, I mean it. She did. Now I wouldn’t date no white bitch, that never was my style, but man she could flirt!”
    “I thought her boyfriend was Donny Troxell.”
    He nodded. “She led him around by the pecker. She sho’ did that. But she ran after—don’t take me wrong here—but what she liked was licorice sticks. You understand what I’m saying?”
    Maybe,
she thought,
I don’t like him so well.
Yet he seemed eager not to give offense—it was just the way he talked.
    “Look here, maybe I got a little braggy just now—my wife says I’m always doing that. But I swear to God Clayton Patterson hit on me. And not just once, either. You think I kidded myself it was for my great charm and good looks? Hell, I wasn’t the only one. I probably wasn’t even in the top five.”
    There weren’t five,
Talba was thinking.
This guy’s full of shit.
    But he pulled it out at the last second. “Well, really, there weren’t but three—Reggie Oliver and Calvin Richard and me.”
    “I know,” she said. “I looked at your yearbook. Where’s Reginald Oliver now? I know Calvin Richard’s dead, but maybe Reggie…”
    Marshannon stared as if she’d switched to another language in midconversation. “What you talking about? Calvin ain’t dead.”
    “I don’t understand what’s going on here. This is such a small town—how come no one knows Calvin’s dead?”
    “Calvin
ain’t
dead, lady. Not unless he died over the weekend. I got a cousin still goes fishin’ with him. He just brought me some fish they caught Saturday.”
    Talba said, “You sure?” and then realized how stupid she sounded.
    “What makes you think Calvin’s dead?”
    Something told her to keep quiet on that issue. “I should have realized. I told Ebony Frenette he was dead and she bawled all over the restaurant. If it was true, she’d have already known.”
    “Ebony! She cried over Calvin?” He laughed. “Serve her right. Just serve her damn well right. Wooooeee! It nearly killed him the way she fooled around on him. They were high school sweethearts—’cept when she left him for somebody else. Which was often.”
    He laughed louder and larger. “Depended which day of the week it was. Could of been anybody. Usually was.”
    Sure, he was a big cute teddy bear, but his attitude was making Talba irritable. She spoke more brusquely than necessary. “You know where Calvin Richard is now?”
    Her harsh tone seemed to sober him. “ ’Course I do. He’s in New Orleans. He’s a cop.”

Chapter Sixteen
    Talba sucked in her breath, thoughts all a-jumble. Whatever answer she expected, it wasn’t that one. This was so shocking it made her cordial again. “Is that so?”
    “He’s a sergeant.” Marshannon spoke with pride: local boy had made good.
    Why on earth would his parents say he was dead? She decided to risk a subtle inquiry. “Bet his parents are proud of him.”
    “Wooo. You know it.” Okay, it was nothing to do with the job.
    “Well, looks like I made an ass of myself about Calvin.”
    “You wouldn’t be the first woman.”
    “The ladies like him?’
    “I don’t know what it is that guy’s got.” He guffawed again. “ ’Ceptin’ for good looks