Louisiana Bigshot

know it’s Seraphim.”
    Eddie sighed and left them to their argument. Angie trailed him into his den. “So how’s the case comin’? I hear you had to get some old college buddy up in the middle of the night. I was kind of wondering about that—last I heard you didn’t go to college.”
    “Well, yeah, I got a little tricky on that one. See, the deputy told me the kid was called Junior, and that told me his daddy’s name, you understand? So I just said I knew him at LSU. Pretty safe bet he went there ’cause nearly everybody in the state did.”
    “Dad! What if he hadn’t?”
    “Well, the damn deputy wasn’t gonna know—he didn’t look like he could tell left from right. And Brashear senior wasn’t gon’ admit he didn’t know me if I said he did. Not in the middle of the night when I was tryin’ to help his son out. ’Course, I didn’t mention where he didn’t know me
from."
    She laughed. “Daddy, you got more nerve than me.”
    “Hell, dawlin’, I wouldn’t say that. ’Scuse my French. Nobody’s got more nerve than you. But I got better social skills, I’ll grant you that.”
    “I’d have gotten his precious son’s fat ass fired.”
    “Angie, ya know how I hate it when ya talk like that.”
    “That asshole deserved it. I swear to God, I’d have—”
    “Angie, ya don’t know everything!” He spoke with a good deal more heat than he meant to. “Honey catches more flies than vinegar—or would you even know the meanin’ of the term?”
    Fury suffused her face. “You know why we don’t get along? That’s why, right there. Right there.”
    She whirled and left the house. Audrey came into the room.
    “Why ya treat her like that, Eddie? No wonder she feels alienated.”
    He had no idea what either of them was talking about—but one thing, the whole exchange made a little drive to Clayton all the more attractive. He figured to just hang out in bars, and maybe he’d meet somebody who knew somebody.
    The person he wanted to talk to was the kid, and that didn’t mean a girl named Hunter. A boy named Trey was somebody he might have something to say to. Chances of getting him by himself on a Saturday night weren’t too good, but, hell, it beat staying home and brooding about his daughter.
    First, he went to the kid’s house to see what the scene was. Nice house. Big. Money in it. It was still light so no lights were on. There was a white Lexus in the driveway. He waited awhile, slightly worried about Junior Brashear’s men, but only slightly—he wasn’t nearly so conspicuous in Clayton as Talba would have been.
    After awhile, a silver BMW drove up. A man got out and rushed up the steps. Damn! That would be Trey Patterson coming home from a quick one at some neighborhood bar. Classic suburban Saturday pattern—Eddie probably should have cruised the bars first. But then, he didn’t know what the kid looked like at the time. Next Trey would get dressed and go somewhere with the wife. Eddie’d bet fifty on it.
    Sure enough, an hour later out came the handsome couple, or semi-handsome, anyway. The wife looked okay. Trey looked like he’d looked down the neck of a few too many empty beer bottles. She wore some kind of slinky pants outfit—black, like Angie liked—and he wore a sports coat. Probably a party, Eddie thought. With luck, it would be big enough to sneak into.
    He eased out of his space and followed them across town to another house, a house he believed he’d heard about, one Ms. Wallis had described to him. He had a list of pertinent addresses with him, which he now consulted. Uh-huh. Trey’s parents’ home. They were probably going there for dinner.
    It was dark now, and Eddie felt even more comfortable about doing his surveillance in peace, but remembering the Wallis escapade, he scrunched down as far as he could.
    The next sound he heard was a car engine. Realizing he’d fallen asleep—something he almost never did—he consulted his watch. Nine-ten. The kid had been in there just enough time to get about half-bombed—certainly not long enough to have dinner—and yet, it was his BMW whose lights had just come on. What the hell was going on?
    There was only one person in the car, and from the shape of the head, it was the kid. Maybe there was some kind of emergency.
    This time he let him get a good head start before trying to follow. The neighborhood was so quiet picking him up would be easy. In fact, there were so few cars out he’d be downright