Louisiana Bigshot

to his camera, working lazily, knowing he had all the time in the world.
    He took a few pictures from the sidewalk; after that he went back and photographed each car against the picturesque backdrop of Bay St Louis. Finally, he returned to wait for the misbehavers to come out of the restaurant, which they did, hand-in-hand. He recorded that tender moment as well, and then they all three returned to their cars and headed for Biloxi.
    It was almost a half-hour’s trip. He phoned Catherine fifteen minutes into it.
    “Any luck?”
    She was laughing. “It was beautiful, baby.”
    “I saw you shopping. Nice gams, kid.” She was the only woman in the world he ever flirted with, including Audrey. But he figured it was okay because she’d started it first, and she did it in front of Audrey, who was a cousin of hers. She’d been a radio reporter before her children were born, and she still liked the action.
    “For an old broad, you mean. Listen, the guy’s got a bladder problem. He was out of that car so fast…”
    “Give him a break. It was a long drive.”
    “Well, at any rate, it didn’t take no convincing. He went in a restaurant, he peed fast, then he came out, watched you for awhile, and went back in to get some food to go. He stood outside, eating and watching, just like you. I got some gorgeous pictures of him with his mouth full.”
    “Yeah? Any with it closed?”
    “Whole roll. I’ll have prints by the time you get back.”
    “Gorgeous, dawlin’. Just gorgeous.” He could just imagine himself speaking that way to Ms. Wallis.
    Several hours later, on his way back from Biloxi, he got her on the cell phone. “Ms. Wallis, whereyat?” It was a question, not a greeting.
    “Never mind about that. Let’s have another of those rolling meetings of ours.”
    She was being cryptic for some reason—maybe worried about her cell phone. What the hell was a rolling meeting?
    “You know. Like when we did all that thinking?”
    She must mean when they’d driven around. “Yeah, I gotcha.”
    “On the way to Darryl’s.”
    The man lived on the West Bank; that was a start, but it still didn’t explain how they were going to meet.
    “Ya want me to come get ya?”
    “No. I’ll meet you on the way. Just try to keep dry, okay?”
    It dawned on him that she was arranging a meeting on the Algiers Ferry. It should be perfect, really—the boat left frequently, there were always plenty of people around, and no one could hear them there. But it was pretty melodramatic.
    “Ya think this is the movies?” he said.
    “Eight-thirty, okay?”
    He looked at his watch. “Should be fine.”
    After leaving Bay St Louis, he had had to go on to Biloxi, watch Eunice and Billy Bob pretend to frolic by the pool, and film the whole thing for the benefit of the guy in the gold-colored Ford. All
I
’s had to be dotted, and this is what he and Talba had talked about on the office phone.
    On the way out of Biloxi, he methodically but unobtrusively lost his tail, returning to New Orleans on I-10 instead of I-90.
    He called Catherine Mathison. “Got pictures?”
    “Gawgeous ones, gawgeous. I left ’em with Cutie-Pie.”
    That was Angie, his daughter. They’d set it up that way so Catherine wouldn’t have to go to Eddie’s office. If she were seen there she might be identified, the pictures might get lifted, anything could happen. This way he had a Twenty-first-century woman, probably armed and assuredly dangerous, to guard them till Eddie got there. Angie’d said she’d be working late and Eddie didn’t argue with her—she nearly always worked late.
    She looked up when he came in, a gorgeous girl even in lawyer drag, her accustomed black. “Hey, Dad. I got your package.” She handed over a manila envelope.
    “Anybody strange been around?”
    “Not unless you count Aunt Catherine.”
    “Let me call ya mama.”
    Angie nodded, going back to her work. He got hold of Audrey, told her he’d be home around ten and begged for something decent to eat when he got there. Already, he was starving.
    Angie said, “Want to get a bite with me?”
    She never asked him for a meal. He looked at his watch. Damn! Couldn’t be done. “Rain check?” he said, and she smiled enigmatically. She’d probably never ask him again—only had then because she knew he didn’t have time.
    He took a look at the pictures. The guy was good, Eddie had to admit that. The man didn’t know how to tail in a car, but if Eddie’d been followed on