Louisiana Lament

He belonged to the Presbyterian church. And, as a small-town lawyer in Clayton, about the biggest thing that had ever happened to him was the Troxell case. That was at the beginning of his career.
    He later moved to New Orleans, where he joined a well-known criminal defense firm and handled some pretty high-profile cases. Later still, he gave the whole thing up, moved back to Clayton, joined a distinguished firm that did insurance defense, ran for state senator, and won.
    Back in Clayton, Talba had seen a picture of him as Donny Troxell’s lawyer. He was an ordinary-looking man, with a tendency to plumpness. She wished she had a sheaf of pictures of him as his career advanced. As she imagined it, he’d put on more and more weight until, as a state senator, he was practically a caricature.
    All in all, she figured she’d gleaned two useful facts—one being that Blue lived in Baton Rouge, where the legislature was now in session, the other that he was extremely active in the campaign of gubernatorial candidate Buddy Calhoun, whom she’d seen at Clayton’s funeral.
    Well, well, well,
she thought,
perhaps we have common ground.
    As preparation for the interview, she popped by Calhoun’s headquarters and got herself a campaign button, figuring she was going vote for him, so why not?
    Calhoun was a decent enough guy, by all accounts, if a bit on the lackluster side. But the incumbent, Jack Haydel, was spectacular—in just about every unpleasant way you could mention. He was a sleazeball closely tied to gambling interests. In fact, he’d once been indicted for bribery, but he’d beaten the rap. Talba had no doubt he was guilty of that and much more. But Haydel had an even worse strike against him. A famous election a few years back had spawned a famous bumper strip: “Vote for the crook. It’s important.” In that one, the other candidate was a racist. Jack Haydel had the distinction of being both a crook
and
a racist.
    So, sure, she’d wear a Calhoun button—and proudly.
    The next morning she got up early to drive to Baton Rouge, her plan being to catch the senator on his way into the office. That way, if he couldn’t see her then, she’d have the rest of the day to get him to work her in. (Also she had a reading that night—she wanted to get home early.)
    She arrived in time to be there when the capitol building opened, made a beeline for Blue’s suite, and simply loitered until she saw him get off the elevator. Truth to tell, he hadn’t changed that much, hadn’t turned into the literal fat cat of her imagination. He still had a bounce to his walk and most of his hair. He had a familiar look, as if they’d met.
    She was wearing her blue business suit, so as not to look like a secretary, and she carried a briefcase, which contained a tape recorder she’d just turned on.
    “Senator, may I have a moment?”
    “Yes?” She thought his expression changed as she came into focus for him. “I’m sorry, I have an appointment.”
    “I have a… There’s no easy way to say this. I have a death message for you.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “A former client of yours has been murdered—his mother thought you’d like to know.”
    Blue drew back from her a bit, and instead of the shock he was supposed to register, she thought she saw fear. Wariness at the very least. He was practically checking the place for the nearest exit.
    She waited a moment for him to calm down. He could hardly refuse news like this. Finally, he said, “What are you talking about?”
    “I’m sorry to tell you… Donny Troxell was killed in a street robbery a week ago.”
    “Donny!” He went white.
    “Senator, are you all right?”
    “Donny Troxell?” he said.
    “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you.”
    “I didn’t even know he…” Blue stopped there, and Talba said, “Oh, yes, he’s been out of prison several years.”
    “Donny never…
Damn,
that’s a shame. Donny never had a chance.”
    Talba thought it about time to haul out her bona fides. “Senator, I’m an investigator looking into his death—”
    “You’re no cop!” He spoke with such vehemence it startled her.
    “No sir, I’m not. I’m employed by the family.” Never mind which family. She knew for a fact that Jason had family, and as long as he was part of it, she was employed by some family.
    “This kind of thing is best left to the police.”
    “There may be a little more to it than a simple mugging, Senator. Did you realize Clayton