Louisiana Lament

bundling her baby into a stroller.
    Well, that was a fine thing. Eddie had taught her how to follow a person in a car, but not the only person on foot in a white neighborhood. She’d have to wing it. She let mother and baby get a pretty good head start then started the car and slowly passed them, cruising on down the street. After a few blocks she turned and parked on a side street hoping Hunter kept walking in a straight line. When she passed, Talba did it again, but this time she spotted a small neighborhood park.
    Bet she’s going there, Talba thought and went there first, still remaining out of sight in her car. She’d gotten her first PI job because she had “the right demographics,” and even Eddie deemed her race a plus, but here in Clayton, black wasn’t a damn bit beautiful. That is, if you wanted to keep a low profile.
    She waited to approach until the kid had found some more kids to play with, and more or less sneaked up as Hunter was watching them.
    “Hunter?” Her first name; last names put people on the defensive, told them the speaker was a stranger.
    The woman whirled, a pleasant, expectant expression on her face. “Yes?” Instantly, her eyes widened.
    Fear
, Talba thought. Not what she expected. “Busted,” she said.
    “What?”
    “You sure recognized me fast.”
    “I recognize you, and I want you to leave.” Cold anger now. That was more like it.
    “Your sister and I were close, you know.”
    “I said leave me alone.” Hunter turned her back.
    This was going nowhere fast.
Eddie wouldn’t have this problem
, she thought.
But what the hell would he do?
    He’d somehow get Hunter on a subject she was interested in, nothing to do with her sister. And Talba knew one, but it needed a good introduction. “ ‘Unbidden guests,’ ” she said, “ ‘are often welcomest when they are gone.’ ”
    “What did you say?”
    “I said don’t send me away too fast—you might change your mind the minute I leave.”
    “Not even slightly likely.” But there was a softening in her eyes.
    “And I quoted Shakespeare because I know you’re an actress. I’ve been wondering what it’s like for a person in the arts, living in Clayton.”
    “Well, it’s no picnic.” Hunter looked almost startled, as if she’d surprised herself.
    Talba was struggling wildly for rapport. Not sure whether it was make-or-break, she blurted, “Tell me. Were you as upset as I was by your sister’s funeral?”
    Hunter, watching the children, turned again toward Talba, and stared. “Oh, God. They hate her so much.”
    “Even you?”
    “No. I didn’t hate her. She was the only big sister I had.” Her eyes brimmed. “That son of a bitch is the one I hate. Your client.” Her face turned back toward her child.
    “I did too, at first. Remember, I was the one who got the goods on him. It took a lot of courage for him to come to me.”
    “He might as well have shot her.”
    “Look here. Every story’s got two sides. You know that. I can’t tell you Jason’s story—he’s my client; but I can tell you, he loved your sister.” Hunter turned angrily toward her again. “Oh, yeah, he cheated on her; and oh, yeah, it was ugly. But what I
can
tell you is that he was unsure of her. That he did it out of frustration.”
    “Now that I can almost believe.”
    “You can?”
    “Oh, she could freeze you. She even did it to me sometimes. And I was the only one in the family she spoke to. She hated us worse than we hated her. She hated the whole town. And the whole damn town hated her.”
    Talba thought,
This is big. I can’t lose it.
She paused for a moment so as not to seem too eager. She spoke softly, almost whispering: “Why? Why did they hate her?”
    “Omigod! Lily! Lily!” Hunter ran toward the children. One of the kids had smacked hers with a plastic shovel.
    Talba looked on helplessly as Hunter soothed the kid and negotiated with the two other mothers, whose kids were also in tears by now. Hunter stuck around and talked to the moms after the kids had settled down. It was probably a good fifteen minutes before she came back to Talba.
    “Where were we?” she said, perfectly cooperative. That meant she must have decided to talk, rather than just fallen into it. That was good. But the moment was gone.
    Talba said, “You were telling me how much they hate her.”
    Hunter shrugged. “Oh, yeah. They do.”
    “But why?”
    She shrugged again. “Because she’s such a crybaby, I guess.”
    Talba noticed