Louisiana Lament

body.”
    “Well, I was just glad to find
you
alive. An awful lot of people from your class are gone already—you realize that?”
    “Who?” Ebony looked wary, like she was about to get some bad news.
    “Clayton, of course. Then Donny.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Calvin Richard. That’s three.”
    Ebony’s hand froze, her sandwich halfway to her lips. Her eyes turned to quarters. She was silent, perfectly still for a moment, and when she spoke, it came out in a whisper. “Calvin?”
    Talba was starting to think she’d stepped into quicksand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you didn’t know.”
    Ebony dropped the sandwich completely, lowered her head, and began fumbling in her purse. Tears were already starting to splash.
    Talba handed her a handful of napkins.
    “Calvin’s dead?”
    “I’m sorry, Ebony. I thought it was old news.”
    “I haven’t seen him in years.”
    Ebony sobbed for awhile, Talba crossing and uncrossing her legs, hugely uncomfortable. Finally, Ebony closed her eyes, gathering up the cool to speak, and asked, “You know how he died?”
    “His daddy told me he was killed in an accident. That’s all I know.” Talba was about to ask why Ebony was so upset when the other woman said, “I gotta run.”
    She picked up her purse and raced out the door, leaving Talba taken aback and stuck with the bill.
    New Orleans was a small town in some ways—you couldn’t go anywhere without tripping over your next door neighbor—but Clayton was a whole different animal. Extremely wearing on the nerves.
    Nothing to do but push on. She decided to give Marshannon Porter a call—probably no one would be home, and there was no point paying a visit to an empty house.
    But you just never knew. To her surprise, a woman answered. “Yeah?”
    Talba thought fast. “Um. Mrs. Porter?”
    “Yeah. This Miz Porter.”
    “This is Ms. Winters at Continental Bank. I have a credit application from your husband, but I see he forgot to fill in his employment. I’m calling to verify that he is employed.”
    Mrs. Porter was pissed. “Yes, he’s employed. Of course he’s employed!”
    “The application seems quite complete other than that. May I have the name and address of his employer, please? We’ll be happy to open an account for him.”
    “Sure.” She was mollified. “It’s the Gulf South Elevator Company in Baton Rouge. I don’t know the street address, but he’s got a cell phone—let me give you that number.”
    Dear sweet loyal spouse,
Talba thought.
Marshannon’s sooo lucky to have you. It’s just a good thing I’m not an assassin.
    “What does he do for that company?” she asked. “I had an uncle who was an elevator repairman.”
    “That’s what he does. He’s always having to rescue people.”
    “Ooh. Interesting job.” It would keep him on the run too. Probably that cell phone was going to be the best bet.
    She tried the same thing she had with Ebony: investigator working on a case; confidential; could she have five minutes?
    “Lady,” he said, “you sound downright interestin’. I’m gon’ take a break in about thirty minutes. You want to meet me for a cup of coffee?”
    She looked at her watch. “I’m in Clayton now. Can I make it that fast?”
    “Oh, yeah. Easy. I’ll just wait for you if you’re late.” They agreed to meet at a Burger King he knew, and as she turned back onto the Interstate, a silver Lincoln Continental followed and stayed with her all the way. She might have thought nothing of it, except that she made it to the restaurant with five minutes to spare, five minutes during which she amused herself by looking out the window. The Lincoln pulled into a Wendy’s across the road. Even then she only noticed in passing.
    She hadn’t thought about what Marshannon was going to look like, but somehow, the minute he walked in the door, she knew him. He was heavy-set and broad across the back, with a fuzz of hair that he probably shaved off every few weeks, unlike her natty brother, Corey, who kept his own pate shiny as a button. He had a broad smile and he wore sloppy, ill-fitting jeans with a shirt that had probably been clean that morning but definitely wasn’t now. She liked him on sight, before he even said a word. There was something jolly and benign about him. He seemed a simple person, at peace with himself, the kind you were supposed to meet in small towns; they seemed in short supply in Clayton.
    He didn’t give her time for her