Louisiana Lament

do?”
    “Asked a bunch of questions that were none of my business.”
    The detective laughed. “I’m all ears.” The distracted air had disappeared.
    “Well, there’s this murder case I’m working—only y’all are calling it suicide.”
    “Oho.” Langdon was one of the best investigators in the department. “You must mean Clayton Patterson.”
    “Now, how’d you know that?”
    “I’ve had my doubts about that one myself. I even asked to see the autopsy report.”
    “And?”
    “Let’s say I still have my doubts.”
    “Any chance the case’ll be reopened?”
    “Negative. None.”
    “Skip, Clayton was a friend of mine. I can’t tell you who my client is, but I’ve got a personal stake in this thing. You think you could get Calvin Richard to call me? Honest to God, I need a little help here.”
    “You’ve got my curiosity up.”
    Talba could see Langdon was angling for a quid pro quo. “All right, look. Clayton was the victim of a crime when she was sixteen; and Richard knew her in high school.”
    The cop waited. When it was plain that was all Talba had to say, she said, “So?”
    Talba said, “Sounds pretty far afield, doesn’t it? I think it could be related to this case. He probably won’t call me unless you ask him to.”
    “Talba. I get the feeling there’s a lot more to this.”
    “I thought you were going to scoff at it.”
    Langdon was silent, but Talba thought she heard something—maybe the hum of little wheels turning. The cop was trying to figure out how to get some more information. Finally, she just came out and said it: “Hey, look. If you get anything interesting, give me a call, okay? I’ll see what I can do about getting it reopened.”
    “Now that’s an offer. I sure will, Skip. Be glad to.”
    “I’ll have him call you.”
    Talba hung up, wondering about something. Whatever was going on here, whatever was being covered up, might not just end at the Clayton town limit. Something about Skip’s unaccustomed interest suggested pressure had been applied in New Orleans.
    The problem with going through Langdon was that Talba had to wait for Richard, and she hated waiting. Nonetheless, it wasn’t as if she had nothing to do—like half a dozen employee checks and a couple of fiancé frisks—her name for prenuptial investigations. These tended to make her wince—if people didn’t know each other well enough not to need them, they shouldn’t be getting engaged in the first place.
    Also, Eddie wanted to see her. She was about to go in and see what he wanted when Eileen Fisher rang. “Jason Wheelock to see you.”
    Damn! The client. He slunk in with an uneasy look Talba didn’t like at all.
He’s going to pull the plug,
she thought. “Hey, Jason—things are really hopping. Did you get my interim client report?” It was her second one, actually. “Interesting, hmm?”
    “Yeah. More than interesting. Looks like Donny didn’t do it. So how close are you getting to finding out who did?”
    She was afraid he’d ask that. When in doubt lie; that was Eddie’s motto. She wasn’t sure it applied to dealings with clients, but nonetheless, she said, “Really, really close. Should take another week; maybe less. That transcript ought to make a big difference.”
    “God, Talba, speaking of that, I’m running out of money.”
    Damn! What about the rich parents? The trust fund or whatever it was? The easy way he’d authorized the transcript?
    “Jason, I’m going to solve it. I swear I am.” She crossed her fingers.
    “I don’t know, Talba. I’m really having second thoughts. I wonder if I’m playing with myself here. Maybe we should just wait till the transcript comes and then reassess.”
    She just stared, wondering where all this was coming from.
    “I mean, I can’t help her now. I started thinking: I’m not doing this for her; it’s for me.”
    Talba spoke from the heart: “Jason, something really bad happened to Clayton—twice. At least two other people are dead—”
    “What two other people?”
    “Donny Troxell and his father. And the police aren’t investigating any of the three cases. Something’s going on here, Jason. Something pretty big.”
    Silence; silence eloquent as Shakespeare. “I’ve got to draw the line somewhere.”
    She was starting to panic. “Jason, listen…”
    “Talba, I just can’t justify any more money until we know what’s in the transcript.”
    Something like grief came over her. She couldn’t part with this