Lousiana Hotshot

it?”
    “Well, ya won’t be doing that much investigating— mostly just tagging around with me and learning. With your skills, the bookkeeping won’t take ya more than a few hours a month. I’d say it’s about three-quarters of a job, really.”
    “Wait a minute. None of that’s my real job— what you really want’s a computer jockey, right?”
    He leaned forward, getting aggressive on her. “That’s nothin’. That’s like a hobby for ya.”
    She was considering flouncing out of the office when suddenly she noticed something she’d never seen in this man before. Somewhere between the lizardly hoods of his eyes and the purple luggage below was a glint of amusement. He was playing with her.
    She reached for the file she’d withheld from him the day before, the one that held his financial report, setting it provocatively on his desk. “You’re right. Piece of cake for a hotshot like me. But you don’t know me— how come you’d trust me with the books?”
    “I wouldn’t. I’m gonna micromanage ya until I’m sure ya’ve got the hang of it.”
    “I mean, how do you know I’m honest?”
    “Are you serious, young lady? You should never have introduced me to ya mama— you don’t do right, Miz Clara’ll be the first to know.”
    If he was the laughing type, he’d be roaring at this point.
    She concealed her irritation. “What kind of salary did you have in mind?”
    “Tell me what ya lookin’ for.” He looked like a buzzard circling prey so helpless it already stank.
    She said, “Oh, about eighty grand.”
    He did a histrionic double take. “Grand is right, Your Majesty. We’re talkin’ grandiose.”
    “Your Grace will do.” She gave him a full-wattage smile.
    “I was thinking more like twenty-five.”
    Good,
she thought.
Excellent. He was probably really thinking about seventeen.
    She opened the folder. “Well, now, I’ve already given a little attention to your books.”
    He snatched the folder out of her hands. “Where’d you get this?”
    “Same place that high-priced service of yours gets it. You’ve got one, don’t you? You probably pay them twenty-five a year. I can save you that much just by doing your financial checks for you. So look— take that twenty-five and the twenty-five you just offered— I’ll do it for fifty.”
    The amusement was gone now. He was starting to look dangerous. “You got some nerve, ya know that?”
    Talba was wondering if she’d gone too far when a timid voice spoke behind her. “Mr. Valentino?”
    “What is it, Eileen?” His voice was furious. Talba could see the woman wince, bracing for a temper that he probably didn’t bother controlling if he didn’t feel like it.
    “I’ve got a call for Ms. Wallis.”
    “Ms.… Ms.…” He seemed to be struggling to remember who the hell Ms. Wallis might be.
    “May I take it here?” Talba asked coolly, and picked up the phone.
    “Did I get you at a bad time?” It was Darryl.
    “Couldn’t be worse. How’d you find me?”
    “Took a chance. Listen, there’s no time to talk. I’m sending you a client. You got the job, I presume.”
    For the benefit of Valentino, who was hanging on her every word, Talba said, “I see. You’re sending us a client.”
    “Look, it’s a lady whose kid goes to another school. She just made a scene in the counselor’s office, and I thought of a brilliant way to get her out of here.”
    “Uh-huh. What was that?”
    “Suggested a hotshot P.I. Oh, shit, she’s yelling again. Listen, I’ve got to go.”
    Talba set the receiver down, wondering what this was going to do to her negotiation. She decided not to go the apologetic route. Instead, she smiled and held out her hands. “Well. Looks like I’m a rainmaker.”
    “You’re mighty damn big for ya britches, you know that?”
    “Actually, I’m a little embarrassed about that— I didn’t solicit it; it just happened.”
    “And how exactly would you define ‘it’?” he asked.
    “A friend said he had a client for us. No details; no nothing.”
    Valentino shook his head. “Well, I can’t pay you fifty thousand dollars.”
    He damn sure could,
she thought. She knew exactly what he was taking in. But she said, “Okay. Forty-five.”
    Eileen Fisher appeared again. “Another call for Ms. Wallis.”
    Again, Talba picked up. “This is Aziza Scott. Darryl Boucree called about me.”
    “Yes, Mrs. Scott. He called, but he didn’t tell me what it was about.”
    “I’m calling from the car. See you