Lousiana Hotshot

difference whether he dead or alive.”
    “But…”
    Miz Clara interrupted, not looking at her, showing every sign of having forgotten she was there. “Wish to God he
was
dead,” she said, as if she were talking to herself.
    Talba poured them both a second glass of wine and went off to her room. Once again she lay staring at the ceiling, but this time a thousand things occurred to her. She didn’t even know if her parents had been married.
    She thought back, back, way back to the time when a child would have wondered where her daddy was. She couldn’t for the life of her remember asking; but on the other hand, she hadn’t the slightest recollection of being forbidden to speak about it.
    But there was something even more surprising. She had researched Tony Tino yesterday, wondering how Eddie, with a computer so close at hand, had never thought to try to locate his son. And yet she, who lived and breathed computers, had never thought to research her father.
    Something was wrong with this picture.

Chapter 9
    All she wanted to do was sleep, and the flesh, aided by the splendid soporific of a nice glass of wine, was certainly willing. She slept as if drugged for five hours and woke in the middle of the night feeling ready to take on tigers.
    She thrashed for an hour or two, mind racing, and about half an hour into it, it occurred to her to turn the thing to her advantage. She put her mind to the question, not of her father (anything to avoid that one for a while), but of how to find Toes, and in the morning, dug out one of the outfits comprising her “right demographics” disguise. She had a closetful of white blouses and navy skirts left over from her temp days.
    She had been hired by her original mentor, Gene Allred, to plant a bug and do some other spying in an office in which most of the clerical workers would be young, black, and female. He even knew a temp agency that could get her placed.
    The same thing would probably work again if she could just get past Eddie.
    Eileen, a moonfaced, plainish girl under the best of circumstances, looked drawn and strained when she arrived. “Audrey just called. She says Eddie’s gonna be out another day. Wants to know if you can handle what needs to be done.”
    “Oh sure, no problem.” On the one hand, this was great news— she’d be left to her own devices. On the other, what was going on here? “Eileen, does he get these headaches a lot?”
    “They just started a couple of months ago— well, I wouldn’t say that. Before that, he’d have one every three or four months. Lately, he’s been missing a day or two every couple of weeks. I’m getting worried. I’ve got to tell you, I’m really starting to worry.”
    “What does Audrey say?”
    The girl shrugged thick, ungainly shoulders. “She doesn’t say anything. And that’s nothin’ like Aunt Audrey.” Eileen looked as if she might cry.
    Talba’s stomach flip-flopped. Damn! Eddie’d gotten to her. Racist, sexist old tyrant that he was.
    “What about Angie?”
    Eileen made a face. “I’m not her favorite cousin.”
    Talba saw what the problem was. Angie was all business. She probably thought Eddie ought to hire somebody bright and attractive and competent instead of offering charity to a woman she probably considered her slow-witted cousin. Talba decided to worry about that later. She said, “I guess we’ll just have to do the best we can.”
    “Hey, I got you something.” She opened a drawer and came up with boxes and bags. “One cell phone, one camera, and one pager.”
    “Pager?”
    “Eddie said to get you one. He thought you’d like it…it being modern technology and all. He said to get him one too.”
    Talba did like it, especially the fact that Eddie’d gotten himself one. It made her think he meant them to work as a team.
    She went into her office to call CompuTemps, and asked for a man named L.J. Currie. “Hey, Mr. Currie, Talba Wallis. Remember me? From Gene Allred?”
    “I remember ya.” He sounded downright unhappy about it.
    “Now don’t be like that. You know I’m a great worker.”
    He sighed. “Where ya need a job?”
    For the right price— or if you had something on him— Currie could get you a job almost anywhere.
    “Baronial Records,” she said.
    “Sorry, they don’t use us.”
    “Oh, come on. You’ve got connections, L.J.” She wasn’t sure he did.
    “I could give you a referral to CompTask. Their Ms. Brown has that account, I believe.”
    “I need a