Lousiana Hotshot

as Tony Tino.”
    “Catchy.” Eddie put his wineglass down and poured himself some more. He’d quit drinking all through the étouffée, but as soon as the talk turned to his son, he started in again.
    She kept talking— it seemed to be what he wanted. “He lives in Austin— did you know that?”
    “Austin.” He looked genuinely surprised. “That’s close.”
    “Good place for blues— that’s what he plays. The website doesn’t say if he’s married or has kids.”
    Eddie looked away from her. “He’s too young for that.”
    “How old is he?”
    “Let me think about it. He must be…I guess he’s twenty-six or seven.”
    “Well, it’s not impossible.”
    But the next thing that happened was, Eddie’s eyes misted over, a sight she’d never in a million years expected to see.
    It was so pronounced he actually dabbed at them. “‘Scuse me, Ms. Wallis— it’s the wop in me.”
    “What is?”
    “I was imagining what it might be like to have a grandbaby.”
    Grandbaby. That was the way her mama and her Aunt Carrie talked. Old people talked that way. Black people. Talba found something infinitely touching in the way it came out of Eddie’s mouth.
    He was recovered now, though having himself another little sip. “Does he— you know— tour? Is that what they call it?”
    “It is, and he does. I know the jargon ‘cause my boyfriend’s a musician.”
    All of a sudden, he busted out in smiles. Old, sad, pathetic Eddie, who even seemed miserable about talking with his son, beamed out big-time. “Ya got a boyfriend, Ms. Wallis? Good for you.”
    She wished she hadn’t turned the spotlight back on herself. She said, “Your son had a lot of really great reviews.”
    “Tell me somethin’, Ms. Wallis— did he ever play New Orleans?”
    She had known he would ask that question. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I kind of don’t think so.”
    But he would go to the website himself, and know that she lied. Maybe he wouldn’t mind. “You’re really going to be proud of him, I think. Oh, by the way, did I mention he’s a hunk?”
    “Oh, yeah? Ya mean his picture’s on there? I can’t get used to this stuff.”
    “He looks a lot like Angie.”
    “Yeah. He always did.” He stared off into space for a while, as if there were a very interesting fly on the wall of the restaurant, and once again, something sad came over him. Something about Angie. Talba wished she had the nerve to ask what it was. “Bread pudding and coffee?” he asked.
    She looked at her watch. “No, I really should be—”
    “Come on. Help an old man sober up.”
    In fact, she’d already thought of that. He needed a break from the alcohol before he got in his car. “Okay. Let’s split the bread pudding, though.”
    He put in the order, and when he turned back to her, he had a new alertness about him. “Let’s talk about the case a little more. You satisfied you’ve identified Toes?”
    “No. I’m really not. But I don’t think Cassandra’s going to confirm any I.D., and everyone else who could I.D. him is clammed up. I do think the kid needs protecting. Probably Shaneel too.”
    “Maybe that’s who we need to lean on. She a nice kid?”
    “A lot nicer than Cassandra.”
    “Mmm. Mmmm. Child with problems. I’m gon’ try Shaneel myself. Who are her parents?”
    “I, uh, haven’t gotten that far— her last name’s Johnson. But the church could probably help.”
    He leaned back and nodded. “Guess that’s the way to go.” Talba could hardly believe this was Eddie Valentino. She didn’t know what to make of this new, mellow version.
    Booze,
she thought.
He’ll be the usual old crank in the morning.
    She said, “What about Cassandra?”
    “She’ll be all right in school. Needs watchin’, though. This thing’s out of hand.”
    “I mentioned that to Aziza, and she accused me of trying to sell her bodyguard services.”
    “I better have a little talk with Ms. Scott. Meanwhile, you ever heard of a little thing called client reports?”
    Well, hell, she thought. How dare he pull that on her after what she’d been through? “Eddie, that’s not fair. I haven’t had a second, and you know it.”
    “Relax, Ms. Wallis, relax. Don’t go touchy on me just when we’re gettin’ along so well. I’ll do the damn report. Just need your notes, that’s all.”
    “Okay. I’ll give them to you first thing in the morning.”
    “Mmm. I don’t think so. I want ya to stay home tomorrow morning. Did ya