Lousiana Hotshot

reason, but Eddie didn’t have two seconds for people like that.
    So far as he was concerned, there was nothing beautiful or symmetrical about this, it only made him feel like a piece of crap, which was what Audrey thought, anyway. Angie would, too. Maybe he should try to get to her first, before Audrey or Anthony.
    But what would I say?
he thought.
“I can explain?”
He couldn’t, not even to himself.
    The vow was this:
I’m going to send my son to college no matter what.
    How was he supposed to explain that it had become the most important thing in his life and that Anthony had made it impossible for him to keep it? The damn vow had become more important than the kid.
    He brushed at his face, as if he could make it go away.
It just got out of hand,
was the best he could do.
    That was so lame it made him want to puke. He couldn’t say something like that to Angie. He couldn’t say anything. Hell, let her think he was a piece of crap; he thought so himself.
    His mind wouldn’t stop. It kept going on like that, never giving him a minute’s peace. Finally, he’d just gotten up and dressed in yesterday’s clothes. He thought he’d go to the office, at least try to make peace with his business— do
something
right. Audrey had come into the kitchen while he was puttering around. She’d walked up to him and taken his hand and squeezed it and looked into his eyes, her own overflowing.
    He didn’t know what to do. His tongue seemed to be nailed to the roof of his mouth. Finally, she said, “Eddie, ya did what ya thought was right,” and released his hand. She poured herself a cup of the coffee he had made, all the while keeping her back to him, and finally, she said, “Ya look terrible. At least go put on some clean clothes.” And that was how he knew he was once again welcome in the bedroom.
    So here he was with a bad taste in his mouth from too much coffee too early, and a head spinning from the barrage of memories, the fusillade of guilt that had besieged him in the night. He was staring balefully at the pile of papers on his desk, trying to think of a way to avoid it, when he was startled by the phone.
    He looked at his watch. Eight-thirty. Way too early for anyone to call. Still, it beat unloading his in-box. He picked up and was once again startled by a little female gasp; of horror, it sounded like. “I was going to leave a message. I didn’t think anyone would be there.”
    He was surprised that he recognized her voice. “Good mornin’, Ms. Scott. Lovely mornin’, don’t you think?”
    She’d apparently gotten over her initial panic, and moved on to haughtiness. “Mr. Valentino. I’m in a terrific hurry. I called to leave you a message. I won’t be needing your services any longer.”
    He pulled out his drawl for her. It was slow and sounded halfway stupid; with arrogant people, it tended to put him at an advantage. “Well, I reckon not. Ms. Wallis tells me she’s about got to the bottom of things.”
    “Ms. Wallis! Ms. Wallis is who I want to talk to you about.”
    “I thought you didn’t want to talk to anybody. Isn’t that why you called so early?”
    “I don’t have
time
to talk to anybody. But it would seem that we’re talking. So let me be brief and to the point. I am extremely sorry to report that Ms. Wallis has behaved unprofessionally. She came highly recommended and indeed I chose your firm because of her reputation. But I do not feel she is an asset to you, and I feel you should know. She has been very disappointing, and that is why I am turning the case over to another private investigator.”
    Eddie reflected how strange it is that people stop using contractions when they get up on their high horse. He made his voice even slower and sleepier than before. “Well, now. Just what did Ms. Wallis do to get ya so upset?”
    “It wasn’t what she did to me. It was what she did to my daughter.”
    “And what was that, ma’am?”
    “She badgered her. She visited her at choir practice and then again at our private home, trying to get her to identify a man Cassandra has never met. As a matter of fact, she behaved as if Cassandra were the suspect rather than the victim. She made her cry, Mr. Valentino. She made my fourteen-year-old daughter cry!” Her voice rose with every sentence. Eddie made sure his dropped.
    “Well, now, I’m real sorry to hear that.” He spoke so softly he even annoyed himself. “Ms. Wallis is one of my best investigators.” The words came out