Lousiana Hotshot

watches and find it’s dinnertime.
    Eddie took quite a bit of ribbing about his new assistant being black, female, smart, computer literate, and a poet— all stuff of which he vigorously disapproved. But, hell, it was worth it— she’d gotten the kid back, glued the family back together. This week he was running a one-time-only special— she was in his good graces if she didn’t get anyone killed. He was in one hell of a mood.
    By the time the coffee came, they were all young and fearless again, back at their old jobs and kings of the hill. Sal was punching Eddie on the arm. “Goddam! Remember those illegal wiretaps?”
    Philip said, “I didn’t hear that.”
    “Aw, Phil, we did boocoos of ‘em— everybody did it.”
    The judge pretended to hold his ears. “Not for my shell-pinks.”
    They ignored him. Sal said, “Oh, yeah, you guys were famous— how the hell did you get those telephone-company trucks?”
    “Trade secret. But it worked like crazy. We’d get enough for a warrant and say—”
    Philip abandoned all pretense. “— ya got it from a ‘confidential informant.’ Oh, yeah. You guys single-handedly gave snitches a rotten name. Confidential informant, my ass. You guys were the original fruits of the poison tree.”
    “Watch who ya callin’ fruit, big boy. We got past you a time or two.”
    More than a time or two. They all knew it and acknowledged it with big sloppy laughs.
    Calvin said, “It’s just too bad Eddie had to get shot for it.”
    And Sal said, “What’s that?”
    Philip wrinkled his brow.
    Calvin said, “Uh-oh. Did I speak out of school?”
    Eddie’d been shot by the widow of a serial rapist who hung himself in jail. Guilty as sin— two women mutilated for life, three destroyed every other kind of way.
    Entrapped by Eddie.
    The guy knew it too— figured it out, and told his wife before he died. She believed hubby, tried to kill Eddie. He deflected the gun and took the hit in the thigh. Nearly bled to death.
    Almost no one knew the story. It made Eddie cringe.
    He said, “What the hell, Calvin. What the hell— we’re all friends here. Nothing’s gonna mess this day up. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of, and maybe that’s one of ‘em.” Another was the thing with Anthony— lying to him, lying to Audrey and Angie. Jesus! Yeah, that was another. It was behind him now. Everything was fresh and beautiful.
    “Hey, let’s have some cognac. I got time.” School wasn’t out for forty-five minutes. “Did I tell ya Anthony’s comin’ home? I don’t know when yet; we’re working it out. He’s gettin’ married— I gotta meet the bride, don’t I?”
    When the brandy came, he had another toast: “Here’s to all the stupid stuff ya do before you’re old enough to know better.”
    Philip said, “Hear, hear.”
    Eddie tossed down the rest of his drink. “Okay, old farts— whose birthday’s next?”
    Calvin said, “Mine,” and they agreed to do it again, if they all made it that far.
    Eddie left them to settle up the bill while he went to intercept Shaneel as she came out of school. For two hours, he’d been able to leave the case completely alone. He had a twinge of fear on the way to the parking lot. But he was in way too good a mood to indulge it.
    He was crossing Dauphine, wondering with some interest what it might be like to be a grandfather, when he saw the white car barreling out of nowhere.
    * * *
    Talba figured Shaneel’s sudden departure was a good enough reason to interrupt Eddie’s birthday lunch. Nonetheless, she was slightly relieved when he didn’t answer his cell phone. She paged him and left the number of her own cell phone, then called the office. “Eileen, is he there?”
    “Still at lunch. You know how it is when these old guys get together.”
    “I’m on my way in— if he calls or comes in, tell him it’s urgent that he call me.”
    She didn’t expect to hear from him. Consequently, when her cell phone sang out from the seat beside her, she nearly crashed into the car in front of her. She picked it up. “Eddie?”
    “Talba, it’s Angie.”
    “What? Angie, what is it?” Whatever it was, it was bad. She could tell by Angie’s voice.
    “I’m at Charity Hospital. Dad’s been…” Here she broke off, unable to form words. All Talba could hear was a kind of gasping.
    And then Eileen’s thin, frightened voice came over the line. “He’s been hit by a car. I just got here.”
    “How bad is it?”
    “I don’t