Lousiana Hotshot

her mother disappeared; he’d never find Shaneel in the crush at Fortier.
    Talba gave him directions to Xavier Prep School and left, the better part of the day still ahead of her; school wasn’t out till after three. She decided to go to the office, just in case— there could be voicemail or email, or even snail mail that needed attending to.
    On the short drive over, she thought about what Tony had said about her being an endangered species, and what Skip had said about watching her back, and about the role she’d played in this case. If Toes wasn’t after her— and careful observation told her he wasn’t, at least so far— it could only be because he didn’t know about her. He certainly knew her as the Baroness; but if Cassandra hadn’t ratted her out, he’d have no reason to connect her with Eddie. Which still left a mystery— how the hell did he know about Eddie?
    Maybe Eddie’d called him. It was the sort of thing he’d do without telling her. Maybe it was something like that. And if so… well, then, she was free to approach Toes in her other persona. If she could think of a point to it.
    Was there one? She needed data.
    And if anyone knew how to get it, it was Talba Tabitha Sandra Wallis, AKA the Baroness.
    She was surprised to find Eileen in the office, trying to keep things together and keep the hysteria out of her voice. But despite a human presence, the place had a forlorn, ghostly feel. Talba shivered and turned on her computer, as if it could warm her. Whatever voice and snail mail there was, Eileen had already taken care of. Talba briefly perused the email and answered what couldn’t wait.
    Funny, there was one thing she hadn’t done. Depending on Cassandra to solve the Toes mystery with a photo I.D., she hadn’t bothered going online to research the Baron’s brother. She did it now— went to Yahoo and typed his name in:
Thomas Toledano.
To her amazement, he had his own website.
    Well, why not? He’d probably behave as his famous brother behaved— be much more savvy about self-promotion than most people— and a lot more arrogant about needing it.
    She clicked on the website and there he was, looking ugly as ever, sole proprietor of Big Easy Sound, whatever that was. Closer inspection revealed it to be a music promotion company, whose clients included Baron Tujague and various lesser rappers, all, Talba’d bet the ranch, Baronial artists. In other words, as far as she could see, Big Easy Sound— hence T. Toledano— was simply the promotion arm of Baronial. Probably, to give his brother a little dignity and something he could call his own, the Baron had spun it off as a separate company. For all she knew, it wasn’t even real— it stood to reason the Baron had actual professionals out there working for him. Maybe this was just a shell to make the brother feel good.
Well, I’ll make him feel good,
she thought.
If only for a minute.
    A minute was all she needed, and a plan took shape in her head in another minute. The address on the website was in New Orleans East, probably on the Baronial campus, she figured. And she was almost right. It was about two blocks away, on its own little spit of property, though in truth it was a pretty primitive structure that might have been an abandoned garage. Several cars were parked on the premises. She checked them all out, even going so far as to record their plate numbers. If Toledano was Toes, at least one of them was probably his— she was betting on the Lincoln Navigator.
    She got out of the car and swept into the building, hoping she was being observed. Despite her hurry to get here, she’d taken a quick detour home to get into Baroness mode. Royal purple was appropriate, she thought, and, fortunately, she had a lot of it— caftans, harem pants, flowing pants, even dresses. For this occasion, she dressed for freedom of movement, in a silk outfit she’d had made for her in the style of Indian pajamas— long, loose top over tight-fitting pants. She wore boots with it because she could run in them if she had to, and for warmth and dash, she threw over it a red-velvet cape. Finally, because it was intimidating, and also because it might jog his memory, she added the purple sequinned hat she’d worn the night she met him.
    This was a performance like any other. She intended to pass herself off as a representative of a distinguished organization— as well as royalty.

Chapter 24
    The Toledano version of Eileen Fisher was quite a bit more