PI On A Hot Tin Roof

Adele and Lucy. And Lucy’s out.”
    “Maybe out on the murder. But she could have helped with the tape—to protect someone else. Maybe that’s part of what’s bothering her.”
    “As if she hasn’t already got enough trouble.”
    Eddie could actually think of a scenario that made sense. “Ms. Wallis. Could ya precious Buddy have been an abuser?”
    Shock showed in her face, and he couldn’t help feeling gratified. For once, he’d thought of something before she had. “S’pose he gropes Lucy—or worse—and Adele catches him and shoots him.”
    “Then Lucy helps her makes the tape—to save her grandma. Jesus! That’s horrible. Omigod! And everyone knows—but Suzanne threatens to cave and go to the police. So then they whack her. The whole family could be in on it.”
    “Naah. Ya lettin’ your imagination run away with ya. Buddy coulda been anywhere when he was shot.”
    Eileen Fisher popped her head in. “Hey, Talba, ya got a call. Kristin LaGarde.”
    “I’ll take it in my office. Thanks. Eddie.”
    For what
? he wondered, thinking theories were lots of fun, but Wesley had erased the voice-mail—there was absolutely no way to prove it hadn’t been Buddy talking.
    “Talba. I’m scared.” Kristin sounded shaky, not a way Talba’d ever have described her.
    “What is it?”
    “There’s a gun in my car.” Her voice was shrill, the high-pitched keen that signals hysteria.
    “What do you mean there’s a gun in your car?” Talba couldn’t figure out why she was so frightened. Was someone holding it on her?
    “I’m on my way over. I’m almost there.” She hung up, but Talba rang her back.
    “Kristin. Are you alone?”
    “Yes.”
    “Don’t touch the gun, okay?”
    In another ten minutes, the client clacked into the office dressed in the dark green suit she’d worn to the funeral, one with a built-in belt that fastened with a satin bow, the tiny skirt cut some clever way that made the hem seemed to flutter. But there was a run in her pantyhose and her hair was disarrayed, as if she’d been running her hands through it.
    “Thank God you were here. I’m scared to death.” She looked it. Her skin was custard-colored.
    “Let me get you some water,” Talba said, automatically moving toward the office door. But glancing again at her client, she realized water might not be enough. She stopped in alarm. “Kristin? Hang in there, baby. Do you need to lower your head? Feeling faint?”
    Kristin didn’t need any more encouragement. She leaned her forehead on Talba’s desk, and when Talba returned with the water, she raised it, looking slightly pinker. “Jesus. I don’t know how I got here.”
    “Take deep breaths.”
    But Kristin shook her head. “No, I’m okay. I’d rather talk. Talba, what’s going on?”
    Remembering Angie, Talba had thoughts on the subject. She said, “Can you start from the beginning?”
    “I think so.” Kristin paused for breath, finally drank some water. “After I left the Champagnes’, I had to go out to the East to see somebody on business.” New Orleans East, she meant. “And since I don’t know that neighborhood, I opened my glove compartment to look for a map. And there was a gun there.”
    “Whose gun?”
    “Not mine. That’s all I know.”
    “Do you think someone planted it?”
    “How else would it get there?”
    “Okay, then, who had access to your car?”
    “Nobody. I never, ever leave it unlocked.”
    Talba sighed. “Nobody? Did you give someone a ride and leave them alone?”
    “No. Nobody’s been in it but me. How could this
happen?
”
    “Do you keep an extra key anywhere?”
    “I never lock myself out.”
    She wouldn’t, Talba thought. “All right, then. Does anyone else have a key?”
    “No. Why would—” She stopped in midsentence. “Well, my dad does. He gave me the car and insisted on keeping a key in case I did lock myself out.” She tried out an indulgent smile. “You know how you’re never grown up to your parents?”
    LaGarde. The same LaGarde who didn’t mind assassinating his daughter’s character to a perfect stranger. Talba’s stomach flipped over, but she knew she had to keep her face and voice steady. How to approach this?
    But Kristin said, “Okay, I know what you’re thinking—I can tell by your face.”
    Talba smiled, wishing she had Eddie’s poker puss. “And here I thought I was hiding it. Okay. Let’s get into it. Just for the moment, let’s assume that whoever put that gun in your