PI On A Hot Tin Roof

gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m Talba Wallis and—”
    “I know who you are. You’re that P.I. who’s working for Kristin.”
    So much for the lie she’d so carefully constructed. She tried another one. “Kristin’s terribly worried about her dad. He’s not at work and she didn’t—I mean—”
    “She didn’t want to call here because we hate each other.” Tootsie-pop was sharper than Talba’d thought.
    “Nonetheless, she is worried.”
    “Go ask your cop friend about him. Warren says you’re in bed with the mighty Skip Langdon.”
    Talba tried an ingenuous smile. “She’s not answering my calls. May I come in? Maybe she’ll answer her page.”
    Melissa hesitated.
    Talba said, “Langdon’s been here about a gun, right? And Warren’s with her. Maybe I can shed some light.”
    Reluctantly, Melissa stepped aside to let her in, revealing a buff marble foyer hung with a verdigris chandelier. The living room had been painted a silvery blue color, and finished with something shiny that cracked artfully in places, so that it looked as if it had been varnished so long ago that the varnish was breaking down. It was probably Melissa’s own work, and Talba liked it. The furnishings were contemporary, in a way that made Talba realize her own prejudice against new furniture stemmed from an unfamiliarity with the really good stuff, clean and simple in a way that made her want to rethink her own love of the flamboyant and cluttered. A sofa was covered in warm gray-blue linen piped with midnight blue, and two chairs were covered in tan linen piped with the same midnight color. Salmon throw pillows accented the neutrals. Talba would have gone with an oriental rug, but sisal carpeting covered the floor, probably so as not to detract from the fine collection of contemporary art that hung on the walls. Talba recognized a couple of the artists—Katharine White and Allison Stewart—whose work she could only dream of affording. The LaGardes had good taste—or maybe their decorator did. Or maybe Warren bought the art for his hotels and let some of it spill into his house. It was that, she decided. She didn't want to think too well of these people.
    “Beautiful art collection,” she said, but Melissa didn’t take the bait. She sat down and motioned Talba to do so as well.
    “What’s happening, Miss Wallis?”
    “The police think they have some evidence against your husband—something that ties him to Buddy Champagne’s murder.”
    “That’s ridiculous. And they were just awful. They came here first thing this morning and asked about a gun—after he’d gone to work. Well, sure we’ve got a gun—everybody does. It’s not safe not to anymore. So I went to Buddy’s desk to show them, and it wasn’t there. Then
they
showed it to
me
—bastards had it all the time. Is that even ethical?”
    “Mmm. Mmm,” Talba said, thinking that at least Melissa was innocent, or she wouldn’t have been so stupid.
    “I didn’t want to lie—I mean, they were going to find out anyway, right?—so I said, sure, that was it, and the next thing you know, they hauled Warren down to Headquarters. His assistant called and told me. Now tell me something—how’d they get that gun?”
    “It must have been some place it wasn’t supposed to be.” And it must have matched the ballistics report on one or both of the victims, Talba figured, or they might not have bothered. That would also be why they’d waited till morning—to get the report.
    “Listen, you said maybe you could shed some light. What do you know that I should know?”
    She fell back on one of Eddie’s maxims—when you don’t want to answer a question, ask one yourself. “What does your husband say about it?”
    “I haven’t talked to him. I’m waiting for him to call me.”
    “Don’t wait,” she said. “Get him a lawyer.” Though he’d probably taken care of that himself. She stood up.
    “That’s what you came to tell me?”
    “I told you—his daughter’s worried. And after what you’ve told me, I think there’s reason to be.” She was dying to ask if LaGarde was having an affair with Suzanne, but she just couldn’t bring herself to go there. This woman had enough trouble as it was.
    ***
    “What now, Ms. Wallis?” Eddie pretended impatience, but he was actually enjoying his new role—in this case, he thought of himself as a sort of all-seeing Nero Wolfe character, with Ms. Wallis as Archie Goodwin.
    “Got another tape for