PI On A Hot Tin Roof

was thinking about that talk we had. Mind if I ask you a question? Does Kristin’s job involve any work with video cameras?”
    “Sure. She makes tapes of the properties she wants to buy, and shows them to the rest of us. She’s pretty good. Why did you need to know?”
    “Can I let you know later?” She hung up before he could answer. Her suspicions were getting stronger—so much so that the back of her neck was sweating. If she were right, she should be hearing from Kristin very soon.
    The call came on her cell phone right on schedule, about nine-thirty a.m. “Good morning, Miss LaGarde.”
    “You still mad?”
    “Not at all. What can I do for you?”
    “I was wondering about that tape you mentioned—can I ask where you got it?”
    “Sure. It’s a free country.”
    “Talba, don’t
be
that way!”
    “Where I got it is confidential.”
And so is where I have it.
    School had been in session for an hour and a half, enough time to ransack Lucy’s room for it. She figured that was why the call had come when it did.
    “This client report seems very incomplete without it. I really don’t see how you can expect to be paid until I have the result of your investigation.”
    “It’s evidence, Kristin. I’m taking it to the cops.”
    “I’ll be happy to do that for you,” Kristin chirped. “Why don’t I come by and get it?”
    Talba really couldn’t believe this woman. In movies, the bad guys were always diabolically clever. This little idiot—who she now thought had probably killed two people—thought she could waltz off with a vital piece of evidence, just by asking for it.
    “Surely,” she said, “you jest.”
    There was a long silence. Finally, Kristin said, “Listen, I read the client report and you really did a great job for me. I was thinking maybe a bonus.”
    This was starting to be fun. “How much were you thinking?” she asked.
    “Oh, say, ten thousand. For the
complete
report, that is.”
    “Thirty,” Talba replied.
    Kristin got right into negotiating. “Twenty-five.”
    “Done.”
    “Done? You’ll turn over the tape.”
    “Hey, for twenty-five large, I’d turn over Eddie.”
    “Who’s Eddie?”
    “The guy who’s got the combination to the safe. Where the
complete
report is.”
    “Has this Eddie person seen it?”
    And at that moment, it dawned on Talba that this little silver-spoon maniac, this insignificant, undersized, dressed-for-success premature black widow, might very well intend to kill her. Probably thought it was going to be as easy as framing her own father for murder. “No, of course not,” she said. “We all keep things in the safe from time to time. He doesn’t even know what it is. I just have to wait for him to come back and get it out for me.”
    “And when are you expecting him?’
    “Listen, about that twenty-five. It’ll have to be in cash.”
    “Agreed.”
    “Well, you’ve got to get it, right?”
    “No, I, uh, I have it with me.”
    “You have access to twenty-five and you offered me ten? If you’ve got that, you’ve probably got fifty.”
    “No!” Kristin seemed to be casting about for what to say next. She settled on, “Twenty-five max.”
    “It just went up to thirty-five.” Talba figured it didn’t matter how much she asked for, because she’d long since realized no money was going to change hands. (Well, it might, briefly—but Kristin would take it back once she had the tape.)
    “I don’t have it.” Kristin said.
    “Well, then, get it. I need time to get the combination, anyhow.” She hung up. Kristin called back.
    Let her stew,
Talba thought, and called her favorite cop. “Langdon. 911. I need you immediately. With lots of Kevlar—and maybe the TAC squad.”
    Langdon sighed. “Good morning to you too, Baroness. You want to start at the beginning?”
    “You know that tape I brought you yesterday? Kristin LaGarde just offered to buy it for thirty-five thousand dollars, give or take.”
    “What do you mean ‘give or take’?”
    “We’re still bargaining. Hang on, my other phone’s ringing.” The office phone. She activated the speaker feature, hoping Langdon could hear and Kristin wouldn’t notice. “Hello, Kristin,” she said. “I just got Eddie on the phone. He’s coming back at noon. Are we on?”
    “I’m on my way.”
    “With the thirty-five K, I hope.”
    “Certainly. Look, Baroness, can you just bring it downstairs? We don’t want Eddie knowing—I mean, then you’d have to split the