PI On A Hot Tin Roof

shui?”
    “No, ma’am, don’t believe I have,” though Talba was more than familiar with the concept.
    “Some Chinese thing—it’s about arranging furniture, far as I can see; big on mirrors. Suppose to make the chi flow right so you’ll have good luck and get rich.”
    “Ma’am? Not sure I understand.”
    “Listen to me, I’m talking like she does. Chi is energy. Anyway, that’s what Suzanne does. Goes into people’s houses and pushes things around; I call her a fluffer.”
    Talba said nothing.
    “Fluffs things up.”
    Talba made her eyes go big. “Really? She get a lot of work?”
    “Mmmph. Not so you’d notice.”
    Talba thought this was a classic case of the shoemaker’s children. If ever a house could use some good chi, this one could. It looked as if it hadn’t been rehabbed in thirty years or more, and a good thing, Talba thought—maybe the bathrooms wouldn’t be paved with marble. It was well lived in, but not, if its condition was any indication, particularly well loved. It had the slightly dingy, musty look and feel of neglect. Alberta was probably so overworked she couldn’t get around to everything, but that wasn’t the whole story. The furniture needed reupholstering, the walls needed painting, the curtains needed replacing. It was a bit like a time warp—as if its mistress had suddenly died, and no one had loved it since. Talba suspected that was more or less the case, and wondered if Kristin was going to be moving in soon. If so, the Champagnes had better get their marble order in.
    The second floor twisted and turned, so that two distinct sections—maybe wings—were set far enough apart that Lucy and Adele (as Talba was beginning to think of her), who occupied one, probably couldn’t hear Kristin’s cries of passion from the other, where the judge had his chambers, so to speak. She was relieved to see that Adele and Lucy shared a bathroom on the hall, though the judge had his own. There was probably one more upstairs and a powder room on the first floor—only four if she was lucky.
    Lucy’s room was painted lavender, a color Talba wouldn’t have picked for someone with her coloring. It was the usual jumble of heartthrob posters, stuffed animals, wadded-up clothes, and machines—TV, CD player, and computer. No telephone, though—she probably had her own cell phone.
    Adele’s room, by far the neatest in the house, was surprisingly un-frumpy. Its floral curtains and duvet cover seemed new. A few good antiques—dressing table, bed, writing table—had been chosen with care—and the walls were a light yellow. Talba liked it; she couldn’t see how this woman could stand to share a bathroom with a teenager.
    The judge’s bed was a department store sleigh style—clearly a reproduction—and he had some old but shabby pieces that Talba found comfortable and masculine. The walls were dark green and the bedding was a green, brown, and burgundy paisley—probably Adele’s choice. Very suitable; utterly lacking in imagination.
    What deeply interested her was this: Buddy’s home office opened off his bedroom, so that in the second room she could probably hear anyone who entered the first room in time to get her nose out of whatever it was in.
    Starting at the front door, the first floor consisted of a wide hall, powder room, living room, dining room, sun room, library, kitchen, and a small sitting room the family evidently used for watching television, which Adele called the den.
    “We hardly ever use the living room,” Adele said. “It probably won’t need much.”
    Except a paint job and new furniture, Talba thought. It was painted a kind of dirty mauve, as depressing as it was downright unsightly, and it was hung with dusty photos, mostly, and a few dark-hued oil paintings, mostly still lifes and nature scenes. The furniture was old—not antique, just old—and upholstered in patterns that looked as if they’d been designed about fifty years ago.
    The dining room was deep forest green, with windows on the garden. To Talba’s mind it was the best room in the house, except for the library, which she loved. It was painted a deep wine color, and in here, old furniture looked good. It was worn tan leather, and there was even a library table, piled with books, and a fireplace. On the mantel stood matching statues of black figures in turbans, the sort known as “blackamoors.” Adele had the grace to flush slightly when she saw Talba looking at them. “Sorry about